Battle Ground (The Dresden Files, #17)

by Jim Butcher

I might be the dumb kid with the sledgehammer from his father’s toolshed, compared to the sword-saint samurai who were the Senior Council—but I had discovered, in my time, that no matter how skilled and elegant a foe might be, a sledgehammer to the skull is a sledgehammer to the skull.

“Immortality offers a significant advantage, but it is no substitute for intelligence. Remember that, young wizard.” Ebenezar scowled and opened his mouth. “Should it for some bizarre reason ever be necessary,” Mab said smoothly, before he could speak.

Doesn’t matter where you go in the world—if you’re good at your job, people who are good enough at theirs to see it will respect you for it.

“We will not plan to use them,” Vadderung said in a tone of absolute certainty. “Not the angels, and not the Knights. Not in any way. The being you call Mister Sunshine would be quite annoyed at the intrusion.” I arched an eyebrow at Vadderung. I was pretty sure I hadn’t ever mentioned my nickname for Uriel to him. Vadderung gave me a very bland look. “We have lunch once a year.”

“When a group comes together around something they love,” I said, “it changes things. It changes how they see one another. It becomes a community. Something greater than the sum of its parts.”

“Do you know the difference between courage and foolhardiness, Dresden?” “Any insurance adjuster would say no.” He waved a hand at my banter, as though that was all the acknowledgment it deserved. “Hindsight,” he said. “Until the extended consequences of any action are known, it is both courageous and foolish. And neither.”

I wonder what it says about me that pizza has been one of the better long-term investments in my career.