Web of nightmares, p.1
Web of Nightmares, page 1
Web of Nightmares
Reg Rawlins, Psychic Investigator #8
P.D. Workman
Copyright © 2020 by P.D. Workman
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
ISBN: 9781989415825 (IS Hardcover)
ISBN: 9781989415818 (IS Paperback)
ISBN: 9781989415962 (Large Print)
ISBN: 9781989415788 (KDP Paperback)
ISBN: 9781989415795 (Kindle)
ISBN: 9781989415801 (ePub)
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* * *
To those tangled in their own webs
and fighting their own ghosts
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Epilogue
Bonus material
Mailing List
Preview of A Whisker’s Breadth
Preview of A Whisker’s Breadth
Preview of A Whisker’s Breadth
Also by P.D. Workman
About the Author
Chapter One
Reg looked at the glossy new business cards with satisfaction.
Reg Rawlins
Psychic, Medium, Spiritual Advisor
The cards were thick cardstock with a rich texture and brilliant swirls of color. Nothing like the flimsy black-on-white cards she had first printed when she arrived in Black Sands. Then she had been destitute, as she always was, on the edge of homelessness, with just a few items of value that she could pawn to survive for the first month or two after getting settled. She’d expected to have to pay first and last month’s rent and a damage deposit, and that took a good outlay of cash to start out with. But Bill, the bartender at The Crystal Bowl, had introduced her to Sarah Bishop, an older witch who was looking for a tenant in her guest cottage, and things had fallen nicely into place. The rent was cheap, it was furnished, and Sarah had taken it upon herself to make sure that there was food in the fridge and that Reg had a steady stream of clients for her new psychic services business.
Even then, Reg had needed to scrimp and save, putting money away for the future when she might have to leave town in a hurry. She never knew how long a gig was going to last before everything imploded and she was on the run again.
But Black Sands had been a good find. She had made friends and had a good business going, arguably legitimate. While all of her business literature still stated ‘for entertainment purposes only’ to avoid accusations of fraud, she had found herself more suited for psychic work than she had ever imagined. Life in Black Sands was unsettled as she discovered new powers, real-life witches and fairies—a whole new world, both exciting and disturbing.
But for the first time, she had money and could afford to spend a little bit on luxuries. She had taken a couple of the glittery gemstones the fairies had given her to a jeweler to confirm what Sarah had told her—that they were real gemstones and not glass or semiprecious imitations. Real diamonds, emeralds, rubies, and sapphires, and some stones that she hadn’t even heard of before. A rich reward for having helped save adolescent fairy Calliopia Papillon from certain death.
Reg ran her fingers through her red box-braids. She still couldn’t help feeling like it was all a big mistake. She had been the only one who had believed that she could do something to save Calliopia. The fairies themselves had given up hope. Calliopia’s mate had been prepared to dispatch her with the pixie version of euthanasia. All of Reg’s friends had said that it was impossible but, in the end, they had helped her out anyway. And she had succeeded.
She supposed that she should probably offer those who had accompanied her to the dwarf mountain a few gems as payment for their part in the quest. She hadn’t told anyone about the small chest of jewels she had received, and Sarah had promised to keep it quiet. She didn’t want the cottage or the big house getting broken into by someone out to steal the treasure. If Reg’s companions ever heard that she had been paid for the trip to the forge, they would probably not be too impressed that she hadn’t given them at least some token payment.
She didn’t have to tell them how much she had received. She could make it seem like she was dividing it evenly between the members of the company. They wouldn’t know the true extent of her newfound wealth.
There was a crash from across the room, and Reg’s first thought was that Nico had knocked something over. It only took her a split-second to remember that they had left the boisterous little cat back with the dwarfs, who had exalted him as a warrior cat.
It was a relief to have Nico out of the house and no longer knocking things over or attacking her with unexpected vigor, but she couldn’t help missing the mischievous kattakyn a little and wondering how he was doing in his new home.
She looked across the cottage instead at her own cat, Starlight, who had just crashed into the legs of a side table in the living room. The black and white tuxedo cat was intent on something out of Reg’s sight and she knew he was on the hunt. His whole manner had changed from that of a languid, lazy daytime cat to the feral intensity of the nighttime hunter. She moved carefully closer to him to get a glimpse of what he was chasing. Hopefully, just a shadow or a leaf blown in from outside.
A dark, hairy shape scuttled under the wicker couch and Starlight went rocketing after it. Reg couldn’t help letting out a little shriek.
“What was that? Get it, Starlight!”
She felt his irritation at her shout. Like he didn’t know what he was doing. She could see that he was already on the job.
“What is it?”
Starlight pounced, and Reg heard a crunch.
“Ugh.”
Starlight backed out from under the couch and turned toward her. Multiple legs hung from his mouth.
Reg covered her eyes. “Good kitty. Just don’t show it to me. Is it dead?” She didn’t want to look closely enough to find out, especially if it wasn’t and jumped at her when Starlight put it down. “You just go… eat it or whatever and don’t make me look at it.”
She had an impulse to let Starlight out of the cottage so that he couldn’t let whatever it was loose or leave some dead thing in the middle of the floor. But he was an inside cat, and she didn’t want to lose him. Anything could happen to him outside. Instead, she retreated. “I’m going to have a bath. Let me know when you’re… finished with it.”
In the bathtub, Reg soaked in steaming hot water and thick bubbles, another indulgence that she would never have considered before. She closed her eyes and thought about what else she could do with her newfound wealth. She could afford to move somewhere else and get her own house if she didn’t want to live in the little cottage under Sarah’s dominion any longer. But it was a comfortable situation—at least most of the time—so she wasn’t really tempted to do that. She could travel. Not a road trip like usual, sitting in a cramped car for hours, but an actual cruise or an airplane to Europe or even Australia. She could go places she’d never even dreamed of.
She could visit Erin, her former foster sister, in Tennessee, and show Erin that she’d actually made good. She’d made more than either of them could ever have expected with her skills. Erin wasn’t the only one who could make a living running a small business.
Reg’s phone buzzed on the floor beside the tub. Reg picked it up and swiped without looking to see who the caller was.
“Hello?” She felt totally relaxed for once.
“Hello, Regina.”
Corvin. Her favorite not-favorite warlock. Even over the phone, his voice sent a shiver down her spine. Nothing like the electricity when they touched or the ability he had to charm or ensorcel his prey, but it was still disconcerting. His voice was smooth and intimate, and the way that he said her name (correctly pronouncing it Reh-JEE-nah, not ree-JI-nah) made her wish—just for an instant—that he was there with her.
“Corvin. What do you want?”
“Is that any way to greet the warlock who helped you to heal Calliopia?”
“You didn’t heal her.”
“Without me giving you strength when you needed it, and taking it when you were ready to blow up the forge, would she have survived? Would you have?”
He had a point there. Reg might have done most of the work, but he had been there when sh e had called on him and had stepped in at critical moments to save the day.
“Fine. Did I tell you thank you?” She said it sarcastically, then realized with a pang of guilt that she probably hadn’t. She’d been focused on her losses and healing Calliopia. She hadn’t expressed much appreciation to anyone in her company. Least of all Corvin.
He had been only too happy to feed off of her powers, and he had taken more from her than she had intended. She still felt off-balance and wasn’t sure how much of her power he had taken from her and what abilities he had left her with. It was hard enough trying to understand and manage the skills she had newly discovered in Black Sands. Having them taken away or altered was like taking a blow to the face; she was stunned, hurt, and didn’t know how much damage had actually been done.
“It would be nice to hear a thank you,” Corvin agreed. “Even better to hear that you remember what you promised me back in the beginning.”
Reg frowned and ran her fingers through the bubbles. “What do you mean, what I promised? You mean back when you stole my gifts?”
“I didn’t steal them; I contracted for them. And no, I didn’t mean that beginning. I meant when you first got the foolish notion to help Calliopia.”
“It wasn’t foolish. It worked, didn’t it?”
“That doesn’t make it less foolish. Just a better-than-expected outcome.”
“What are you talking about?”
“When you asked for strength so that you could go back and help her.”
“I didn’t…” Reg trailed off, remembering. He was right. She had made a deal. She had agreed to go out on a date with him.
Again.
Because all of the others hadn’t ended disastrously enough.
“Oh.”
“Yes.” Corvin agreed. “So do you want to pick the restaurant this time, or shall I? You can start working on that thank you speech and tell me over wine how much you appreciate my help.”
“I do appreciate what you did. But I don’t think I’m up for a date right now.”
“Why not? It would seem to me to be the best time. You don’t have any big jobs to do right now. You don’t have a dying cat or fairy on your hands. No supernatural parents coming out of the woodwork. So why not?”
She didn’t want to tell him that she wasn’t strong enough to withstand him anymore. Maybe she was; she hadn’t tested herself to find out. If Corvin still wanted to see her, then he still wanted to take more of her powers. And she didn’t even know what she had left.
“It’s just not a good time.”
“Then when would be? We can set up a time now. At least put a pin in the date.”
“No… I might be going on a trip. I’m not sure when I’ll be here.”
“You’re going on a trip? You just got back from your quest to the Blue Ridge Mountains. I would think you would want to relax at home for a while.”
“I haven’t decided yet. Arrangements are up in the air. So we’ll have to see.”
“I have a sneaking suspicion you’re just trying to put me off.”
“Now you’re the psychic? I wouldn’t put out your shingle quite yet.”
“I think there are enough psychics in this town to go around.” Corvin’s voice held a bite that Reg didn’t normally hear from him, and it stung a little. There was no reason she should be offended that he thought there were enough psychics around. He desired her powers, even if he said he wouldn’t want to be a psychic. She rolled her eyes and sank a little deeper into the water.
Corvin eventually broke the silence, his tone less acid. “Well, Regina, even if it is just for a cup of coffee… I look forward to seeing you again. Don’t be a stranger.”
When Reg got tired of soaking in the tub, she toweled off and opened the door a crack for a peek at what was going on in the cottage. She didn’t hear any more chasing, pouncing, or crunching going on. She didn’t hear or see anything out of the ordinary. But she also didn’t see Starlight. She hoped he wasn’t hiding, waiting for her to come out so that he could present her with the prize.
But then, what would be worse? Seeing it? Or not seeing it and stepping on it or coming across pieces here and there throughout the house over the next few days?
Maybe it would be better if Starlight brought it to her. Whatever it was.
She entertained the fantasy for a few seconds that maybe he had just picked up a twig or a piece of yarn or something equally innocuous, and she had only imagined that it was something worse.
But she knew in her heart that it wasn’t true. There had definitely been legs. And something had run across the floor before Starlight had pounced.
“Starlight? Hey, where are you, Star?”
There was no answering meow or patter of soft paws. Reg stepped out of the bathroom and looked around, hoping to spot him. No sign of him in the kitchen or living room, unless he were hiding behind or under something. Reg looked around the kitchen island to be sure, then went to her bedroom.
Starlight was sleeping on the bed as if nothing had happened.
Reg looked around on the floor, stepping carefully to make sure she didn’t put her foot onto anything.
“Where did you put it? I don’t want to find it around here later…”
Starlight opened one eye, his blue one, and looked at her without expression. Reg scowled and pointed at him.
“You know what I’m talking about. Where is it? Where is the… whatever it was you caught?”
Starlight curled his head under, closing his eye again and beginning to purr. Reg reached over to pet him, looking around him carefully to make sure that the thing wasn’t on the bed. If he were lying on it…
But there wasn’t anything on the bed but the cat himself. And Reg’s messy blankets. She always meant to make the bed as soon as she got up in the morning. She knew that other people managed it. But somehow, she never quite got around to it. And when she walked by later in the day, and it was still messy, she wanted to straighten it, but it seemed like a waste of time and energy when it would only be made for a few more hours and then she would be sleeping again.
She was a terrible housekeeper. It was a good thing she had Sarah looking after her.
She turned toward the big house at the front of the lot, reaching out mentally to sense whether Sarah was there or not. She sensed someone and wondered at first whether it was an intruder but, when she took a few steps toward the house, the feeling resolved, and she knew that one of the people who had just arrived home was Sarah. But she wasn’t sure who the other was.
It wasn’t fair that Corvin had taken so much, making her feel half-blind, like she was bumbling around in the dark or without glasses. Not that she needed glasses. But some psychic goggles might be helpful.
The thought drew Reg out of the bedroom and into the living room, where she took her crystal ball down off the shelf. She had initially bought it as a prop, to make herself look more legitimate, but it had ended up being a tool that she used frequently, helping her to focus her thoughts and to clarify her vision.
She placed it on the coffee table and sat down in her favorite chair. Starlight often came out when he knew she was looking into the crystal, but he didn’t this time. Getting his energy back after the chase or sleeping off a stomach full of something nasty. Reg made herself as comfortable as possible in the wicker chair and stared into its depths, looking beyond the shiny surface and a few bubbles in the glass, into the heart of the crystal.
