Cold Days (The Dresden Files, #14)

by Jim Butcher

“After that,” I asked, “would you like to help me save the city? If you don’t already have plans.” He snorted. “You mean, would I like to follow you around, wondering what the hell is going on because you won’t tell me everything, then get in a fight with something that is going to leave me in intensive care?” “Uh-huh,” I said, nodding, “pretty much.” “Yeah,” he said. “Okay.”

About thirty feet from the door, Molly abruptly stopped in her tracks and said, “Harry.” I paused and looked back at her. Her eyes were wide. She said, “I sense . . .” I narrowed my eyes. “Say it. You know you want to say it.” “It is not a disturbance in the Force,” she said, her voice half-exasperated. “There’s a . . . a presence here. Something powerful. I felt it in Chichén Itzá.”