The Misadventures of Anna Cabbot

Night Crisis

Cinnamon. Cloves. Woodsmoke.

Jamie's witchsense translated its interpretations into scents, and Anna Cabbot smelled like cinnamon, cloves, and woodsmoke with a hint of something crisp — something dark — underneath.

He was halfway up the stairs to the elevated office after she and Carson had left when it hit him — she'd never hesitated once her witchsense had found Jamie. The minute she'd known he was there she'd pulled Carson — who wasn't small by any sense of the definition — behind her, lit her hand up, and waited for a hittable target to present itself. Jamie had, from the look of it, at least half a foot on her, and it hadn't made a difference.

Anna had stared him down without flinching, like she'd known she could handle him if he'd come at her.

"Holy shit," he muttered, easing through the office doorway.

Office was a generous term. The Bookkeeper, due to aging joints, had shifted the actual operational hub downstairs, tucked away in a back corner. Whoever was charged with watching the warehouse for the night stayed in the upstairs lounge. The heavy, ugly office desk from the '70s was still there, mostly for posterity, and was now accompanied by a couple of armchairs and a secondhand couch.

"I take it they're gone," Thom said. He had his chair tipped back and his feet on the desk, his words carrying a bit of accented edge from his fangs.

Jamie dropped into an armchair across from his vampire fraternal twin. "Yeah. Most exciting thing that's happened all night." He stretched his legs out.

Thom made a noncommittal noise in his throat and held up a paperback. "Did you bring another book with you tonight?"

"Two more besides that one. I'm only going to finish it because I'm so close to the end."

"Don't like it?"

"Not really. Patterson's not my favorite."

"But it's Patterson."

"And?" Jamie shrugged.

Thom thumbed the worn, dog-eared pages. "I'm gonna borrow this."

"That's fine. Give it back when you're done." He'd always shared most things with his twin, anyway. Books, clothes, the occasional pair of sneakers. Anything sharable was immeditately labeled so, and if it wasn't that boundary was automatically respected. It was the system they'd had for years and it hadn't changed a whole lot even when they'd moved into separate apartments post-college.

"Anything scheduled to come in tonight?" Jamie asked.

"No. The S and R team is out in Williamsville dealing with, and I quote, 'weird shit' so unless they need backup it's gonna be a long night for you and me." His eyebrows rose over his dark blue-gray eyes. "Unless you wanna tell me about Miss Necromancer and her fishy sidekick?"

Jamie tilted his head.

Thom snorted. "The dude is a selkie."

Well, that explained the underlying smell of salt water.

He scrubbed a hand over his face. "Nigel's gone missing."

"What?" Thom's feet fell off the desk with a thump.

"Nigel, the Niagara — "

"I know. Nigel, the guy who wears a bracelet of badger teeth to bingo because it's his good luck charm. That Nigel."

Nigel had assured all of them the animal had died of natural causes. Jamie had chosen not to say a word.

"That's him," Jamie confirmed.

"Missing."

"Yeah." He ran his fingers through his hair. "Anna and Carson are looking for him."

"Anna and Carson?"

Heat rolled up Jamie's neck and he mumbled, "She's really cute."

"Cute enough to flirt with the no interference clause?"

The Bookkeeper and the Laches operated on a live and let live kind of philosophy, where they were aware of each other though largely stayed out of each other's business. The result of that, on the Bookkeeper's end of things, was an actual no interference clause in all of their employees' contracts.

The long and short of it was that Jamie wasn't permitted to offer direct help with a Lache problem, nor would he receive any assistance from them.

"James?" Thom stared at him, eyebrows raised.

Jamie was saved from having to find an answer by the on call phone on the desk ringing shrilly. Thom swiped it hurriedly off the desk and answered.

"— Slow down, Casey. Breathe. What about Hudson?"

Jamie straightened from his slouch.

"Let me see if I've got this," Thom said slowly, motioning for Jamie to come closer. "Some unidentifiable thing with teeth is using Hudson's leg as a chew toy, Bess is on the phone with Benny trying get an ID on it, and you need me to send James and his medical kit." He glanced at Jamie. "He'll be there in ten. Keep me in the loop." He hung up. "Address is already on your phone and they need you for the medical instead of the magical." He smiled wide enough to show his fangs and added, "I'll hold down the fort."

"Awesome. You good here?" Jamie gestured broadly.

"Absolutely." He waved the paperback. "I got a book for when I'm not getting updates."

"Don't move my bookmark." Backpedaling toward the door, Jamie grabbed his helmet off the coat tree. "Pull up Huds' insurance information, will you?" He went out the door, grabbed the frame, and hauled himself back in. "Aunt Isabelle and Uncle Hiraku are in Japan this month visiting Uncle Hiraku's parents."

Thom grunted. "I'm not calling them for anything less than surgery."

"We'll stay in touch," he yelled, thumping down the stairs. The emergency medical supplies backpack was by the back door, and he slung it over his shoulder.

The address was indeed already in his phone and he set it so his maps app would give him verbal directions.

His matte dark gray Ducati Diavel motorcycle stood between Thom's midnight blue 1970 Chevy Nova SS — Thom had bought it when it looked ready for the scrapyard and carefully brought it back with some help from their father — and Hudson's cherry red Jeep Wrangler. He cinched the straps on the backpack tight against his shoulders and swung a leg over the bike.

With his helmet on, he put his earbuds in (a mild struggle), and zipped his jacket the rest of the way up. He fired up the Ducati and tore out of the small, hidden parking lot. His phone chirped unneeded initial directions in his ear; he knew how to get to the 190, and wouldn't really need help until he got to Williamsville.

Jamie pushed the speed limit as much as he dared that late at night on the Thruway. He braked into the sweeping curve of the exit for the 290, and his phone cheerfully informed him to take the exit for Maine Street, NY-5. He was at a red light by a Starbucks when Thom's ringtone went off.

"Still not sure what the thing is attached to Hudson's leg, but they have the rest of them contained. How far out are you?"

"Awesome." Jamie signaled for a left hand turn. "I think I'm here."

"I'll tell Bess. Should we have Les on standby?"

He came to a stop behind an SUV with tinted windows. "No. I don't think so. Consult Bess."

The bike went quiet. He set the kickstand, hooked his helmet over the handlebar, and hung up on his brother as he walked through the yard. The house was a typical two story complete with a rocking chair on the porch. Jamie strode through the front door with little regard for whatever wards might have been in place; his nose, fed by his witchsense, picked up honeysuckle and lavender.

There were scuffed hardwood floors beneath his feet in the front entry hall, and clusters of framed pictures lined the walls while expensive-looking area rugs were in the majority of downstairs rooms.

Most of the commotion was in the back of the house. Jamie took one look at the surly woman with her wrists in steel-coated iron handcuffs and pointed behind him with a sharp, "Get her out of here. Now."

Bess poked her head around the corner, her dark hair in disarray. "Hudson's in the pantry. I'm still on hold with Benny."

Tori, a shifter built like a brick shithouse even when bipedal, yanked whoever was responsible for this mess from the room. She'd be taken back to the warehouse and after that, well, Jamie didn't know nor did he particularly care.

There was a substantial walk-in pantry off the kitchen, and Hudson was sprawled out against the partially ajar door, head tilted back, eyes closed, and hands docilely in his lap. His breathing was deep and even. On the floor between his spread knees and attached to the meat of his calf through his jeans was a three foot long smoothly scaled creature. It was dark green or black in color.

Jamie pulled his earbuds out and slid his backpack off. "Hey, Huds. Open your eyes for me?"

Hudson obliged; the pupils in his warm brown eyes were blown wide. "Jamie?"

"That's me." He got to his knees and pulled a pair of dispsable gloves from the front pocket of his backpack. "Your parents are visiting your grandparents, right?" He wanted to see where Hudson's head was at, if he could focus.

"Yeah." Hudson's fingers twitched. "They're...Kimisu. End of month."

"They're there until the end of the month?" Jamie carefully removed Hudson's right Nike. "Can you wiggle your toes for me?"

His eyes closed with the effort and he bit his lip, but Hudson's toes twitched and his foot flexed.

"Good healthy movement. Solid job, Huds." Jamie snapped his gloves on and gently ran his fingers over the top of what he thought was the thing's head. Acid green eyes slitted open to stare balefully at him. "Bess, I really need an ID on this thin." He glanced at Hudson's pale face and added, "I think it's feeding on him."

Holding the phone between her shoulder and her ear, Bess folded gracefully to the floor on Hudson's other side. The creature's tapered tail, draped over Hudson's thigh, curled away from her.

"It's probably secreting something into his blood stream, too," Bess said. "He hasn't really said much since it took him by surprise."

"Three...three of them." Hudson made a half-hearted hand-wavy gesture to suggest gator-like movement. "Saw two. Didn't...lost."

"Lost track of the other one?" she prompted softly.

He grunted.

Jamie peeled back the thing's upper lip to get a look at its thick, needle-sharp teeth. It had at least two rows of them from what he could see, and both sets were buried in the meaty part of Hudson's calf. If he watched closely, Jamie could see it swallow.

"Yeah, it's taking blood. Bess, this thing needs off now."

"Benny says she hasn't found it exactly, but she's found something similar. She says to pry its teeth out."

Hudson's head lolled against his shoulder.

"Row by row?" Jamie's head tilted. "Am I supposed to use a knife or something?"

"Pressure point. Just behind the joint closest to the body on the left foreleg. In a different species it will completely temporarily paralyze it." She picked up Hudson's limp hand. "Jesus, his fingers are cold."

Jamie pulled a jackknife from the side pocket of his backpack and held it in his left hand. With his right he pinched the pressure point. Its eyes closed; he used the knife to dig under a tooth until he could get enough leverage to pry its jaw open like a stubborn can of paint. It came loose with a soft sucking sound. He wasn't sure if the jaw would close if he let go to get the bottom rows of teeth, and he was loathe to release the pressure point in case they went back to square one.

"I need another hand, Bess," he murmured.

"Benny, you're on speaker." She set the phone on the floor. "What do you need me to do, James?"

"Take the knife and push down on the lower jaw until it comes loose. Then we're going to move the whole thing backwards." He eyed the puncutre wounds through Hudson's torn jeans; it would scar, of course, but it didn't look as though it would require a lot of stitches.

Bess did as requested. Jamie, with his fingers still holding the pressure point, swiveled on his knees to drop the thing in the cloth sack Casey held at the ready. She cinched it tightly closed.
Jamie ripped open several gauze packages while Bess cut Hudson's jeans further, widening the gap in order for him to press the pads tightly against Hudson's torn skin. He then wrapped more gauze around Hudson's calf, jeans and all.

"Thank you, Benny," Bess said, hanging up and tucking her phone back in her pocket.

"I'll make sure this gets to the warehouse with the others." Casey held up the bag.

"Call ahead to the 24-hour clinic and let them know Hudson's coming in with bite wounds." Jamie stood and stripped off his gloves, swapping sides with Bess. He leaned down. "Hudson?"

With what looked like monumental effort, Hudson lifted his head to look at his cousin. "Hmmm?"

"We're going to get you to the clinic, okay? Bess and I are going to stand you up. Can you help?"

The words took a few extra seconds to process. Hudson nodded, reaching upward and planting the foot attached to his good leg flat on the floor.

"Doin' great so far, buddy." Jamie and Bess heaved him upright as gently as possible. "Okay?"

Hudson paled further, swaying.

"You going to hurl or anything?" Bess asked, reaching up and smoothing his black hair off his damp forehead.

"No," he mumbled.

"Good enough for me." Jamie put Hudson's arm around his shoulders and slid his own across the small of his back. "Let's go."

It took a while to get through the house — Jamie had seen drunks with better mobility — but they finally had him in the back of the SUV. Jamie shut the door and gave his sister the brief hug she silently asked for. She wasn't short enough to fit completely under his chin, but he rested his cheek against her hair.

"He'll be fine," she whispered, rubbing his shoulder.

"I know." He stepped back and jammed his hands in his pockets. "Let us know how it goes at the clinic? I'm going to see if they need some help to clean up here, then I'm going back to the warehouse."

"Of course. I'll stay in touch."

Jamie waited in the yard until she'd disappeared around the corner at the far end of the street.

The 24-hour clinic in question — more a small hospital, really — was Community run and situated in the North Park neighborhood, south of Kenmore Avenue. It was used primarily by Community members they needed medical treatment without the kind of questions they'd get at a traditional hospital.

Still, sometimes it couldn't be helped. He'd had Community patients in critical condition in his ambulance before and the ECMC trauma center was the best place for them. He'd heard the gossip around the ER department after they'd been brought in and there wasn't anything to do for it except listen.

He should touch base with Thom — he hadn't had any updates so far, and was probably sat at the desk chewing on his lower lip and working on his latest crochet project. That was Thom's preferred way to deal with stress; Jamie had several handmade hats from Thom's college years.

Right. Touch base with Thom. Help the S and R team with cleanup — many hands, light work, however that went — and then at some point some sleep so he'd be semi-fresh and coherent for his coffee date with Anna and Carson.

Scrubbing his hands over his face, Jamie went back inside.