Demons with day jobs, possessed hatchbacks, and data centres that hum in a way they probably shouldn’t. Warm, funny stories with a slow burn and a bit of bite — all set in Manchester, where if it isn’t raining now, it will be soon.
Steve doesn’t believe in the supernatural. Then, at three in the morning, one turns up in his bedroom, trips over his jeans and ends up sobbing on the carpet about how rubbish she is at her job. He’s about to have his life turned upside down — which, on balance, is probably a good thing.
Max loves the night shift at Heaton DataMill: fans spinning where looms once did, and Kirsty, the supervisor who has never once smiled at him. But in sector D9 the lights misbehave, cables braid themselves overnight, and the fans keep falling silent — as if something wants to listen.
Jeff’s ex-wife got the house, the good car and most of his salary. He got Otto: a twenty-one-year-old Corsa on its last legs. When it breaks down in the middle of nowhere, he assumes it’s the scrapyard — until something finds its way in. Something dark, something creepy, something with a Spice Girls obsession.