This noir fantasy thriller from a debut author introduces the gritty town of Titanshade, where danger lurks around every corner. "Take a little Mickey Spillane, some Dashiell Hammet, a bit of Raymond Chandler, and mix it with Phillip K. Dick's Blade Runner ; add a taste of CJ Box, and Craig Johnson, and you've got a masterpiece of a first novel." —W. Michael Gear, New York Times bestselling author Carter's a homicide cop in Titanshade, an oil boomtown where 8-tracks are state of the art, disco rules the radio, and all the best sorcerers wear designer labels. It's also a metropolis teetering on the edge of disaster. As its oil reserves run dry, the city's future hangs on a possible investment from the reclusive amphibians known as Squibs. But now negotiations have been derailed by the horrific murder of a Squib diplomat. The pressure's never been higher to make a quick arrest, even as Carter's investigation leads him into conflict with the city's elite. Undermined by corrupt coworkers and falsified evidence, and with a suspect list that includes power-hungry politicians, oil magnates, and mad scientists, Carter must find the killer before the investigation turns into a witch-hunt and those closest to him pay the ultimate price on the filthy streets of Titanshade. "Take a little Mickey Spillane, some Dashiell Hammett, a bit of Raymond Chandler, and mix it with Phillip K. Dick's Blade Runner ; add a taste of C. J. Box, and Craig Johnson, and you've got a masterpiece of a first novel. I hate to call any novel a work of genius, but Stout's Titanshade taps all the right keys." —W. Michael Gear, New York Times bestselling author "Debut author Stout combines a pitch-perfect noir tone and a richly detailed world full of human, amphibian, and less-identifiable characters in this instantly gripping fantastical mystery.... Stout handles this complex mystery with ease, invoking the best elements of classic noir mysteries, while fearlessly making this world, with its retro style and multilayered mythology, all his own." — Publishers Weekly " Titanshade is entirely unique: it’s a gritty noir murder mystery on an alien world with multiple species, a strange form of sorcery, a powerful religion, and large-scale political intrigue. And it’s set in the 1970s, with pay phones, 8-track tapes, racial tensions, and arguments about disco music. What’s amazing is how good it is at being all of these: the genuinely compelling mystery lives in a hugely original sf world and an immersive historical milieu."  — ALA Booklist "Dan Stout’s debut novel is flawless. Titanshade is set in an original, gritty fantasy world, like enough to ours to take you by the throat as the detective noir plot roars along, yet filled with intriguing other beings and moments of remarkable magic. Highly recommended." —Julie E. Czerneda, author of The Gossamer Mage "If you like rollicking detective stories with some action-adventure and alien culture to overlay the mystery, you should give this one a look. I can almost guarantee it won't be what you expect." —SFRevu "All in all, the book grows on the reader, slowly at first, but then with the speed of a rabid kudzu vine egged on by supervillainess Poison Ivy. By the end of the book Titanshade satisfies well enough to make you start over at the beginning to see what you missed." — New York Journal of Books " Titanshade was a wonderful blend of magical realism, police procedural, and thriller." —Genre Minx "This is a solid debut, giving us a fascinating new world, some fun characters who feel real, and a story which, I guarantee will keep you turning pages into the wee hours." —Sci-Fi and Fantasy Reviews Dan Stout writes about fever dreams and half-glimpsed shapes in the shadows. His fiction draws on travels throughout Europe, Asia, and the Pacific Rim as well as an employment history spanning everything from subpoena server to assistant well driller. Dan's stories have appeared in publications such as The Saturday Evening Post , Nature , and Intergalactic Medicine Show. 1   It was the back side of Friday and I sat at the bar of Mickey the Finn's. My hands laced around a cup of warm joe as I kept silent time to the jukebox, eyes fixed on the clock where it hung by a single crooked nail above a row of liquor bottles. Its minute hand crept ever closer to that magic hour: the moment when my shift would end, and I'd be free to order something stiffer. I was a few ticks away from paradise when the pager in my coat pocket began buzzing. I fished it out and squinted at the faded green display. The three-digit code read 187. Homicide. I flagged down the bartender and asked for the phone.   He brought it over, untangling the cord and dropping it on the bar top hard enough to jangle the ringer. I spun the rotary dial and waited for Dispatch to pick up.   I jotted the details down in my notepad. Room 430 at the Eagle Crest Hotel. I hung up, dropped enough change to cover my cof