Never doubt that Evil exists. Not the little evils of the world, like the teenager selling dope on the corner, or the thief who breaks into your apartment to steal your television so he can buy the dope from corner guy. Not even the classroom bully who assuages his own insecurities at the expense of others. No, the Evil of John Connolly’s world, the world that will become yours from the very first page of The Wrath of Angels, is pervasive and permeating, a deep current running beneath the world and rising in the mist of the dark woods surrounding the fallen plane.
Nothing so simple as vampires, as werewolves, as zombies inhabit Connolly’s world. Evil is too subtle for such displays. And yet, his characters are aware of it in the same way normal people are, the same way we understand by instinct that which we cannot name.