Southern Enchantment: Entangled in Wicker, #2

By Sarafin James

Life in Wicker is nothing like it used to be. With the dropping of the barrier around the town, supernaturals are showing up like it's a fire sale on Black Friday. When an unknown species starts appearing in the town morgue, Remi gets drawn into the investigation to find their killer. 

 

She blames her neighbor's dog. If the creature would just stay off her lawn, she would have never gone to the hospital and never would have even known about the supes being killed or run into her ex, who's still in town. 

 

With the help of Inquisitor Kian McKnight, Remi has to first identify the supernaturals being killed and then find their killer. That shouldn't be too hard with a virtual town full of newcomers, right? 

 

Add in a coven full of witches aiming to challenge Remi now that they know the extent of her power, her demon father trying to bond with her, and her ex bringing up buried feelings, and Remi's life has officially gone from simple and quiet to complicated and dangerous. 

This is book two of the Entangled in Wicker Series. Book three, Southern Illusion, book three, is currently available.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Sarafin James
• Release date: May 10, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223324737

Book preview

One

That hellspawn thought it could show up anytime it wanted, and I would just bend to its will? It thought it could just waltz onto my property, my ancestral home, and take a dump all over everything my family has worked for? Well, I say not today, Satan. I would show it that humans are the superior species, especially those with magic.

I marched my self-righteous self out of my yard and practically stomped down Briarwood Drive, the main road that stretched through the subdivision built next to Ol’ Bea. The creature struggled against my grasp, but I merely held onto it. It growled, and I sneered. It whined, and I...well, I sneered.

By the time I reached Mr. Duffy’s home, I’d attracted the attention of several of my neighbors, including the president of the homeowner’s association, Ms. Willa Baker. I didn’t care. I wouldn’t be in this predicament if she was doing her job properly.

Mr. Duffy met me on the sidewalk in front of his home as though sensing the turmoil boiling off me. He took one look at my charge, and his usual scruffy frown turned into a saggy scowl.

Mr. Duffy, this will not stand. There. Now, he’d know I meant business.

You’re damned right it won’t. How dare you treat my Kitten like some mop you can just shove under your arm?

I almost paused at his indignant attitude, but I’d had my fill. I wouldn’t be carrying your dog at all if you would keep the monster out of my yard.

I practically threw the dog into his outstretched arms, and he immediately began looking her over, presumably for signs of mistreatment.

If I find her using my property as her personal toilet again, I’m calling animal control.

He pulled his attention from crooning at the hateful beast to me. You call animal control, and I’ll sue you for damaging my prize corgi.

I looked at the mutt as drool slid off its lower lip and fell onto the sidewalk in front of Mr. Duffy. If that was a prize corgi, I was a God-danged supermodel. I took a step closer so I could speak lower because, by this time, most of the closest neighbors were out on their front lawns straining to hear our entire altercation.

You don’t want to mess with me, Mr. Duffy, and you certainly don’t want to mess with Beatrice Hill. She doesn’t like your vermin on her lawn, and one day she just might swallow her up.

He sneered and took a step even closer. Don’t you try threatening me, little girl. And, if anything happens to Kitten, it will be you who’s sorry.

He turned while I narrowed my eyes, knowing I was out of threats. I’d just started to go, with every intention of stalking back home, when Mr. Duffy’s right leg flew out in front of him as his back crashed to the sidewalk. I watched the show in shock as the prize corgi flew into the air and landed with a roll next to her owner.

I rushed to his side and knelt on the grass beside him, ignoring the hellspawn who’d already righted herself and was trotting off, undoubtedly, to find another lawn to defile. Oh, my God. Mr. Duffy, are you okay?

He was already groaning in pain, and then, his eyes set on mine, and he lifted his hand to point at me. You did this. You made me fall, you, you witch!

I jerked back at his accusation. I’m pretty sure you tripped. Your dog was drooling quite a bit. Maybe you hit the puddle and lost your footing.

And maybe you cursed me because of my Kitten.

Mr. Duffy, be reasonable. I was several feet away when you fell.

Witch!

Oh, sweet Goddess! A glance around showed me several onlookers coming to the old man’s rescue. Another was on the phone, presumably with 9-1-1. Willa Baker was nowhere to be seen, but it was quite possible she was inside writing her petition to the county board, asking for my immediate removal from this neighborhood.

I returned to watch Mr. Duffy as others joined us. Mr. Duffy, I think the EMTs are on the way. Just try to lie still until they get here.

Mr. Duffy looked at me through pain-laden eyes. You. You want to get rid of me. I know your plan. Well, I won’t go, and you can’t make me.

I looked up at a young blond man, who had moved to stand a few feet away, and rolled my eyes. To my surprise, he quirked a small smile as though thoroughly entertained by the catastrophe unfolding before him.

Help is on the way, another man offered as he put his cell in his back pocket.

You hear that? I said to the grumpy old man lying in a pool of his dog’s drool. Help will be here soon.

Mr. Duffy managed a sneer that turned into a grimace. I was saved from his rebuttal by the sweet sounds of sirens. I had never been so happy to see men in safety-yellow windbreakers in all my life. They made quick work of loading Mr. Duffy onto a stretcher while the rest of us moved back and let them take over.

That’s when one of them turned to me. Are you the next of kin?

I pointed to my chest just in case there was some confusion about who he was addressing. Me? No. I don’t even know if he has a next of kin.

Ow, ow. She’s the one, Mr. Duffy said as they pushed the stretcher into the ambulance.

As he made his accusation again, I wanted to take a step back, but the EMT looked at me with soft, pleading brown eyes. Look. I know you’re not next of kin, but it might calm the old guy down if you just ride along. You know.

I started to shake my head, but that only made me feel guiltier than Mr. Duffy’s accusations. So, while questioning the sanity of riding along with a guy I barely know, who no doubt would rather anyone else come with him, I hopped into the back of the ambulance. I wanted to escape immediately, but Mr. Windbreaker slammed the doors shut as his buddy pulled away like we were fighting for Mr. Duffy’s life. Speaking of Mr. Duffy. He focused all his attention on giving me the stink eye while the EMT attempted to tap a vein with the IV needle. We hit a bump, but he continued as steady as a cucumber, or however that saying goes.

Mr. Duffy never looked away; after another minute, I couldn’t take it anymore. Look, I just wanted your dog to stop crapping in my yard. Is that too much to ask? I didn’t have anything to do with your fall. I swear.

His stink eye narrowed a fraction further, and then the ambulance guy injected something into the IV, and Mr. Duffy’s face softened a moment before his eyes closed. His mouth opened slightly, and his already loose jowls slackened further. I took the reprieve to look anywhere but at him.

How did I get myself into this situation?

If I were being entirely honest, I would admit that Kitten’s defecating on my lawn was merely the straw that tipped the scales, or however that saying goes. I couldn’t seem to keep my idioms straight today.

I’d been growing increasingly more agitated over the last several months, and it was hard to say precisely what the cause was. Perhaps it was because my best friend, Katy Douglass, had left town without so much as a by your leave, and I had no idea where she was or if she was coming back. Maybe my agitation was that my ex-boyfriend had come back to town and asked for my number without calling me.

I’m sure it wasn’t due to the lack of communication from the newest member—and newest grandmaster—of the druid circle. I wouldn’t expect him to keep in contact since witches and druids weren’t exactly BFFs.

My demon father dropping by for a visit could have been a contributing factor, but Aunt Gildy had nipped that in the bud, and he’d kept his distance since.

Of course, my growing irritation could stem from the turmoil in the one place I’m supposed to find solitude. In the three months since Aldene Chastain, the high priestess of our coven, was murdered by her sorceress daughter, the council had yet to name a successor. Practically every witch in the coven, except for Les, one of my closest friends and fellow coven member, and I, had cast their name into the running. And still, the council had sent no word.

Then, to top off being ghosted by my best friend, ex, and once-friendly druid comrade, I’d made a stupid agreement with my aunt that I would join a dating site and actually go on dates. To say the pickings had been slim would be an understatement. To say the dates had been disastrous could also be described as an understatement. One guy had to call his mom to find out if he was allergic to almond flour because the restaurant used it in the dish he was considering. That was last night’s date.

So now, here I was, a thirty-five-year-old single witch riding in an ambulance to the hospital with an old coot keen on outing me to anyone who would listen and no way back home. Heck, I didn’t even have my purse with me.

The ambulance deftly backed up to a large set of automatic doors. My fellow travelers unloaded their charge, and away we went into the hospital. I shuffled along behind them as they apprised a nurse of what they were dealing with in medical terms I didn’t half understand. The nurse eyed me, and I tried for an innocent smile. Then, I was completely ignored for a moment as they wheeled Mr. Duffy to a room with a bed, which they shifted him onto without so much as a grunt among them. Quite a feat since Mr. Duffy wasn’t what you might call a thin man. Pudgy would more aptly describe him.

The nurse pointed to a small waiting room behind me. We’re taking him for x-rays, so you can wait in there, and someone will let you know once we understand the extent of his injuries.

I glanced at the uncomfortable-looking chairs before giving her a pleading smile. I was just riding with him, so he didn’t have to come alone.

And I’m sure he’ll be glad to see you once he’s conscious again.

I tried to think of a way to politely extricate myself from this asinine situation but came up empty. As though afraid I might argue further, she used the pause to shut the door in my face.

Great.

I meandered over to the waiting area and plopped down into a chair. A home improvement show was on the TV in the corner, and I was thankful it wasn’t reruns of a long-forgotten sitcom. I contemplated just leaving. I could just walk away, and no one would stop me. Instead, I leaned back and crossed my arms and feet at the ankles.

By the time I had fifteen ideas for ways to revamp Ol’ Bea inexpensively, and I’d paced the waiting room in several successions, each time to bring feeling back into one leg or the other, a doctor finally graced me with his presence.

If I wished before that I hadn’t gotten into that stupid ambulance, I was now ready to beat my head against a wall for the stupidity of that action.

Scott DeVaughn, my ex, who, up until a few months ago, I hadn’t seen since right after high school. Scott DeVaughn, the ex to whom I had given my number, and he’d never called. Scott DeVaughn, the ex who apparently now worked at the local hospital.

I didn’t realize you were the one that brought Mr. Duffy in, he said when I stood up.

What was that supposed to mean? Would he have sent a nurse in if he’d known he’d have to talk to me? I had to wonder how long he’d been working at the hospital—the same hospital that Les worked at as a nurse. Yet, Les hadn’t said a word about Scott working with him. Which meant either Scott just started or he asked Les not to tell me. I tried not to notice how good he looked, even in light-blue scrubs. His sandy-blond hair looked freshly cut, and where he’d had a five o’clock shadow the last time I’d seen him, today he appeared newly shaved.

I thought you went back to Michigan, I replied. That made two of us who could be cryptic.

The hospital had an opening and offered me the position, so I decided to stick around.

So much for him just starting. That only left one option.

So, about Mr. Duffy? I prompted.

Oh. He’s going to be just fine. No broken bones, just some bruising. We’ll be releasing him later today. He paused for a moment and then added, He asked that you not be allowed to see him.

That didn’t surprise me. At least Scott wasn’t calling me a witch, so maybe Mr. Duffy was over that. Did you call his next of kin?

He gave us the number to a friend, and a nurse is calling her to pick him up.

I nodded. Okay. Thanks for letting me know.

He didn’t say anything else, so I stepped to the side to move around him.

I... he started.

Look, you don’t have to say anything. It’s okay.

Is it?

I shrugged before starting past him again. I’d only gotten a few feet away when he spoke again.

Hey, Mott.

I wanted to roll my eyes, but instead, I kept my cool and turned to face him.

Be careful out there.

I could tell by his tone that he wasn’t just being polite. What’s going on?

He shrugged. There have been a few women and a guy killed over the last few days. Right now, they’re all Jane and John Does, but the way they died is...disturbing.

Now he’d piqued my interest. Three months ago, the psycho, Embry Chastain, and her demon broke the spell around our town that kept out supernaturals. Now, not only could they enter our town, but when the spell broke, it was like sending out a personal invitation to the party known as Wicker, Florida.

How? It took more effort than I liked to utter that word because I really didn’t want to know, but if it was something other than just a crazy human, I needed to inform the coven and the council.

Scott looked away, and I knew he wanted to tell me about as much as I wanted to know. You don’t need to know about something like that. It’s just...unnatural.

I waited for a moment, wondering if he was going to elaborate. Finally, I shrugged. "Okay, Scott. I’ll be sure to be wary of any unnatural people I run into."

Yes, I was being glib, but really. He was going to tell me to be careful and then not tell me everything he knew on the subject. Granted, I didn’t want to know the details, but it would be nice to know what to be on the lookout for.

I made it to the waiting room doorway without him calling for me again, so I held my head high—I wasn’t exactly certain why—and started for the front doors.

That’s when I remembered that I had no way home and no way to call for a ride. I made a detour to the front desk. A tired-looking guy in his mid-forties looked up from the magazine he’d been perusing.

Could you tell me if Les Blakely has started his shift?

It was unlikely since it was only a little after eleven in the morning, and Les didn’t usually start work until the evening. I also didn’t particularly want to see Les right now, but it was better than walking home.

After an exaggerated sigh, the guy typed on his computer and looked at it for several seconds before shaking his head. Doesn’t come on until six.

I nodded in understanding. Okay. Thanks.

A glance at the glass doors at the front of the hospital showed storm clouds forming outside. Great. Probably a typical summer storm. It’ll pour down rain for half an hour, and the sun will be back out in an hour. Their only purpose was to make anyone caught in one miserable and add to the humidity as though it wasn’t already thick enough.

I didn’t want to walk home, and I especially didn’t want to walk home in the rain. That only left one option. I turned back to my friend at the welcome desk, who looked anything but welcoming.

Can I bother you just one more time? Could you point me in the direction of the morgue?

Two

Strangely enough, the hospital doesn’t advertise the morgue on its conveniently located directory signs. Sure, if you need to find the cafeteria, almost every floor will point you in the direction of where you need to go, but the morgue, not a sign in sight.

According to the welcome-desk guy, the morgue was next door, and while there was a corridor that ran underground between the two buildings, only healthcare professionals could use it. The other building was also used as the fire department and ambulance depot. I’m sure that some larger