Paranormal Adventure

Tales of alien abductions, miraculous relics, and haunted castles have attracted believers and skeptics across the globe for centuries. Paranormal investigator Joe Nickell tackles the world's most seemingly inexplicable myths in Adventures in Paranormal Investigation.

After facing war, death, unruly gods, and unmitigated evil, Minalan the Spellmonger is forced to return to Farise, the site of his earliest battles, with the simple assignment to conquer the subtropical city-state and expel the pirates that plague the kingdom’s shipping. Tired of warfare, Minalan embarks on a clandestine campaign to do so, assuming an alias and setting up shop in Farise as a mere Practical Adept as cover for his operation. Recruiting a cadre of talented agents to assist, he reluctantly begins the task of infiltrating and observing Farisian society.

It's raining in Liscor. The spring rains have come and Liscor's entire geography changes with the dawning of the new year. The Floodplains of Liscor live up to their name, and the only way anyone is going to travel is by boat. With the rains come more monsters, dungeon delving, more goblins...not to mention some unwanted attention for the Wandering Inn.

Feyre’s first Winter Solstice as High Lady is drawing near. With it will come a hard-earned rest from the work that she, Rhysand and their friends have done to rebuild the Night Court and the vastly changed world beyond. Yet the festive atmosphere can’t keep shadows from looming.

Um. Um. Um. Are you reading this? If you are, I need your help. I was at a party; I was running; I fell. And get this - this is the part you'll never believe - I fell down a rabbit hole. Like Alice in those old books. Except in those books, there wasn't blood everywhere. In those books, the characters weren't all male, attractive, and interested in me.

Gerald Dunwoody is a wizard. Just not a particularly good one. He's blown up a factory, lost his job, and there's a chance that he's not really a Third Grade wizard after all. So it's off to New Ottosland to be the new Court Wizard for King Lional. It's a shame that King Lional isn't the vain, self-centered young man he appeared to be. With a princess in danger, a talking bird who can't stay out of trouble, and a kingdom to save, Gerald soon suspects that he might be out of his depth.

Erin Solstice trusts a lot of people—even some lost Redfangs survivors of Esthelm—but can she handle being friends with Goblins when every hand is turned against them and the tribes are on the rampage? Liscor is in the path of Goblin Lord's inexorable march north, and the fates of Rags, Garen Redfang, and Tremborag's Goblin tribes are all tied to an impending war. Who will survive?

Kandri Hinjuman was never meant to be a soldier. His brother Mektu was never meant for this world. Rivals since childhood, they are drafted into a horrific war led by a madwoman-Prophet, and survive each day only by hiding their disbelief. Kandri is good at blending in, but Mektu is hopeless: impulsive, erratic - and certain that a demon is stalking him. Is this madness or a second sense? Either way, Kandri knows that Mektu's antics will land them both in early graves. But all bets are off when the brothers' simmering feud explodes into violence, and holy blood is spilled.

Well, this year, after the Spring Planting season, I’m really gonna relax and put down roots. It’s the slow life for me. Sure, the talking animals and cultivators coming to live with me are a bit weird, but this year everything is gonna be basically normal. There definitely won’t be any Heavenly Tribulations, ancient formations, or cultivator issues to deal with . . .

What do you call a vampire by day, a human by night? Confused? That makes two of us! Sunlight is a little problematic for me. Will I be able to handle it? By night I am a normal girl. I like computers, ice cream, and guys. When the sun rises, I'm stronger. I also get an insatiable craving for you-know-what. The weird sisters stole Dracula's power. As masters of the Scholomance, they are recruiting new vampires. A recipe for disaster? Whatever they are planning, it can't be good. There's only one way to deal with vampires, especially those meddling in the dark arts.

Reincarnated as the War God—he has a lot to learn to live up to that title. His power is only as good as the skill he possesses to wield it. But there is a reason the former War God fell. He can only dare to imagine what foes lie in wait. He will have to build a team out of a former shield maiden, an elven sorceress intent on hiding her power, a beautiful lycan who doesn't trust anyone and a mortal-hating fire celestial. What could be hard about that?

They say fire rained from the sky for seven days signaling the arrival of the monsters. They say humanity fought hard to beat them. They say the celestials saved us. They say a lot of things. Me? I deal in the present. In scouting for useful things and keeping my team alive outside the protective walls of our base. I might not have a fancy monster-killing blade like the Sweepers do, but I've avoided getting my face eaten off so far, so I call that a win. But when my base is taken by monsters, my scout skills are the only thing standing between imminent demise and survival.

Kaz Wolfe is trying to prevent ancient gods from regaining access to our world. The Order wants to open a portal to the Nether to gain power by serving those gods. Playing defense isn’t working. The Order always has the initiative. It’s time for direct action, to hit the Order hard. Before it’s too late for us.

The rains have halted, and all that’s left is mud. Mud...and the tracks of the Goblin Lord’s army. They have finally come to Liscor, pursued by Tyrion Veltras and his forces. In their path lies The Wandering Inn. Erin Solstice will have to find a way to survive the coming conflict, and save her friends. The question is: at what cost?

When Alexis's little sister Kasey becomes obsessed with an antique doll, Alexis thinks she is just being her usual weird self. Things get weirder, though, when their house starts changing. Doors open and close by themselves; water boils on the unlit stove; and an unplugged air conditioner blasts cold air.

No empty child has ever reached a year of age, yet I am now 13. It has been a long and miserable 13 years, where the best I can manage to do is walk with difficulty. Sometimes, I cannot even manage that.

Where am I? Why is everything so dark? Am I… dead? Wait, never mind, I'm just trapped in a dark, dank cave filled with dangerous creatures in a magical world with Skills and Levels. I'll have to fight through friendly monsters that want to eat me, insane Dark Elves, and a stereotypically evil empire led by a stereotypically evil God King just to get the heck to the surface—all that as a blob made out of purple goo.

Try as he might, Fischer still can't catch a break. Tropica's forces have just perpetrated the fantasyland equivalent of crashing the king's party, kicking over the punch bowl, and making a series of rude gestures on their way out. Unfortunately, they're about to learn firsthand that when you take a bully down to the mat, it's best to make sure they don't get back up. Because their enemies are unearthing long-forgotten powers, and if those dabbling in the resulting destructive chi succeed, they could become even more annoying than the time Corporal Claws hid all of Fischer's pants.

While celebrating his latest victory, Exarch Niramyn carelessly lets his guard down. Seeing his chance, the mighty Myzalik—Nym's rival of a thousand years—casts a spell that sends him back to adolescence, with no idea who he really is or how he came to be washed up on the beach of Bloodfin Cove. Fortunately, the kindly Ciana comes along and saves him. But she quickly realizes he's no ordinary child. For one thing, he has magical abilities she's never seen in someone so young. And for another, he can fly.

All my life, I've been scorned for what I am: an object of desire, a temptress, a demon. Now my dark and mysterious powers of seduction might be my only salvation. I am living in a nightmare. Rune's voice torments me. Cruel hands offer touch and torture that I cannot refuse. My addictive blood spurs obsession and frenzy, but I am not defenseless. The born vampires can't fathom the embodiment of wrath and vengeance they are forging from sin and blood.