The Misadventures of Anna Cabbot

Turnabout

Two days after she'd seen Carson off from a Lake Ontario beach, Anna turned Erin's business card over in her hands. She didn't have a damn thing to lose, did she? Well, maybe her dignity, but it wouldn't be the first time she'd dropped that in public and run. The Dunkin Donuts incident came immediately to mind, and she winced.

She changed out of her work clothes into jeans and her favorite flannel, then walked up the street to catch the bus downtown. There weren't many empty seats, and she decided to stand, on arm hooked around a pole.

Halfway to the downtown hub, earbuds in and her dark blue backpack on the floor between her feet, an alert momentarily dimmed her music volume.

Friend Request: Carson Llewellyn

She accepted. A new message popped up immediately.

Carson:
Back home in Toronto. Slept for about 12 hours and ate enough mac and cheese for 6. What are you doing?

Anna smirked.

Anna:
Turnabout's fair play - I'm going to drop in on our favorite overgrown puddle.

Carson:
She know you're coming?

Anna:
Hell no.

The bus pulled in. She shouldered her backpack and waited for an elderly lady in a fabulous hat to exit in front of her. From there she went up to Main Street and briefly consulted the business card again.

Her phone buzzed.

She ignored it in favor of finding Erin's company — Erie LLC — by reading a directory by the revolving door. The architecture of the place was amazing at the base, though it transitioned awkwardly to a front of glass windows about four floors up.

Anna checked Carson's last message and snorted.

Carson:
You're either the bravest person I've met or the stupidest. Let me know if you survive.

She sent him back a chicken emoji.

Carson:
LOLOLOLOLOLOL
CACKLING

She rolled her eyes and pushed through the heavy door into the beautifully decorated lobby. A fountain feature trickled serenely between her and the security desk. She covertly checked for fish on her way by, disappointed when there weren't any.

Hastily shoving her headphones into her jacket pocket, she put on her best customer service smile — the one that had seen her through years of waitressing — and handed up the business card with a smart and courteous, "I'm here to see Erin Lache."

"Is she expecting you?" he asked.

"Yes," she said. Erin was expecting her, just probably not so soon.

He handed her the card back. His expression never changed. "And if I deny you entry?"

Anna had a lot of practice exuding confidence she didn't feel. Spill a glass of red wine on some lady's white capri pants and then have to bring their dinner entrees? No problem. Smile at the receptionist while checking in for open heart surgery? Sure.

She lifted one shoulder in an approximation of a shrug. "You sure you want to?"

"Elevator four, eighth floor. He will key you in."

Across the lobby was a thirty-something white man in a sharp, dark gray suit next to the fourth elevator. There was no external up button next to it.

"Thanks," she murmured. She forced herself to walk slowly.

"Eighth floor," the man in the suit reminded her when the doors slid open. "Nowhere else."

Wide-eyed, Anna hit the correct button on the inside panel. What the hell, exactly, did Erin do?

She used her moments alone to get a little more organized. Her phone went on silent, the cord for her earbuds wrapped around it and the whole thing shoved in her jacket pocket. She wanted it close enough at hand in case of emergency, but she knew who and what Erin was. Who the fuck was going to bail her out if this went south and what were they going to do against a Lady of a Lake?

The business card she tucked into her back pocket.

There was no bright ding when the elevator reached the right floor, and she stepped onto the brightly polished flooring, slack-jawed at the sheer amount of frosted glass ahead of her. The words Erie LLC were etched in pretty calligraphy nearly dead ahead of her, and slightly to the left of that was a door.

She tried the handle and found it unlocked.

Years of avoiding creaky spots on the staircase and floorboards of her parents' house coupled with season after season of basketball and softball had given her fairly light feet when she needed them. She slipped in unnoticed, the reception desk empty. There was a crisp, modernly decorated and carefully styled waiting area to her right. She crept for the far corner of the bookcase and looked down the hallway.

There was the murmur of closed-door conversations as she tiptoed along the carpet.

Anna paused by a piece of ugly as shit modern art and rubbed her knuckles lightly over her sternum. Her pounding pulse slowed fractionally. She gave it a few more seconds to sort itself out as she continued. There was more glass, this time fronting executive office spaces. She peered into some open door and, by a virtuous stroke of luck she rarely had, found a desk with a plaque bearing Erin's name.

She bypassed the visitor's seat and went straight for the Holy Grail: the padded leather spinning chair behind her desk. Anna dropped her backpack on the floor and sat gingerly.

The top of the corporate food chain was pretty damn comfortable.

She spun to look at the window behind her. A gap in the buildings gave her a great view of the lake, the shoreline curving toward the horizon. That part of Buffalo still looked very industrial and more than a little unforgiving.

Voices echoed in the hallway.

Anna straightened, and spun the chair around to fold her hands on the smoothly polished wood of Erin's desk. She aimed for a neutral expression, though the corners of her mouth twitched.
Erin, flanked by two assistants, came to a sharp stop just inside her own office threshold.

"We'll pick this up again later. Double check Dylan's expense report and make sure your paperwork is filed by 6:30." Erin shut the glass door with more force than necessary once the assistants were gone.

Anna blinked serenely.

"How did you get in here?" Erin asked, arms folded over her chest.

"Through the front door." She smiled sharply. "How else did you expect me to get in?"

Erin's mouth moved, like she wanted to smile but couldn't bring herself to physically do it. She made shooing motions as she came around the side of her desk; Anna grabbed her backpack and relocated to the other chair.

"I find," Erin said conversationally, standing imperiously across the desk from Anna, "that most humans are born with an inherent sense of self-preservation. You, on the other hand, seem to be sorely lacking one." Her impeccably scuplted eyebrows were high on her forehead.

"Extenuating circumstances. Carpe diem and all that good shit."

Erin sat. "I do need to know what you're doing here."

Anna freed her notebook from her bag and leaned forward to slip a pen from the holder on Erin's desk. Flipping to a new page, she jotted down the date and looked expectantly at Erin. "I want to know what you found out the other night at the marina. You were in there for at least a little bit before it exploded. What did you learn before everything went up in flames?"

"Very little of consequence." Erin rested her elbows on her desk and steepled her fingers together. "Something about the Bookkeeper."

"A bookkeeper?" She looked up.

"The Bookkeeper." Erin leaned forward. "You don't know of the Bookkeeper."

"I've lived here almost two months," Anna said quietly. "A woman in Spot last weekend told me to stay within my bounds while reminding me I'm a ditchwitch. That's really been my only introduction to the Western New York Community." She absently doodled a daisy in the corner of the page.

Erin rolled back and crossed one leg over the other. "Regardless, you'll want to be on your toes for this one."

Anna's eyebrows headed for her hairline.

"The Bookkeeper uses a network of spies and informants to keep an eye on most, if not all, of the members of the Community in the city. He has fingers on the supply strings, and knows who's done larger than average magic."

"He keeps them accountable. Who pulls the strings?"

Erin smiled darkly. "Whoever has the right price for the job at hand."

Anna rested her notebook across her knees and leaned her elbows on it. "Stealing a river is big magic. He'll know either who did it or who paid for it." What was the going cost of stealing a river, anyway?

"Most substantial magic transactions are run through him," Erin agreed. "Getting what you want out of him will be your problem."

Closing her notebook, Anna absently floated the pen back into the holder on Erin's desk while she grabbed her empty backpack. She suspected Erin had shared all she was going to about the Bookkeeper.

"What happens if I drop your name?" Anna stood.

Erin was up and in Anna's face so quickly Anna rocked back on her heels, a yelp lodged behind her clenched teeth. She was surrounded by howling winds, dark, deep water, and relentlessly battering waves; her heart pounded in her chest, drowning in sensation.

It was gone as quickly as it had come. She swayed, desperately sucking in air while Erin remained as prim and proper as ever.

"I'd rather you didn't," Erin said flatly.

"Sure. Not a problem." She nodded slowly. "Know where I can find him?"

Erin scrawled an address on a sticky note and handed it to her. "There's a warehouse on the Buffalo River. Go at night."

Why didn't anybody conduct their shady business during daylight hours in their front parlor? It would make this kind of shit a whole lot easier.

Erin sank back into her plush office chair and looked smugly between Anna and the door. "You can see yourself out, same way you saw yourself in."

Anna tipped two fingers against an imaginary cap and left without another word.


Once she was back on the bus — sitting this time, in the rear — the sticky note in her pocket, she put her earbuds in and checked her phone.

Carson:
Did you die?

Anna:
Nope.
I have a starting point.

Carson:
Going on a bear hunt soon?

Or a witch hunt.

She had no idea what she was going to find at the warehouse, and the idea of going alone didn't give her the warm fuzzies.

Anna:
Probably this weekend. You wanna tag along?

Carson:
Teaching tap Saturday morning. I can leave early afternoon.

Anna:
Sounds good. This is a kinda fly by night thing.

Carson:
Send me your address so I know where I'm going.

Anna tapped her fingernails against the hard plastic case around her phone and grinned.