Dead Beat by Jim Butcher

scary supernatural stuff tends to happen," I said.
    "And the picture was all jumpy—"
    "The woman with the camera was terrified. Also pretty common."
    Butters made a frustrated sound. "And there was an awful lot of static on the tape, which made it look like someone had messed with it."
    "Sort of like someone messed with almost all of my X-rays?" I shook my head, smiling. "And there's one more reason you didn't believe it, man. It's okay; you can say it."
    He sighed. "There's no such things as monsters."
    "Bingo," I said, and got the car moving again. "Look, Butters. You are your own ideal example. You've seen things you can't explain away. You've suffered for trying to tell people that you have seen them. For God's sake, twenty minutes ago you got attacked by the walking dead. And you're still arguing with me about whether or not magic is real."
    Seconds ticked by.
    "Because I don't want to believe it," he said in a quiet, numb voice.
    I exhaled slowly. "Yeah."
    Dead silence.
    "Drink some coffee," I told him.
    He did.
    "Scared?"
    "Yeah."
    "Good," I said. "That's smart."
    "Well, then," he murmured. "I m-must be the smartest guy in the whole world."
    "I know how you feel," I said. "You run into something you totally don't get, and it's scary as hell. But once you learn something about it, it gets easier to handle. Knowledge counters fear. It always has."
    "What do I do?" Butters asked me.
    "I'm taking you somewhere you'll be safe. Once I get you there, I'll figure out my next move. For now, ask me questions. I'll answer them."
    Butters took a slower sip of his coffee and nodded. His hands looked steadier. "Who was that man?"
    "He goes by Grevane, but I doubt that's his real name. He's a necromancer."
    "What's a necromancer?"
    I rolled a shoulder in a shrug. "Necromancy is the practice of using magic to muck around with dead things. Necromancers can animate and control corpses, manipulate ghosts, access the knowledge stored in dead brains—"
    Butters blurted out, "That's impos—" Then he stopped himself and coughed. "Oh. Right. Sorry."
    "They can also do a lot of really freaky things involving the soul," I said. "Even in the weird circles, it isn't the kind of thing you talk about casually. But I've heard stories that they can inhabit corpses with their consciousness, possess others. I've even heard that they can bring people back from the dead."
    "Jesus," Butters swore.
    "I kinda doubt they had anything to do with that one."
    "No, no, I meant—"
    "I know what you meant. It was a joke, Butters."
    "Oh. Right. Sorry." He swigged more coffee, and started looking around at the streets again. "But bringing the dead to life? That doesn't sound so bad."
    "You're assuming that what the necromancer brings them back to is better than death. From what I've heard, they don't generally do it for humanitarian reasons. But that might be a load of crap. Like I said, no one talks about it."
    "Why not?" Butters asked.
    "Because it's forbidden," I told him. "The practice of necromancy violates one of the Laws of Magic laid down by the White Council. Capital punishment is the only sentence, and no one wants to even come close to being suspected by the Council."
    "Why? Who are they?"
    "They're me," I said. "Sort of. The White Council is a… well, most people would call it a governing body for wizards all over the world, but it's really more like a Masonic lodge. Or maybe a frat."
    "I've never heard of a fraternity handing out a death sentence."
    "Yeah. Well the Council has only seven laws, but if you break them…" I drew my thumb across my neck. "By the way, they aren't fond of regular folks knowing about them. So don't talk about them to anyone else."
    Butters swallowed and touched the fingers of one hand to his throat. "Oh. So this guy, Grevane. He was like you?"
    "He's not like me," I said, and it came out in a snarl that surprised even me. Butters twitched violently. I sighed and made an effort to lower my voice again. "But he's probably a