Book 9, my friends, is when shit gets real. You thought it already got real. They already went on the offensive in the heart of the Winter Court. They already dealt with necromancers. The war with the vampires has already reached epic levels, someone has already thrown the theory of a “Black Council” out there . . . Harry has his very own apprentice, he and Murphy talked romance, etc.
But in White Night, things get dark. There’s a serial killer in Chicago, it’s a wizard, and Harry is determined to find him. Thing is, when he talks to his contacts, they all have the same question: “Is it you?”
Ouch.
You get the imprint of one demon in your brain, and suddenly everyone’s a critic. It’s heartbreaking, actually. Harry knows that he’s serious bad-ass, and he knows what he’s starting to look like to other people. He’s even afraid that they might be right. (Not about being the serial killer. Just about being scary.) Some time between last book and this one, he was with the Wardens training some newbies, they got ambushed, and he went biblical on the ghouls that did it. People are afraid of him. And then of course all the evidence starts pointing not to Harry, but to Thomas. No vague evidence, either. Stalker-photos and illegal automatic weapons in his apartment. To top it all off, Elaine is in town, hired by some women to protect them from the serial killer.
I’d forgotten how depressing this book is. Doesn’t help to remember that it stays like this for the next several books. Thank God Butcher wrote the scene where security catches Harry snooping in Thomas’ apartment and he pretends to be a disgruntled boyfriend. Rolling on the floor laughing saved me from weeping.
(Thomas didn’t do it, by the way.)
Leave a Comment
No comments yet.
Comments RSS TrackBack Identifier URI
