Sweeney Todd #1

Reviews say: "The story is both gory and smoking hot. Absolutely love it." "Truly a Gothic masterpiece highlighting the subtle tiers of evil that exist between monsters and humans alike. Great supernatural twist on a joyous bloody spree and seems so damn timely. Another Wheeler winner!" The Story This entire story will be told in 4 books total. This is the first book. Pre-Victorian London, 1785. The practice of medical cannibalism has reached its peak. Mumia—the practice of grinding human flesh and organ into a powder to be served with wine—now survives only among the rich. In candlelit basements, they host lavish unwrapping parties, sipping dust from ancient mummies and drifting into euphoric trances. Outside their mansions, the city burns. The Golden Riots have left London raw and trembling—streets crowded with beggars, bankers, and broken men clawing to rebuild what faith and empire have consumed. To add insult to injury, the American Revolutionary War has ended, and veterans like Sweeney Todd return to a city unrecognizable. In one of London’s most unstable and desperate times, madness and money intertwine, salvation is sold by the ounce, and superstition and science become one. Just a short walk from the roaring Royal Exchange, Sweeney’s barbershop on Fleet Street becomes his refuge. His hands, once trained for battle, now find grim purpose in the rhythm of a blade. Within its dim walls, throats are bared, secrets are whispered, and the scent of iron never fades. Next door lives Mrs. Lovett, the eccentric widow weary from her two-year stay in the madhouse as a “misbehaved woman.” Committed by her late husband and suffocated by debt, she struggles to keep her bakery alive. One missed payment, and she loses everything—again. When Sweeney and Lovett’s paths cross, misfortune binds them. A strange accident—part chance, part supernatural—awakens something unholy between them. Together, they find inspiration in London’s darkest indulgence. The rich have been consuming the dead for centuries in pursuit of immortality. But what if there were a more… efficient recipe? If the nobles can swallow death and call it healing— then perhaps London is ready for a new kind of Mumia: freshly ground, served hot, and baked to perfection.