Turn Coat by Jim Butcher EPUB & PDF – eBook Details
- Author: Jim Butcher
- Genre: Paranormal & Urban Fantasy
- Publish Date: March 2, 2010
- Size: 1.6 MB
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Status: Avail for Download
- Price: Free
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.
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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?”
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