Peace Talks (The Dresden Files, #16)

by Jim Butcher

If you look up unnecessary risk in the White Council’s dictionary, my picture is there. And my address. And all my personal contact information. And my permanent record from middle school.

“I ain’t got time to give you a graduate seminar on intention versus the natural operation of the universe until you’ve completed my ‘why it’s a damned stupid thing to trust vampires’ course.”

The old man looked faintly disturbed and said something that, for wizards, is akin to dropping an F-bomb. “I don’t know.”

Sometimes the best defense is a T. rex.

“Lovecraft got kicked out of the Venatori Umbrorum for mucking about with Thule Society research. Don’t know many of the details, but apparently it wasn’t actually cancer that ate his guts out later. It was . . . something more literal.”

“Okay,” Butters said. “So . . . that just happened.” He regarded the ectoplasm and then me and shook his head. “Your life, Harry. What the hell?”

I glanced back toward where the women had disappeared to and opened my mouth. Then I ran my tongue thoughtfully over my teeth and closed it. Honestly, it’s really kind of startling how many problems that avoids. I should think about doing it more often.