Modern Fiction

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.

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.

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.

Maria likes to be alone with her thoughts. She talks to animals and objects, and generally prefers them to people. But whilst on holiday she begins to hear things that aren’t there—a swing creaking, a dog barking—and when she sees a Victorian embroidered picture, Maria feels a strange connection with the 10-year-old Harriet, who stitched it.

Todos nós temos alguém em nossas vidas que nunca esquecemos, alguém que marcou nossos corações feito pele marcada com ferro em brasa e que por mais que o tempo passe essa pessoa nunca sai de nossas mentes, sempre tão viva, sempre tão perto e ao mesmo tempo tão inalcançável. 25 Anos de Solidão é o primeiro livro de uma trilogia que conta a história de Harry Goulart, um homem que esteve apaixonado pelo seu grande amor de infância, durante toda a sua vida, que acreditou que seria capaz de reconquistar o coração de Bella Meirelles.

"Kafka erscheint uns rätselhaft, dabei schreibt er doch eigentlich in einer schlichten Prosa, seine Schilderungen sind präzise, seine Personen reden in einfachen Worten und es wird weder um das, was sie tun, noch um das, das sie reden, noch um das, was ihnen zustößt, ein großes Gewese gemacht. Aber wir verstehen nicht. Oder glauben, nicht zu verstehen. Oder wir verstehen, können aber nicht sagen, was eigentlich. Wir glauben immer etwas anderes, Drittes ausmachen zu müssen, das mit dem, was dort passiert, eigentlich bezeichnet wird, wir versuchen, das Rätsel zu lösen.

Teen influencer Naema Bradshaw has it all: she’s famous, stylish, gorgeous - and she’s an Eloko, a charismatic person gifted with a melody that people adore. Everyone loves her - until she's cast as the villain who exposed a Siren to the whole world. Dragged by the media, and canceled by her fans, no one understands her side: not her boyfriend, not her friends, not even her fellow Eloko.

Natalie and Neil everything they could want: a stylish London house, two high-flying careers, a close-knit group of friends and family. And best of all: an ideal marriage. Having children, they’ve agreed, would only disrupt their carefree lives. But then Neil turns thirty-five, and suddenly he’s longing for a baby. However, Nat has not had a similar change of heart. As they no longer agree on this fundamental issue, their once perfect relationship starts to crumble. Nat starts to think about her exes and wonders if one of the men she has loved in the past can offer her a future.

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.

Rumour’s got a lot to say for itself, and the message is clear: the regulator’s ready. You know. The magickal regulator. The bright and shiny thing with which we, Team Improbable, propose to restore magick to a fading Britain. Somebody’s got to test it, and that somebody is us. Which means wading into the depths of a long-dead realm that nobody’s entered in centuries. And I may have had some practice at that, but this time it’s different. This time, somebody’s still home. And they really aren’t happy about trespassers. Looks like disaster’s on the agenda. Again.

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.

It's a period of turmoil in Britain, with the country's politicians electing to remove the UK from the European Union, despite ever-increasing evidence that the public no longer supports it. And the small town of Lychford is suffering. But what can three rural witches do to guard against the unknown? And why are unwary hikers being led over the magical borders by their smartphones' mapping software? And is the immigration question really important enough to kill for?

I’ve been known by many names...Junkyard Druid. Justiciar. God-Killer. And now, Trickster. That’s because I’ve thrown my lot in with the Trickster Gods’ Local #113. This merry band of defecation-stirring deities and demigods includes the likes of Sun Wukong, Loki, Heyoka, and the immortal magician formerly known as Gwydion—who happens to be my mentor.

In this captivating collection of stories by the author of Ballet Shoes, there are auditions on stage and antics on ice, trips to the pantomime, holiday adventures and laughter shared with family and friends. Charming, heartwarming and funny, this collection will bring joy to listeners of all ages. Originally written in the 1940s-'60s for annuals, magazines and the radio, these stories have never been collected before.