Turn Coat

By Jim Butcher

Jim Butcher’s breakthrough #1 New York Times bestseller starring Chicago’s only professional wizard, Harry Dresden.

When it comes to the magical ruling body known as the White Council, Harry is thought of as either a black sheep or a sacrificial lamb. And none hold him in more disdain than Morgan, a veteran Warden with a grudge against anyone who bends the rules. But now, Morgan is in trouble. He’s been accused of cold-blooded murder—a crime with only one, final punishment.

He’s on the run, wanting his name cleared, and he needs someone with a knack for backing the underdog. So it’s up to Harry to uncover a traitor within the Council, keep Morgan under wraps, and avoid coming under scrutiny himself. And a single mistake may cost someone his head.

Someone like Harry...

• Language: English
• Publisher: Penguin Publishing Group
• Release date: Apr 7, 2009
• ISBN: 9781101032428

Jim Butcher

Jim Butcher is the author of the Dresden Files, the Codex Alera and the Cinder Spires series. His résumé includes a laundry list of skills which were useful a couple of centuries ago, and he plays guitar quite badly. An avid gamer, Jim plays tabletop games in varying systems, a variety of video games and LARPs whenever he can make time for it. He currently resides mostly inside his own head, but his head can generally be found in his home town of Independence, Missouri.

Book preview

Chapter One

The summer sun was busy broiling the asphalt from Chicago’s streets, the agony in my head had kept me horizontal for half a day, and some idiot was pounding on my apartment door.

I answered it and Morgan, half his face covered in blood, gasped, The Wardens are coming. Hide me. Please.

His eyes rolled back into his skull and he collapsed.

Oh.

Super.

Up until that moment, I’d been laboring under the misapprehension that the splitting pain in my skull would be the worst thing to happen to me today.

Hell’s frickin’ bells! I blurted at Morgan’s unconscious form. "You have got to be kidding me!" I was really, really tempted to slam the door and leave him lying there in a heap. He sure as hell deserved it.

I couldn’t just stand there doing nothing, though.

You need to get your head examined, I muttered to myself. Then I deactivated my wards—the magical security system I’ve got laid over my apartment—grabbed Morgan under the arms, and hauled him inside. He was a big man, over six feet, with plenty of muscle—and he was completely limp. I had a hard time moving him, even though I’m no junior petite myself.

I shut the door behind me and brought my wards back up. Then I waved a hand at my apartment in general, focused my will, and muttered, Flickum bicus. A dozen candles spaced around the room flickered to life as I pronounced the simple spell, and I knelt beside the unconscious Morgan, examining him for injuries.

He had half a dozen nasty cuts, oozing and ugly and probably painful, but not life-threatening. The flesh on his ribs, beneath his left arm, was blistered and burned, and his plain white shirt had been scorched away. He also had a deep wound in one leg that was clumsily wrapped in what looked like a kitchen apron. I didn’t dare unwrap the thing. It could start the bleeding again, and my medical skills are nothing I’d want to bet a life on.

Even Morgan’s life.

He needed a doctor.

Unfortunately, if the Wardens of the White Council were pursuing him, they probably knew he was wounded. They would, therefore, be watching hospitals. If I took him to one of the local emergency rooms, the Council would know about it within hours.

So I called a friend.

---

*   *   *

Waldo Butters studied Morgan’s injuries in silence for a few moments, while I hovered. He was a wiry little guy, and his black hair stood up helter-skelter, like the fur of a frightened cat. He wore green hospital scrubs and sneakers, and his hands were swift and nimble. He had dark and very intelligent eyes behind black wire-rimmed spectacles, and looked like he hadn’t slept in two weeks.

I’m not a doctor, Butters said.

We’d done this dance several times. You are the Mighty Butters, I said. You can do anything.

I’m a medical examiner. I cut up corpses.

If it helps, think of this as a preventative autopsy.

Butters gave me an even look and said, Can’t take him to the hospital, huh?

Yeah.

Butters shook his head. Isn’t this the guy who tried to kill you that one Halloween?

And a few other times before that, I said.

He opened a medical kit and started rummaging through it. I was never really clear on why.

I shrugged. When I was a kid, I killed a man with magic. I was captured by the Wardens and tried by the White Council.

I guess you got off.

I shook my head. But they figured that since I was just trying to survive the guy killing me with magic, maybe I deserved a break. Suspended sentence, sort of. Morgan was my probation officer.

Probation? Butters asked.

If I screwed up again, he was supposed to chop my head off. He followed me around looking for a good excuse to do it.

Butters blinked up at me, surprised.

I spent the first several years of my adult life looking over my shoulder, worrying about this guy. Getting hounded and harassed by him. I had nightmares for a while, and he was in them. Truth be told, I still had nightmares occasionally, about being pursued by an implacable killer in a grey cloak, holding a wicked cold sword.

Butters began to wet the bandages over the leg wound. And you’re helping him?

I shrugged. He thought I was a dangerous animal and needed to be put down. He really believed it, and acted accordingly.

Butters gave me a quick glance. "And you’re helping him?"

He was wrong, I said. That doesn’t make him a villain. It just makes him an asshole. It isn’t reason enough to kill him.

Reconciled, eh?

Not especially.

Butters lifted his eyebrows. "Then why’d he come to you for help?"

Last place anyone would look for him be my guess.

Jesus Christ, Butters muttered. He’d gotten the improvised bandage off, and found a wound maybe three inches long, but deep, its edges puckered like a little mouth. Blood began drooling from it. It’s like a knife wound, but bigger.

That’s probably because it was done with something like a knife, but bigger.

A sword? Butters said. You’ve got to be kidding me.

The Council’s old school, I said. "Really, really, really old school."

Butters shook his head. Wash your hands the way I just did. Do it thorough—takes two or three minutes. Then get a pair of gloves on and get back here. I need an extra pair of hands.

I swallowed. Uh. Butters, I don’t know if I’m the right guy to—

Oh bite me, wizard boy, Butters said, his tone annoyed. You haven’t got a moral leg to stand on. If it’s okay that I’m not a doctor, it’s okay that you aren’t a nurse. So wash your freaking hands and help me before we lose him.

I stared at Butters helplessly for a second. Then I got up and washed my freaking hands.

For the record, surgeries aren’t pretty. There’s a hideous sense of intimately inappropriate exposure to another human being, and it feels something like accidentally walking in on a naked parent. Only there’s more gore. Bits are exposed that just shouldn’t be out in the open, and they’re covered in blood. It’s embarrassing, disgusting, and unsettling all at the same time.

There, Butters said, an infinity later. Okay, let go. Get your hands out of my way.

It cut the artery? I asked.

Oh, hell no, Butters said. Whoever stabbed him barely nicked it. Otherwise he’d be dead.

But it’s fixed, right?

For some definitions of ‘fixed.’ Harry, this is meatball surgery of the roughest sort, but the wound should stay closed as long as he doesn’t go walking around on it. And he should get looked at by a real doctor soonest. He frowned in concentration. Just give me a minute to close up here.

Take all the time you need.

Butters fell silent while he worked, and didn’t speak again until after he’d finished sewing the wound closed and covered the site in bandages. Then he turned his attention to the smaller injuries, closing most of them with bandages, suturing a particularly ugly one. He also applied a topical antibiotic to the burn, and carefully covered it in a layer of gauze.

Okay, Butters said. I sterilized everything as best I could, but it wouldn’t shock me to see an infection anyway. He starts running a fever, or if there’s too much swelling, you’ve got to get him to one of two places—the hospital or the morgue.

Got it, I said quietly.

We should get him onto a bed. Get him warm.

Okay.

We lifted Morgan by the simple expedient of picking up the entire area rug he was lying on, and settled him down on the only bed in the place, the little twin in my closet-sized bedroom. We covered him up.

He really ought to have a saline IV going, Butters said. For that matter, a unit of blood couldn’t hurt, either. And he needs antibiotics, man, but I can’t write prescriptions.

I’ll handle it, I said.

Butters grimaced at me, his dark eyes concerned. He started to speak and then stopped, several times.

Harry, he said, finally. "You’re on the White Council, aren’t you?"

Yeah.

"And you are a Warden, aren’t you?"

Yep.

Butters shook his head. So, your own people are after this guy. I can’t imagine that they’ll be very happy with you if they find him here.

I shrugged. They’re always upset about something.

I’m serious. This is nothing but trouble for you. So why help him?

I was quiet for a moment, looking down at Morgan’s slack, pale, unconscious face.

Because Morgan wouldn’t break the Laws of Magic, I said quietly. Not even if it cost him his life.

You sound pretty sure about that.

I nodded. I am. I’m helping him because I know what it feels like to have the Wardens on your ass for something you haven’t done. I rose and looked away from the unconscious man on my bed. I know it better than anyone alive.

Butters shook his head. You are a rare kind of crazy, man.

Thanks.

He started cleaning up everything he’d set out during the improvised surgery. So. How are the headaches?

They’d been a problem, the past several months—increasingly painful migraines. Fine, I told him.

Yeah, right, Butters said. I really wish you’d try the MRI again.

Technology and wizards don’t coexist well, and magnetic resonance imagers are right up there. One baptism in fire-extinguishing foam per year is my limit, I said.

It could be something serious, Butters said. Anything happens in your head or neck, you don’t take chances. There’s way too much going on there.

They’re lightening up, I lied.

Hogwash, Butters said, giving me a gimlet stare. You’ve got a headache now, don’t you?

I looked from Butters to Morgan’s recumbent form. Yeah, I said. I sure as hell got one now.

Chapter Two

Morgan slept. My first impression of the guy had stuck with me pretty hard—tall, heavily muscled, with a lean, sunken face I’d always associated with religious ascetics and half-crazy artists. He had brown hair that was unevenly streaked with iron, and a beard that, while always kept trimmed, perpetually seemed to need a few more weeks to fill out. He had hard, steady eyes, and all the comforting, reassuring charm of a dental drill.

Asleep, he looked . . . old. Tired. I noticed the deep worry lines between his brows and at the corners of his mouth. His hands, which were large and blunt-fingered, showed more of his age than the rest of him. I knew he was better than a century old, which was nudging toward active maturity, for a wizard. There were scars across both of his hands—the graffiti of violence. The last two fingers of his right hand were stiff and slightly crooked, as if they’d been badly broken, and healed without being properly set. His eyes looked sunken, and the skin beneath them was dark enough to resemble bruises. Maybe Morgan had bad dreams, too.

It was harder to be afraid of him when he was asleep.

Mouse, my big grey dog, rose from his usual napping post in the kitchen alcove, and shambled over to stand beside me, two hundred pounds of silent companionship. He looked soberly at Morgan and then up at me.

Do me a favor, I told him. Stay with him. Make sure he doesn’t try to walk on that leg. It could kill him.

Mouse nudged his head against my hip, made a quiet snorting sound, and padded over to the bed. He lay down on the floor, stretching out alongside it, and promptly went back to sleep.

I pulled the door most of the way shut and sank down into the easy chair by the fireplace, where I could rub my temples and try to think.

The White Council of Wizards was the governing body for the practice of magic in the world, and made up of its most powerful practitioners. Being a member of the White Council was something akin to earning your black belt in a martial art—it meant that you could handle yourself well, that you had real skill that was recognized by your fellow wizards. The Council oversaw the use of magic among its members, according to the Seven Laws of Magic.

God help the poor practitioner who broke one of the Laws. The Council would send the Wardens to administer justice, which generally took the form of ruthless pursuit, a swift trial, and a prompt execution—when the offender wasn’t killed resisting arrest.

It sounds harsh, and it is—but over time I’d been forced to admit that it might well be necessary. The use of black magic corrupts the mind and the heart and the soul of the wizard employing it. It doesn’t happen instantly, and it doesn’t happen all at once—it’s a slow, festering thing that grows like a tumor, until whatever human empathy and compassion a person might have once had is consumed in the need for power. By the time a wizard has fallen to that temptation and become a warlock, people are dead, or worse than dead. It was the duty of the Wardens to make a quick end of warlocks—by any means necessary.

There was more to being a Warden than that, though. They were also the soldiers and defenders of the White Council. In our recent war with the Vampire Courts, the lion’s share of the fighting had been carried out by the Wardens, those men and women with a gift for swift, violent magic. Hell, in most of the battles, such as they were, it had been Morgan who was in the center of the fighting.

I’d done my share during the war, but among my fellow Wardens, the only ones who were happy to work with me had been the newer recruits. The older ones had all seen too many lives shattered by the abuse of magic, and their experiences had marked them deeply. With one exception, they didn’t like me, they didn’t trust me, and they didn’t want anything to do with me.

That generally suited me just fine.

Over the past few years, the White Council had come to realize that someone on the inside was feeding information to the vampires. A lot of people died because of the traitor, but he, or she, had never been identified. Given how much the Council in general and the Wardens in particular loved me, the ensuing paranoia-fest had kept my life from getting too boring—especially after I’d been dragooned into joining the Wardens myself, as part of the war effort.

So why was Morgan here, asking for help from me?

Call me crazy, but my suspicious side immediately put forward the idea that Morgan was trying to sucker me into doing something to get me into major hot water with the Council again. Hell, he’d tried to kill me that way, once, several years ago. But logic simply didn’t support that idea. If Morgan wasn’t really in trouble with the Council, then I couldn’t get into trouble for hiding him from a pursuit that didn’t exist. Besides, his injuries said more about his sincerity than any number of words could. They had not been faked.

He was actually on the lam.

Until I found out more about what was going on, I didn’t dare go to anyone for help. I couldn’t very well ask my fellow Wardens about Morgan without it being painfully obvious that I had seen him, which would only attract their interest. And if the Council was after Morgan, then anyone who helped him would become an accomplice to the crime, and draw heat of his own. I couldn’t ask anyone to help me.

Anyone else, I corrected myself. I’d had little option but to call Butters in—and frankly, the fact that he was not at all involved in the supernatural world would afford him some insulation from any consequences that might arise from his complicity. Besides which, Butters had earned a little good credit with the White Council the night he’d helped me prevent a family-sized order of necromancers from turning one of their number into a minor god. He’d saved the life of at least one Warden—two, if you counted me—and was in far less danger than anyone attached to the community would be.

Me, for example.

Man, my head was killing me.

Until I knew more about what was going on, I really couldn’t take any intelligent action—and I didn’t dare start asking questions for fear of attracting unwanted attention. Rushing headlong into an investigation would be a mistake, which meant that I would have to wait until Morgan could start talking to me.

So I stretched out on my couch to do some thinking, and began focusing on my breathing, trying to relax the headache away and clear my thoughts. It went so well that I stayed right there doing it for about six hours, until the late dusk of a Chicago summer had settled on the city.

I didn’t fall asleep. I was meditating. You’re going to have to take my word for it.

I woke up when Mouse let out a low guttural sound that wasn’t quite a bark, but was considerably shorter and more distinct than a growl. I sat up and went to my bedroom, to find Morgan awake.

Mouse was standing next to the bed, leaning his broad, heavy head on Morgan’s chest. The wounded man was idly scratching Mouse’s ears. He glanced aside at me and started to sit up.

Mouse leaned harder, and gently flattened Morgan to the bed again.

Morgan exhaled in obvious discomfort, and said, in a croaking, dry voice, I take it I am undergoing mandatory bed rest.

Yeah, I said quietly. You were banged up pretty bad. The doctor said that walking on that leg would be a bad idea.

Morgan’s eyes sharpened. Doctor?

Relax. It was off the books. I know a guy.

Morgan grunted. Then he licked cracked lips and said, Is there anything to drink?

I got him some cold water in a sports bottle with a big straw. He knew better than to guzzle. He sipped at it slowly. Then he took a deep breath, grimaced like a man about to intentionally put his hand in a fire, and said, Thank y—

"Oh shut up, I said, shuddering. Neither of us wants that conversation."

Maybe I imagined it, but it looked like he relaxed slightly. He nodded and closed his eyes again.

Don’t go back to sleep yet, I told him. I still have to take your temperature. It would be awkward.

God’s beard, yes, Morgan said, opening his eyes. I went and got my thermometer, one of the old-fashioned ones filled with mercury. When I came back, Morgan said, You didn’t turn me in.

Not yet, I said. I’m willing to hear you out.

Morgan nodded, accepted the thermometer, and said, Aleron LaFortier is dead.

He stuck the thermometer in his mouth, presumably to attempt to kill me with the suspense. I fought back by thinking through the implications, instead.

LaFortier was a member of the Senior Council—seven of the oldest and most capable wizards on the planet, the ones who ran the White Council and commanded the Wardens. He was—had been—skinny, bald, and a sanctimonious jerk. I’d been wearing a hood at the time, so I couldn’t be certain, but I suspected that his voice had been the first of the Senior Council to vote guilty at my trial, and had argued against clemency for my crimes. He was a hard-line supporter of the Merlin, the head of the Council, who had been dead set against me.

All in all, a swell guy.

But he’d also been one of the best-protected wizards in the world. All the members of the Senior Council were not only dangerous in their own rights, but protected by details of Wardens, to boot. Attempted assassinations had been semiregular events during the war with the vampires, and the Wardens had become very, very good at keeping the Senior Council safe.

I did some math from there.

It was an inside job, I said quietly. Like the one that killed Simon at Archangel.

Morgan nodded.

And they blamed you?

Morgan nodded and took the thermometer out of his mouth. He glanced at it, and then passed to me. I looked. Ninety-nine and change.

I met his eyes and said, Did you do it?

No.

I grunted. I believed him.

Why’d they finger you?

Because they found me standing over LaFortier’s body with the murder weapon in my hand, he replied. They also turned up a newly created account, in my name, with several million dollars in it, and phone records that showed I was in regular contact with a known operative of the Red Court.

I arched an eyebrow. Gosh. That was irrational of them, to jump to that conclusion.

Morgan’s mouth turned up in a small sour smile.

What’s your story? I asked him.

I went to bed two nights ago. I woke up in LaFortier’s private study in Edinburgh, with a lump on the back of my head and a bloody dagger in my hand. Simmons and Thorsen burst into the room maybe fifteen seconds later.

You were framed.

Thoroughly.

I exhaled a slow breath. You got any proof? An alibi? Anything?

If I did, he said, I wouldn’t have had to escape custody. Once I realized that someone had gone to a lot of effort to set me up to take the blame, I knew that my only chance— He broke off, coughing.

Was to find the real killer, I finished for him. I passed him the drink again, and he choked down a few sips, slowly relaxing.

A few minutes later, he turned exhausted eyes to mine. Are you going to turn me in?

I looked at him for a silent minute, and then sighed. It’d be a lot easier.

Yes, Morgan said.

You sure you were going down for it?

Something in his expression became even more remote than usual. He nodded. I’ve seen it often enough.

So I could leave you hanging out to dry.

You could.

But if I did that, we wouldn’t find the traitor. And since you’d died in his place, he’d be free to continue operating. More people would get killed, and the next person he framed—

—might be you, Morgan finished.

With my luck? I said glumly. "No might about it."

The brief sour smile appeared on his face again.

They’re using tracking spells to follow you, I said. I assume you’ve taken some kind of countermeasure, or they’d already be at the door.

He nodded.

How long is it going to last?

Forty-eight hours. Sixty at the most.

I nodded slowly, thinking. You’re running a fever. I’ve got some medical supplies stashed. I’ll get them for you. Hopefully we can keep it from getting any worse.

He nodded again, and then his sunken eyes closed. He’d run out of gas. I watched him for a minute, then turned and started gathering up my things.

Keep an eye on him, boy, I said to Mouse.

The big dog settled down on the floor beside the bed.

Forty-eight hours. I had about two days to find the traitor within the White Council—something no one had been able to do during the past several years. After that, Morgan would be found, tried, and killed—and his accomplice, your friendly neighborhood Harry Dresden, would be next.

Nothing motivates like a deadline.

Especially the literal kind.

Chapter Three

I got in my busted-up old Volkswagen bug, the mighty Blue Beetle, and headed for the cache of medical supplies.

The problem with hunting down the traitor in the White Council was simple: because of the specific information leaks that had occurred, there were a limited number of people who could have possessed the information. The suspect pool was damn small—just about everyone in it was a member of the Senior Council, and everyone there was beyond reproach.

The second someone threw an accusation at one of them, things were going to get busy, and fast. If an innocent was fingered, they would react the same way Morgan had. Knowing full well that the justice of the Council was blind, especially to annoying things like facts, they would have little choice but to resist.

One punky young wizard like me bucking the system was one thing, but when one of the heavyweights on the Senior Council did it, there would be a world of difference. The Senior Council members all had extensive contacts in the Council. They all had centuries of experience and skill to back up enormous amounts of raw strength. If one of them put up a fight, it would mean more than resisting arrest.

It would mean internal strife like the White Council had never seen.

It would mean civil war.

And, under the circumstances, I couldn’t imagine anything more disastrous for the White Council. The balance of power between the supernatural nations was a precarious thing—and we had barely managed to hang on throughout the war with the Vampire Courts. Both sides were getting their wind back now, but the vampires could replace their losses far more quickly than we could. If the Council dissolved into infighting now, it would trigger a feeding frenzy amongst our foes.

Morgan had been right to run. I knew the Merlin well enough to know that he wouldn’t blink twice before sacrificing an innocent man if it meant holding the Council together, much less someone who might actually be guilty.

Meanwhile, the real traitor would be clapping his hands in glee. One of the Senior Council was already down, and if the Council as a whole didn’t implode in the next few days, it would become that much rifer with paranoia and distrust, following the execution of the most capable and highly accomplished combat commander in the Wardens. All the traitor would need to do was rinse and repeat, with minor variations, and sooner or later something would crack.

I would only get one shot at this. I had to find the guilty party, and I had to be right and irrefutable the very first time.

Colonel Mustard, in the den, with the lead pipe.

Now all I needed was a clue.

No pressure, Harry.

---

*   *   *

My half brother lived in an expensive apartment on the very edge of the Gold Coast area, which, in Chicago, is where a whole lot of people with a whole lot of money live. Thomas runs an upscale boutique, specializing in the kind of upper-crust clientele who seem to be willing to pay a couple hundred dollars for a haircut and a blow-dry. He does well for himself, too, as evidenced by his expensive address.

I parked a few blocks west of his apartment, where the rates weren’t quite so Gold Coasty, and then walked in to his place and leaned on his buzzer. No one answered. I checked the clock in the lobby, then folded my arms, leaned against a wall, and waited for him to get home from work.

His car pulled into the building’s lot a few minutes later. He’d replaced the enormous Hummer that we’d managed to trash with a brand-new ridiculously expensive car—a Jaguar, with plenty of flash and gold trim. It was, needless to say, pure white. I kept on lurking, waiting for him to come around to the doors.

He did, a minute later. He was maybe a hair or three under six feet tall, dressed in midnight blue leather pants and a white silk shirt with big blousy sleeves. His hair was midnight black, presumably to complement the pants, and fell in rippling waves to just below his shoulders. He had grey eyes, teeth whiter than the Ku Klux Klan, and a face that had been made for fashion magazines. He had the build to go with it, too. Thomas made all those Spartans in that movie look like slackers, and he didn’t even use an airbrush.

He raised his dark brows as he saw me. ’Arry, he said in the hideously accurate French accent he used in public. "Good evening, mon ami."

I nodded to him. Hey. We need to talk.

His smile faded as he took in my expression and body language, and he nodded. But of course.

We went on up to his apartment. It was immaculate, as always, the furnishings expensive, modern, and oh so trendy, with a lot of brushed nickel finish in evidence. I went in, leaned my quarterstaff against the frame of the front door, and slouched down onto one of the couches. I looked at it for a minute.

How much did you pay for this? I asked him.

He dropped the accent. "About what you did for the Beetle."

I shook my head, and tried to find a comfortable way to sit. That much money, you’d think they could afford more cushions. I’ve sat on fences more comfy than this.

That’s because it isn’t really meant to be sat upon, Thomas replied. It’s meant to show people how very wealthy and fashionable one is.

I got one of my couches for thirty bucks at a garage sale. It’s orange and green plaid, and it’s tough not to fall asleep in it when you sit down.

It’s very you, Thomas said, smiling as he crossed to the kitchen. Whereas this is very much me. Or very much my persona, anyway. Beer?

Long as it’s cold.

He returned with a couple of dark brown bottles coated in frost, and passed me one. We took the tops off, clinked, and then he sat down on the chair across from the couch as we drank.

Okay, he said. What’s up?

Trouble, I replied. I told him about Morgan.

Thomas scowled. "Empty night, Harry. Morgan? Morgan!? What’s wrong with your head?"

I shrugged. I don’t think he did it.

Who cares? Morgan wouldn’t cross the street to piss on you if you were on fire, Thomas growled. He’s finally getting his comeuppance. Why should you lift a finger?

Because I don’t think he did it, I said. Besides. You haven’t thought it through.

Thomas slouched back in the chair and regarded me with narrowed eyes as he sipped at his beer. I joined him, and let him mull it over in silence. There was nothing wrong with Thomas’s brain.

Okay, he said, grudgingly. I can think of a couple of reasons you’d want to cover his homicidal ass.

I need the medical stuff I left with you.

He rose and went to the hall closet—which was packed to groaning with all manner of household articles that build up when you stay in one place for a while. He removed a white toolbox with a red cross painted on the side of it, and calmly caught a softball that rolled off the top shelf before it hit his head. He shut everything in again, got a cooler out of his fridge, and put it and the medical kit on the floor next to me.

Please don’t tell me that this is all I can do, he said.

No. There’s something else.

He spread his hands. Well?

I’d like you to find out what the Vampire Courts know about the manhunt. And I need you to stay under the radar while you do it.

He stared at me for a moment, and then exhaled slowly. Why?

I shrugged. I’ve got to know more about what’s going on. I can’t ask my people. And if a bunch of people know you’re asking around, someone is going to connect some dots and take a harder look at Chicago.

My brother the vampire went completely still for a moment. It isn’t something human beings can do. All of him, even the sense of his presence in the room, just . . . stopped. I felt like I was staring at a wax figure.

You’re asking me to bring Justine into this, he said.

Justine was the girl who had been willing to give her life for my brother. And who he’d nearly killed himself to protect. Love didn’t begin to cover what they had. Neither did broken.

My brother was a vampire of the White Court. For him, love hurt. Thomas and Justine couldn’t ever be together.

She’s the personal aide of the leader of the White Court, I said. If anyone’s in a good position to find out, she is.

He rose, the motion a little too quick to be wholly human, and paced back and forth in agitation. She’s already taking enough risks, feeding information on the White Court’s activities back to you when it’s safe for her to do it. I don’t want her taking more chances.

I get that, I said. But situations like this are the whole reason she went undercover in the first place. This is exactly the kind of thing she wanted to do when she went in.

Thomas mutely shook his head.

I sighed. Look, I’m not asking her to deactivate the tractor beam, rescue the princess, and escape to the fourth moon of Yavin. I just need to know what she’s heard and what she can find out without blowing her cover.

He paced for another half a minute or so before he stopped and stared at me hard. Promise me something, first.

What?

Promise me that you won’t put her in any more danger than she already is. Promise me that you won’t act on any information they could trace back to her.

Dammit, Thomas, I said wearily. That just isn’t possible. There’s no way to know exactly which information will be safe to use, and no way to know for certain which bits of data might be misinformation.

Promise me, he said, emphasizing both words.

I shook my head. I promise that I’ll do absolutely everything in my power to keep Justine safe.

His jaws clenched a few times. The promise didn’t satisfy him—though it was probably more accurate to say that the situation didn’t satisfy him. He knew I couldn’t guarantee her complete safety and he knew that I’d given him everything I could.

He took a deep, slow breath.

Then he nodded.

Okay, he said.

Chapter Four

About five minutes after I left Thomas’s place, I found myself instinctively checking the rearview mirror every couple of seconds and recognized the quiet tension that had begun to flow through me. My gut was telling me that I’d picked up a tail.

Granted, it was only an intuition, but hey. Wizard, over here. My instincts had earned enough credibility to make me pay attention to them. If they told me someone was following me, it was time to start watching my back.

If someone was following me, it wasn’t necessarily connected to the current situation with Morgan. I mean, it didn’t absolutely have to be, right? But I hadn’t survived a ton of ugly furballs by being thick all of the time. Generally, maybe, but not all the time, and I’d be an idiot to assume that my sudden company was unconnected to Morgan.

I took a few turns purely for fun, but I couldn’t spot any vehicles following mine. That didn’t necessarily mean anything. A good surveillance team, working together, could follow a target all but invisibly, especially at night, when every car on the road looked pretty much like the same pair of headlights. Just because I couldn’t see them didn’t mean that they weren’t there.

The hairs on the back of my neck stood up, and I felt my shoulders ratcheting tighter with each passing streetlight.

What if my pursuer wasn’t in a car?

My imagination promptly treated me to visions of numerous winged horrors, soaring silently on batlike wings just above the level of the ambient light of the city, preparing to dive down upon the Blue Beetle and tear it into strips of sheet metal. The streets were busy, as they almost always were in this part of town. It was one hell of a public location for a hit, but that didn’t automatically preclude the possibility. It had happened to me before.

I chewed on my lower lip and thought. I couldn’t go back to my apartment until I was sure that I had shaken the tail. To do that, I’d have to spot him.

I wasn’t going to get through the next two days without taking some chances. I figured I might as well get started.

I drew in a deep breath, focused my thoughts, and blinked slowly, once. When I opened my eyes again, I brought my Sight along with them.

A wizard’s Sight, his ability to perceive the world around him in a vastly broadened spectrum of interacting forces, is a dangerous gift. Whether it’s called spirit vision, or inner sight, or the Third Eye, it lets you perceive things you’d otherwise never be able to interact with. It shows you the world the way it really is, matter all intertwined with a universe of energy, of magic. The Sight can show you beauty that would make angels weep humble tears, and terrors that the Black-Goat-with-a-Thousand-Young wouldn’t dare use for its kids’ bedtime stories.

Whatever you see, the good, the bad, the insanity-inducing—it sticks with you forever. You can’t ever forget it, and time doesn’t blur the memories. It’s yours. Permanently.

Wizards who run around using their Sight willy-nilly wind up bonkers.

My Third Eye showed me Chicago, in its true shape, and for a second I thought I had been teleported to Vegas. Energy ran through the streets, the buildings, the people, appearing to me as slender filaments of light that ran this way and that, plunging into solid objects and out the other side without interruption. The energies coursing through the grand old buildings had a solid and unmoving stability about them, as did the city streets—but the rest of it, the random energies generated by the thoughts and emotions of eight million people, was completely unplanned and coursed everywhere in frenetic, haphazard, garish color.

Clouds of emotion were interspersed with the flickering campfire sparks of ideas. Heavy flowing streams of deep thought rolled slowly beneath blazing, dancing gems of joy. The muck of negative emotions clung to surfaces, staining them darker, while fragile bubbles of dreams floated blissfully toward kaleidoscope stars.

Holy crap. I could barely see the lines on the road through all of that.

I checked over my shoulder, seeing each occupant of the cars behind me clearly, as brilliantly lit shapes of white that skittered with other colors that changed with thoughts, moods, and personalities. If I’d been closer to them, I’d have been able to see more details about them, though they would be subject to my subconscious interpretation. Even at this distance, though, I could tell that they were all mortals.

That was a relief, in some ways. I’d be able to spot any wizard strong enough to be one of the Wardens. If whoever was pursuing me was a normal, it was almost certain that the Wardens hadn’t caught up to Morgan yet.

I checked up above me and—

Time froze.

Try to imagine the stench of rotten meat. Imagine the languid, arrhythmic pulsing of a corpse filled with maggots. Imagine the scent of stale body odor mixed with mildew, the sound of nails screeching across a chalkboard, the taste of rotten milk, and the flavor of spoiled fruit.

Now imagine that your eyes can experience those things, all at once, in excruciating detail.

That’s what I saw: a stomach-churning, nightmare-inducing mass, blazing like a lighthouse beacon upon one of the buildings above me. I could vaguely make out a physical form behind it, but it was like trying to peer through raw sewage. I couldn’t get any details through the haze of absolute wrongness that surrounded it as it bounded from the edge of one rooftop to another, moving more than fast enough to keep pace with me.

Someone screamed, and I dimly noted that it was probably me. The car hit something that made it shriek in protest. It jounced hard up and down, wham-wham. I’d drifted into the curb. I felt the front wheels shimmy through the steering wheel, and I slammed on the brakes, still screaming, as I fought to close my Third Eye.

The next thing I knew, car horns were blaring an impatient symphony.

I was sitting in the driver’s seat, gripping the wheel until my knuckles were white. The engine had died. Judging from the dampness on my cheeks, I must have been crying—unless I’d started foaming at the mouth, which, I reflected, was a distinct possibility.

Stars and stones. What on God’s green earth was that thing?

Even brushing against the subject in my thoughts was enough to bring the memory of the thing back to me in all its hideous terror. I flinched and squeezed my eyes shut, shoving hard against the steering wheel. I could feel my body shaking. I don’t know how long it took me to fight my way clear of the memory—and when I did, everything was the same, only louder.

With the clock counting down, I couldn’t afford to let the cops take me into custody for a DWI, but that’s exactly what would happen if I didn’t start driving again, assuming I didn’t actually wreck the car first. I took a deep breath and willed myself not to think of the apparition—

I saw it again.

When I came back, I’d bitten my tongue, and my throat felt raw. I shook even harder.

There was no way I could drive. Not like this. One stray thought and I could get somebody killed in a collision. But I couldn’t remain there, either.

I pulled the Beetle up onto the sidewalk, where it would be out of the

Reviews for Turn Coat

[laphenix · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

Dear God come a man! There's more to life than your dick!

[tobinelliott · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Did I know who was the "turn coat"? Yup. As soon as they showed up.

Did it lessen my enjoyment of the book? Nope.

Butcher's series just seems to grow in leaps and bounds now. He's found his soap opera rhythm of wrapping up a plot thread from an earlier novel, providing a full storyline for the current novel, while introducing an element that will play a role in an upcoming novel. Yes, "soap opera" is a dirty term, but hey, it worked for Chris Claremont and Dave Cockrum/John Byrne in the glory days of the X-Men comic series, why wouldn't it work here?

Initially, when I started this series, I took on the next book just because I'd committed to reading them. But now? Now I truly look forward to the next installment with excitement. Butcher keeps raising the stakes, and a storm is very obviously coming.

[mom2lnb · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Turn Coat is the eleventh full-length installment of the Dresden Files series and like all the others, it keeps the series story arc churning along. In this book, Warden Donald Morgan, Harry’s nemesis of sorts, who’s had it in for Harry since he was caught breaking the laws of magic years ago, shows up on Harry’s doorstep, wounded and on the run from the White Council. Morgan has been charged with a murder he didn’t commit, and with few options left, he reluctantly asks for Harry’s help with clearing his name. Even though there’s no love lost between the two, Harry knows in his heart that Morgan couldn’t possibly have done such a heinous thing, so he agrees to offer his assistance as an investigator. Unfortunately the trail of evidence starts leading to a possible conspiracy between the White Council and the White Court vampires. Add in an evil skinwalker who just won’t quit, a mercenary wizard who knows just enough about spells to conjure up some trouble, and an abundance of friends and foes alike, and you have the makings of a rollicking story full of action, adventure, and just the right dose of magical intervention that was a pleasure to read.

Harry is definitely one of the best male characters of any series that I’ve read and he keeps me coming back for more each time I finish one of his stories. He’s a complex hero, in that he doesn’t always play by the rules, but he tries to stay on the side of good and in the White Council’s graces. When Morgan shows up at his door, he has no real reason to help the guy. After all, Morgan, the council’s executioner, has been jonesing for years to catch Harry in a mistake so that he can take him down. But Harry knows how loyal Morgan has always been to the White Council, which makes him certain that Morgan could never murder a White Council member in cold blood. He’s also a strong fighter for the underdog and when he realizes that, for political reasons, the White Council may let Morgan take the fall no matter what, it makes him want to fight that much harder to clear Morgan’s name. He just simply won’t quit even when the villain sends a powerful, nearly unbeatable skinwalker to take them all out. In fact, he’s prepared to die if necessary for the greater good, because it’s just that important to him. I love Harry for his honorable nature and his desire to help those who, for whatever reason, can’t help themselves. He inspires steadfast loyalty in his friends and a healthy dose of caution and even fear in his foes. Time and time again, he’s proven himself to be a powerful wizard, not quite White Council powerful, but he definitely has plenty of raw talent that promises to grow to the level of a council member given time. I really can’t wait to see what he might do next.

As always, there are plenty of great supporting characters to round out the cast. Morgan is a crusty old coot who’s not easy to like, because of the way he’s had it out for Harry since the beginning, and now Molly as well, believing them to be irredeemable warlocks. However, he proves to have some hidden depths and given that he spends most of the story in a very vulnerable state, I couldn’t help but muster some sympathy for him, especially when he keeps fighting despite his weakened state. I also respected his loyalty to the council and to a certain other warden. Karrin Murphy is perhaps Harry’s closest friend and the one he trusts the most, and I’m still rooting for them to hopefully get together at some point in the future. Molly keeps growing as an apprentice and learning more about her powers, which are pretty impressive in their own right. She, too, proves her loyalty by putting her life on the line for Morgan. Mouse is the smartest, bravest, and best dog a wizard could ever hope to have. Mister and Bob also put in brief appearances. A lot happens for Thomas in this installment, as he finds himself used as leverage against Harry, something that damages his psyche and possibly more. I’m hoping that these changes won’t be permanent, while still trying to be optimistic about a real future for him and Justine, who also appears in this story. Thomas’s sister, Lara, once again shows off her brilliant, but ruthless and deadly power as a frenemy, helping Harry and the council fight a common enemy. The wolf pack puts their lives on the line to lend an assist as well. Anastasia Luccio, captain of the Wardens and Harry’s latest lover, can’t help getting involved for multiple reasons, but we learn something surprising about her along the way. Brave little Toot-toot, my favorite pixie, really gets into the action in this one, showing off his fortitude against a formidable foe. All the White Council members are present, but it’s Ebenezer McCoy and Listens-to-Wind who still seem to be Harry’s most likely allies in the conflicts still to come.

As I mentioned, there’s a lot going on in Turn Coat that makes it not only a great stand-alone story but one that adds intrigue to the overall series arc. I very much enjoyed trying to guess the mystery of who the real killer was. It all suggests that there’s definitely some hinky stuff going on in high places, adding credence to Harry’s theory of a Black Council that’s operating in the shadows in opposition to the White Council. I love Harry’s commitment to figuring it all out and I also love how that even when he’s outnumbered and outgunned, so to speak, he manages to work smarter not harder. There are some humorous moments when Harry leaves home a couple of times, only to come back to a bizarre tableau involving Morgan, Molly, Luccio, and Mouse, in which Mouse appears to be the only one of the bunch with a cool head who’s using his superior doggie brain. In counterpoint, there’s also some grief as we say a sad goodbye to two long-time characters who’ve been a part of the series since the beginning. Everything taken together, Turn Coat was another excellent read in the Dresden Files series that I had a hard time putting down. I very much look forward to seeing what comes next for our intrepid wizard PI.

[daumari · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Woof. I enjoyed it, but guessed at the real killer midway through... though tbh the REAL mastermind behind the scenes still hasn't been revealed, so I dunno. Good pacing, brought together the wizard and vampire elements, but man, does Harry need a hug after this one.

[narilka · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Turn Coat is the eleventh book in The Dresden Files by Jim Butcher. In this week's episode... Warden Morgan (yes, that Morgan, the one who has hounded Harry for years) turns up at Harry's door seeking help. Morgan's been accused of murder and needs Chicago's best private detective to help clear his name. Life is full of irony at times.

The banter in these books continues to be one of my favorite things in these books. This quote is one of my favorites:

Thomas stopped his Jag in front of the boarding house where my apartment was and said, "I'll have my cell phone on me. Try to call me before things start exploding."

"Maybe this time it'll be different. Maybe I'll work everything out through reason, diplomacy, dialogue and mutual cooperation."

Thomas eyed me.

I tried to look wounded. "It could happen."

Keep dreaming Harry!

That seems like these events are going to have profound implications for the future of the White Council. The series is taking a darker, more serious turn. I'm glad Butcher keeps the funny banter going to help lighten things up. I feel bad for Harry and how his life is turned more and more on its head with every book. I did enjoy seeing more of the senior wizards - they are impressive when they aren't playing politics. I have no idea if Thomas is going to recover from what happened to him. Toot Toot was pure awesome and deserves extra pizza. Mouse remains the best boy ever and steals every scene he's in.

[carolesrandomlife · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

I loved this installment! I think that I enjoyed this one a little more than I did the first time that I read it 9 nine years ago. Although it must have made an impression on me the first time around because I actually remembered parts of the story which I rarely do. I was hooked by this story right away and wanted to spend as much time listening as I could until I reached the conclusion. I found this to be a very entertaining addition to a much-loved series.

This is definitely a series that should be read in order. Warden Morgan and Harry have a long history and it is a less than pleasant one. When an injured Morgan shows up on Harry’s doorstep needing help, Harry doesn’t hesitate. Morgan has been accused of murdering a member of the senior council and it doesn’t look good. Harry does his best to keep Morgan safe and hidden while trying to figure out who is really responsible.

There were some pretty intense scenes in this book and I spent a lot of the book worried about Harry and the other characters. I love how much growth some of the secondary characters have shown throughout the series and a lot of favorites made some kind of appearance in this book. Molly has also grown in her role as Harry’s apprentice and it has been fun to watch her skills develop. The scenes that take place on the island were near perfection that left me glued to my headphones.

James Marsters does a fantastic job with the narration of this book. I feel like the voices that he uses for each of the characters really fits their personality and help to bring the story to life. I love the way he is able to add emotion and excitement to the story. I believe that his narration added to my enjoyment of this book.

I would recommend this series to others. I had a great time with this book and thought that there were some pretty big developments that may have an impact on future installments in the series. I cannot wait to continue with my re-read of this wonderful series.

[amkitty-511462 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Another solid hit from the Dresden Files. This story has Harry trying to exonerate his worst enemy from among the Wardens and facing diwn a skinwalker. All this while teying to suss out the truth behind the Black Council and the traitor on the White Council.

I can’t wait to see what new twists come along in the development of the Molly and the Thomas subplots. Mouse also has competition for “my favorite character” in the form of the pixie Toot-toot and the Za-Lord’s Guard.

[billycongo · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

This is easily the best of the Dresden Files. Well drawn characters, good plot, plenty of humour.

[tip44 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

reread- damn these books go by so fast!

[jrg1316 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Another fantastic entry to the series. The traitor to the White Council is finally revealed, and Dresden faces his most powerful enemy yet...the skinwalker. I couldn't put this one down.

[wordsampersand · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Hefty dose of White Council politics, always my favorite thing in a Dresden novel. Pretty heartbreaking book in a lot of ways, too — as much as Harry tries to control every aspect of his life, it's becoming more and more clear that he can't.

[tldegray-1 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Turn Coat blew me away. I've always liked The Dresden Files, always enjoyed each book, but this one just left me gasping and holding my hand to my heart for the last thirty pages or so. Often when a book does that it feels like so many bad things are happening, nothing is going the way I or the main character want it to, and I'm left feeling disappointed, but Turn Coat didn't leave me feeling like that at all. It was as if Butcher was sitting next to me saying "come with me on this, I promise, it's for the good of the story" and it was. I really enjoyed this and I'm very much looking forward to whatever happens next.

[tjsjohanna_1 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

The on-going plot point of a Black Council picks up major steam in this novel. Harry finds himself defending and protecting the wizard who has made his life most difficult and some of the deep seated infiltration of the White Council is exposed. Harry's personal life takes a disappointing turn.

[lauren2013_1 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Turn Coat
4 Stars

Series note: It is essential that the books in this series be read in order. Events from earlier installments play an important role in later ones and it is virtually impossible to follow the storyline by beginning with this book.

As usual, the action in Turn Coat begins immediately when Donald Morgan, Harry's Nemesis, collapses on his doorstep with the Wardens hot on his heels. Morgan is suspected of murder and it is up to Harry to find traitor within the White Council, exonerate Morgan and protect his friends from a rampaging Skinwalker.

Much of the plot revolves around the search for the traitor and the internal politics of the White Council but Harry also suffers some personal loses and those closest to him are put in harms way. Readers are finally rewarded with the identity of the traitor but after all the build up, the revelation has its problems and is not as satisfying as it could have been.

All in all, old mysteries are solved but new ones are introduced and it will be interesting to see how things develop from here.

[brakketh-1 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

The conspiracy deepens. My favourite Dresden Files for a couple of books.

[ecataldi-1 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

I keep getting more and more obsessed with this series. They just keep getting better! The plots, dialogue, characters, everything! Harry Dresden is legit my biggest fictional crush. What a gem. I accidentally read this book AFTER reading book twelve, but honestly it really didn't change a thing or mess anything up. There was a surprise character death in this one that I didn't see coming, but honestly with the way it played out, I wasn't even mad. It's nice to see Molly getting some more page time, she's becoming a pretty solid apprentice (even when she screws up!). This series does not disappoint and I can't wait to get my hand on the next one!

[hamburgerclan · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

In the world of The Dresden Files, Harry Dresden is not a popular fellow. At least among the wizarding community, that is. The White Council of Wizards seek to protect the world from dark magic--setting specific rules for magic's use. It strictly enforces those rules, enforced by the Wardens, threatening harsh penalties for those who would violate them. Harry, unfortunately, was orphaned and was originally mentored by a dark wizard. He narrowly missed being executed for his upbringing and although pardoned, has been held in suspicion ever since. A number of wardens watch him carefully, waiting to pounce the moment he screws up. Harry, of course, holds the strict enforcement of the laws in disdain and often dances on the line in his pursuit of true justice. And then one day, one of the veteran Wardens, Morgan, Harry's arch nemesis on the White Council, shows up asking for help. It seems he's been falsely accused of murdering one of the senior members of the Council...

My practice in reading The Dresden Files has been to pick up the next volume ever few months or so. Rather than getting a list and shopping for that novel, I've been snagging a copy at the used book store or at library sales. I usually consult whatever novel is on the shelf to find out the title of the book I want. As a result, I read the book jacket description for this one years ago. I've been looking forward to reading it. At first I was underwhelmed. Even the best series fall into formula after a few novels and Turn Coat was proving that. But as I got further into the book, I began to enjoy it more and more. As much as Harry Dresden is an outcast in his world, he has, over the series, accumulated a diverse group of friends and allies. It was enjoyable seeing some of these come together, one by one, to help out on the case. I don't know if Mr. Butcher has some overall message that he's trying to share in the series, but this spirit of "family" is definitely one of the core themes in the saga. Even in a mere sequel, it was enjoyable to see that played out.
--J.

[nx74defiant · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

It was slow going at first. It took a while to get into. But it was worth it at the end.

[krazykiwi-1 · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

So, my re-read of the Dresden books is now taking me into new territory, the ones I didn't read before. Still, it's Harry and the gang, so it's a curious mixture of new things and old familiar. 
 
This one had a few more surprises than the last couple, all the long and careful worldbuilding is finally coming out to play, things going all the way back to the first couple of books becoming significant. Again we lost characters, but Harry also gained allies (I suspect they were always his allies, but now it's more open.) 
 
Jim Butcher has certainly come a long way since those first couple of books, the writing is tight, the pacing is relentless, and he's got a full crew of characters operating true to themselves in a world that is so internally consistent it feels real, and I keep looking around for pixies every time I have pizza.
 
I do worry a little about the next book. There's an air of "Harry is the saviour" and "oh look at all the things he can do, and he doesn't know he's not supposed to be able to" and while Butcher's been doing a good job keeping Harry from power-explosion DBZ style, there's also always been a questioning disbelieving and even disapproving presence in the background. And now that presence is gone, and Harry really needs someone who questions him, because he's reached the point where he's been doing so well, if he starts believing his own hype he's going to overstep. Or maybe that's the point. Personally, I hope someone else takes over that role, although I'm not sure who at this point would make sense to. Luccio maybe.
 
Also, NOT HAPPY about Thoe-mass. NOT ONE BIT!

[dabofdarkness · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Note: I feel that Death Masks, Book 5, is where reading this series out of order starts to do you an injustice. This book does work as a stand alone to some extent, but you will get major spoilers for the previous books in the series and it also pulls in characters we have met before. So I recommend reading the previous books before you jump into this one.

Harry Dresden, Chicago’s only wizard PI, was quite surprised to find Warden Donald Morgan on his doorstep asking for his assistance. Even though Morgan tormented Harry for years, Harry can’t help but be curious. Morgan has been accused of treason by the White Council and Harry has a limited time to figure out who really did the deed.

For all those who wondered what Harry and Morgan could accomplish if they could set aside their animosities and suspicions, this book contains the answer. I loved the set up for this book. Harry and Morgan have detested each other for years and Morgan has tried to execute Harry every chance he got. Now Morgan is forced by circumstance to go to Harry for assistance. Haha! I think it’s Harry’s deathwish-cat level of curiosity that makes the decision for him to take up the challenge of hiding Morgan while trying to uncover the real culprit.

Harry and Morgan aren’t the only two that harbor suspicions – this book brings in various characters that distrust one another. Harry trusts Molly to tend to Morgan’s wounds, but Morgan has just as much dislike for Molly as he does Harry. Then Thomas is brought into the mix – and Morgan can’t contain himself when it comes to vampires, even White Court vampires! Luckily, Mouse, Harry’s dog, has the most common sense and forcibly quells disagreements a few times. Mouse is my hero!

Something horrible is tracking Morgan, besides the White Council wizards. I don’t want to spoil what it is, so I’ll just use Harry’s petname for it- Shagnasty. It’s strong. It’s brutal. Morgan defeated one once, but it took great timing and a serious bomb. Harry might not be able to pull off the same. Butcher does a great job of getting across just how evil and dangerous this thing is! Billy and the college campus werewolves make an appearance in this book and they take their first hard hit in fighting Shagnasty. A bit sad. But that just fuels the fire for taking out Shagnasty.

I do believe this is the first full length novel we meet the mortal, every-day kind of PI Vince in, though I think he appears in one of the earliest short stories. Vince isn’t willing to give Harry much info. However, he’s probably no match for Molly. We also have our first introduction to Binder, a low-level magic user with one trick, though it’s an effective trick. He wreaks havoc on Harry’s attempts to keep Morgan hidden and to keep his apartment in one piece. Toss in the on-going tortured love between Thomas and his mortal girlfriend Justine, a deceptive yet stupid cousin of Lara Wraith’s, Shagnasty capturing and torturing one of Harry’s companions, the distrust of Antonia Luccio, and then Harry has his work cut out for him!

The ending to this book surprised me the first time I read it. During this reread, it still hit hard. I can see this as one of those turning points in Harry’s life. He spent a chunk of his teen years and his early adulthood fearing and hating Morgan. Now, as a wizard in his own right and a man who has been through a lot of scary stuff, he still had all this emotional baggage towards Morgan. Yet he helps him because he believes in doing what is right. There at the end, Morgan asks Harry to continue to do what’s right even though that means covering up the truth for now. It was a bit of a gut-wrencher but very worthy!

Narration: James Marsters, our Harry Dresden incarnate, continues to do the character justice. I’ve always liked his stern voice for Morgan; in this book, we get to see more sides to Morgan and Marsters does a good job of keeping that stern voice while also letting some other emotions creep in. Shagnasty’s voice must have done a number on Marsters vocal cords! It was so harsh and creepy!

[karenduff · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

I have a major crush on Harry Dresden so Jim Butcher can do no wrong with these books.

I love his mix of real world and supernatural, the various beasties he creates are brilliant.

It was obvious that Morgan was not going to be the murderer and that of course Harry would help and protect him. I liked the fact that Morgan didn't have a change of personality and that he still felt that Molly should have been executed although in the end he does protect her by not telling the white council about Molly poking about in Luccio's head. I did have my suspicions about the character who would eventually be revealed as the traitor when he first appears in the story, just didn't trust him.

My only real complaint about this story is that during his time in Edinburgh, my home city Harry didn't pay me a visit.

Now for the next book.

[felicity1smith-1 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

very much improved on a few of the others in the series (8,9,10)

Better storyline and much more gripping. Looking forward to the next one now

[bravenewbks · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

Never liked Morgan; this book was necessary to advance the overall series arc but just wasn't my favorite.

[theyodamom · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Do I love Harry, yes I do. My heart breaks for him with each book. Can't he get a break ? His brother, his apprentice, his enemy, his council, his wolves and of course his life is on the line again. [Sigh] He is forced by his own good nature to stick his neck way out to help someone he never thought he would. (His heart is bigger than his anger) A terrible upset has happened that might lead to an even bigger upset if Harry and the gang can't figure it out in time.(and live through it) Two deaths to the series rock the book, one- A major character dies, and shockingly. Harry is touched by more hints at his true power and what other's perceptions of him really are. A very interesting look at Harry.

[meredy_1 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Six-word review: Everything depends on whom you trust.

Extended review:

Among the Dresden Files novels I've read so far (this being the eleventh), I'd place Turn Coat toward the "best of" end of the scale.

There are interesting complexities and clashes of character, physical and political conflict, love and tenderness, compelling displays of treachery and loyalty, and a toweringly nasty adversary. There's a nice depiction of a mystical bond with place, and the development of Dresden's apprentice is turning out to be far less obnoxious than I had feared.

As usual, the pacing is good, and as usual there are the deft phrases that slip by so easily that they almost seem like throwaway lines. Here's one (page 49): "His abs look like they were added in with CGI." And another (page 311): "Lara and her two sisters walked toward us, and they were good at it." The description that follows is so sensual that it's bound to affect the pulse rate, as does every description of Lara and her kin--without being repetitive; and that's a feat.

Yet somehow Butcher seems to have an absolutely blind eye to repetitions of another sort. For instance, I want to tell him not to use the word "quietly" ever again. It's not just that he uses it a whopping 87 times between the covers of this book (as counted by Amazon's Search Inside feature). It appears five times on one page--368--and three times more on the next two.

And that's not the only word he gets a run on (or the only volume marred by this overuse). People's eyes blink and eyebrows arch, and they chew lips, and they growl and snarl and howl things, as uninhibitedly as if they were auditioning for an operatic version of Charles Darwin's The Expression of the Emotions in Man and Animals.

I don't like it when people purr things all the time, either. It happens only nine times in this book; it just seems like more.

I do like the sly little allusions he slides in. For instance, he acknowledges just in passing--in a way that no one would notice who hadn't caught the error in the first place--the messed up quasi-German title of a book that appears in Dead Beat, title 7 of the series (so now we know that he does notice some feedback). He tosses in a plug for the authentic, non-Disneyfied versions of folktales. He spares a scornful sidelong glance at the well-known principle voiced by Arthur C. Clarke: "Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic."

He also knows how to use "O" as opposed to "oh," says "lent" instead of "loaned," and respects a number of other subtleties of grammar and usage, even if his editor lets a lot of lapses with the subjunctive ("as if he was") pass without remediation.

Another nice aspect is the fact that Harry has helpers, people (and other entities) whom he can trust and who do have his back, people who actually save his life, just as he would do and has done for them. He's not a solo act. The fact that he allows himself to rely on others is not a weakness; it's part of his strength. He tells his apprentice, Molly:

Hell's bells, kid. I choose to trust [her] because that's what people do. You don't ever get to know for sure what someone thinks of you. What they really feel inside.... Even psychomancy doesn't give you everything. We aren't meant to know what's going on in there. That's what talking is for. That's what trust is for. (page 256)

Harry's down-to-earth manner is part of what keeps him from being a Super-duperman that we just can't identify with.

There's also the fact that he habitually tackles things that are a little too big for him, whether they be assignments or foes or forces he taps to fuel his magic. The only assurance we have of a favorable outcome (since we can't even really trust first-person narratives) is that there's still another volume in the series.

So keep them coming, please, Jim Butcher. And don't do it quietly.

[quibee · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Morgan, the enforcer for the White Council, comes to Harry to ask for help to find whoever has accused him of being responsible for murder a senior wizard of the Council. This gives Harry the chance to investigate the machinations of the 'Black Council', which is not supposed to exist.
A very powerful supernatural creature gets involved in this battle, as well as White Court renegades, and Harry is tested to the limit.

[2wondery_1 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Not the best of the bunch; the plot felt stiff and contrived. But the nugget that came clear of the story was the advice that Harry gave Molly about her choices. At the end of a lifetime, which choices made all the difference? Need to get the print version so I can get the right quote.

[renbedell · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Great Harry Dresden story! Involves a lot of characters we haven't seen in a while and pushes the story line along quite nicely. Really enjoyed it!

[gecizzle · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

Every one of these Dresden books is the same. They all blur together. I have no way to tell them apart. I've read about 6 of these books, and they really are pretty good. But, they are all in the average category. None of them stand out as really that awesome.

After reading this particular book, I was like, that was okay, I guess. I mean, it wasn't that good. But, it wasn't really that bad either. Was it? Okay, maybe it was.

[jaddington-1 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

This is one of my favorites so far. A friend called it a game changer. She was right. It had more depth than some of the other books in the series. Harry is getting pretty battered at this point.I wonder how much more he can take. And Yes I know there are 4 more books waiting.