Frostbite Excerpt

I've been dropping a few quotes on Twitter from the book and realized most of them are coming from the same scene. Since we're sitting at 2 weeks to the day until it comes out, I thought I would share that scene with everybody. Enjoy the excerpt and thanks for the support. I can't wait till everyone can read it on June 21.

“Mister Fisher. Sit, please.” His voice fit both the outfit and the aura. I thought I heard a slight Boston accent on the r’s, more “ah” than “er”. I did as he asked, taking up residence in the booth across from him.
With gloved hand, he produced an ivory white business card and slid it across to me. In silver letters, “Lucien Valente” had been embossed in the center of the card. No phone numbers, titles, or e-mail addresses cluttered it; only his name appeared. While I inspected it, he removed the glove before grabbing a piece of toast off his plate and holding it out to me. “Take, eat.”
“Do this in remembrance of me?” I added.
“Something like that. I know many of your kind regard guest right as important. It’s not… kosher to harm someone you’ve shared a meal with.”
I nodded. “Many Arab tribes believe it makes men family until the next sunrise. Refusing to eat is almost an act of war.” I accepted the bread and took a nibble. “I hope you don’t mind if I order my own plate for the rest.”
He smiled, but said nothing until after our waitress came and left. I ordered a coffee, a tall stack of pancakes, fried eggs, and hash browns. I was on his tab, I assumed, and I was never one to skimp on a free meal. It’s like the twelfth law of wizarding, I think.
“Colin Fisher.” He rolled my name around on his tongue. “Do you know who I am?”
“Lucien Valente?” I ventured.
He nodded.
“Never heard of you before… though I must say I’m impressed so far.”
“Are you familiar with Valente International?”
I racked my brain for a moment. “Big multi-national conglomerate. Owns that coffee chain and the dollar discount stores.”
“Among other things. I like to keep my interests diversified. I also don’t care for advertising my success. Bill Gates, I’m not.”
I let out a low whistle. I had friends in environmental movements who liked to go on long rants about the evils of multinationals. The more I thought about it, the more I recalled Valente International being spoken of in a tone of voice generally reserved for topics such as Nazis or terrorists. “That Lucien Valente, huh?”
“Yes, Mister Fisher.” He paused for a sip of his coffee. I noticed he drank it black, a trait I associated with strong character and honesty, probably because it matched my own preference. “Miss Deluce seems to think I should hire you on as my personal wizard. Was that her idea or yours?”
“Hers. I didn’t know who her boss was. And Duchess didn’t strike me as someone whose opinion could be pushed around or manipulated. If she says she thought of it, she must have.”
“No,” he conceded. “She is an exceptionally stubborn secretary.” I must have cocked an eyebrow in surprise, because he responded to my body language. “Yes, secretary, executive assistant, whatever the in-fashion term is. She provides external order to my life and activities, and acts in my stead when I am otherwise engaged. I believe the archaic term suits her better: she is my seneschal.”
We sat in silence after that. My breakfast arrived and I began to eat. I could tell Lucien was waiting for something, but I didn’t have a clue what. So I attended to what I did understand: blueberry syrup atop hot golden pancakes.
I was four or five bites in when Lucien started to laugh. “I give up, Mister Fisher. I’ve had twelve other personal wizards before you. Most were con artists or one-trick ponies. Near worthless. But I think I like you.”
I had enough etiquette to swallow before replying. “Why’s that?”
“You’re not trying to impress me. No dire prophecies of doom or demonstrations of power. You don’t need to. That’s the sign of real power, isn’t it? When you don’t feel the need to show it off, it means you really have it.”
“I know a little,” I confessed. “Enough to know that I’m not the biggest fish in the sea. But my luck and love spells pack a mean punch.” My last luck spell, in fact, had accidentally killed its recipient. He won a quarter million dollars on the roulette wheel before karma straightened itself out in the form of a speeding bus. After that, I was very careful to limit my scope when I tinkered with probability. None of that seemed particularly interview relevant, however. Scratch that. It probably was interview-relevant, but I suddenly wanted to get this job and thought that anecdote might sour the deal.
*Ooo, ooo, tell him about the couple on their honeymoon you put in the nuthouse. I love that story.*