Southern Charm: Entangled in Wicker, #1

By Sarafin James

Remi Willows is just your average thirty-something witch housekeeper, making a living with the skills she's been given. It's a dirty job, but...you know the rest. When someone kills the grandmaster of the druid circle only hours after she magically cleanses his home, Remi becomes the council's most likely suspect. 

 

While the high priestess of her coven doesn't believe her capable of taking on a grandmaster, Remi has a secret that only makes her look more guilty. She's been concealing demon magic she was born with, and when the council calls in an inquisitor to find and punish the killer, Remi's days of hiding away in her ancestral home are over. 

This is book one of the Entangled in Wicker Series and includes a preview of Southern Enchantment, book two of the series.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Sarafin James
• Release date: May 10, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223287919

Book preview

One

S

omething was terribly wrong. I’d just been at a client’s house, arguing about an armadillo of all things, when suddenly I was alone in a mist. No, not alone. Someone was watching me from the shadows. I couldn’t see them, but I knew they were there. Trying to see through the fog surrounding me, I turned in a circle but could discern nothing. I called for my magic to give me a light, feeling the energy travel from my inner core as it left me to follow my intent.

A tiny burst of light bloomed overhead. It grew brighter until I could only squint. Still, I could only see the light burning so brightly it blinded everything else. I worked to dim it so I wasn’t getting a tan with the illumination, but my magic didn’t want to stop. It surged out of me again, amplifying the light to the equivalent of a small sun. When I finally released the magic, I couldn’t see anything for a minute. Then, I understood that the fog had gone with the light.

I stood in complete darkness—just me and my unseen watcher. I called for my magic again. Let’s face it, I’d rather be standing under an overactive heat lamp than in the complete dark with someone stalking me.

My magic wouldn’t come. I reached for it, concentrating on my intent to create light, but nothing happened. I couldn’t even feel it.

Wait.

I couldn’t feel my witch magic. However, I could sense the darker magic I kept hidden deep inside me. It sprang out of me as though called forth and lit the darkness in a dim red hue. I wanted to recall it, but I wanted not to be standing in the dark even more.

I turned in a circle, looking for...well, anything. My dim circle of light didn’t provide me with much visibility, but I could just make out something moving closer. I halted in my search, preparing myself for whatever approached. Once more resorting to squinting, only this time to see better in the dark, I could finally make out the silhouette of a man. The shadows still masked his features, but the way he moved made me think of him as male, if only because of his long, assured stride.

He stopped just outside my circle of light. At first, I thought he didn’t want to come any closer, but then, he brought his hands forward and began tearing at some invisible force surrounding me. I watched this dark figure as he fought to make a foothold in the barrier, unsure if I should run or wait.

Finally, he managed to rip a small hole in the invisible wall and stuck one clawed hand inside, reaching for me. I looked at the two-inch talons attached at the end of each over-long digit and took a step back.

I began backtracking in a meager attempt to escape the creature trying to get to me. The barrier surrounding me moved with my steps, and the beast continued to fight against it to get inside. It reached for me again, the charcoal skin of its hand stretching as it spread its claws wide.

I turned in a circle, but there was nothing else, only the creature and me and a void of nothingness. Realization set in that I was alone with this beast, and it was only a matter of moments before it broke through my shield.

That is when I well and truly screamed.

I sat up in bed, the scream still ripping from my lungs, and had one thought that consumed my mind.

Something was coming for me.

Oh, Remi. Thank goodness you made it. How are you doing today?

That she’d already stepped to the side table in her foyer and asked this while rummaging around in her oversized purse told me she was merely being courteous and didn’t really give a hoot about my day.

I entered the house and tried not to let my smile slip into a grimace. Instead, I amped it up a notch to what I called my Southern Smile. It would convince anyone who wasn’t looking too closely that I was nothing but happy.

I’m as fine as a dollop of sunshine, and you?

That got her nose out of her purse. Ted’s niece spent the last few days with us. She waved her hand toward the destroyed living room with a look of disgust covering her otherwise perfectly made-up face. I swear that child is a demon spawn.

I tried not to cringe at the reference. After my dream, I felt on edge, and the last thing I wanted to think about was demons.

Surveying the damage, I blew on my auburn bangs, dislodging a tuft of dog hair that had decided my nose was an ideal landing spot, and sat my caddy, broom, and mop on the floor. The usually immaculate home looked like a tornado had hit it.

Sylvia Dobbs, the homeowner and one of my longest clients, returned to the scavenger hunt in her purse before pulling out a large set of keys. Poor Pookie couldn’t get away from her, and the hellspawn kept yanking out his fur. When she wasn’t trying to pluck my dog clean, she spent her time writing on everything in arm’s reach and strewing out every toy, book, DVD, and knickknack she could get her grubby little fingers on. I just don’t know what I’d do if you couldn’t come today.

A few of those knickknacks hadn’t survived the ordeal, and bits and pieces of them were mixed into the myriad of destruction scattered across the hardwood flooring. Sylvia must have been genuinely distraught over the escapade to leave this mess without even trying to pick up. Oh well, I guess that’s why I got paid the mediocre bucks. I’d just chalk it up to job assurance.

Pookie, the cockapoo in question, chose that moment to trot through the living room. While I didn’t see skin, his fur looked like he’d gone through a wind tunnel with wet hair gel in his coat. He stopped and eyed me, and I cocked a brow. The dog and I had an understanding—usually. He smartly decided today wasn’t the day to test me because he gave a whole body shake, probably trying to extricate the sticky goo on his back, and continued on his way.

There you are. Let’s go get you cleaned up, shall we? Sylvia cooed to the dog.

He let out a slight growl that turned to a yip as she picked him up. After stuffing him in her huge purse, she turned back to me.

Thanks again, Remi. I’m so glad you weren’t busy.

I was busy. I already had my usual five houses scheduled for today, but I smiled anyway.

No problem, Sylvia. You just worry about taking care of Pookie. I’ve got this.

She gave one more exasperated look at the disaster that was her house, smoothed down her perfectly blonde locks, and left.

I walked through the house, surveying the damage. Sylvia, like most of my clients, usually kept a tidy home. I was there to dust and mop and scrub down the bathrooms and kitchen while they took care of picking up their everyday mess. Most of them would clean before I came to ensure that their home was perfect by the time I left.

Today, that wasn’t the case. I tried not to fault Sylvia, though. I could feel stress radiating off her, and I knew she wouldn’t have left her house in such a state if she’d been more in control.

As I walked through the rooms of the large four-bedroom, three-bath home, I called on my magic and went to work. I had a hectic day ahead of me, and the sooner I got started, the sooner I’d be done.

Not for the first time, I wished I could just envision how I wanted the house to look and magically make it happen, but that required quite a bit of juice. While I could bend reality that way, I’d be drained of magic by the time I finished the second house. Since I now had six homes to clean today, I would need to conserve energy.

As I entered the master bathroom, I magically called for the cleaning supplies from my caddy and put the washcloth, disinfecting cleaner, and magic eraser to work in the tub. Next, I walked into the master bedroom. Standing in the middle of the room, I used wind to collect the dust from the ceiling fan and furniture before forming the sheets and cover to make a perfectly made bed. They obeyed my will and moved to create the image I wanted.

My magic would work on whatever I thought about. So therefore, as I thought about scrubbing away the soap scum in the garden tub and stand-up shower, I simultaneously concentrated on the dust collecting from the furniture to the floor and then gathering itself into a mound in the corner. Commanding the pile of dust to travel to the trash bag in the kitchen, I mentally moved to the sink in the bathroom. Then, I left the master bedroom and entered the living room.

I had to take a few minutes in this room because so many things covered the floor. I had to think about each item and where I wanted it to be. Then I collected all the dust, dirt, dog hair, and bits of ceramic together and told them to enter the trash too. I was on to the toilet in the bathroom, and then the floor cleaned itself of debris, similarly to the bedroom and living room. Pulling my floor cleaner and mop from the caddy, I sent them to work in the bathroom while I had my floor wax and microfiber rag going over the hardwood floors of the bedroom and living room.

After finishing the other three bedrooms and two more bathrooms, I moved to the kitchen, watching dishes fly from the dishwasher to the cabinets while my rag moved along the countertop.

Since Sylvia was in such an anxious state when she left, I took a moment to walk through the home, removing the built-up negative energy and replacing it with clean, positive energy. I didn’t do it every time I cleaned, but I would periodically do it for my clients, and they were all the happier for it.

One hour after I’d arrived, I left the house, locking the door behind me.

Whenever I met with a client for the first time, I would give them a little push with my magic. It didn’t hurt them in any way. They would simply feel the need not to be at home while I was there cleaning, so I could get my work done without prying eyes. Because of this push, the owners who didn’t work during the day would always use the time while I was in their home to run their errands, work out, or just meet with friends. They’d come home to a clean house and wouldn’t have the faintest idea that I’d used magic to get it that way.

Truthfully, my clients loved my work. They told their high-class friends, who hired me as well, and although I’d only been running my business for a little over a year, I had as many clients as I could handle without people getting too suspicious. Your average housekeeper couldn’t clean a disaster like Sylvia’s home in an hour, so I usually took my time driving from one home to the next. I also scheduled the homes of close friends on different days. That way, if they were sitting around talking about my work, they didn’t realize how quickly I’d gotten the job done.

Today, however, I couldn’t afford to take my time between houses. I had the grandmaster’s home to clean, and I had to be there precisely at four, or there would be hell to pay. No, he wouldn’t actually send me to hell, but I’m sure it would be something equally as bad.

The next four houses were no dirtier than usual. A quick dusting and mopping and a scrub in the bathrooms and kitchen, and I was moving on. When I pulled into the circle drive of Grandmaster Bastille’s ranch-style home, the digital clock on my console read three fifty-five. I unloaded my kit and started for his front door.

I didn’t like being inside his home. No matter how much I tried to convince myself, I always wondered if he’d allow me to walk back out again.

As the grandmaster of the local circle of druids, he was no one to trifle with. Add in that, as a whole, the druids of our little town hated witches, and you might be wondering why I would take him on as a client. Well, it was a catch twenty-two. He’d called to hire me not long after I’d started my business, and I could either deny him—which would likely offend him and make an enemy I didn’t want—or clean his house once a month before their ceremonial ritual. I’d chosen the safe side and added him to my schedule.

I didn’t pretend to know everything about their rituals, but I did know that with druids, it always involved blood as a sacrifice. They didn’t make a mess about it, though. Not once had I come into the grandmaster’s home and found blood. For that, I was thankful.

He insisted that the house not only be cleaned physically but also cleansed magically. That meant after I cleaned the house, I would have to run my magic through it, expelling any remnants of residual energy. The cleansing would essentially leave the house a clean slate for whatever magic they had planned tonight.

I always paid particular attention to the great room built onto the back of the house. That room was where their ritual would take place, so I’d need to be certain it was as magic-free as possible.

You were almost late, Bastille said as he opened his door.

Almost doesn’t count, except in horseshoes and hand grenades. I smiled as though I were overjoyed to be here.

He harrumphed and stepped to the side to let me in. The grandmaster wasn’t what you would call a pleasing man to be around. Nevertheless, I ignored his usual grumpy disposition and entered the home as professionally as I would any other.

Pulling my items from my caddy, I sent them to the bedroom and bathroom ahead of me. Bastille watched my every move, and not for the first time, I wished I could influence him with my magic. He could get a mani-pedi while I worked in peace. I had no such luck, though. The grandmaster was the head of his circle of druids. Therefore, he was the strongest druid in what was probably a couple hundred miles or more. Even if I could use my magic on him, I wouldn’t dare try taking on someone like him.

So, I pretended he wasn’t spying on me and set about cleaning his home like I would any other. As I moved through the two extra bedrooms that he insisted I clean even though no one stayed in them and they contained virtually no furniture, I noticed, not for the first time, the lack of personal items.

Even in the grandmaster’s bedroom, I saw nothing personal decorating the space other than a pocketknife and handkerchief on the nightstand and his clothes hanging in the closet. Since I didn’t clean inside the dresser’s drawers, I assumed each contained clothing and such.

The only personal touch in the whole house was in the office, and even that was minimal at best. A single picture frame sat on the desk with a small wallet-sized photo of a woman. I didn’t recognize her, and the discoloration of the image told me it was potentially older than my thirty-five years of age. Perhaps the grandmaster had been married once upon a time. I’d probably never know, but she was obviously worthy of being remembered since hers was the only photo in the entire house.

I didn’t even see a picture of Scott, Bastille’s friend’s son. Scott’s mother moved him to town after his father was killed in the line of duty because the grandmaster had offered to help her and her son. Since Scott’s mother never remarried, the grandmaster had served as a father figure to his friend’s son.

I had my own history with Scott, but I tried not to think of him too often.

Once I finished cleaning, I opened the small bag I’d brought in with my kit and pulled out five candles, bringing them into the great room. Facing east, I quickly lit the first candle and placed it at that corner of the circle I was casting. Moving around