When I walked through the door of Murphy’s house, it was raining and I was still wearing the grey cloak. I limped into the kitchen, where Thomas and Butters and Bob were sitting at a table with a bunch of candles, paper, pencils, and empty cans of Coors.
Thomas’s jaw dropped open. “Holy crap,” he said.
Butters blinked at Thomas and then at me. “Uh. What?”
"Harry!" Bob said, orange eye lights glowing brightly. "You stole a Warden’s cloak?”
I scowled at them and took the cloak off. It dripped all over the kitchen floor. “I didn’t steal it.” Mouse came padding into the room, tail wagging, and I rubbed briefly at his ears.
"Oh," Bob said. "So you took it off a body?"
"No," I said, annoyed, and settled onto a chair at the table. "I got drafted."
"Holy crap," Thomas said again.
"I don’t get it," Butters said.
"Harry’s joined the wizard secret police!" Bob burbled. "He gets to convict on suspicion and take justice into his own hands! How cool is that!"
Thomas looked at me steadily and then at the door behind me. Then back to me.
"I’m alone," I said quietly. "Relax."
He nodded. “What happened?”
"A lot," I said. "There isn’t time to cover it all now. But the Wardens are in town, and I’m not so worried about them crawling all over and finding out everyone’s secrets."
"Why not?" Thomas asked.
"Because at the moment all five of them are at a hotel down-town, getting showers and changing bandages while I try to come up with more information about the heirs of Kemmler."
Thomas blinked slowly. “All five…and they have wounded?”
I nodded, my lips pressed hard together.
"Wow," Thomas said quietly. "How bad is it?"
"They drafted me,” I said.
"That’s bad, all right," Bob said cheerfully.
Harry Dresden, Thomas Raith, Waldo Butters & Bob The Skull, The Dresden Files 07: Dead Beat by Jim Butcher.