There is pain, the pain of life, of death, of war, of childbirth. And then there is the pain of a migraine. An ocular nightmare with a surfeit of auras and screaming and monsters clawing inside a sufferers’ head. Through the noir pinhole of a beleaguered gangster the migraine is filtered in a stuttering, cartwheeling ghost ship full of death and night and blood. Through war, assassinations, Catholic apostasy, and crime, Smokey of the Migraines has gone to the edge of the world where sea monsters hunt a migraine is a fall from grace.