Stone & Sky by Ben Aaronovitch

Peter Grant and Beverly Brook have survived the first two years as parents of twins, and unsurprisingly they are in need of a vacation. Peter’s family being what it is, and his job being what it is, the trip up to Scotland more closely resembled a circus caravan than a cozy family outing. To be fair, it didn’t start out as a family getaway, it started with a dead sheep. More accurately, as Aaronovitch begins Stone & Sky, “It all started when Dr Brian Robertson, retired GP, enthusiastic amateur ecologist and self-confessed cryptid aficionado, stumbled over a dead sheep a few kilometres west of the town of Mintlaw, Aberdeenshire.” (p. 1) The difference between this sheep and a more run-of-the-mill ex-ruminant is that “it looked to Brian as if something had take a bite out of its belly. Something with a mouth the size and cutting power of a bear trap.” (p. 1)

Now it happened that Brian had been friends at medical school with Dr Abdul Haqq Walid, now of London, consulting pathologist to a special unit of the London’s Metropolitan Police Service. That unit, colloquially known as the Folly, was home to England’s last officially licensed magical practitioners, and were the police responsible for what less enthused members of the Met called “weird bollocks.” Cryptids fit right in, especially if they might conceivably pose a danger to the public, even the Scottish public.

Brian hadn’t heard back from Walid after sending him some photos and some samples,

So he was a little surprised when, late one evening in July, he looked out of his window to find a vintage Jag, a bright orange Ford Focus ST and a heavily customised VW California camper van unsuccessfully attempting to cram into his driveway. He flung open his front door to find Abdul standing on the step. Beside him was a young coloured girl wearing a fox stole.
“Good evening, Brian,” said Abdul “I’m sorry about dropping in so unexpectedly, but the decision to come up was made last minute.”
“It’s lovely to see you all the same,” said Brian, and was about to ask the girl’s name when he realised that the “stole” she was wearing was in fact a live fox — and a large one at that.
“This is Abigail,” said Abdul.
“Delighted to meet you, Abigail,” said Brian. “Would you like some tea?”
At that, the fox lifted its head and gave Brian an enthusiastic stare.
“Will there be cheese puffs?” it asked. (p. 2)

Brian takes that rather well, and Peter’s narration explains the rest of the circus. After Abdul decided to investigate Brian’s report in person, “Nightingale, who said he hadn’t done any proper hunting since the 1930s, volunteered to join him, and could his youngest apprentice, Abigail, accompany them?” (p. 3) Then Beverly got wind of the plans and decided “that a Scottish holiday would be just the thing” for her, Peter, and the twins. “Which meant that my mum demanded that she be included for babysitting purposes and, because my dad cannot be left unsupervised, he rode up [too] … Since he was coming up anyway, my mum figured that my dad might as well make a splash on Aberdeen’s small but perfectly formed jazz scene.” (p. 4) That meant the band, Lord Grant’s Irregulars, was also coming, along with their manager, Zachary Palmer, a figure from London’s semi-magical demimonde known to Peter from other cases.

One of the things that I like most about Aaronovitch’s series is how much it is a continuous love letter to London, at least in the main novels, but I have to admit it’s also fun to see nearly the whole cavalcade of major characters in a new environment. The relocation also helps raise the possibility that things could go more drastically wrong than usual. The characters cannot call on their local experience and allies. Not only are they unable to use the special advantages that their home turf offers, they must contend with others who are operating on their own home grounds. Or waters.

Aging everyone by two years further helps Aaronovitch in his overall management of the series. Abigail is old enough to be taken more seriously. Nightingale is that much closer to possible retirement. Peter is more versed in his role as second-in-command at the Folly. The twins are mobile small persons and not just babes in arms. As a long-term reader, I’m also interested in the cases that may have gone by in that time, but maybe they will be explored later, or they have already been shown in the graphic novels that I haven’t read.

Naturally, the sheep and the putative Thing With the Bear-Trap Jaw are not the only problems that Peter and company get mixed up in on those Scottish shores. There’s a woman who was so missing that nobody noticed for weeks that she was gone. There’s a dead man whose autopsy reveals odd things about his red blood cells, and also that he had gills. There are reports of a panther, and no zoo that one might have escaped from. Peter’s police work must also contend with being on someone else’s patch, as the saying goes, and further with several groups of local people who reckon that it’s worth more to keep silent than to talk to someone not from around these parts.

One enjoyable formal change to the novel is that Peter is not the only narrator. Abigail relates a number of chapters, and they all have titles that follow the form of her novella, such as “What Abigail Got Up To in the Woods” and “What Abigail Did About the Panther This Time.” I was not above being pleased by the fan service, but I also liked seeing events through her eyes, and characters developing relationships among themselves without Peter in the middle of everything. There are charming touches, too, like how readily Nightingale takes to writing in emoji.

More than a dozen books into the series, it would be easy to undersell Aaronovitch’s skill in telling a complex mystery that’s part police procedural, part personal drama, and part magical adventure. The overlapping cases are interesting; they’re tied to the location; and unraveling them is dangerous for all involved. Stone & Sky is fun to read. It’s a taut tale. It’s funny in both scenes and one-liners. “One does not simply fly off to an oil rig. There are safety protocols there that never sleep.” (p. 294) Some of the funny bits come with barbs about the characters, too. “‘I can stop if you like,’ I [Abigail, in this chapter] say, because all my days I’ve been warned to respect other people’s boundaries. Which would be easier if other people knew where those boundaries are.” (p. 279) Wouldn’t it just?

And then there’s the kind of mix that could only come from a Rivers of London novel, as in this scene with Abigail talking to a very local person:

“So you’re not in favour [of independence] then?” I ask …
“Independence,” says the Old Lady. “Those fools in Edinburgh think they can talk themselves into independence. They have no idea who they’re dealing with.” She flings up her arms and points to a print on the wall behind her. “Not while she’s in charge.”
I look where she’s pointing and there’s a framed black-and-white photograph of a young white woman in an army forage cap. … She seems familiar, and I’m wondering whether she’s like some old-time film sar.
“Who’s that?” I ask, and the Old Lady chuckles.
“Don’t you know your own sovereign?” she asks.
“That’s the Queen?” I say, and this gets another laugh. …
I say OK and that I see it now, and the Old Lady turns and stares me in the eyes. They’re bright blue, the pupils big and behind them the long slow sad song of sea, of ships and men lost, of waves waiting, of dreams foundering on the rocks.
“But you don’t see it,” she says. “That’s not her true face.”
I’m going to say that, well, yeah, it’s definitely a PR glamour pic … But the look on the Old Lady’s face stops me.
“She’s had many faces and goes by many names,” she said. “Matilda, Mary, Elizabeth, Anne, Victoria. But all are Gloriana, queen of the unspoken court and one of the true rulers of the world.”
She pauses, like she’s waiting for me to say something, but I’m thinking about that time in Wales that I ain’t ready to talk about. I don’t think the fae I met back then think Queen Liz rules them. Still, one thing’s for certain. The fae like like a bunch of boys in a Relationship and Sex Education class. So who knows? (pp. 255–57)

Stone & Sky takes Peter and his people to new places. I’m glad I got to come along.