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Peace Talks: The Dresden Files, Book Sixteen by [Jim Butcher]
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Peace Talks: The Dresden Files, Book Sixteen Kindle Edition

4.6 out of 5 stars 14,027 ratings

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Review

Butcher's storytelling is satisfying on a level that's bone-deep

The Dresden files is my favourite series ever. I say that both as a writer and a reader . . . I don't make statements like that casually

Harry Dresden has a vitality that few urban fantasy heroes can match

The Dresden Files are addictive page-turners

Butcher writes mayhem wonderfully; the action remains taut and exciting --This text refers to the paperback edition.

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.

One

 

My brother ruined a perfectly good run by saying, "Justine is pregnant."

 

That kicked me completely out of my mental zone, and suddenly I became aware of the burning in my legs, my heavy breathing. I dropped out of gear and gradually slowed down until I was walking. In the blue light of July predawn, Montrose Beach was deserted. It wasn't hot yet. That's why I was up at oh-God-thirty.

 

Thomas slowed down, too, until we were walking side by side. His dark hair was pulled back into a ponytail. Like me, he wore an old T-shirt, sweatpants, and sneakers. He was one of those men who were so good-looking that it made people check around to see if they were being pranked.

 

He was also a vampire.

 

"Let me get this right. You pick me up this morning," I said. "We came all the way down here. We did six miles in the sand and neither of us said a word. The whole city is still and quiet. We've barely seen a moving car."

 

"Yeah?" Thomas asked.

 

I scowled. "So why'd you have to go and ruin it?"

 

His mouth twitched at the corner. "Sorry to spoil your man time, there, Hemingway."

 

"Nnngh," I said. We had reached the end of our last lap and were almost back to the cars anyway. I stopped and turned toward the lake and breathed. The weighted vest I was wearing pinched at something on my shoulder, restricting its movement, and I rolled it irritably.

 

Far out over the lake, the blue had begun to lighten. Sunrise would be soon.

 

"You sure?" I asked.

 

"Very," he said.

 

I glanced aside at him. The ideal symmetry of his face was stretched tight with tension. His eyes, which were sometimes blue, usually grey, were tinting toward reflective silver. I knew the look. He was Hungry.

 

"How did that happen?" I asked him.

 

He looked aside at me without turning his head and lifted his eyebrows. "Did no one ever have this talk with you?"

 

I scowled. "I mean, weren't you careful?"

 

"Yes," Thomas said. "And my kind are all but infertile to boot. Happened anyway."

 

"What happens now?"

 

"The usual, mostly. Except that the baby's Hunger will draw life energy from Justine. She's going to be fed upon continuously for the next seven and a half months."

 

I studied him. "Is that dangerous?"

 

He swallowed. "According to the family records, just over fifty percent either don't survive the delivery or die shortly after."

 

"Hell's bells," I said. I kept staring out at the water. Blue had given way to lighter blue and then to the first wash of gold. Chicago was starting to wake up around us. The burble of noise from the freeways had begun to escalate by slow degrees. Birds in the sanctuary at the end of the beach were beginning to sing.

 

"I don't know what to do," Thomas said. "If I lose her . . ."

 

He didn't continue. He didn't have to. There was a universe of pain residing in that ellipsis.

 

"You'll be fine," I said. "I'll help."

 

"You?" Thomas asked. A faint smile lightened his profile for a second.

 

"I'll have you know I've been a full-time dad for well over a month, and Maggie isn't dead yet. I clearly have mad parenting skills."

 

The smile faded. "Right. But . . . Harry . . ."

 

I put my hand on his shoulder. "Don't borrow trouble," I said. "There's plenty of that going around without looking for more of it. She needs taking care of. So whatever needs to happen, we'll do it."

 

He stared at me for a silent moment and nodded once.

 

"Meanwhile," I said, "you should probably focus on taking care of yourself so you can be

--This text refers to an alternate kindle_edition edition.

Product details

  • ASIN ‏ : ‎ B07SZLRHMT
  • Publisher ‏ : ‎ Orbit (14 July 2020)
  • Language ‏ : ‎ English
  • File size ‏ : ‎ 3352 KB
  • Text-to-Speech ‏ : ‎ Enabled
  • Screen Reader ‏ : ‎ Supported
  • Enhanced typesetting ‏ : ‎ Enabled
  • X-Ray ‏ : ‎ Enabled
  • Word Wise ‏ : ‎ Enabled
  • Print length ‏ : ‎ 354 pages
  • Customer Reviews:
    4.6 out of 5 stars 14,027 ratings

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Jim Butcher read his first fantasy novel when he was seven years old--

the Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe. By the time he turned eight,

he'd added the rest of the Narnia books, the Prydain Chronicles, every

book about Star Wars he could find, a great many Star Trek novels and

the Lord of the Rings to his count.

So he was pretty much doomed from the start.

Love of fantasy, his personal gateway drug, drew him toward a fairly

eclectic spread of interests: horseback riding (including trick riding,

stunt riding, drill riding, and competitive stunt racing), archery,

martial arts, costuming, music and theater. He played a lot of role-

playing games, a lot of fantasy-based tactical computer games, and

eventually got into live-action roleplay where players beat each other

up with boffer weapons.

So, really, he can fly his nerd flag with pretty much anyone, and

frequently does.

He took up writing to be able to produce fantasy novels with swords and

horses in them, and determinedly wrote terrible fantasy books until,

just to prove a point to his writing teacher, he decided to take every

piece of her advice; fill out outlines and worksheets, and design

stories and characters just the way she'd been telling him to do for

about three years. He was certain that once she saw what hideous art it

produced, she would be proven wrong and repent the error of her ways.

The result was the Dresden Files, which sure showed *her*.

She has not yet admitted her mistake and recanted her philosophy on

writing.

Jim has performed in dramas, musicals, and vocal groups in front of

live audiences of thousands and on TV. He has performed exhibition

riding in multiple arenas, and fallen from running horses a truly

ridiculous number of times. He was once cursed by an Amazon witch

doctor in rural Brazil, has apparently begun writing about himself in

the third person, and is hardly ever sick at sea.

He also writes books occasionally.

Jim stands accused of writing the Dresden Files and the Codex Alera.

He's plead insanity, but the jury is still out on that one. He lives in

Missouri with his wife, romantic suspense and paranormal romance writer

Shannon K. Butcher (who is really pretty and way out of his league),

his son, and a ferocious guard dog.

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