12 Books Like Blood Covenant

My first book from Hall's Dorin Toth historical horror series but by no means my last. The world we are plunged into in Promise is grimy, war-ravaged and harsh. Toth is investigating a supernatural affliction on a town whose roads are out of bounds and, soon after his arrival, the evil that resides in this place begins to reveal itself.
The main character, as well as the supporting cast, are fantastic. The sense of place and time are wonderfully, vividly realised. The research which has evidently gone into the story must have been enormous, but the value of that research is clear to see from the very first torchlit pages.

Tananarive Due is a master of her craft. Her storytelling is absolutely brilliant and this book was a definite keeper.

Kaaron Warren has a unique style, and this is my favorite of her novels and one of my favorite novels of all time. I’m a sucker for grief horror and stories of people lost in urban decay, and I’m a sucker for ghost stories.

This is a ghost story unlike any other. I was moved by this book as much as I was disturbed. It’s a deeply emotional story that really dug under my skin. Some books stay with you; they leave a mark on your soul that you know you’ll never be able to remove, and this did that to me in the best way.

It’s a remarkable novel. 

Clive Barker is one of my favorite authors and greatly influenced me. This is his first novel but also, in my opinion, one of his best. I love books that blend crime and horror, particularly supernatural horror. I enjoyed the interplay here between the protagonist, recently released from prison, and the wealthy Londoner he starts to work for as a bodyguard.

I was hooked by the slow ramping up of danger throughout the book as the characters get more deeply entangled in the supernatural elements. I love Barker’s lyrical style and amazing use of language, and this remains one of the best horror novels I’ve ever read.

Kaaron is a heavy-hitting award winner and a regular in Ellen Datlow’s anthologies, and here are over two dozen reasons why.

Her stories hum with a dark, merciless truth that makes their often-outlandish nature all the more believable; the worlds we find here are weird indeed, the peoples who populate them lonely and unsatisfied, the fates that await them uncaring and memorable.

But the writing is far from dour, imbued with a wry humour and implacable intelligence, and while it ranges unrestrained across bizarre horror, grim fantasy, and deeply personal SF, Kaaron is always entirely in control.

Lend her your attention and she won’t steer you wrong – her imagination and integrity have been an inspiration to me for many years.

Much extreme horror presents us with cardboard characters who are ripped and torn with no real consequence – but Aaron gives us deeply felt people who pulse on the page, which means it really hurts me as a reader when he subjects them to brutal and unforgiving fates.

His fiction aches like unacknowledged truth, displaying an empathy that doesn’t gloss over the horrors of this world and the next, and feels intimately personal whether he's delving into family dramas, failed relationships, queer themes, or sophisticated splatter.

While his work mostly details the horrors we inflict upon each other, even with the best of intentions, it’s too broad to be kept in one box – and if it was, it would surely cut its way out and come for your heart next. 

Kirstyn is another stalwart of the Australian scene whom I have always admired, and this recent collection of her stellar short work is so overdue it’s almost insulting.

Like the best of our number, she delves deep into the heart of her characters to present tales that never feel rote or disengaged, and her tales have teeth in the most unexpected places.

Her weirdness is never dispassionate, her horror never tame, and she returns from the darkness with gifts of many hues.

These are modern fairy tales for the grimy backstreets and dimly lit suburban kitchens down here at the bottom end of our haunted globe.

Alan is less interested than the preceding authors in distracting poesy and deep characterisation – which is not to say that he is without sophistication, but rather that he prefers to twist the throttle hard and race through his stories like he has a metal gig to catch.

His two-fisted prose pulls no punches in this collection of five linked novellas about an odd Aussie country town, delivering bold thrills, shiversome delights, and wince-worthy kills.

Alan sets an example for myself and other local writers with his upstanding, no-shit attitude and open generosity, and those who don’t have the pleasure of knowing him personally will nonetheless feel welcomed into his world whenever they crack the covers of his books.

Claire is an irreverent delight in person, but you won’t see much of that persona in her stories – this book is heavy with gooey and bizarre body horror that always has a deeply personal context for her characters.

She’s admitted that writing is a vehicle for talking about her epilepsy, but you don’t need to share that with her to relate to the strange changes that take place on her pages.

This is just her first collection, an opening salvo across the bow of Australian horror, so it will be interesting indeed to see how her work evolves and metamorphosises over time – to meet the creature that crawls, slime-slicked and hungry, from the casing of her next books.

Alright, so a theme seems to be developing here, but in this case, ‘Don’t mess with nature’ gets a Canadian island treatment (those poor Boy Scouts). And, of course, a storm is coming. And, of course, the communications go out. I was gripped and frankly grossed out by this Stephen King-esque tale. 

There are also shades of Frankenstein and Lord of the Flies, and I love a horror novel that asks the question of which monsters are worse—the ones we create or the ones that lurk inside.