By: Richard Kadrey
Location: FIC KAD
Genre: Fantasy
Series: (Another Coop Heist #1)
a dark and humorous
story involving a doomsday gizmo, a horde of baddies determined to
possess its power, and a clever thief who must steal it back . . . again
and again.
"The first in the "Coop Heist" series sets up a more humorous take on magic
and the supernatural in the modern world as a thief with magical
immunity is tasked multiple times to steal a box that holds the
apocalypse or something along those lines. Looking for the box are
various cultists, government agents, mobsters, zombies, demons, and an
angel or two." Tom
22000 B.C. A beautiful,
ambitious angel stands on a mountaintop, surveying the world and its
little inhabitants below. He smiles because soon, the last of humanity
who survived the great flood will meet its end, too. And he should know.
He’s going to play a big part in it. Our angel usually doesn’t get to
do field work, and if he does well, he’s certain he’ll get a big
promotion.
And now it’s time . . . .
The angel reaches
into his pocket for the instrument of humanity’s doom. Must be in the
other pocket. Then he frantically begins to pat himself down. Dejected,
he realizes he has lost the object. Looking over the Earth at all that
could have been, the majestic angel utters a single word.
“Crap.”
2015.
A thief named Coop—a specialist in purloining magic objects—steals and
delivers a small box to the mysterious client who engaged his services.
Coop doesn’t know that his latest job could be the end of him—and the
rest of the world. Suddenly he finds himself in the company of The
Department of Peculiar Science, a fearsome enforcement agency that
polices the odd and strange. The box isn’t just a supernatural heirloom
with quaint powers, they tell him.
It’s a doomsday device. They think . . .
And suddenly, everyone is out to get it.
“So, you’re the angel of Death?” The angel shook
his head, a little embarrassed. “I don’t have that honor. In Heaven, I’m
the celestial who bears the great golden quills, the silver Chroma, the
holy vellums upon which the Lord God inscribes the fate of the
universe.” Tiras’s eyes narrowed. “You’re in charge of office supplies.
You’re the angel of office supplies.”
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