Satan’s Seductress By Brian McNaughton

Satan’s Seductress
By Brian McNaughton
1981 Star Books
Paperback, 254 pages

                This is the direct follow-up to McNaughton’s Satan’s Mistress, which was a follow-up (in name only) to his previous Satan’s Love Child. This book picks up four years after the killing and satanic craziness that happened in Mistress and some of the characters from that book return. Should you read Satan’s Mistress before this one? Yes, you probably should.

 

                Amy Miniter had a small role in the previous book, but she managed to survive the massacre that happened in Mount Tabor, Connecticut and she’s back. Away for four years, she returned to settle her mother’s affairs, so she moved into a new apartment complex. The complex, not so surprisingly, was built on top of the town dump where the witch Mirdath was buried. Strange things are afoot in the apartments and the shy, frail and neurotic Amy is targeted to house Mirdath’s resurrected spirit. Tatty journalist Martin Paige (really, it must be McNaughton himself!) is in town looking to write a book on the massacre and puts himself into Amy’s life whether she wants him or not.

 

                Cult leader Howard Ashcroft returns from the previous book as does Amy’s old high-school teacher Mr. Bamberger, both seeking to reincarnate the witch. Amy’s downstairs neighbors provide plenty of sex and violence as the apartment complex goes loony. Todd is an Ashcroft follower and has a mean streak a mile wide anyway. Just ask his girlfriend Toni. What the cult really wants is the Necronomicon and Martin has found it, but can he hold onto it as the world fills with unreality, danger and time-loops?

 

                This book isn’t nearly as action-packed as its predecessor, but it matches it in the surrealism department. Events happen, but then things change back to “normal”, and then back until the reader and the characters are unsure what is real anymore. That is not a knock on the story telling, it is all part of the fun. McNaughton blends suspense, hallucinations, humor and desperation in sure even strokes. Gorehounds will enjoy Toni’s death and subsequent appearances in the story.

 

                This book was rereleased in 2000 by Wildside Press with McNaughton’s original, intended text and title as Worse Things Waiting. As I suggest with Satan’s Mistress, why not go with the more fun and loopier version as Satan’s Seductress? And rather than the big Satan face used on the 1980 Carlyle cover, hold out for the nude art by Gino D'Achille on the Star Books release. His covers are stunning.

The Charnel Caves By Guy N. Smith

The Charnel Caves
By Guy N. Smith
2019 The Sinister Horror Company
Paperback, 134 pages

 

                This is the master’s final foray into Crustacean Mayhem and like Killer Crabs: The Return, this short book is a valentine to the many killer crab enthusiasts, like me. It is an easy read for an afternoon when you feel the need for the clickety-clicking of crab claws and the destruction they can cause to soft, human skin.

 

                Our hero from the past, Cliff Davenport, still has horrible nightmares from his encounters with the massive crabs from forty years earlier. The cure? Head back to Barmouth, Wales, where the horror began for him. He figures seeing it as a peaceful resort town would wipe out his hideous memories. Albeit reluctantly, his wife agrees. What could possibly go wrong?

 

                Well, the giant jellyfish that killed a vacationer in the area aside, Davenport finds time for a restful walk along the cliffs. He finds a flooded cave with scratch marks around it… could it be? Yes, yes it could! He makes his reports to the authorities and his vacation becomes another tussle with giant crabs. Exploring the cave turns into a nightmare for divers and a breeding pair of giant crabs are seen in there raising their young and readying for another attack on humanity.

 

                With generous chapter breaks and blank pages, this one is really only about 70 pages of reading, but every word is a treasure to cherish. It is Guy N. Smith, the Great Scribbler, the Master, the man who gave us crabs. This is sheer joy. He even throws in a Russian spy submarine as a subplot just for the chance to deliver the line, “President Putin and his office will never accept that this was an attack by giant crustaceans…” We lost a lot when we lost GNS the year after this was published. He did manage to get two more novels out in that last year. Unstoppable in life.

 

                He left such a wonderful legacy. Especially those darn crabs. You have to wonder if he was going to move forward with the Killer Jellyfish that makes an appearance in this one. Things that could have been…

The Gannon Books by Dean Ballenger

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Mantis By E.B. Stambaugh

Mantis
By E.B. Stambaugh
Futura 1989
Paperback, 288 pages

 

                Of course, every book pales in comparison to Pierce Nace’s incomparable Eat Them Alive, but having a go at another giant mantis book takes a lot of guts. E. M. Stambaugh, whoever you are, I tip my hat to you for even thinking about it. Mantis is no Eat Them Alive, but it is well-written and despite being overly character-driven, it’s not a bad timewaster.

               

                Jerrod Rudd is the Chief of Police in Pleasant Grove, California, a sleepy town where nothing much happens. His marriage is in shambles. He doesn’t have time for his wife, his kids or anything but his job. His annoying Godmother, who raised him, gives his annoying daughter a small Praying Mantis for a science project and the child learns all about her new pet. Meanwhile, the quiet town is besieged by animal slaughters: some dogs, some horses, and then an all-out bloodbath in the local animal shelter. No tracks are left behind and the point of entry to the shelter appears to have been from the skylight.

 

                OK, being that the book is called Mantis and there’s a big Praying Mantis on the cover, we know what’s going on. It sometimes gets a bit tedious waiting for Rudd to sort things out but the information that trickles in is interesting. Bite marks get larger as time goes on, suggesting that whatever is responsible is growing. Unfortunately, his Godmother is a wannabe detective, and she gets super annoying, talking to the press and such. Like Rudd, I wanted to punch her. Much of the book is pure soap opera, with the husband/ wife problems and the big city detective, her old flame, brought in to help. Luckily, the writing is excellent, and I never drifted off, but I was constantly thinking get to the Mantis part!!!

               

                Once it finally does (like 200 or so pages in), blood flows and I was happy. It seems that one of the pet mantid’s siblings got radiated in the local toxic waste dump and grew and grew. I always thought those mantis egg cases that you can buy for your garden were a bad idea. True fact: most of those egg cases in garden stores are Chinese Mantids. Thus, you are introducing an invasive species when you’re trying to keep aphids off of your broccoli. Don’t be a tool. Like Clarice, the annoying Godmother.

Savage By Paul Boorstin

Savage
By Paul Boorstin
1981 Berkley Books
Paperback, 291 pages

 

                I’d read The Accursed by Paul Boorstin and liked it so when I saw he had another horror book out with a nifty keyhole step-back decap cover, I knew I’d like to have it in my collection. Luckily, it wasn’t expensive when I found one in pretty good shape (although my cat has since bitten four holes into the cover). The drawback to this book is that the Berkley edition has tiny, densely packed print that made it a real chore to read. The narrative and writing is very good but it would have benefitted from some pruning and much larger print.

 

                Photojournalist Christine Latham is given an assignment to cover the opening of the El Dorada Hotel in (the fictional) Panaguas in South America. Panaguas is in the middle of a revolution and guerillas are all but guaranteed to show up at the resort. The luxury hotel was built on cleared jungle land after the country’s leader disposed of the native people by all means possible. Of the many beautiful people invited to the opening, only a handful arrive and pretty soon, heads are gonna roll. Literally.

 

                The cast of characters is good and are all given ample time to blossom; the producer and his busty starlet, a washed up pop star, an older psychic woman, an anthropologist, the country’s leaders and numerous mercenaries amongst them. All of them are very flawed and except for Chris, none of them are likely to be someone you’ll root for but you do get familiar with them, which keeps what might be their fates on your mind. I mean, Chris finds some real shrunken heads among the touristy fake ones in the gift shop, and then some of the characters wind up headless. Who is doing the killing? And the shrinking? The story plays out as a mystery as much as a horror adventure complete with red herrings and plenty of plot twists. It’s good to have a strong woman as the main character of an Eighties novel for a change, too.

 

                Boorstin is an excellent writer and pens some lovely passages and the gore, once it comes, splashes with vigor. The bodies pile up and there are some wonderfully shocking set-pieces. For our characters, escape is impossible, survival improbable. The book feels overlong by the time you’ve hit the halfway mark but picks up steam in the second half. Still, with that tiny print, plowing through this one is rough going, no matter how much you’d like to. There are a few jaw-dropping twists that I never saw coming and all in all, this one is a keeper, though I doubt I’ll ever read it again. But that step-back cover alone is worth it.

 

                The Berkley edition has an extra 19 pages devoted to a preview of Laurence Block’s (then forthcoming) novel Ariel that I didn’t bother reading because it was in the same tiny typeface. I just couldn’t do it to myself.

The Web By Richard Lewis

The Web
By Richard Lewis
1981 Hamlyn
Paperback, 204 pages

 

                When Alan Radnor turns into Richard Lewis, he writes books for me! As Lewis, he wrote a half dozen creepy-crawlies-versus-humans novels and all of them are loads of fun. This one is a sequel to his successful debut critter novel Spiders (1978). Many of his books don’t stick in your head for a long time, but they deliver the goods and are a hoot while you’re digging in.

 

                Of course, James Herbert’s The Rats (1974) started the whole Britain-under-attack genre, but we must also credit the same author’s The Fog (1975) for the folks-going-murderously-insane storyline that also frequently turns up in these books. The spiders that return in Lewis’s sequel are a little different. Sure, some of them devour their victims down to the bone, leaving just a husk, but a mutated form of spider can envenomate their victim and that, my dear, will cause violent insanity. They also enjoy wrapping up humans in tight webs to be devoured later. Evolution, that’s what it is.

 

                Much of the book is just a bunch of brief vignettes, characters set up only to be slaughtered. One fun passage is with the spinster schoolteacher whose routine is broken up after being bitten by one of the new spiders. She goes bonkers on her class of cheeky, young students and starts killing and beating them, as well as anyone who tries to stop her. I love it when bratty kids aren’t spared! Another fun set piece is a prison attack where the trapped convicts are sitting ducks for the arachnid army.

 

                It doesn’t matter if you haven’t read Lewis’s first spider novel; when the action from the first book is referenced, it is notated for your convenience. Since we have new mutations here, consider it an all-new story and enjoy the onslaught. Derivative? Yes. Any new ideas? Nope. Do I recommend it? Hell yes! Fun, gory, stupid, 80s pulp… just the way I like it.

Bestial By Ray Garton

Bestial
By Ray Garton
2009 Leisure Books
Paperback, 339 pages

                Bestial is Garton’s sequel to 2008’s Ravenous (reviewed in Midnight #9) but there’s more to it than that. Martin Burgess hires Investigators Karen Moffett and Gavin Keoph to look into the werewolf rumors he’d heard about in Big Rock, California. Those three characters are returning from Garton’s Night Life (2005) which was a sequel to his successful vampire novel Live Girls (1987). Got that? It doesn’t really matter if you have read any of the previous books; Bestial is self-contained and any references to the earlier works are easy to follow.

 

                So, the rumors are true; there is werewolf activity in Big Rock, and Burgess’s previous investigator has disappeared. Karen and Gavin know how tough their job is. As they begin to believe what we already know, we get treated to a pure werewolf birth. It gets fed a human baby to munch on upon it’s emergence into the world. Yes, there is plenty of graphic gore here and that scene is in the prologue! And, of course, as in Ravenous, werewolf-ism is spread by sexual activity. Lots of fucking and gore ensues.

 

                The main thrust (you’re welcome) of this one is to start a new race of pure werewolves and take over the law and the church in town and grow their new race. I’ll admit that there were a few too many characters that I had to juggle with as I struggled with the small and tight typeface, but it all became crystal clear in an epic scene in a hospital emergency room as a second wolf kid is born. After that, I knew everybody and couldn’t put the book down. The ER slaughter is a magnificent segment of the novel that works up some beautiful bursting visions of horror. The characters are all fleshed out enough to make you care one way or another, and their situations become very important to the reader.

 

                The ending is another explosive and exciting scene that kept me on the edge of my… well, pillow, I guess, since I usually read in bed. For my money, this sequel is better than the original book. There is ample room for a sequel to this but since Garton sadly passed away in 2024 (he was younger than me… not fair!), we’ll never get it.