Lost Magic (The Swift Codex Book 3) by Nicolette Jinks

tap of men's workboots.
     
    “Mordon Meadows?” the man asked. He was a professional in a mason's workshop. The toughest thing about him were his steel-toed boots and those were even polished. However, the side of his right hand was smudged with pale blue drafting ink.
     
    “Jason Morris?” Mordon asked.
     
    Jason nodded and extended his hand. Mordon raised a single brow. Belatedly, I realized I'd never seen him shake anyone's hand before nor had I seen it as a custom in Kragdomen. Even sorcerers preferred not to touch.
     
    I took his hand instead and held onto it while I said, “I'm Feraline. We're here for a meeting.”
     
    Jason's eyes lit up. “You're the ones who gave Andrews trouble? Never seen a grotesque come home with so many curses on him. It was a great challenge to fix him.”
     
    “You seem excited.”
     
    “Well, I don't want you to do it again, but it was the most thrilling thing I have done in months.”
     
    I rolled my eyes. “Ugh, don't remind me. You should have seen the state of the shop after Andrews smashed around in it for hours.”
     
    “Shop?”
     
    “Antiquities. I'm not surprised if Andrews got loaded up with oodles of curses. You're lucky the ghosts decided to be my problem instead of yours.”
     
    “Fera,” Mordon said softly. “I'm not in the mood.”
     
    Jason deflated, stepping backwards slightly. I shook my head at Mordon.
     
    “He's not the one you get to yell at. Too low on the food chain.”
     
    Jason was quick to agree. “You're meeting with Mr. Mason. He's in the central office.” Jason pointed straight ahead to where a section of the building was walled off in a giant cube. He added tentatively, “I have to watch the front while the others are out, but you can wait with me if you'd prefer?”
     
    I realized Jason liked me, even with a baby plastered to my front by a giant stretchy blanketlike thing. “Thank you, but I will stay with Mordon.”
     
    The smile disappeared. Jason was clearly troubled by my refusal, and he gave it one last chance. “Mr. Mason doesn't like surprises.”
     
    “Then he'll certainly hate me.” I caught a glimpse of Jason's astonishment as I spun on my heel and advanced towards the office. Mordon caught up to me in time to open the white paneled door.
     
    Mr. Mason was a tall, bald man who could have done well to lose half his bodyweight. That way he'd only have a beer belly. His arms were muscular, though, and didn't wriggle at all when he shook my hand.
     
    “I'm Fera, this is Mordon Meadows. We came to speak with you about an invoice you mistakenly sent us.”
     
    Mr. Mason motioned for us to take the leather seats across from his desk. He sat on the edge of the glossy wood, struck a match, and applied it to a cigarette.
     
    “Please put that out,” I said, laying a hand on Anna's head.
     
    He smiled around the cigarette, taking in a breath. Smoke swirled as he spoke. “Now to the matter of the invoice. There is no mistake. We traced our grotesque to King's Ransom Magical Antiquities which belongs to Mordon Meadows here.”
     
    He stopped to take a puff. Silently, I willed the air to leave the cigarette in a vacuum, effectively snuffing it out. Confused, Mr. Mason tried to light it again. The fire went out. He tried a third match with the same results.
     
    While he was fumbling with the matches, I took the papers from Mordon. “Mr. Mason, this is our proposed settlement,” I said and handed them to him folded up.
     
    When Mr. Mason unfolded them, a spark jumped from the page, formed the brief glimmer of the Constable's badge, and disappeared. He was still staring at the spot the symbol used to be when I said, “You have been served with a notice of charges. Your bill is hereby postponed until the conclusion of those claims. We'll be leaving now.”
     
    Startled, Mordon asked, “We will?”
     
    Mr. Mason was just as dumbfounded as Mordon, but got to his feet quickly when I made as though to