I actually picked this up under the apparently mistaken impression that it had won the Stoker award one of these years. Not bad. Not great either. Some parts were downright weak (I'm thinking here of the scene wherein we are introduced to the spinsterish, bookish, middle-aged heroine... and the first action we observe her taking is feeling up her own breasts. Not necessarily a bad thing, but it blatantly didn't fit here. Methinks the author was under the impression that it was important to work in a description of her breasts as quickly as possible. To be fair, he also worked in a physical description of the male lead as early as possible, and with equal awkwardness.) The ending was kind of... well, without spoiling, the most I can say is that you have seen this ending before, even if you've been living in outer Kurdistan.
This was all the more disappointing as the middle tantalizingly held out the possibility of a really surprising twist, and kept the suspense going. Suspense was definitely the strong point of the novel. The opening scenes, with the 'Something is murdering my men' hook, were quite good. The concept of a battle, not really between good and evil, but in trying to decide which is the lesser of two evils (Nazis vs. apparently undead, throat-ripping, soul-destroying fiend) has a lot of real-world resonance.
You don't have to take my word for it...
And what lesson can we learn here, boy-o? That there is no safety in blandness. Repeat after me. There is no safety in blandness.