Tom Sniegoski, Where Angels Fear to Tread (Roc, 2010)
Remy Chandler's got problems. He's still mourning his wife for longer than his friends -- and his dog -- think is healthy for him. He's got a missing persons case where the person in question is a small child and all the key witnesses end up severely dead. And he accidentally helped Lucifer reassume his throne in Perdition, thus possibly starting the countdown on Armageddon and definitely causing his innate angelic nature to have a lot less patience for all this human crap Remy's been mucking about in.
In other words, he's kind of screwed. Then again, hard-boiled private eyes, originally angelic in nature or not, are no fun to read about when they're not up to their necks in trouble. Chandler -- named in deliberate homage to the master of noir -- is no exception. And, since he's landed in a mess of trouble here, the fun factor is correspondingly high.
The best thing about Angels, the third book in the Chandler series, is that author Sniegoski uses it as an opportunity to throw the gates of his continuity wide open. The first two books of the series concerned themselves almost exclusively with angels, fallen or otherwise. This one, however, casts a broader net, and embraces the implications of Remy's angel-hood. All of which is a roundabout way of saying that now the cast includes the Bible's best-known longhair, his lovely but treacherous ex-girlfriend Delillah, and a very cranky Phoenician deity, for starters. The book may be more crowded than past iterations of the series, but that's a good thing, and it opens the door to even more possibilities in further iterations.
As for the plot, Sniegoski knows his material -- and his audience -- better than to start off with something seemingly mundane that only gradually acquires trappings of the supernatural. Rather, the ball's rolling from the beginning. The kidnapped little girl is capable of drawing prophetic images, which is what led her mother to Chandler's office to begin with. Now on the road with her father, who's looking to make amends for a crisis of faith he'd had when the little girl was born, she's the key to not only the plans of a disgruntled and decaying god, but also to those of Delilah. And where Delilah is, Samson goes, hell-bent for vengeance, which means all parties converge in could potentially be a very messy way.
Sniegoski handles all of this with a light touch and sharp banter. Remy is more than just a bundle of wisecracks, though. Drawing on the memories of his dead wife and the unflappable poochy wisdom of his dog, Marlowe, he tackles the demands of both heaven and earth without getting preachy, boring, or dull. Instead, he's fun to follow along with, as are his adventures.
