Foreword by Virginia Kay Walker:
“Witches…we’re not what you think. We’re not green-skinned, covered in warts; we don’t cook in cauldrons, eat babies. Hell, we’re not even all women. Witches can be guys, too. I’m a witch. A famous one. They call me the ‘Weaver’. Because I can weave, re-imagine, the Fabric of reality. Sounds a bit crazy. I wasn’t always like this. I was born a sleeper—a person unaware of magic. My grandmother used to say—the world is full of magic, Virginia. I learned, late one rainy winter night, that she was wrong. The world isn’t full of magic, it Is magic.”
Virginia Walker is a witch. A famous witch. They call her the ‘Weaver’. Though Virginia came by her gift in the most heinous of ways. And she’d give her ‘gift’ back if she could.
As the tides of Fate seem overly rapt with Virginia, she finds that trouble follows her. One night in the darkened back streets of Santa Fe, New Mexico—home to Virginia and the Norwood County coven witches—a man is attacked. His injuries showing magical affections and an otherworldly touch. And the attacks continue.
Drawing Virginia into a twisted matrix of magical collusion. Could the Council of Prophets be responsible? The supposedly benevolent law-makers of their underground world? Newton Hunter doesn’t think so. Newton—Norwood County coven leader and Virginia’s best friend—believes in the rightness of the tides of Fate with complete conviction. She believes in the council. Of which she may be a part soon. Newton also believes in her friend. Using her powers to control the mind through sound waves, Newton helps Virginia uncover the truth behind the attacks.
But as the days progress, a tangled web of seemingly disparate acts coalesce. And Virginia realizes the council may be more than what they seem. Not the self-purported benevolent arbiters of magical use but simply a group of self-aggrandizing politicians. The election may be more than it seems.
Virginia must uncover the truth. Before she loses her coven leader and her sense of ground. For Virginia also harbors a secret. A secret twisted inside the matrix of magical politics, magical abuse, and the very thing that provides her gift. The very thing that took her beloved and gave her the title of Weaver.
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About the Author
Wendi Whitsett hails from the plains of West Texas. She's a proud Texan, though her travels have taken her from one end of the continent to the other. She's lived in San Francisco, where she studied and taught Yoga. She's lived in Boston, where she wrote music and explored her desire to 'flit-about' on stage. She's spent time in Central America, celebrating the Mayan New Year in Tikal and the many villages in the low and highlands of Guatemala. She's studied Shamanism and the ways of the indigenous cultures of the Quecha and Shuar throughout South America. She has seen real magic. Though she understands now, after getting 'schooled' by Amazonian shamans, that magic is everywhere. It is the world around us.