Spellbound Statues

by P.D. Workman

Genres: Paranormal Cozy Mysteries; Private Investigators; Female Sleuths

Synopsis

It is up to psychic Reg Rawlins and her friends to crack this petrifying curse.

Psychic investigator Reg Rawlins, reformed con artist, must confront a terrifying danger as ancient elemental spirits are unleashed and rise to seek vengeance.

With her friends, familiars, and some new faces, Reg races against time to recover powerful relics and face formidable foes. Can she tap into her inner strength to save Gideon Darkwood and restore balance to Black Sands before chaos reigns?

Dive into a gripping tale of magic, mystery, and supernatural adventure that will keep you spellbound until the final page!

Spellbound Statues is a paranormal mystery novel that will keep you on the edge of your seat. With a touch of witchcraft and a dash of suspense, this book is perfect for fans of small town mysteries, psychic detectives, magical creatures, and cats.

Dive into this spellbinding adventure today—unravel the curse before it's too late!

Praise for the Series:

— P D Workman has done it again; created a cast of characters and a storyline that are captivating and enthralling. Once I started this cozy I didn’t want to put it down (which can be a bad thing when you have a family to take care of…lol). I can’t wait for the other books in this series. I think Reg is going to turn out to be one of my favorite new characters. Pick up your copy as soon as possible.

— This book has all my favourite things: heart, great writing, nearly-flawless editing, something unusual in the air, and a cat. I needed a light read, and this fit the bill perfectly. Recommended.

— An exciting tale of magical adventure with lots of action from P.D Workman

Like paranormal mysteries? Psychics, witches, fairies, and more! Award-winning and USA Today Bestselling Author P.D. Workman waves her wand to transport readers to the myth- and magic-filled small town of Black Sands for another paranormal cozy mystery to be solved by Reg Rawlins and her friends.

A self-professed con artist practicing as a contact to the dead, a drop-dead gorgeous warlock, and a psychic cat—what could go wrong?

Fall under Reg’s spell today.

 

Read more

Release date: April 18, 2025

Publisher: pd workman

Print pages: 341

Reader says this book is...: entertaining story (2) suspenseful (2) terrific writing (2) unputdownable (2) action-packed (1) emotionally riveting (1) escapist/easy read (1)

Sample

✨Chapter 1

Gideon Darkwood crept through the trees, taking the well-worn pathway to the temple in the orange grove. The moonlight filtered through the dense canopy of orange trees, casting eerie shadows that danced around him as he moved stealthily along the path. The citrusy aroma of oranges lingered in the air, but Gideon’s thoughts were far removed from their sweetness.

Though Gideon had traversed this way many times before, it was not he who had worn the path through grass and dirt. That had been formed by the feet of the warlock coven that met there regularly.

It was hard to believe that Corvin now led the coven. Back when they had been young warlocks together, it was unimaginable that a power drinker would ever be allowed to hold such a position in the coven. Back then, Corvin had been barred from even being a member of an established coven. How things had changed since then.

Corvin’s leadership of the coven had not been as successful as he had hoped. He had promised the coven members that he would share some of his accumulated powers and gifts with them if elected. And to his credit, he had followed through and tried to do that.

But things had gone awry.

What Corvin had done to merit the attack by the werewolves, Gideon didn’t know. And he probably didn’t want to know. He’d seen enough of Corvin’s nature in the past. They had worked together to maintain the spell of the Temple Orange Grove for decades. Centuries, now. He had seen many of Corvin’s highs and lows.

The warlock might have good intentions, but his inborn nature, which he could not change no matter what he willed, always twisted those good intentions into something else.

Since the attack, Corvin had cloistered himself within the walls of his home and would take no visitors. Gideon’s attempts to communicate with him had been rebuffed. Corvin said he needed some recovery time and would get back to Gideon when he was feeling better. Many rumors were flying around about the injuries Corvin had received, but Gideon assumed most of the rumors were false. He wouldn’t believe any story unless it came from Corvin’s own lips, and probably not even then.

He might approach a few of the members of the coven who had been there during the attack to get the whole story. He wasn’t sure whether any of them would talk to him. And there might be little they could tell him about the attack. Something like that, an ambush during the spring equinox ritual, must have shocked them. Completely unexpected, as far as he knew. Equinox was supposed to be a time of peace and balance. Most practitioners carefully avoided any offense or conflict that day.

Gideon followed the stones in the ground that had once been the foundations of the temple. It had stood there proudly many years before but, over time, it had fallen into disrepair, and relic hunters had removed many of the stones that had built the walls.

But Gideon was not looking for the stones of the walls.

There was another stone he sought.

Few knew of its existence, but its safety and integrity were vital for the welfare of the people of Black Sands. During the years before the stone had been laid there, life in Black Sands had been chaotic and dangerous. It had not been the sleepy little town it was now, sitting back quietly in contemplation. A place where magical practitioners had free commerce with one another. One of the safest places for psychics and witches to openly practice their craft. It had flourished for many years as the social center for all practitioners for hundreds of miles around.

Yet they were all ignorant of why Black Sands had become the magical mecca it was. That secret was shared by a select few, Gideon among them.

He found the altar stone the warlocks had placed at the central point of the temple. The herbs placed upon it were withered and dry, looking almost as if they had burned in the sunlight.

A faintly familiar smell rose to his nostrils. Pungent and earthy.

He heard a noise and startled, whirled around to look behind him. He pulled his cloak close to him in an effort to blend in to the darkness. A cloak of invisibility it was not, but the hood shadowed his face and kept it in darkness and the capacious sleeves covered his white, wrinkled hands.

Had someone followed him here? He had not seen anyone else on the road. He had watched carefully to make sure that no one could follow him. But he was not immune to mistakes.

The leaves of the orange trees rustled in the wind, and the fruit’s smell once again covered the subtle scent from the altar a moment earlier.

After standing frozen for several long minutes and seeing no movement around him, Gideon decided he had imagined it. He was being paranoid. Corvin had been injured in a werewolf attack, but that had clearly been planned for when the coven was meeting and was at their most vulnerable. No one knew that Gideon was coming here tonight. The wolves would be far away. They had reportedly left Black Sands and perhaps even Florida. They were not eager to face retribution for what they had done. Cowardly dogs that they were, they hoped that if they just disappeared for a while, people would forget what they had done, and they would not have to pay for it.

Gideon leaned closer to the altar, trying to pick up the scent he had detected a moment earlier. What was it? As old as he was, his sniffer wasn’t quite as sensitive or reliable as it had once been. He inhaled deeply, thinking he would only smell the sage and other herbs placed on the altar.

But once again, he detected the pungent smell of another herb—mandrake.

What would they have been using mandrake for in their equinox ritual?

Had Corvin incorporated it into an empowerment ritual? He had promised to share some of his powers with the coven.

Or had it been brought by the wolves? What spell could they have performed? What had they hoped to achieve with the attack on the coven, and on Corvin in particular?

Gideon bent down and brushed the dried herbs from the flat stone of the altar to examine the symbols carved into it. They were rough under his fingertips.

His heart thudded hard in his chest.

The altar stone was broken in half.

He straightened and looked around, the rustling of the leaves again raising goosebumps on his skin. Who was there? Who had followed him? Or had someone already been there, waiting for him? Had someone or something known that he would be coming there?

It was not his first foray there. He had come to the temple grove regularly over the years but had not followed a predictable schedule. He did not want people to know when to expect him there. He came and went quietly without telling anyone of his visits. He would inform Corvin after he was gone, confirming that everything still appeared to be in order and they did not have anything to worry about.

No one could have known he was coming.

“Who’s there?” he demanded, his voice cracking and sounding way too tentative for a warlock of his stature. “Show yourself.”

No one spoke or moved. Was it all just in his imagination? Paranoia because of the attack and the broken altar? Just the rustling of the wind and night animals?

“Appare et ostende te!” he again commanded the intruder to show himself. But there was still no response, and Gideon did not want to use any magic against whoever was there with him.

It was, of course, against his covenants to use magic to harm a creature who had done nothing to him. He had no idea what kind of entity might be there with him. It could be a natural ally or someone who had no intention of interfering with what he was there to do.

Not to mention the possibility of triggering an attack on himself by a more powerful practitioner. As strong as his powers had once been, they were starting to wane. He had used much of his strength over the years in this task, even though the brunt of it was supposed to be borne by Corvin.

And last but not least, he was on sacred ground. The walls of the ancient temple might be long since gone, but its magic was still there. The temple existed there still, even if it had no physical form. Even without the rocks in the foundation that remained. For him to initiate an attack on these grounds might have serious consequences. Just as the wolves now faced the possibility of war with the warlock coven, as well as the witch’s coven and several other organizations who had been offended by the attack on the warlocks and sworn retribution.

Gideon did not want to find himself in the same circumstances.

He stood there for a long time, his heart pounding hard in his ears, before he finally decided that the noises he was hearing were just the usual night sounds, like Gideon had heard every time he had come here before. The broken altar had spooked him, that was all.

He held his hands above the altar, beginning his incantation. The gem in the large ring on his finger began to heat and glow. He could feel the power of the words he spoke. He reached out, through the soil beneath his feat, to what he knew lay buried there.

A rumble sounded in the distance. At first, Gideon thought it was thunder, then realized the sky was clear, and it came not from above but from the ground. And it was growing. He could smell sulfur and felt a heaviness in the air. He had never experienced this reaction before. He raised his voice louder, growling out the words. His old hands shook. His breath came in shortened gasps.

The rumble grew into a crescendo, and the glow of the gem in his ring was extinguished.

✨Chapter 2

When Reg wandered out to the kitchen in response to her tuxedo cat Starlight’s imperious meows and insistence that he would starve to death if she did not remedy the situation forthwith, she found a note on the coffee machine.

Sarah, the pleasant, gray-haired witch who rented her the guest cottage, knew very well that Reg could not function upon awakening until she’d had at least one cup of coffee. Preferably more. So it was a good place to put a note where Reg would see it as soon as she got up. Reg didn’t generally look at the appointment book that lived on the island in the kitchen until later in the day when she was considerably more wide awake.

Come see me and Davyn in the house

Reg yawned and scrubbed at her eyes. She wasn’t really ready for company. She needed coffee, a shower, and fresh clothing. And maybe an hour or two to get her engine running.

But she knew she wasn’t going to get all that. Sarah would expect her to be there right away, as soon as she was up. Sarah already thought Reg was a slacker for sleeping so late in the morning, regardless of how late Reg worked into the small hours of the morning.

“What do you think all this is about?” Reg asked Starlight as he noisily chowed down on the stew she’d found in the fridge. The stew that, of course, Sarah had intended for Reg to eat. “Sarah and Davyn… I hope this isn’t anything to do with the werewolf-warlock war.”

Starlight didn’t even look up from his feast. Reg shook her head. “They aren’t going to find October. He and the others knew well enough to get out of town. They won’t be sticking around to face whatever the witches and warlocks have in store for them. Do you think that the warlocks and witches would try to track them? Like, into the wilderness?”

Starlight paused in his meal and glared at Reg with one green and one blue eye. She was bothering him with her chatter. He wasn’t interested in the wars of humans. Or he already knew the answers to Reg’s questions and didn’t want to be bothered by her inane chatter.

But it helped Reg to work things out if she could say them out loud. And it helped to say things out loud if she had a cat, so people didn’t think she was just crazy.

She had been talking to the voices in her head for years, but there was no need for the general populace to know that.

“It must be something else,” Reg concluded. She hit the button on the coffee machine and waited like one of Pavlov’s dogs, her mouth watering, until her coffee cup began to fill.

Maybe she would only need one cup. Sarah would be bound to have coffee on. Or tea. And maybe some muffins or something suitable for breakfast, even if it was Sarah’s lunchtime by now.

Starlight had finished eating his breakfast by the time Reg’s cup of coffee was ready. He sat on the floor, licking his lips for a few minutes, then his front paws and face, then his back paws, one at a time, with his little bean toes spread wide apart.

Reg watched his ablutions as she took the first few swallows of her piping hot coffee, wincing at the burn. She’d better start her own morning routine if she were going to get over to Sarah’s before it was officially afternoon.

* * *

With a fresh, long, colorful skirt and blouse on and her red box braids neatly arranged under a head scarf, Reg was ready to face the day. Or at least ready to face Sarah and Davyn. She gave Starlight a few scratches around his black ears, a quick kiss on the short fur on top of his head, and headed down the stone path across the yard from the guest house to the big house where Sarah was waiting.

Reg raised her hand to knock on the door, even though she knew Sarah always told her to just go right in.

“We’re in the living room,” Sarah called out before she had the chance to decide. “Come on in.”

Sarah must have seen her coming up from the guest cottage. Reg opened the door and let herself in. She crossed through the kitchen and joined Sarah and Davyn at the front of the house.

Reg was relieved to see it was only Sarah and Davyn. She had been worried about finding a whole council or coven waiting for her.

Davyn was not quite as handsome as was Corvin, Reg’s nemesis. He was leaner, his features sharper. Dark hair and eyes like Corvin, but clean-shaven. His youthful appearance gave no hint of his actual age, as the magical practitioners tended to look much younger than they really were.

But surely if it had been urgent or there were that many people waiting for her, Sarah would have woken Reg up instead of just leaving a note on the coffee maker.

“Hi,” Reg smiled and greeted her mentor and her landlady. “What’s going on?”

“Sit down and have some refreshments,” Sarah invited.

Reg had been right with her prediction of tea. But with quarter sandwiches rather than muffins. It was apparently too late in the day for muffins. Already past noon, despite Reg’s best intentions.

She sat down, chose a tea bag, and poured the steaming hot water from the teapot into her cup. Sarah must have just been in the kitchen pouring boiling water from the kettle. That was how she had seen Reg approaching the house. Reg picked out a couple of sandwiches that she hoped would not bother her stomach so early in the morn— in the day.

“So, are we just having tea? Or is there an occasion?”

“Well… there has been a very unfortunate development,” Sarah admitted.

Reg tried to breathe through the immediate tightening of her stomach muscles and the twisting of her intestines. Something unfortunate? She hoped it wasn’t something unfortunate to do with the werewolves. Especially not any of the cubs. She was very fond of the little furballs. She was sure that the witches and warlocks would not target puppies but, if they happened to get in the way when they went after October or one of the other wolves who had attacked Corvin’s coven…

“What is it? What happened?”

Davyn and Sarah looked at each other as if measuring what to tell Reg. Surely they’d already had enough time to thoroughly discuss what to tell her.

“There was… an attack last night,” Davyn said carefully.

“An incident,” Sarah corrected.

Davyn looked at her but did not amend his statement.

“We don’t know if he was attacked or… if something else happened,” Sarah insisted.

“Who?” Reg asked. She didn’t really care what they called it. She needed to find out what had happened and see what she was expected to do about it, if anything. She was supposed to be staying out of the way of the war, not taking sides.

“A warlock named Gideon,” Davyn told her. “I know that you do not know him. He doesn’t live in Black Sands. He has been away for many years. But he is known here.”

“Where was he attacked? How did you hear about it?”

“In the Temple Orange Grove.”

Reg put her hand over her mouth. The same place as Davyn, Corvin, and the rest of the coven had been when they had been attacked by the wolves.

“What happened?”

“That is a harder question to answer. He has been cursed…”

“Like Corvin?” Reg had seen Corvin several times since he had been attacked, and maybe understood his injury better than anyone else. Her psychic connection with Corvin meant that she could feel it when he tried to use his powers and was afflicted with excruciating pain.

He did not try to use his magic while she was there, but it was like a new paper cut or canker sore that was constantly irritated by incidental movements throughout the day. Corvin was not accustomed to functioning without magic and kept accessing his powers by accident.

Even just charming Reg, something that came to him so naturally that he didn’t even think of it, was enough to make him jolt and groan, and she could feel both his hunger and his pain.

Corvin was a power drinker and, unlike a regular warlock, he was cursed with a hunger for the powers and gifts of other magical practitioners. He could suck the powers from another person, but was required to abide by certain laws and pacts made by his ancestors, requiring that he only take them in exchange for something else of value, and that the victim had to yield to him voluntarily.

Those practices had been warped and twisted over time until the supposed rules that Corvin followed had become meaningless. He had stolen Reg’s powers from her once, supposedly following the rules, but she had no clue that she had been agreeing to give them to him. He had returned them to her, something that was never done, in order to save her life. But he had tried to take them many times since, both by force and by utilizing his magical charms.

“Not like Corvin,” Davyn said, recalling Reg to the conversation. “He was… turned into stone.”

Reg stared at Davyn. “Turned into stone? Like he was frozen? Paralyzed?”

“More than that. He is actually stone. Like a statue. But no one knows who did this or why.”

Sarah shook her head. “It is very strange. Who would do that? And in the Temple Orange Grove. All these things happening at that sacred site…”

“All these things? You mean the wolf attack? And now this petrifaction thing?”

“Yes. It is a special place. Many sacred rites have been performed there. The magic of the ancient temple still exists. That is why the warlock coven often meets there.”

“I know,” Reg agreed. She had been there only once, when she had been trying to find Davyn. She had been able to see the temple as it had once been, in shining silver and gold light that rose from the ground up into the air in ethereal beauty. It had been breathtaking, but she had been the only one able to see it.

“We are going to go over there to have a look,” Davyn said. “See if we can find any clues to who did this terrible thing and why.”

“Yeah,” Reg nodded. “That makes sense.”

They would want to put a stop to whatever was happening in the Temple Orange Grove making it the center of an apparent outbreak of magical violence. Was it just a coincidence that Gideon had been attacked there after the attack by the werewolves on the coven? Was something attracting them there? Was there a connection between the attacks?

Reg didn’t think there was any connection, but it was impossible to know without investigating. Corvin wasn’t likely to tell her anything she didn’t already know. From what she knew, October and the other wolves had attacked Corvin and the coven to stop Corvin from doing Reg or October any harm, as October had believed that he had harmed them in past lives. But the person who had been guilty of those attacks had not been Corvin.

That didn’t mean Corvin wasn’t dangerous. Reg had wished many times that something could be done to make him stop hunting her. The banishment that he had received as a punishment for trying to take her powers by force had not prevented him from pursuing her again. And again, and again. It had proven not to be a deterrent at all.

But October’s attack and the curse he had placed on Corvin had stopped Corvin cold, and Reg was grateful to him for that. Confused, because she no longer knew how to view Corvin or whether he would regain his abilities and overcome the curse. Confused because the charms that had drawn her to Corvin so many times in the past were gone, but she still found him attractive.

Sarah leaned forward, meeting Reg’s eyes. “We thought you would like to come with us.”