"A simple mystical middle-man, Oliver Vance unexpectedly finds himself a key player in the middle of the hunt for a missing girl. A girl who may just be a beacon of hope in the great & grim city of veiled London."

To paraphrase a smarter man than I, there are more things in heaven and earth than exist in your fiction. If London is the place of cold hard fact, then veiled London is the place where the fairy tales, old yarns and new speculative stories come to life.
Monster or mutant, wizard or witch, troll or transdimensional demon, veiled London is home to everything special, magical and deadly that otherwise exists solely in your fiction. Fortunately, it exists in the same place as London, which makes getting deliveries and Uber pick-ups a hell of a lot easier.
Let me introduce myself; the name’s Olly Vance. I’m a scriven, by trade. A broker. An intermediary. A middle-man. I make deals. It can be a hard life, but it has its perks. I like helping people… for a price. What can I say? Like all in the second oldest profession, I’m also a capitalist.
So, when the granddaughter of a notorious gangland boss goes missing, of course, he turned to me to find her. I could have said no. I could have walked away. No muss, no fuss. No skin off my nose. But… but, where there’s a need, there’s opportunity. I figured I do a job, get in good with the Lion’s Head himself; a little networking, a little profit. What could possibly go wrong?
Vampires, Vampire hunters. Gargoyles. Lovecraftian fish-people. A massive mutant dog. A whole host of small leprous leprechauns. Magic of all stripes & flavors. And, let us not forget, the foretold ascension of the animus messiah.
Oh yeah, and there was some demonic torture. Of me, no by me. But that’s another story. This one is about how I found myself amidst the foretold rise of the Chimera. But as with any prophecy; it never goes exactly as planned.

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