If Ig’s horn-born power to drag out confessions and his scorched-earth hunt for Merrin’s killer hooked you, you’ll click with James Stark in Sandman Slim. Stark claws his way out of Hell and uses hellish abilities to settle scores in modern-day L.A., mixing bar-fight grit with infernal magic. Like Ig charming snakes and forcing brutal truths in backwoods New Hampshire, Stark strong-arms angels, demons, and lowlifes—pursuing vengeance with the same furious, morally messy drive that made Horns so satisfying.

You liked riding shotgun with Ig as his new horns made him dangerous and not entirely noble—an avenging figure who still makes awful choices. Meet Miriam Black in Blackbirds: when she touches you, she sees how and when you’ll die. She hustles, steals, and rationalizes, much like Ig leaning into temptation while tracking Lee Tourneau. The book leans into that same anti-hero energy—raw, profane, and propulsive—while turning a curse into a weapon for messy justice.

If the way Horns entwines sin, temptation, and faith—Ig sprouting literal devilish horns, church whispers, and that harrowing confessional truth-telling—stuck with you, American Gods goes even deeper. Shadow Moon falls in with the enigmatic Mr. Wednesday, and finds old gods and new hustling across America. Like Ig’s power exposing people’s worst impulses, Gaiman turns belief itself inside out, asking what we worship and why—only with road trips, cons, and mythic showdowns.

If you were pulled in by Ig sleuthing Merrin’s murder—piecing together lies, confronting Lee, and following a trail that turns otherworldly—The Outsider scratches the same itch. Detective Ralph Anderson thinks he has an airtight case, until the evidence splits in impossible directions. As in Horns, the hunt for a killer collides with a predatory force that feeds on guilt and grief, and the investigation becomes a terrifying reckoning with the uncanny.

If you smirked at the queasy laughs in Horns—like the shockingly frank confessions Ig provokes or the obscene small-town revelations—John Dies at the End doubles down on that vibe. David and John stumble into a drug called Soy Sauce, doorways to other dimensions, and a cavalcade of grotesque nasties. It’s the same irreverent, blasphemous fun that made Ig’s deviltry perversely entertaining, but louder, weirder, and gloriously unhinged.