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Whispers in the Wood

(Metamor City #6)

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4.33  ·  Rating details ·  21 ratings  ·  2 reviews
A man comes to Metamor City bearing a mysterious instrument, a violin with seemingly supernatural powers. A trail of death follows him. Lothanasi Agent Janus Starson brings in his best paranormal investigator, the telepath Abbey Preston, to help him uncover the violin’s secrets — and stop it before it kills again.

METAMOR CITY is a futuristic urban fantasy series popularize
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Kindle Edition, 63 pages
Published August 12th 2013 by Liminal Corvid Press (first published July 20th 2012)
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4.33  · 
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 ·  21 ratings  ·  2 reviews


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Melissa Hayden
Abbey takes on another case from Janus, and Janus helps her more here. A violin is a link to more than 15 people found dead in the last year.

I enjoyed the way Chris mixed fey and magic in this story of dark whispers and music.

****FULL REVIEW TO FOLLOW****
Megan
Aug 12, 2015 rated it it was amazing  ·  review of another edition
Although this is a shorter story, it still packs a punch! It was a pretty creepy story. There was a lot of mystery involved in the storyline that kept you guessing, which is always fun. I have loved everything I've read that this man has written, so no surprise that I loved this one too!
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Hi there! I'm Chris Lester, and I tell stories. I've been doing it for as long as I can remember; whether the audience was a playmate, a classroom, a parent, or a room full of strangers, I've always had a soft spot for a tale well told.

I grew up on stories of places that never were, of science fiction and fantasy, heroes and gods. I was captivated by ideas of transformation and transcendence, of p
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Other books in the series

Metamor City (1 - 10 of 11 books)
  • Welcome to the City (Metamor City, #0)
  • Making the Cut (Metamor City, #1)
  • Huntress (Metamor City, #2)
  • The Sentinel (Metamor City, #3)
  • The Muse (Metamor City, #4)
  • Troubled Minds (Metamor City, #5)
  • A Lightbringer Carol (Metamor City, #7)
  • The Cuckoo (Metamor City, #8)
  • The Lost and the Least (Metamor City Book 5)
  • Things Unseen (Metamor City, #9)
“You can't teach kindness with a whip, Janus.” 2 likes
“The man raised the violin under his chin, placed the bow across the strings, and closed his eyes. For a moment his lips moved, silently, as if in prayer. Then, with sure, steady movements, he began to play.

The song was like nothing Abbey had heard anywhere else. The notes were clear, sweet and perfect, with a purity of tone that not one violin in ten thousand could produce. But the song was more than that. The song was pain, and loss, and sorrow, an anthem of unrelenting grief for which no words could be sufficient. In its strains Abbey heard the cry of the mother clutching her lifeless child; of the young woman whose husband never returned from war; of the father watching his son die of cancer; of the old man weeping at his wife's grave. It was the wordless cry of every man, woman and child who had ever shaken a fist at the uncaring universe, every stricken heart that had demanded an answer to the question, “Why?”, and was left unsatisfied.

When the song finally, mercifully ended, not a dry eye remained in the darkened hall. The shades had moved in among the mortals, unseen by all but Abbey herself, and crowded close to the stage, heedless of all but the thing that called to them. Many of the mortals in the audience were sobbing openly. Those newcomers who still retained any sense of their surroundings were staring up at the man, their eyes wide with awe and a silent plea for understanding.

The man gave it to them. “I am not the master of this instrument,” he said. “The lady is her own mistress. I am only the channel through which she speaks. What you have heard tonight — what you will continue to hear — is not a performance, but a séance. In my … unworthy hands … she will tell you her story: Sorrow, pain, loss, truth, and beauty. This is not the work of one man; it is the story of all men, of all people everywhere, throughout her long history. Which means, of course, that it is also your story, and mine.”

He held up the violin once more. In the uncertain play of light and shadow, faces seemed to appear and vanish in the blood-red surface of the wood.
“Her name is Threnody,” he said. “And she has come to make you free.”
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