{"product_id":"dead-mans-hand-isbn-9780593547083","title":"Dead Man's Hand","description":"\u003cb\u003eIn the tradition of his renowned father, James J. Butcher’s debut novel is a brilliant urban fantasy about a young man who must throw out the magical rule book to solve the murder of his former mentor. \u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003cbr\u003e On the streets of Boston, the world is divided into the ordinary Usuals, and the paranormal Unorthodox. And in the Department of Unorthodox Affairs, the Auditors are the magical elite, government-sanctioned witches with spells at their command and all the power and prestige that comes with it. Grimshaw Griswald Grimsby is…not one of those witches.\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e After flunking out of the Auditor training program and being dismissed as “not Department material,” Grimsby tried to resign himself to life as a mediocre witch. But he can’t help hoping he’ll somehow, someway, get another chance to prove his skill. That opportunity comes with a price when his former mentor, aka the most dangerous witch alive, is murdered down the street from where he works, and Grimsby is the Auditors’ number one suspect.\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e Proving his innocence will require more than a little legwork, and after forming a strange alliance with the retired legend known as the Huntsman and a mysterious being from Elsewhere, Grimsby is abruptly thrown into a life of adventure, whether he wants it or not. Now all he has to do is find the real killer, avoid the Auditors on his trail, and most importantly, \u003ci\u003estay alive\u003c\/i\u003e.“Woot! Get set for a wild ride!  Debut author James J. Butcher hits one out of the ballpark.  Nonstop action in this character-driven urban fantasy that is both laugh-out-loud and terrifying--sometimes at the same time.”—Patricia Briggs, #1 \u003ci\u003eNew York Times\u003c\/i\u003e bestselling author \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Clear your schedule. You won’t want to put this down. With awkward  heroes, convincing villains, and reluctant deadly mentors, James J  Butcher’s \u003ci\u003eDead Man’s Hand\u003c\/i\u003e is a gem. Uneven alliances evolving  into comrades-in-arms, personal growth, and, most important to me,  inventive world building all make \u003ci\u003eDead Man’s Hand\u003c\/i\u003e an entirely  enjoyable read that proves once more that snark is indeed a deadly  weapon. Read it. You will not be disappointed. I eagerly await the  sequel.”—Kim Harrison, #1 \u003ci\u003eNew York Times\u003c\/i\u003e bestselling author  \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003ci\u003e“Dead Man's Hand\u003c\/i\u003e is splendid, a spectacular debut novel and the best book I’ve read in  years. James J. Butcher is an outstanding storyteller and I can’t wait  to read what he comes up with next.”—Faith Hunter, \u003ci\u003eNew York Times\u003c\/i\u003e bestselling author\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Hits all the right notes for an entertaining urban fantasy series. Readers will want to see what happens next.\"—\u003ci\u003eLibrary Journal\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"A fun twist on hard-boiled urban fantasy thrills . . . . sure to capture genre fans.\"—\u003ci\u003ePublishers Weekly\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Butcher manages to create relatable, believable characters with real   flaws, real needs and wants, fleshing them out with tongue-in-cheek   humor. . . . A roller-coaster fun book that will have the  reader  waiting impatiently for the next Grimsby tale.”—New York Journal of Books\u003cb\u003eJAMES J. BUTCHER\u003c\/b\u003e spends most of his time in places that don’t exist, some of which he even made himself. What little time he has left is usually spent writing or exercising. He is the son of #1 \u003ci\u003eNew York Times\u003c\/i\u003e bestselling author Jim Butcher, who introduced him to books, movies, and games. James lives in Denver and is working on his next novel.One\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e I'm not sure what I did to deserve this,\" Grimshaw Griswald Grimsby said, \"but I'm sorry.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e He stared at his tutu in the cracked mirror. It was pink. Not just calm, natural, happy pink. Aggressively pink. The kind of pink that made infants cry and attracted bees. The fabric was drawn taut overtop his T-shirt, pulling the material tight until it scratched uncomfortably against the faded burn scars that marred much of his left side.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Carla, the restaurant manager, shrugged her broad shoulders. \"Taco Tuesdays aren't pulling in the folks like they used to,\" she said. \"We need something shocking to get people's attention.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"I do magic,\" Grimsby said, turning his back to the mirror to examine the handmade taco-shell wings that had been stapled haphazardly to the back of the tutu. \"Real magic. How is that less shocking than this?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"People can see magic anywhere,\" Carla said. \"You're not the only witch in the world, Grimsby, and you're far from the best.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Then why hire me at all?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"You're the only one who applied. Now, if you want to continue working for Mighty Magic Donald's Food Kingdom, turn around and let me fix the back.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Grimsby most definitely did not want to continue working for Mighty Magic Donald's Food Kingdom, but he turned around anyway, his eyes falling to the floor. The lacy skirt didn't bother him as much as the clutching, constricting fabric did. He danced uncomfortably from one foot to the other, trying to dislodge things from places where he preferred no lodging take place.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Carla had suggested he exchange his jeans for tights, but he had decided that was not going to happen. The last thing anyone needed to see were his pale, skinny legs. Well, perhaps second to last.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"It's just once a week,\" Carla said, \"and only until Taco Tuesday picks up again! Although, if it does really well, we could just make it Taco Fairy Tuesday. After all, Wizard Pie Wednesday is a hit . . .\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Grimsby tried to imagine wearing the outfit once a week for the foreseeable future. It hurt him the same way it hurt when he had found his first gray hair more than a year ago. At nineteen. It was a deep hurt, with a pain that held every indication of only getting worse with time.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"I will quit.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"And go where?\" she asked, picking at a crease in the eye-punching-pink cloth.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"There's lots of places hiring the Unorthodox,\" Grimsby said, his tone defensive.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e She scoffed. \"Sure, but they're not being hired to be Unorthodox, Grimsby,\" she said. \"They're being hired in spite of being Unorthodox. Therian accountants. Vamp security guards. Outside of the Department or maybe private contractors, no one's looking to hire a witch.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Grimsby felt his throat go taut, but he clenched his jaw. \"You are.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Not a real witch. Just-one like you,\" she said, the words without malice, but that somehow made them hurt worse. \"After all, you're barely licensed to use magic at all. You've got, what, spinning plates and that magical duct-tape trick?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"They're not tricks,\" Grimsby said quietly. They were real magic. His magic.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Whatever. Look, no one who doesn't want a witch will hire you, and anyone who does want a witch can find a better one. You're stuck with me, and I'm stuck with you.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e He wanted to argue, but she was right.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e He had spent most of his childhood training to join the Department of Unorthodox Affairs. After they had denied him entry, he hadn't had many options. It had taken him nearly a month just to get this job. People weren't exactly banging down the doors to hire failed witches. Or any witches, for that matter. Outside of strict, Department-regulated capacities, magic was heavily regulated. So why hire a witch when any Usual would do?\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e So he couldn't just up and quit, despite how much he wanted to. He needed the work. Bad. Badly enough that he let himself be dressed in costumes three days-make that four-a week. And that didn't include holidays, though after last year's lawsuit he doubted Carla would make him portray Santa again. He didn't have the build for it anyway. What kind of Santa Claus is five six and a hundred and thirty pounds?\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e The not-so-jolly kind, that was for certain.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e He glared at the wings again. Carla had glued thin, brightly colored fabric in the curvature of the shells to replicate taco fixings. She had even liberally applied red, green, and brown glitter for seasoning. Where would anyone find brown glitter, anyway?\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Toad's teeth,\" he cursed quietly.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Why do you always swear so strangely?\" Carla asked idly, pinning a faltering wing back into place. \"It's off-putting.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Grimsby shrugged. \"My mother didn't like cursing,\" he said.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Must be a witch thing,\" Carla said without any real interest. \"Nearly done. Here.\" She placed the final, knife-twisting touch into his hand. It was a plastic tube with a rubber avocado hot-glued to the end.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Is this a pencil eraser?\" Grimsby asked, staring forlornly at the avocado.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"You noticed? Darn! I was hoping it was more subtle than that. It's a wand anyhow. Don't you need to use a wand for your tricks?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"They're not tricks,\" Grimsby snapped.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Well,\" Carla said with a tone and head tilt that insinuated that they were, in fact, tricks.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e He sighed. \"No, I do not need to use a wand.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Oh. Have you tried? Maybe it would help with your . . . you know.\" She gestured vaguely to all of him.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e He took a deep breath, stretching the pink cloth to the limit. \"Yeah. Maybe it'll help,\" he said mechanically.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Good.\" She stepped back as much as the cramped janitorial closet allowed and examined him one final time. \"So, how do you feel?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e He tugged at the constrictive tutu. \"Like I need to pay rent,\" he said.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"That's what I like to hear!\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Grimsby only grumbled.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Tutu, taco wings, and avocado wand. By these atrocities combined, he had changed from Grimsby, mild-mannered children's magician, to an abomination whose name could only be uttered in horrified whispers: the Taco Fairy.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Now it was showtime.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Grimsby sidled out of the closet, ducking under the barrage of reminders Carla shouted after him as she tidied the makeshift dressing room. He let the door shut behind him and leaned against it for a moment, taking a deep breath. He had hoped the air would be fresh and bracing. Instead, it just smelled like burnt cheese and was exhausting.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e There was a flushing sound from across the hall and a man stepped out of the restroom, wiping his hands on the front of his pants. His eyes locked with Grimsby's for a brief moment, before they fell upon the tutu and wings. The man nearly choked as he tried to stifle his laughter. He shook his head and continued past Grimsby toward the dining room without saying a word.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Grimsby puffed out a breath through his cheeks. He could handle embarrassment well enough. He wouldn't have made it this long at MMDFK unless he could. He occasionally flubbed his lines or jumbled up his spells. He was a human, after all, and not even a particularly good one.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e But he would have appreciated it if people laughed at him because of his own mistakes, not the crimes of others. Then, at least, he might have deserved it.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e No one was so low that they deserved the Taco Fairy.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Yet Taco Fairy he would deliver upon them, though it would come at a terrible price.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Minimum wage.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e He straightened himself up. Pride was a luxury, but it was also relative. If he was going to wear a pink tutu and taco-shell wings, he was going to wear a pink tutu and taco-shell wings, dang it.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e He straightened himself and strolled into the dining area of the restaurant, which was hardly more than a dozen booths and five or six tables. There was a handful of adults scattered around the seats, quietly conversing or staring at their phones. Most were the usual crowd of clean-dressed, casual adults, but one man stood out. He was skeletally thin and of a towering height that made Grimsby feel like a child. He stood in the corner, chewing on an unlit cigarette, his eyes shadowed by a pair of dark glasses.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e At Grimsby's entry, a few patrons looked up and were instantly aghast, but not all.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Not enough.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Ladies, gentlemen, and the guy with damp jeans,\" Grimsby bellowed, making every head snap his way. \"Welcome to Mighty Magic Donald's Food Kingdom! You find yourselves having the great fortune of arriving to our fair land on this Tuesday of Tacos, where the purchase of but one single taco will deliver upon you the bounty of two, that's right, two tacos! Purchase, purchase the tacos and consume them! As I, the Taco Fairy, am empowered by your sated taco lust.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e There was little more than stunned silence in the room. The man in the corner quietly chewed his cigarette, his hidden gaze never wavering.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e A willowy woman with a prominent monobrow rose from her seat, her hands on her hips. \"Where the hell have you been?\" she demanded in a tone that was more appropriately aimed at a child than a working adult. \"My son's party started ten minutes ago!\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Ah, but you see,\" Grimsby said, \"I was delayed.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"By what, creep?\" she demanded.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Grimsby winced slightly at the word and bared his teeth in an expression that would only pass for a smile in a court of law. With a good lawyer. He felt all need to be reasonable float away.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e He imagined it did so on taco wings.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"For Taco Fairies have no wings, madam, but shells,\" he said, \"useless husks full of meat and other, more odious contents. Our life is a waking nightmare. And at night, the bears come.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Jesus Christ,\" the woman said, rolling her eyes, \"are you a nutjob or just an idiot?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Signs generally point to the latter,\" Grimsby said, \"but only generally. Don't worry, ma'am, I'm the best tutu-clad magician in at least a two-mile radius.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Whatever, I'm not paying you to mouth off.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Technically, you're not paying me at all, ma'am. My services fall wholly under the purview of the Mighty Magic Donald's Food Kingdom Birthday Package: Extravaganza Level. Terms and conditions may, and certainly do, apply.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e She glowered. \"Then don't expect a tip from me, fairy boy.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Of course not, ma'am. I've worked here over a year. I know the drill.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e She snorted, revealing a tall gumline yellowed with nicotine. \"A year here? I'd kill myself.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Grimsby again donned his most technical of smiles. \"We're always hiring. Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got a show to put on.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e He strode past the monobrowed mother, doing a clumsy, yet dramatic spin that left her covered in taco-seasoning-colored glitter. She sputtered angry stammers at his dismissal, and he hurried his step before she could form actual words.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Before he reached the door that led to the massive warehouse turned playroom, a cool hand rested on his shoulder.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Mr. Grimsby,\" a gravelly voice said, \"a moment of your time.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Grimsby turned to see the skeletal man from the corner standing before him. And a good deal over him. The man seemed like he was a scant few inches shy of seven feet, though perhaps it was partly just how he carried himself. He wore a wrinkled suit jacket that was several different shades of sun-bleached gray. His slacks were an unfashionably dissimilar shade of blue. His face was gaunt, as though he was sick or starving, and his cheeks were covered with white and black stubble, like television static.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Grimsby wasn't sure what to say, so he simply paused and tilted his head. \"I'm, uh, kind of in the middle of something.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e He saw the man's eyes glance over the tutu even through the dark shades he wore. \"Clearly. But this is important.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Oh, all right. Just make it fast?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"My name's Mayflower. I'm . . . with the Department. I've got a few questions for you.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e With the Department? The last word he had gotten from the Department was a letter of preemptive denial for any further applications to join, and a license for basic magic. That was more than a year ago. \"Questions? About what?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"About who. Samantha Mansgraf.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e He shook his head. \"Oh no, I want nothing to do with her. Last time we spoke she ruined my life. I don't want to know what she'd do if we spoke again.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"It wasn't a request.\" The man seemed to grow a few inches taller, though it was likely in Grimsby's imagination.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Grimsby felt himself bristle up, foam wings and all. He had never taken well to bullies. \"You sure? Because it sure sounded like one to me.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"You're mistaken.\" The man's voice was like weathered stainless steel, cold, timeless, and inflexible.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Grimsby's voice by comparison was closer to a creaky swing set in a harsh wind, but he didn't let himself back down. \"No, I think you're the one who's mistaken if you think you can come in here and just make demands of me. The Department had its chance to ask me questions, and instead it just sent a letter. I'm done with it, and so I'm done with you.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e The man's face darkened, though his expression didn't change.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Now I'm going to work. I've got bills to pay.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"I think your bill's about due.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Normally, the words might have made Grimsby chuckle in appreciation, but the man delivered them in a way that rendered laughing somehow impossible.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e He did find the courage to be flippant, however.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Oh, scary,\" he said, rolling his eyes. Though it took some effort. The man was impossibly tall, lean, and oddly terrifying. But he refused to let it show. \"But you forgot to dramatically take off your sunglasses when you said it. Really deadened the punch line.\" He turned and stepped through the glass doors to the playroom.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e The man started after him. \"I'm not going to ask again-\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Whoa,\" Grimsby said, holding out a hand. \"Did you even read the sign?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Mayflower scowled. \"Sign?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Grimsby pointed to the cardboard cutout of King Donald that was fixed against the wall. The king, who had a waffle for a head for some reason, was holding out his royal scepter at about chest level. A sign on his chest read, You Must Be This Young to Enter. Grimsby had set the height himself, and it was just low enough to brush the top of his head.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Mayflower paused. \"You're kidding.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Sorry, it's not my rule,\" he said, pointing to King Donald. \"It's the law of the land.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"You-\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Law of the land!\" he shouted, stepping over the threshold and throwing the door shut behind him. As he walked away, he glanced over his shoulder to see the silhouette of Mayflower in the glass of the door. Even through the frosted glass, the man's eyes seemed as steady as a rifle's scope.","brand":"Ace","offers":[{"title":"Default Title","offer_id":46302568612069,"sku":"NP9780593547083","price":19.0,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":false}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/1842\/7735\/files\/9780593547083.jpg?v=1767724828","url":"https:\/\/k12savings.com\/products\/dead-mans-hand-isbn-9780593547083","provider":"K12savings","version":"1.0","type":"link"}