Lair

Book Three in Herbert’s classic ‘rats’ series. The final countdown. The long-dreaded nuclear conflict. The city torn apart, shattered, its people destroyed or mutilated beyond hope. For just a few, survival is possible only beneath the wrecked streets - if there is time to avoid the slow-descending poisonous ashes. But below, the rats, demonic offspring of irradiated forebears, are waiting. They know that Man is weakened, become frail. Man has become their prey.

The terror begins. London is struck by an invasion. Women, children, old and young, none are safe from the deadly menace. The attacks are swift and sure, escape is impossible. A state of emergency is declared. Evacuation seems the only solution in the face of a growing panic and mounting death toll. War is declared on the public enemy number one. The Rats!

The peaceful life of a village in Wiltshire is suddenly shattered by a disaster which strikes without reason or explanation, leaving behind it a trail of misery and horror. A yawning, bottomless crack spreads through the earth, out of which creeps a fog that resembles no other. Whatever it is, it must be controlled; for wherever it goes it leaves behind a trail of disaster as hideous as the tragedy that marked its entry into the world. The fog, quite simple, drives people insane.

Night falls. It came like a malignant shadow with seductive promises of power. And somewhere in the night...a small girl smiled as her mother burned...asylum inmates slaughtered their attendants...in slimy tunnels once-human creatures gathered. Madness raged as the lights began to fade and humanity was attacked by an ancient, unstoppable evil.

The running man. In 1945, Hitler unleashes the Blood Death on Britain as his final act of vengeance. Hoke, an American pilot and one of a tiny minority with a rare blood group unaffected by the deadly disease, has survived alone among the debris and the dead of London for three years. Now, in '48, a slow-dying group of Fascist Blackshirts believe their only hope is a complete transfusion of blood from one of Hoke's kind. Ever more desperate as their deaths approach, they're after his blood.

A grim picture. Joseph Creed is a paparazzo, one of that un-illustrious band of photographers whose sole purpose in life is to chase and harass celebrities for candid shots, preferably of the seedier kind. Creed, himself, is a sleaze of the first order, but good at his job; nothing will stop him getting the right shot. He's a coward, a liar and a would-be blackmailer. He's also a womaniser and a divorcée. He looks a little like the actor Mickey Rourke (and is aware of it).

Dark destiny. When Steadman agreed to investigate the disappearance of a young Mossad agent, he had no idea he would be drawn into a malevolent conspiracy. Neo-Nazi cultists are bent on unleashing an age-old unholy power on an unsuspecting world-power rising out of a demonic relic from man's dark primal past to threaten humanity with horror beyond any nightmare. James Herbert was one of Britain’s greatest popular novelists and our #1 best-selling writer of chiller fiction.

The dark side. He had fled from the terrors of his past, finding refuge in the quietness of the island. And for a time he lived in peace. Until the 'sightings' began, visions of horror seeping into his mind like poisonous tendrils, violent acts that were hideously macabre, the thoughts becoming intense. He witnessed the grotesque acts of another, a thing that gloried in murder and mutilation, a monster that soon became aware of the observer within its own mind. And relished the contact.

The living dead. It had been one of the worst crashes in airline history, killing over 300 people and leaving only one survivor. Now the dead were buried and the town of Eton tried to forget. But one man could not rest. Keller had walked from the flames of the wreck, driven on by unseen forces, seeking the answer to his own survival. Until the town was forced to face the shocking, dreadful truth about what was buried in the old graveyard. And a truth Keller did not want to believe.

A ghostly twist. Three nights of terror at the house called Edbrook. Three nights in which David Ash, there to investigate a haunting, will be victim of horrifying games. Three nights in which he will face the blood-chilling enigma of his own past. Three hideous nights before Edbrook's dreadful secret will be revealed...And the true nightmare will begin.to the surface, tormenting him, refusing to let him rest. The memory of what he once had been.

The bodyguard. There is a house, hidden away in a small valley, that holds a dark and dreadful secret. The house is called Neath. There is a psychic who lives in that house who is part of its secret. His name is Kline. There is a guardian of the house, and of the psychic, and of the secret. He is known as The Keeper. Together, in unholy union, they serve a force whose existence threatens mankind itself. But now a terrible danger is sensed and an outsider must protect them all.

There is an old, empty house in Devil's Cleave, a deep gorge that leads from the high moors down to the harbour village of Hollow Bay. The house is Crickley Hall and it's large and grim, somehow foreboding. It's rumoured to be haunted. It's thought to hold a secret. Despite some reservations, the Caleighs move in, searching for respite in this beautiful part of North Devon, seeking peace and perhaps to come to terms with what's happened to them as a family. But all is not well with the house....

Half light. The shadow of his past was always with him. But he never knew what it was, or when it would strike next.Sent to a small coastal town to investigate drug smuggling, Kelso stumbles onto a dangerous organisation and, suddenly, more than just his life is at stake. It's his past, his future, his sanity. Through torture and drugs he discovers the terrifying secret of the The Jonah. And learns, in the most horrifying way, that it can destroy him as well as others.

The nightmare home. We thought we'd found our haven, a cottage deep in the heart of the forest. Quaint, charming, maybe a little run-down, but so peaceful. The woodland animals and birds couldn't have been more neighbourly. That was the first part of the Magic. Midge's painting and my music soared to new heights of creativity. That was another part of the Magic. Our sensing, our feelings, our love for each other - well, that became the supreme Magic. But the cottage had an alternative side. The Bad Magic.

A likely tail. He was a stringy mongrel, wandering the streets of the city, driven by a ravenous hunger and hunting a quarry he could not define. But he was something more. Somewhere in the depths of his consciousness was memory clawing its way to the surface, tormenting him, refusing to let him rest. The memory of what he once had been. James Herbert was one of Britain's greatest popular novelists and our #1 best-selling writer of chiller fiction.