In theory, Dexter crossed with Supernatural sounds like an interesting idea. In practice, it’s more like mixing chocolate with guacamole. Of course, being being forewarned is forearmed. I went into this book thinking I was going to read something more in a serious vein, like We Need to Talk about Kevin; the summary on the back doesn’t suggest any paranormal themes.
John Wayne Cleaver (named after the cowboy, not the deranged clown) knows he is a sociopath. He has rules for himself to fit in. No stalking people, pretend emotions, no hurting animals, etc. Living in a mortuary doesn’t certainly doesn’t help him resist his urges. One day a mutilated body is delivered to the funeral home. Cleaver believes it to be the work of a serial killer. Cleaver considers himself to be an expert on serial killers, because he studies them extensively and pretty much brings them up in everyday conversation. (How this fits into the “act like a normal human” rules, I have no idea.) Soon another mutilated body is found and Cleaver decides he is the only qualified person to hunt the murderer down. He’s just your friendly, neighborhood sociopath!
Around page 100 is where this book leaps into orbit as it flies over the shark. Without any hint that this book is going to veer off road into total science fiction territory, the serial killer is revealed as a demon! For real, straight from Hell, sulfur and all, demon. I held out a tiny hope that by the end, the “demon” would be revealed to be just a product of Cleaver’s pyschosis. Nope. It’s totally a demon. (Although no mention of salt circles or cross road deals.) Surprisingly, someone thought this was a fabulous idea and it’s now a series where Cleaver continues to be a budding sociopath AND demon hunter. I think one book was enough for me.