My husband bought the whole run the other day. He never does anything by half-measures.
Of course, in some ways, this is bad, because it's got me thinking about the books I eventually want to write on the human perspective of what happens after Bridge of Blood & Iron. And all the stuff I want to do with Kelpie and with One-eyed Jack. And whether those universes (The Stratford Man/Bridge of Blood & Iron/Glass of Rain universe and the One-eyed Jack & the Suicide King universe) are actually the same universe, after all.
As I suspect they are.
And I don't need to be planning a series out four or five books ahead when I haven't rewritten the first one to make it marketable yet. Still, I have a lot of stories to tell about those guys--the Fae, the Prometheans, and all the people caught in between them. I suspect that one could go on for a very long time: it's such a varied universe. There's the possibility for a Victorian book (Yeats! Crowley! Railroads! Irene Adler! The Tsavo Lions! (hee. I could bring back Magnus!) ), and there's also the potential for a little something revolving around Keats, Byron, and the Shelleys. In addition to bucketloads of second-world urban fantasy taking place more or less in the here-and-now.
And then there's the Eddas. And the science fiction stuff. Oh, so many ideas. So little time.