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Songs of the Maker

Songs of the Maker
by Morgan Webster


It was her voice that made
The sky acutest at its vanishing.
She measured to the hour its solitude.
She was the single artificer of the world
In which she sang. And when she sang, the sea,
Whatever self it had, became the self
That was her song, for she was the maker. Then we,
As we beheld her striding there alone,
Knew that there never was a world for her
Except the one she sang and, singing, made.

-Wallace Stevens


The wolves came without warning. For June Logue, the strange dreams that haunt her are more than the symptoms of a stressful life with no future: they are harbingers of something horrible, a catastrophe to come that she can sense through her magic and her prayers to the Celtic gods. When the wolf inside her is unleashed one night, June must struggle to contain the ferocious spirit strengthening inside while she searches desperately for answers. For Evangeline Nakamaru, the wolves are a dark gift she has always been seeking. While she gains the power of the werewolves of legend, her friend Adrienne Schelling must find a way to save what humanity Eve has left from the growing tide of wolven hunger and human hatred. But Adrienne, too, struggles with her own secrets.

The three women are drawn together into a tightening web of illusion, death, and the mysticism that binds them all. As love fails and humanity gives way to blind instinct, not all of them will escape it.

Songs of the Maker is a story of power, dark enchantments, and the fading boundaries that make us human.


June stepped closer to the mirror. She half-expected her reflection to remain still. There was always a feeling of half-reality to what she saw, a feeling she had felt since childhood. The vision it showed her now could not be real. She ran her fingers across her hip, felt her skin tingle with the chill of a New England night. The woman in the mirror did the same, but June knew that the reflection's muscle would always be stronger, her skin always softer, the moonlight shimmering gently over her hair always more beautiful. The reflection did not have scars.

And did it always come down to that? she thought as she closed her eyes. Her dreams, her religion... it had to be something more than a search for a way to dissolve, to disappear. But the waking world was not like the sea. If you let go, there was no tide to carry you away- only a fall into unending darkness.

June opened her eyes. In the mirror, yellow eyes stared back.

"Holy- holy...!"

The wolf watched her stumble backward. She knew it, the delirious thought in her head sang, she knew it, something else always in the reflection with her-

Teeth glittered in the dark. June threw her arms over her head.

The wolf's body hitting the glass felt as if it had slammed into her body. Her bones shivered and they were going to chew their way free of her flesh, she could see them in her mind already gnawing their way out. She gulped air that burned on its way down, but of course this was all in her mind, it could not be real-

She sat up on her knees, not caring she didn't remember falling to the floor. "Get away... stay back!"

There was nothing in the darkness of the mirror but the wolf's teeth bared in invitation. It rushed forward, all fur and impossible speed, shaking the glass as its teeth ground against the barrier between them.

"Stay back!"

The wolf's eyes shone coldly, the color of cat's eye and just as iridescent. It had stopped, and June slowly stood up. Now she had time to notice the beast's primal magnificence, the brute strength it could have used so easily to overpower her.

I am coming for you, a voice in her mind that might have been her own thoughts.

She shook her head.

I am in you.

No words came to her. But then again, what could be said to something that was no more than a shadow in glass? And yet, and yet.

"No..."

I am you.

The wolf stared expressionlessly from behind the mirror. "That... that's not right," she said. There had to be something she could say. "I'm human."

Its lip curled. Human?

The wolf's word echoed in her head even as the mirror cleared and her own reflection returned. Human. She looked into her eyes but the eyes in the glass were not hers. They were colors, shapes, a glint of moonlight. They were as ephemeral and meaningless as the word, empty sounds fit for naming the woman in the mirror but not her.

June stared hopelessly into the glass. "Then what?" she whispered. "If not human, then what?"

The lips of the reflection moved, but made no sound.


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