So, Trent. No last name, just Trent. He’s just this guy, you know? A guy who can’t remember anything from more than a year ago, when he woke up in New York City. He knows how to do everyday things, and can keep his newly created memories, but everything else is gone, vanished, non-existent. Or so he thinks. Even worse, Trent can’t die. Well, he can die, but he can also come back by stealing the lifeforce of the nearest living thing. Given that his chosen profession requires associating with various ne’erdowells and ruffians, he dies a lot, and the list of souls he’s stolen grows longer and longer.
Trent is “rescued” by Underwood, a crime boss who tortures people because he doesn’t have anything better to do. He convinces Trent he can help him find answers to his situation, but only if he works for him as a Collector—a fancy name for “thief.” Underwood sends him on a routine job to retrieve a mysterious box, and instead Trent walks into the middle of an attack by a pack of gargoyles on a werewolf and a witch, two more sets of competitors for that frakking box. Trouble is, someone else is waiting in the wings to get their corpse-y hands on the box, too. Trent soon finds himself wrapped up in a war between a necromancer and her army of zombies, a gargoyle battalion and their seemingly invincible king, and a pack of magic-enhanced thieves, with nothing less than the fate of New York City at stake.
[“It’s not as easy as it looks to come back from the dead.”]