Simon R. Green

"History can change and has changed. Magic was and is real. Once upon a time, there was a forgotten era of magic and monster. But the remnants -- and all memory -- of the old world have been replaced by the sane, the scientific, and the rational. But sometimes the magical past isn't content to stay past. That's where Jack Damian comes in. It's his joy to protect our present from the supernatural remnants of an earlier time, a different history. It's...

Gideon Sable and his partner in crime, Annie Anybody, don't want to be shopkeepers, but when Harry of Old Harry's Place retires, he blackmails the pair into taking over the shop. Before the grand re-opening, a stranger named Smith arrives and asks them to appraise a small piece of rock Smith claims holds the echo of the last siren's song. Before Gideon and Annie can find out more, Smith disappears, leaving only the stone. And then the stone is stolen....

Returning to the small town where he crash-landed in 1963, Ishmael Jones is in search of answers. But his investigation is de-railed by a brutal murder. I think something very bad and very dangerous has come to your little town, Inspector... As long-buried memories from his hidden past begin to resurface, Ishmael Jones and his partner Penny feel compelled to return to the small country town where Ishmael crash-landed in 1963; the place where his memories...

"Master thief, rogue and chancer Gideon Sable is back for another fast-paced supernatural heist - and this time he has the vault of a Las Vegas casino in his sights. Judi Rifkin is one of the world's most successful collectors of the weird and unnatural. In a London underworld filled with criminals with very special talents, Judi is a force to be reckoned with. And Gideon Sable - thief, rogue, and chancer - owes her a very large favour. Judi makes...

Harrow House has remained empty for years. Now, on behalf of an anonymous prospective buyer, Ishmael and Penny are spending a night there in order to investigate the rumours of strange lights, mysterious voices, unexplained disappearances, and establish whether the house is really haunted. What really happened at Harrow House all those years ago?

John Taylor’s the name. I’m a PI working a small slice of mystical real estate in the hidden centre of London. It’s a place where the sun refuses to rise, where monsters and men walk side by side. And if you want something found in the Nightside, I’m your man.
           
The editor of the Unnatural Inquirer—the Nightside’s most notorious rag—has...

The name’s John Taylor. I’m a PI, though what I really do is find things that are lost. I work the Nightside, the city within the city of London, where the sun never rises and where the human and inhuman go to get their kicks, provided they’re willing to pay the price in whatever currency the seller demands.
           
In the wake of the war that almost brought the...

The name’s John Taylor. I work the garish streets of the Nightside—the hidden heart of London where it’s always three A.M., where in human creatures and otherworldly gods walk side by side in the endless darkness of the soul.
I have a talent for finding things. People…property…no problem. But now I’m after something different.
A local diva called the Nightingale has cut herself off from her family and friends,...

I’m John Taylor. I work as a PI out of the Nightside, that secret centre of London where clocks always read three A.M., where terrible things happen with predictable regularity, and where the always-dark streets are full of people partying like Judgement Day will never come.

           
Now it may have arrived. God’s own enforcer, the righteous engine of destruction known...

I’m John Taylor. I was born in the Nightside, that square mile in the hidden center of London where it is always the hour of the wolf, where gods and monsters walk side by side and where every dark question ever asked can be answered—for a price.
           
I left for a while, but I did come back, to make my living doing what I do better than anyone else: finding things—lost...