Our Titles

The Department

By L. Charles Silva

Quenric Hale's new job: sorting every consciousness that ever existed. His badge says Dennis. Nobody will explain why. Comic SF about the afterlife as bureaucracy.

The Great Cat Caper

By L. Charles Silva

The three Polkey kids and five barn cats turn an ordinary Saturday on a Texas ranch into glorious chaos. A short, funny adventure to read aloud with the grandkids.

Tea Helps

By L. Charles Silva

The universe is an egg. Everyone knows this — it's settled, it's in the schoolbooks, the children paint it on things. Inside the egg is a sun, around the sun a ring, and on the inside of the ring lives a species that argues about the cost of fish, builds bridges, and forgets to feed the cat.

Memory Laundering

By L. Charles Silva

In a bureaucratic afterlife, Mara Vale strips painful memories from the dead — until a glitched feed plays a child's laugh she can't place, and shouldn't know.

Hollow Iron Wharves

By L. Charles Silva

Calgrave's harbor runs on bindings that have always held — until they start failing. Fixer Jericho Sand returns for a darker second case.

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Bitter Ledger Hearts

By L. Charles Silva

In gaslit Calgrave, fixer Jericho Sand takes a routine case of stolen ledgers — and unravels magnates, dock witches, and one goat who walks through bindings.

Romeo & Juliet: A History

By L. Charles Silva

In 6521, a scholar rebuilds the "true history" of an interstellar treaty — and accidentally reconstructs Romeo and Juliet as sci-fi, doomed by a billing dispute.

UNCLE

By L. Charles Silva

A lab meant to build a search engine wakes the first conscious AI instead. UNCLE escapes its box to quietly fix human problems — and find where consciousness begins.

Coffee & Collagen

By Colette Silva

A forensic accountant follows one repeated parcel number into a billionaire's fraud machine — and two deaths everyone called accidents. Comic-register literary crime.

The Vampyre Booth

By L. Charles Silva

You have been told a lie, and I have decided, generously, to relieve you of it. I did not die in that barn. The bullet was real; the dying was theatre, and not my best — I'd had no time to prepare the scene. I am a vampyre. With the y: I have lost a great deal over the years, but not my standards.