Will Murray’s new thrill-packed adventure of the Spider will be different things to different people—and a kick in the pants for them all.
If you’ve read the classic pulp novels of the Octopus and the Scorpion, you’ll be one big step ahead of the Spider as he struggles to solve the mysteries of who’s who and what roles they play in the latest plague threatening New York City.
If you haven’t read those oldies, no problem! You and the Spider will starting fresh, discovering everything you need to know about everyone involved, and be surprised at a few plot twists those in the first group will be expecting.
Either way, there are plenty of other surprises, and other mysteries to solve. And you can rely upon the Spider—and Mr. Will Murray—to solve them with blazing hot .45s.
It’s bad news for the Big Apple when the centuries-old Cult of the Purple Eyes rises again, turning citizens into madmen intent on tearing each other limb from limb. As Richard Wentworth’s closest associates—Nita Van Sloan, the deadly Ram Singh and faithful servant Jackson—are drawn into this growing peril, he must fight to save their lives, along with millions of others.
Into the mix comes a fellow socialite named Jeffrey Fairchild, a sketchy old man called Dr. Skull, a ruthless vigilante knows as the Skull-Killer, and a criminal mastermind calling himself the Scorpion. All of them have secrets. Who can Wentworth trust? And what does the Scorpion hope to accomplish from all this death and destruction?
Mr. Murray is in fine form on this one. Here are a few of the many great lines that caught my eye:
Beneath a hatchet nose, lips split in a rictus of death, revealing gleaming white canines that would have given Count Dracula an exquisite stab of envy.
Two guns blasted in unison, turning the man’s rib cage into something found on the floor of a slaughterhouse.
Fairchild’s automatic barked and turned another half around before he collapsed into a sagging pile of meat.
Like dropped leather gloves, dead bats lay everywhere.
The powerful weapons bucked and smoked. Tongues of fire leapt from the steel muzzles. First one, then the other of the riflemen were knocked off their feet and hurled into eternity.
[Ram Singh] took out a handkerchief and used it to polish the kirpan’s blade, taking care to avoid the edge, whose sharpness was such that if a butterfly were to alight upon it, the insect would unwittingly bisect itself…
Who can resist stuff like that? Nobody! Get yourself a copy of Scourge of the Scorpion, and help the Spider save the day—again!
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