Charlotte E. English

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.

It’s winter at the Werth residence, and someone has turned up dead. Not that this is unusual. There’s Great-Aunt Honoria on the premises, after all. Only this corpse is freshly dead, and nobody knows how the lady came to be leaking blood all over Lady Werth's best parlour.

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....

In an icy, Victorianesque world, a harsh god rules, and He has one law: a life for a life. Konrad Savast is the Malykant: detective, judge and executioner in one. It's kill and be killed in Konrad's world, and his unhappy duty to mete out his Master's implacable justice....

Winter has come to Werth Towers, and brought a deal of trouble with it. Not that any of it is the fault of Miss Gussie Werth. To be a one-woman catastrophe might be seen as a misfortune, but really, there can be no hope of a cure....

In an icy, Victorianesque world, a harsh god rules, and He has one law: a life for a life.

The fight to save British magick rages on—and it’s taking the Society’s beleaguered champions away from Home. Far, far away, to worlds long lost; worlds no one could ever have imagined existed. Dangers and mysteries abound, which is way up Ves’s street. Jay isn’t quite so sure.

Winter has come to Werth Towers, and brought a deal of trouble with it. Not that any of it is the fault of Miss Gussie Werth. To be a one-woman catastrophe might be seen as a misfortune, but really, there can be no hope of a cure.

It is not easy being the most supernatural family in England. Nell talks to the dead; Lord Werth is too often to be found out in the churchyard at the dead of night; and the less said about Lord Bedgberry, the better.

The Society for Magickal Heritage’s best agents are heading back into paradise. Giddy Gods help them all. No one ever said heroic adventure would be easy, but this is ridiculous. Magickal wonderlands aren’t meant to have a dark side. Heroes aren’t meant to get stranded there, either.

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.

Things are getting serious at the Society for Magickal Heritage. An ancient legend has plans for Ves, and Ves has plans for just about everything else. It’s time to take on the ultimate challenge—and hope for the best. What could possibly go wrong? Well, everything. As usual.

Konrad Savast is the Malykant: detective, judge and executioner in one. It's kill and be killed in Konrad's world, and his unhappy duty to mete out his Master's implacable justice.

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.

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.

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.

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. If one must put up with a dangerous degree of magickal potency, one is duty-bound to… put it to use, no?

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.

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.

Have you been to Castle Chansany? Perhaps you’ve heard of it, or somewhere like it. It’s that airy castle in the clouds, straight out of a dream. A place where wizards spin marvels from their finger-tips, and the Queen holds banquets deep into the night.