Down into the vast depths, where flames dance to ceaseless tunes and souls wallow and weep, Lucifer lurks with a plan to keep his throne, no matter what lay in the future.
Hell is the landscape depicted and Stephanie M. Wytovich samples from numerous sources on the mythical plane, but reveals a place of original angles and shades.
The story follows a wayward collector of souls as he defies his lord and follows his urges. Supernatural date rape painted as a compulsive act of love is the focal point to which this tale unravels. It is the beginning and the reason for the mounting action. It is even cast under a somewhat romantic hue for a time.
The Eighth is a powerhouse of scenery. Description is the central tool of this story, nooks and crannies are painted in full and vivid color. Surfaces shine and reflect their depth under this pinpointed focus. Fluids drip, snow falls and the distant trees sway, collected and noted. Hell hooks, vampire-like bites, soul sucking for sustenance, the scenes are full-bodied experiences of gore, filth and activity and are often.
The characters of this tale know only extremes and harbor notions and drive that flip-flops like landed fish —love you, love you not. Liars and schemers, The Eighth, at times and in bare bones kind of manner, resembles a spy novel, crossers and double-crossers aplenty. At other times, this story dips towards a supernatural action novel. Mostly, it is a raw, bloody and intriguing portrait of obsession and pain.