Modern Science Fiction

Colin and Click are headed back from the Hellpocalypse timeline when things go sideways, and they end up somewhere they were never supposed to be. Soon Colin is recruited by none other than The Fat Man himself and tasked with saving Christmas in a small Texas town that's plagued by allies of Krampus. Is Santa really just a jolly old fat man? How much trouble can a few gankerl be? Do lederhosen make Colin's butt look fat? Can Colin save Christmas? Get answers to these questions and more in this wacky Christmas fantasy fiction installment in the Junkyard Druid Novellas series.

Cast away from the Society (sort of) and out on our own, we've got a big problem on our hands - and an exciting prospect, too. They call it time travel on TV. Is this the big, fat secret the Hidden Ministry's been keeping? What's the real truth behind that wandering tower? Answers must be found — in the face of severe opposition from the Ministry, from Ancestria Magicka, and from every Fae Court in existence. Simple. If only everything wouldn’t keep going wrong.

Somebody thought it would be a great idea to send us to the Troll Court. Because somebody imagined I might be the perfect person to help with a certain wild and crazy plan of Their Majesties' concoction. They want to restore the lost city of Farringale. I can only say that I heartily approve. There is the tiny problem of how, of course; but who better to dig up the truth than the Society’s most colourful agents? Off questing we go, armed with a long list of questions, two winning smiles (well, three, if you count the Baron’s — and who wouldn’t?) and a certain Dappledok pup.

Fresh from an involuntary crash course in the Stranger Arts, I've a new mystery on my plate: the inexplicable reappearance of a particularly fantastic magickal species. Which is great, don't get me wrong. Rescuing magickal beasts is what we do around here. But the Dappledok Pup hasn't been seen since the seventeen hundreds; so how did we find one, alive and kicking, over two hundred years later? And this beast has a talent for sniffing out treasure, no less. Happenstance? Maybe not.

As an agent of the Society for Magickal Heritage, I, Cordelia Vesper, have an important job: rescue endangered creatures, artefacts, books and spells wherever they are to be found. It’s a tough job, but somebody’s got to keep British magick alive. So we rescued a valuable book from a long-lost library, only it proved to be unusually... chatty. And it's got a foul mouth, too. What manner of weird magick is this? Somebody else thinks it's pretty interesting, too. Ancestria Magicka, they call themselves. Brand new. Big trouble.

The Antichrist is a book by the philosopher Friedrich Nietzsche, originally published in 1895. Although it was written in 1888, its controversial content caused its publication to be delayed. The German title can be translated into English as either The Anti-Christ or The Anti-Christian, depending on how the German word Christ is translated. Nietzsche claimed in the foreword to have written the book for a very limited readership. In order to understand the book, he asserted that the reader "...must be honest in intellectual matters to the point of hardness to so much as endure my seriousness, my passion."

As the pace of modern life accelerates, the old ways wither and die. But to the Society for Magickal Heritage, that just isn’t good enough.

Colin McCool here, everyone’s favorite druid master and trouble magnet extraordinaire. Everyone except the gods, that is, who seem to enjoy messing with me just a little too much. Which is how I ended up in an alternate timeline, trying to save humanity from a vampire apocalypse. After getting my tail kicked by the top leech in Dallas, I decided it was time to level up before round two. That’s why I’m headed to Underhill to bond with a druid oak in this timeline so I can win this war. To do that, I’ll need to recruit the help of the Dagda, leader of the Celtic pantheon....

I'm Colin McCool, world-class trouble magnet and druid apprentice extraordinaire. I survived my final confrontation with the Dark Druid by the skin of my teeth. But that stunt attracted the attention of some extremely nasty gods who now consider me a threat to their very existence. Hashtag FML, amirite? Now, I'm in a race to master the ways of druid magic, all while staying one step ahead of the immortal assassins trying to kill me.

Colin McCool has outwitted necromancers, sorcerers, fae assassins, and evil demigods...but can this journeyman druid survive a face-to-face fight with a god? If you enjoy urban fantasy novels that feature snarky male protagonists, then you’ll love this paranormal thrill ride with a twist of mystery and suspense. Because who doesn't love a down on his luck magician who has to fight to save the people he loves?

It’s all very well deciding to build the means to save British magick. Top marks for ambitious goals! ...But there are one or two obstacles in the way. For one, said means does not yet exist, and it’ll take a genius to sort that one out. Luckily, we’ve got one of those. We call him Orlando. For another, nothing at all can be built without materials, and no common-or-garden commodities will do. It’s got to be silver. The impossibly rare, virtually extinct kind. This one’s on me, Val and Jay.

Four years ago, somebody pinched perhaps the most valuable book in existence. Merlin’s personal grimoire. And the price they’re offering for its return is the kind we can’t refuse, so it’s Ves and Jay on the case. Except that there aren’t any clues. Seriously, not even a little one. Nothing’s going to solve this case but a Vesper-patented Crazy Plan, and it had better be a good one, for complications are sprouting like daisies. At least it’s a straightforward mission. There’s no earthly way this one’s going to turn my entire life upside down... right?

I haven't heard from my mother in six years—which is why I was surprised to receive a summons from her. The peremptory kind. With nothing but a set of map coordinates to guide me, what exactly was I to expect? The short answer? Trouble, for Mother Dearest is in rather a lot of it. And like daughter, like mother, for there’s a shiny artefact in the offing, and only a few gigantic lindworms in the way. Who isn’t up for a minor little challenge like that?

Stranded far from home, and unable to return, I am in bigger trouble than ever. I know I say that a lot, but this time it's really true. Not that there aren’t advantages to my particular predicament. If one must put up with a dangerous degree of magickal potency, one is duty-bound to… put it to use, no? Certainly nothing insane, irresponsible and potentially life-threatening. As if. But we'll need every possible advantage in the Hyndorin Mountains. For there, hidden behind layers of secrets, could be the answers we are looking for.

Dispatched overseas — far, far overseas — we're in hot water. Again. Following in the footsteps of a long-lost king, we're on the road to the mysterious Vales of Wonder. The upside? It's a hot-bed of magickal marvels, the likes of which we've literally never seen before. The downside? Danger. Because who ever said adventure would be easy? Fortunately, we have help. One reviled but aggravatingly handy beast specialist: check. One world-famous, awe-inspiring, purple-clad troll scholar: check. One perambulatory, half-mad house with a crush on Jay: check.

Things have been quiet at the Society lately. Too quiet. It couldn’t possibly last. When a griffin appeared in the Yorkshire skies, it could only mean bad news. There’s only one place in Britain it could have come from and that’s the lost kingdom of Farringale. It’s a dire warning, and there’s worse to come. Turns out we aren’t the only people with an interest in the age-old city of the trolls. Farringale lies under attack—and these people will stop at nothing to take control of its treasures. It’s time for a showdown—the deathly serious kind.

Imagine modern Britain without magick. No fae enclaves. No flying chairs. No magick wands. Giddy gods, no unicorns. Who wants to live in that world? Me neither. But with magick on the decline, that's the world we're ending up with. Meet the Society for Magickal Heritage. Our boss is a disembodied voice. Our headquarters is a sentient house. You could say we've a vested interest in keeping magick alive. Can a ragtag bunch of magicians, necromancers and fae prevail against inevitable ruin and decline? Hell yes. Try and stop us.

Man sieht sich gedrungen wünschen zu wollen und sagen zu können, dass nach der akustischen Auseinandersetzung mit Nietzsches Unzeitgemäßen Betrachtungen jeder ein Stück klüger wird als er war – doch leider belehren uns Vergangenheit und Gegenwart eines besseren und lassen diesen unausgesprochenen frommen Wunsch wie eine Seifenblase im Orkan im Entstehungs-Ansatz zerplatzen. Je konkreter und klarer Gedanken formuliert werden, desto schwieriger sind sie zu verstehen.

A dark epic fantasy inspired by The Prince and the Pauper, from best-selling author C. J. Redwine. Javan Najafai, crown prince of Akram, has spent the last 10 years at an elite boarding school, far away from his kingdom. But his eagerly awaited return home is cut short when a mysterious impostor takes his place - and no one believes Javan is the true prince. After barely escaping the impostor's assassins, Javan is thrown into Maqbara, the kingdom's most dangerous prison.

Leonidas: I am a Dragon Prince of the House of Smoke...and I am cursed. Falling in love was never in the cards for me. An angry witch made sure of that - if I lose my heart, I lose my life. Only now, a treaty guaranteeing peace will die with me, unless I convince some hapless human to fall in love with me and bear my child - a dragonling born of magic and a love that's true. But I know nothing of love. Five hundred years of guarding my heart and opening my bed mean I've got zero chance at this.