If the way Endore frames Bertrand Caillet’s atrocities through found documents and testimonies hooked you, you’ll love how Dracula unfolds via Jonathan Harker’s journal, Mina’s typewritten notes, and newspaper clippings. That same documentary feel builds dread piece by piece, turning supernatural terror into something chillingly plausible—much like the archival layers that surround the Paris Commune episodes in The Werewolf of Paris.

If the siege-and-Commune backdrop—crowds, tribunals, and shifting allegiances—deepened the horror around Bertrand’s crimes, The Gods Are Athirst dives headlong into Parisian revolutionary zeal. You’ll watch the idealistic painter Gamelin descend into fanaticism and terror courts, echoing how political fervor in The Werewolf of Paris amplifies private monstrosity and turns the city itself into an accomplice.

Bertrand Caillet’s struggle to restrain his predatory impulses—and the nightly surrender to them—mirrors the war between Jekyll’s better nature and Hyde’s savagery. Stevenson’s tight psychological focus makes each transformation feel inevitable and damning, much like Endore’s probing of guilt, desire, and the terrifying relief of giving in to the beast.

If the stark brutality of Bertrand’s killings against the backdrop of 19th‑century turmoil gripped you, Perfume offers an equally visceral descent. Jean‑Baptiste Grenouille stalks Paris with inhuman detachment, committing exquisitely grotesque murders in pursuit of the perfect scent—capturing the same chilling blend of historical detail and uncompromising horror that made Endore’s Paris so haunting.

If you were compelled by Bertrand’s status as a predator at the story’s center—and by Endore’s scathing look at religious corruption in his origins—The Monk puts the villain front and center. Father Ambrosio’s slide from revered holiness to murder and diabolism mirrors the fascination of watching a central figure commit unspeakable acts, with the same blend of erotic menace, sacrilege, and moral collapse.