Mayhem is set in the late 1880s of London, when perpetual fog and crime coat the city’s cobblestone streets. By the flicker of gaslit lamps, there is an unidentifiable blackness lurking between shadows. A terrible killer plagues the streets, leaving mutilated and dismembered bodies, pieces of which are found in string-tied rages, discarded throughout the city and in the Thames.

Critically acclaimed author Sarah Pinborough methodically blends historical fact and fiction. She crafts a new monster from man and myth, pulling from the unsolved murders of London’s “Torso Killer” and Eastern European folklore.

Dr. Bond is a respected medical examiner who harbors his own black vice as a frequenter of opium dens. Frenzied Londoners are quick to assume the carnage belongs to the serial killings of Jack the Ripper, but Dr. Bond realizes distinct, nauseating differences between the cases: The bodies are crudely carved in bestial ways, and even with exhaustive searches the heads are never recovered.

As Dr. Bond pursues this unknown lunatic, he finds himself oddly allied with a Jesuit priest of an ancient Roman order and Aaron Kosminski, an oracular immigrant afflicted with trembling visions of a terrible evil baying for blood. Dr. Bond is a hard man of science, but he sinks deeper into the maddening mire of the supernatural when the monster’s suffocating presence draws closer to those he loves.

Mayhem is a disturbingly engrossing Victorian horror with a standout, menacing villain. Never have I known a smile to be so sinister and rancid, but Pinborough’s prose proves the gesture to be something terrifyingly palpable. This genre-defying novel is a ravenous read and will have you as insatiable as the malicious mischief-maker that awaits you in its pages.

Have you ever told a particular lie for so long that now it seems like the truth to you? It’s become so much a part of you that it’s no longer a betrayal to tell it? In In the Blood, author Lisa Unger has concocted a clever tissue of lies that is the new normal for Lana Granger. The author allows readers brief glimpses that all may not be what it seems.

Readers know Lana has a troubled past. Her father is in prison, convicted of killing her mother. Lana’s mind claims certain facts about the event and discards others, creating a fragile tapestry of her life experiences. How long will it hold together? Now in her senior year of college, she has taken a part-time job looking after Luke, an 11-year-old who attends the school for troubled kids where Lana interns under the guidance of psych professor and school counselor Langdon Hewes.

Luke’s not only eerie and subject to anger; he’s also quick and devious. The two play chess, and Lana knows that he’s “confident, crafty, always five moves ahead.” But Luke may have other, more dangerous games in mind for Lana. Readers may imagine virtual warnings posted on nearly every page: Turn back now! Go no further!

Lana’s careful mental and emotional house of cards is tested when her best friend, Beck, disappears. The police investigate what appears to be a sexual subtext to their relationship. Unger sets up an intricate masquerade—a push-pull of fact and prevarication in the tense interplay between Lana, Langdon and disarming young Luke. The story includes entries from an enigmatic, anonymous diary to further ensnare readers who seek the connection between Lana’s past and present.

This fast-moving book is a rollercoaster thrill ride, withholding crucial facts and then pounding you with them as the chapters wind down. It’s a quick, adrenaline-filled read with a slam-bang climax. Unger’s skill with words, combined with a pace that never lets up, is guaranteed to keep the pages turning long past the midnight hour.

You can run, but you can’t hide—not from the acrid fog that moves over England in June of 1783, “a bank of billowing cloud, its great curves and sweeps and pillows of vapor easily visible, like the full sails of a galleon.”

In Tessa Harris’ The Devil’s Breath, the deadly cloud attacks the lungs, claiming the lives of more and more people each day, but anatomist Dr. Thomas Silkstone doesn’t believe that a biblical plague is the cause. As he examines the bodies of victims of the mysterious phenomenon, he applies all the scientific methods available in his time to determine the nature of the noxious fumes.

Amid the darkening skies, Silkstone has traveled from London to the countryside estate of Lady Lydia Farrell, the woman he intends to marry one day. The two are searching for clues to the whereabouts of her 6-year-old son, after documents surface that lead her to believe that the infant she thought had died shortly after childbirth is in fact alive somewhere in England. In their pursuit, however, a shadowy, unknown figure appears to be on the same journey—always one step ahead of them.

The Devil’s Breath is filled with lively, believable characters, from field workers struck down by the encroaching cloud to gentlefolk holed up inside their estates. The countryside is full of zealots trying to take advantage of the uncertainty and fear following in its wake, and one in particular, an itinerant knife-grinder, proves a dangerous adversary. Likewise, a neighbor, the Rev. George Lightfoot, becomes increasingly erratic, acting on his belief that casting out devils is the only surefire way to end the plague that has taken the life of his own wife.

The debut book in this series, The Anatomist’s Apprentice (2012), provided a fascinating glimpse into the state of forensic science in the 18th century. The Devil's Breath, the second entry, gives scientific phenomena star billing while describing the “soap opera” events of the day in all their drama.

The Devil’s Breath is a fascinating exploration of the conflict between old and new. At a time when natural happenings appear to have their roots in the persnickety whims of a vengeful God, the forked tongue of sin and repentance is about to give way to a refreshing breath of knowledge, in the rudiments of a new, more scientific age.

Who knew that a pair of octogenarian detectives would become a hit with crime fans? Christopher Fowler’s mystery series about the ancillary London police team aptly called the Peculiar Crimes Unit has become just that, and his ninth book, The Invisible Code, has solidified the series’ reputation as a durable success.

Forget beautiful, young noir heroines and sexy, bad-boy PIs—the unlikely “old guys” duo of John May and Arthur Bryant have stolen the show. They aren’t exactly Abbot and Costello, but the straight arrow / nutty sidekick model describes them well. May’s the impeccably dressed rationalist, a list-maker who follows leads from A to Z, and is (fortunately) not off-putting to higher police authorities. Bryant, with his rumpled, Columbo-style wardrobe and scraggly scarf, uses eccentric methods, capitalizing on the irrational and traveling a winding mental road to detective enlightenment. The two have a longstanding friendship, and their styles complement each other. They’re at their most humorous when the author is not trying to make them funny.

At the beginning of The Invisible Code, two children play a game called “Witch Hunter” while a woman drops dead inside an ancient London church. At the same time, a government official enters fragile negotiations for an international deal that can ensure his promotion and make his career, while his wife goes off her mental rails, claiming she’s pursued by witches. 

In fact, there’s more than a whiff of witchcraft in this tale, as the detectives investigate a bizarre series of murders that seem unconnected. They follow a trail that veers drastically from power games among government officials and their wives to eerie hints of the supernatural. Maybe, the detectives think, it’s all the same thing.

En route to catching the killer, the duo must think beyond the traditional borders of sanity, unravel a puzzling code, de-mystify a grim relic lying in a concealed room and travel from the famed enigma-solving Bletchley Park to the Cedar Tree Clinic for the mentally troubled. Bryant even consults with an eccentric government worker who helps on cases containing “abnormalities” and sifts clues dispensed by a character with satanic aspirations, forebodingly named Mr. Merry.

If anyone can do it, who is better suited than the mischievous, inventive detectives from Peculiar Crimes? Bryant and May are at the top of their game as they cast reason aside and challenge the halls of power and influence.

The world is about to be buried up to its neck in snow and ice. A perfect storm of gigantic proportions is descending on the Adirondacks, and in Through the Evil Days, it becomes yet another enemy to add to an already impressive list. This addictive new entry in Julia Spencer-Fleming’s Russ Van Alstyne/Clare Fergusson mystery series is a worthy successor to the previous books in the award-winning series that began in 2002.

Now married, Millers Kill Chief of Police Russ Van Alstyne and Episcopal priest Clare Fergusson are expecting their first child—an unplanned life change that has sent Russ reeling. He feels they need time together to adjust to the upcoming event, so they’re off for a delayed honeymoon at a cabin on a remote Adirondack lake. When the snowstorm begins in earnest, they mistakenly think that being snowed in will leave them snug and warm, holed up with plenty of food for the duration. Wrong!

Back in Millers Kill, New York, police officers Kevin Flynn and Hadley Knox investigate a local house fire that claimed two adult victims and left missing an 8-year-old foster child with a life-threatening illness. As the detectives search for the youngster, the fire becomes a complicated case involving a meth operation in the Adirondack wilds and a host of suspects. The drug connection leads the detectives to an uneasy alliance with an odd husband-wife pair of federal agents—who may have another, more devious agenda.

Kevin and Hadley provide a commanding side story to that of the beleaguered honeymoon couple. Russ and Clare each bring a personal and professional crisis to the isolated cabin—stories they’ve yet to share with each other. These intriguing sidesteps make the book all but impossible to put down.

The chapters jockey back and forth between the Millers Kill cops, as they slip and slide through an increasingly dangerous investigation, and the disastrous and life-threatening scene facing Russ and Clare, stranded by the weather and threatened by the very criminals their compatriots seek. These complicated storylines come together seamlessly, providing readers with an evening or two of nail-biting tension as the crippling snow and ice bring law enforcement and criminals alike to their knees. Hate to offer up that old chestnut, but this is a book not to be missed.

In her pitch-perfect sequel to the Edgar-nominated mystery The Gods of Gotham, Lyndsay Faye returns to the 1840s with newly minted “copper star” Timothy Wilde once again hitting the streets as an intuitive investigator, positioned high among the ranks of New York City’s first police force. Faye’s eye for detail brings to life the city streets and the people who live there, from poor immigrants looking for shelter to conniving politicians looking for votes. The accurately rendered historical setting anchors Faye’s story in time and gives her characters a regrettably plausible mystery to solve: Where are Mrs. Lucy Adams’ sister and son, free blacks who have been kidnapped from their home by lawless slave traders? And what other crimes, and criminals, will Wilde expose in his quest to bring Lucy’s family home again?

Faye skillfully juggles a number of multifaceted characters and keeps readers just a little unsure what each might do next. Wilde appears righteous and law-abiding, for instance, but isn’t above relocating a corpse if it might prevent his brother Valentine from becoming a murder suspect. Said brother is, on the surface, reckless and rude, but he’s also brilliant and endlessly loyal to the brother whose often-awkward problem-solving methods drive him crazy. The banter between the siblings is one of the novel’s great delights, as their mutual aggravation and affection become clearer with each step they take toward solving the crime. Other colorful characters round out Wilde’s world, like ruthless Madam Silkie Marsh, no-nonsense landlady Mrs. Boehm and the precocious wise child, Bird, who has a lot to learn about the world but also a lot to teach.

It’s the people who inhabit Wilde’s world that keep the historical setting from ever feeling like a mere backdrop. Instead, the city is part and parcel of their everyday lives, and Wilde’s case reflects the realities of the day. We meet a starving Irish family begging at Val’s doorstep, and we hear Wilde’s arguments in a court as he attempts to clear a hardworking free man of false accusations. Even the dialogue reflects the times, as Faye makes liberal use of “flash,” or street language, an amalgamation of British, German, Dutch and Yiddish that has characters calling houses “kens” and sitting at the dinner table to “yam” their pigeon pie. It’s like Faye has dropped us directly into the ebb and flow of city life circa 1846, which makes solving the crime a personal quest not just for Wilde, but for readers as well.

The Case of the Love Commandos is the fourth novel by Tarquin Hall to feature Vish Puri, head of India’s Most Private Investigators, Ltd., and readers can prepare for a wild trip through an assortment of crisscrossing and intersecting stories.

Take a missing student named Ram from India’s untouchable Dalit caste, link him with Thuri, the daughter of a landowner from the higher Thakur caste, and you get a couple of star-crossed lovers. Add one stolen wallet, a murder and attempted framing, and a pilgrimage to the mountain shrine of a popular deity that ends in a giant heist. Then mix these with an eerie genetic research facility called ICMB, whose influence—and funds—appear to reach the seats of local government and beyond, and you have the beginnings of a twisty, colorful tale that will whisk you through the countryside and city vistas of northern India and the streets of Delhi.

Puri, whose unfashionable sartorial style favors safari suits of different hues, often seems to be a step behind his main rival, the spiffily dressed Hari Kumar of Spycatcher Investigative Services. But watch closely and you’ll find that Puri’s scattered activities conceal a clever mind (working best on a full stomach) and the patience to conduct a clue-by-clue investigation of even the smallest bits of information. He uses a crew of operatives with wonderful names such as Facecream, Handbrake, Flush, Tubelight and Door Stop, whose crazy monikers belie their many capabilities of disguise and wile. A new, youthful addition to the agency, a boy named Deep, gives added dimension to the story and proves indispensable as Puri wraps up the case and one-ups his rival.

Hall’s colorful and direct writing is full of understated humor and gentle satire, and it provides a multifaceted look at India’s ongoing social issues of caste and hierarchy, family, love and marriage. The best thing about Love Commandos, however, is not its story, though it’s a fine and twisty tale. And it’s not the character of Puri, though the devious, clever, rather pompous, food-loving detective gets our attention and affection. What takes first place in this book is India itself. Hall offers us an up-close and personal view of present-day India, a vibrant, helter-skelter dance of color and hubbub in a pungent, savory atmosphere full of noise, confusion and corruption, bursting with change.