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Gabriel Antaeus has woken up in Budapest with no idea who, or where, he is. He doesn't recognise his apartment. Or his reflection. He can find nothing but the vaguest of clues to indicate who he was, or what he did. Family and friends are conspicuous only by their absence. Gabriel is utterly, almost unnaturally, alone with his amnesia. But as the days pass he starts to discover things about himself. An interest in religion and morality. A well stocked wine cellar. A rack of expensive suits . . . the ability to speak any number of languages fluently . . . remarkable untaught martial arts skills . . . a tendency towards violent and alarming bouts of temper . . . and he doesn't seem to need to eat, or to sleep. As his self-discoveries grow into a pencil-sketch of his former self other clues begin to appear - a scholar, Zadkiel Stephomi, seems to know a lot about a host of unexplained events; books containing clues arrive; photographs are posted beneath the door. Someone seems to be leading Gabriel into a centuries-old conflict that begins with his past, and could end anywhere.
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