by Wendy Wang
Witches of Palmetto Point Series
Box Set: Books 1 - 3
Wendy Wang
Contents
Haunting Charlie
Wayward Spirits
Devil’s Snare
Haunting Charlie
Witches of Palmetto Point Book 1
Copyright
Copyright © 2017 by Wendy Wang
All rights reserved. Printed in the United States of America no part of this book may be reproduced, scanned or redistributed in any printed, digital or electronic form without written permission from the publisher.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
For information contact address : www.wendywangbooks.com
Edited by Helen Page
First Edition: February 2017
V 1.5 091217
Author’s Note
Author’s Note:
Want to comment on your favorite scene? Or make suggestions for a funny ghostly encounter for Charlie? Or tell me what sort of magic you’d like to see Jen, Daphne and Lisa perform? Or take part in naming the killers/ghosts for my future books? Come tell me on Facebook.
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/wendywangauthor or let’s talk about our favorite books in my readers group on Facebook;
Readers Group: https://www.facebook.com/groups/1287348628022940/ ;
or you can always drop me an email,
Email: http://www.wendywangbooks.com/contact.html
Keep up with the next major update/book by joining my email list:
http://eepurl.com/czMPg1
Thank you for reading!
Chapter 1
Charlie Payne picked up the empty file folder and fanned herself. A quiet buzz from the fluorescent lights droned above, and she fought the urge to close her eyes.
“Yes ma'am,” she said into her headset. “I absolutely understand and I am so sorry that's happened to you.”
She let the customer rattle on for another thirty seconds before straightening up and forcing herself to wake up. Why did they have to keep this office so damn hot during the spring? It's not like she lived in New York or Minnesota or some state that constantly lived under the threat of snow until May. They needed to turn the damn heat off.
“Yes, ma'am I totally understand. Let me tell you what I can do for you because I want to resolve this. We want happy customers.”
As if on cue her supervisor Dylan stepped up to the half-wall of her cubicle and stared down at her. He barely looked fifteen-years-old, with his One Direction hair and his freshly scrubbed, acne-ridden skin. He was really in his early twenties and had a degree in management from a school she’d never heard of — and constantly reminded his underlings about it. He dragged his forefingers across his lips into a curve while mouthing the word smile. Then he pointed to a poster on the wall of a big fat yellow smiley face. The caption read: Are you smiling? Customers can hear it in your voice when you do. Fighting the urge to roll her eyes, she clenched her jaw and forced a very fake smile for his benefit.
“Yes ma'am I am happy to give you a credit to cover those fees,” she said meeting Dylan's gaze daring him to question her solution. Refunding fees was supposed to be last resort. He pursed his lips but didn't say anything. As he walked away, she stopped typing and turned her right hand up flipping the bird at him in the narrow space between her keyboard tray and the desk. “I just need to verify some information.”
Her cell phone buzzed next to her keyboard, and she glanced down. The text was from her cousin Daphne.
“I just need your date of birth.” She kept talking but her fingers twitched, wanting to pick up her cell and concentrate on the text. “Alright-y then I'll just credit those fees back to your account. It may take a few days for it to show up on your statement and I just need to remind you that to avoid the fees in the future you’ll need to maintain a daily balance of at least a $1000.” The reminder was automatic since she said them more times than she could count in a day. “Is there anything else I can do for you today ma’am?” With her caller sounding much happier than when she first called, Charlie picked up her phone so she could get a better look. “Well, alright-y then, you have a wonderful day and thank you for calling Bel-Com Credit Union.”
The text simply read: Text me on your break. I have a proposition for you.
A proposition. She sighed. Her cousin was always coming up with crazy schemes and was always wanting to drag Charlie, and her other two cousins, along. Still…sometimes there was fun involved. The four of them had taken a cruise to the Bahamas last fall because of one of Daphne’s propositions. Charlie suddenly felt eyes on the back of her neck. She glanced over her shoulder and her heart jumped into her throat. Her hand flew up to her chest. “Oh my God, you startled me.” Dylan stood right behind her, glaring at the phone in her hand.
“Charlotte — you know the rules about cell phones. Please don’t make me write you up. I hate writing people up.”
Lie! she thought and forced herself not to roll her eyes at him. Dylan had written up more people than all the other supervisors combined. His last write-up had even killed one of her coworkers. Poor Helen Jackson had died from a heart attack after Dylan wrote her up for the second time. The call center had a three strikes policy. One more write-up and Helen would’ve been out. If she had lived. Instead she went into the women’s bathroom, to have a good cry and ended up dead. Not exactly a great way to go out.
“Yes I do, Dylan.” Charlie tucked her cell into her back pocket and laid her headset on the desk. Her fingers deftly entered the appropriate break code on her phone and she stood up. At five-foot-ten she towered over him. Staring down her nose at him was the only thing pleasurable about working for the little twerp. “Cell phones are only allowed to be out on breaks and on lunches.” She grabbed her purse from the file cabinet drawer and slung it over her shoulder. “I guess it's a good thing I'm going to lunch.”
Dylan scowled and folded his arms across his skinny chest. “Yes I suppose it is.”
“See you in thirty.” She walked away, leaving him to stare after her.
Chapter 2
Charlie grabbed her lunch bag from the fridge in the break room and took a seat at one of the back tables away from the floor-to-ceiling windows. The whole building had them and they overlooked the Ashley River. The view was supposed to be a perk but, in her opinion, the tall glass only amplified the heat.
The large room filled with long tables, was almost empty for this time of day. She usually had a late lunch, so she missed the lines competing for one of the four microwaves. The only company she had were two women from another department. They must have been on a break because they each had a soda and only one appeared to be eating from a small bag of nuts.
Charlie pulled out her salad in a jar and turkey sandwich and then texted her cousin Daphne.
What’s up?
She shook the jar, dispersing the dressing evenly before opening it, and speared the top leaves with her plastic fork. Sure, she could have used one of the paper plates provided in the break room, but she was too lazy and hated to add more crap to the landfill than necessary. She stared at the text screen while she unwrapped her sandwich and took the first bite. Three little animated dots told her Daphne was typing. Finally, the text appe
ared.
Breakfast Friday with me, Lisa and Jen?
She picked up her phone deftly moving across the text keys with her thumbs.
Sure. What time?
The three dots mesmerized her.
7:00 am.
Charlie switched over to her calendar app to check her schedule. Her call center gave out schedules a month in advance, which was not a lot of time to plan, but better than nothing. She had friends in the business who only got two weeks. Talk about hard to plan your life. She didn't have to be in until 12:30 that day. That would work.
7 sounds good.
Cool. I have something I need you to help me with.
What?
Don’t want to say in a text.
Okaaaay… just tell me this. It’s not illegal is it? ;)
No.
And no one’s dying, right?
Hahahaha. No. No way. That would warrant an actual phone call.
God forbid you actually use the phone for its intended purpose. LOL.
Nobody LOL’s anymore.
Are you throwing shade at me about my age?
Hahaha (appropriate response).
Brat, she thought. She wasn’t that much older than Daphne. Only six years. She sighed and scowled at the screen.
Fine. I’ll see y’all Friday morning. She started to insert the tongue-out emoji, but stopped herself. Would that make her seem even older? Screw it, she thought and typed it in anyway.
A woman stopped in front of her table. “Excuse me, you’re Charlotte, right?” The woman glanced over her shoulder, her dark gaze flitting around the room. She leaned forward, pressing one hand, palm down, on the table and whispered, “someone told me something about you—”
Charlie clenched her teeth to hold onto her smile. She didn't have to be psychic to know what came next. “Oh?”
“They said that you were —” She chewed on her bottom lip. “They said that you could see things. Future things.”
“Oh.” Charlie put her phone on the table. “What is your name?”
“Emily. Emily Hager.”
“Why don't you have a seat?” Charlie softened her face trying to be as approachable as possible.
“I don't mean to bother you.” Emily pushed her shoulder length brown hair behind one ear.
Charlie noticed the two women near the window. They leaned in, whispering to each other, watching the exchange between Charlie and Emily with great interest. “You're not bothering me. But I can't help you unless you sit down and talk to me a little bit.”
Emily pulled out the chair, dragging it across the linoleum with a painful scraping noise that always set Charlie's teeth on edge. She sat down and placed the bag of chips she’d gotten from one of the vending machines on the table. She folded her chubby hands in front of her. Her dark brown eyes settled on Charlie, unwavering.
“May I ask who they are?” Charlie said leaning forward with her arms on the table.
“A few of the women I work with,” Emily said.
“I see. What department do you work in?”
“I'm an accounts auditor,” she said softly.
“Well it's very nice to meet you. Did someone direct you to my website?”
Emily hesitated, her throat bobbing. She nodded.
“Are you interested in having a reading or is something else going on?”
“I just — I don't know what I'm doing here.” A nervous titter bubbled up, and she covered her mouth. “I don't even think I believe in this stuff. But—”
Charlie reached across the table and placed her hand on top of Emily's wrist. As soon as she touched the woman, it was like opening a high definition 3-D video channel into the woman's life. Emily caught eating ice cream in a dimly lit kitchen. Emily’s fingers tightening around the spoon in her hand, instead of grabbing a knife from the block on the counter, while her husband shouts, “And you wonder why I don’t want to fuck you!” Charlie’s eyes flew open. Why she always saw into the dark heart of people she didn’t know. She blinked away the images, struggling to smile.
“Are you okay?” Emily asked.
Charlie nodded and cleared her throat. “You know I normally don't give readings for people I work with.”
“I see—” Emily pulled her arm away, pressing it close to her chest. “Is it money? You want your fee?”
“No.” Charlie shook her head. “God no. Nothing like that. It's just — here's the thing — I can be wrong, in fact I am wrong a lot and I don't want you to make any rash decisions based on some conversation we had in the lunchroom.”
“Oh.” Emily’s round face deflated with disappointment.
Charlie sighed. Giving the reading was the easy part — the hard part was knowing what to divulge. Should she tell Emily that staying with her husband could lead to ruination? One thing she had learned over the years, was that when someone like Emily came to her for help, the woman would listen, which Charlie found utterly crazy sometimes. She was a complete stranger and yet this woman wanted to hang her whole life, her future, on whatever words came out of Charlie's mouth. The power of it could change lives and it scared the bejesus out of her. There were no guarantees what she saw would actually come true. None. Charlie took a deep breath and stretched out her hand.
“I need you to take my hand. Just for a minute. Then I’m going to ask you a few questions and I just want you to just answer yes or no. Is that okay?”
Emily sucked her bottom lip into her mouth and nodded, placing her hand in Charlie’s. Charlie closed her eyes and concentrated. After a few seconds she let go of Emily’s hand and let the vision unfold — Emily in a Sunday dress, going to a new church. Emily singing in the choir, laughing with a man with a silver beard. He was older than her by at least ten years but Emily didn’t care because he made her feel beautiful. He bought her an ice cream cone and kissed her. Then in a flash he was holding a baby in a hospital room while Emily slept after a hard day of labor.
Charlie blew out a breath and opened her eyes.
“Do you love your husband?”
An array of emotions darted across Emily’s face before sadness pulled at the corners of her mouth. She shook her head. “No. I don’t think I do. Not anymore.”
“He makes you feel… small? Inconsequential? Ugly.”
Emily’s bottom lip escaped her mouth and trembled. Her voice dropped to a whisper and shame burned a path across her cheeks. “Yes.”
“Emily, how old are you?”
Confusion filled Emily’s tiny, blue eyes. “I don’t know how to answer yes or no to that.”
“Sorry.” Charlie gave her an apologetic smile. “You can answer that one.”
“I’ll be thirty-five next month.”
“All right then. In the interest of biological clocks, I'm going to tell you what I see but just know that sometimes I’m wrong.”
“Okay.” Emily’s expectant gaze didn’t waver.
Charlie took a deep breath, trying to decide what to filter and what to lay bare. “If you leave your husband, it will make you happy but—”
The lines around Emily’s mouth deepened forming a pair of parenthesis. “But?”
“But only if you go a new church. Does that make sense to you? Your real happiness will be found in a new church. Singing in the choir. That's where you'll find the greatest love of your life.”
Emily's brow smoothed and her face became lighter. “Singing in the choir?”
“Yes.”
“So I should just leave him and join a new church?”
“Yes.”
“Are you telling me to give it all to the Lord? Or — I think I’m confused.”
Charlie smiled, anxiety coiling around her heart. She didn’t want to be wrong. Emily’s freedom depended on it. “Yes. Give it all to the Lord Emily. Join a new church and sing your heart out.” The man from Charlie’s vision appeared in her head again — so taken by Emily and her faith that he loved her almost immediately. “Your faith will lead you to happiness.”
Emily sat back, her face becoming thoughtful. A smile stretched across her lips. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”
“Don't thank me yet. Like I said.” Charlie shrugged. “I can be wrong. Thank me in five years.”
“I will.” Emily rose from her chair, still grinning.
Charlie watched Emily walk away, lightness filling each step. Charlie took the last bite of her sandwich, hoping to God she had not just ruined the woman's life.
Charlie hid in the last stall of the women's bathroom during her last break of the day. Becky Henstridge was recruiting for the department’s bake sale and she just didn’t want to deal with the woman’s unflinching persistence. Becky would ask and ask until she finally wore her victim down. In her heart Charlie wanted to contribute, but this month was going to be a little tight and from past experience, Becky wouldn’t care. The woman wouldn’t relent until Charlie said yes, which she just couldn’t do right now. She’d been working tons of overtime, saving every penny since she and Scott had separated — all for a down payment on a condo. A place of her own. Paid for with her own money, not her husband’s.
Ex-husband she reminded herself. They’d signed all the papers making it official almost a year ago and the dull ache in her chest was finally starting to fade.
Her phone buzzed in her pocket. Her ten-minute break was almost up. An hour and a half and she could go home. She flushed the toilet just in case someone walked in as she left the stall. It was stupid that she cared about what these people thought, but she did have to work with them every day.
She leaned toward the mirror and sighed. When she’d left her house this morning, her fine, blonde hair had been pulled into a neat ponytail. Over the course of a day of putting on and taking off her headset though, stray bits of hair had pulled out, forming a crazy pale halo around her face. The lavender shadows beneath her eyes were beginning to show through her now fading make-up. She rarely slept more than four or five hours a night anymore because of the damned dreams.