Life is precious, fragile, fleeting - and Murphy's life was one of my favorites.

My name is Harry Blackstone Copperfield Dresden. Conjure by it at your own risk. I'm a wizard. I work out of an office in midtown Chicago. As far as I know, I'm the only openly practicing professional wizard in the country. You can find me in the yellow pages, under "Wizards." Believe it or not, I'm the only one there. My ad looks like this: HARRY DRESDEN — WIZARD Lost Items Found. Paranormal Investigations. Consulting. Advice. Reasonable Rates. No Love Potions, Endless Purses, Parties, or Other Entertainment You'd be surprised how many people call just to ask me if I'm serious.

Everybody should get to make a living with their passion.

Don't call me a dinosaur. It isn't fair to the dinosaurs. What did a dinosaur ever do to you?

Crows," Maximus breathed. "Was that who I think it was?" "Phrygiar Navaris," Tavi said, nodding. "What was she doing here?" Max asked. "Getting humiliated, mostly. Especially there at the end.

Where is your unit?" Murphy asked. I wiggled my eyebrows at her. "Right where it's always been, dollface.

Star Trek?” I asked her. “Really?” “What?” she demanded, bending unnaturally black eyebrows together. “There are two kinds of people in the universe, Molly,” I said. “Star Trek fans and Star Wars fans. This is shocking.” She sniffed. “This is the post-nerd-closet world, Harry. It’s okay to like both.” “Blasphemy and lies,” I said.