Overview

In the fog-choked arteries of a steampunk London, where gas lamps flicker like dying hopes and airships hum through skies heavy with coal dust, Hyde Unbound reimagines the classic tale of duality as a descent into visceral horror. This is no gentleman's struggle between good and evil, but a grotesque unraveling of flesh, bone, and soul. Dr. Henry Jekyll's serum doesn't merely transform; it tears him apart, birthing Edward Hyde in a symphony of ripping skin and grinding bone, each change a perverse ecstasy that binds him to the monster within. The city itself becomes a crucible, infected by a plague that twists its denizens into reflections of Hyde's fractured essence, their bodies contorting in alleys and sewers as London drowns in blood and decay. This novel is a plunge into Gothic terror, where the cobblestones steam with arterial spray and mirrors reflect horrors too raw to name. It weaves body horror with psychological dread, painting a world where the line between man and monster blurs until it vanishes. From Jekyll's secret laboratory aboard a shadowed airship to the detectives chasing a killer they cannot comprehend, every chapter pulses with the serum's dark promise: to unleash what lurks beneath. Hyde Unbound is a tale of hunger, corruption, and a city consumed by its own hidden sins, crafted for those who dare to gaze into the abyss of human nature and find it staring back, grinning with jagged teeth.

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Aaron Gehrig, and the creature Known as Aryn Bats... By daylight, Aaron Gehrig is a devoted father, a husband with warm hands and a house that hums with laughter. He paints beloved pets in acrylic, gentle-regal cats, past pets, creatures caught between brushstroke and memory. He cooks. He mows lawns. He smiles. He answers emails. But at night... when the moon forgets its way through the sky... the shadows curl in. That's when Bats come out. That's when Aryn Bats flicks the switch. A creature stitched from ink and nightmare, Aryn lives in the darker recesses of Aaron's mind, a twin soul, a whispered name behind every black veil of creativity. Where Aaron writes with care, Aryn writes with cruelty. Where Aaron paints paws, Aryn sketches bloody claws. Together, they form a singular force: an indie horror author whose tales gnash and sing with blood-wet teeth. Gehrig's fiction is not for the faint of heart. Each book is a séance, a quiet summoning of terrible beauty. Gothic and unrelenting, his stories seep under the fingernails and nest in the ribcage. With prose that drips like candlewax and characters who feel too real, Gehrig, guided by the ghost-hand of Bats, writes from a place where the walls breathe and nothing stays buried. But when Bats comes out to write, he is writing dark, no holds barred, no filter, no restraint, no straight jacket. Full on Canadian Wolverine, clawing through the Canadian Rockies in British Columbia to Alberta, Canadian fiction, satisfaction-action... eh... sorry...I had too! Readers call him a dream. A nightmare. A rare kind of storyteller who dares to walk into the woods and bring back something true. And when they ask him where the ideas come from, Aaron Gehrig just smiles. But Bats is already behind them, whispering and watching.

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