Gone Fishin' Parts 6-8 (Patreon)

Part 6

The boat sliced across the water, a silent knife. No one dared to breathe. To speak. Occasionally the moon would catch a scaly flick of a tail as it breached the waters crest but the creature were not actively seeking the vessel that carried those who had killed their potential mates. There was almost a peaceful air that surrounded the boat now. As if it were a ghost, haunting the night and taking stock of those who still lived.

When Milo cut the engine, he leaned forward onto the wheel, letting out a slow breath.

“Well, that was bracing.” It was Belladonna who spoke first. Because of course it was Belladonna. She sat at the back of the boat still, her eyes mostly locked on Hazel’s. Malcolm had come to help his sister down, retrieving her from the top of the boat where she then slumped in his arms. She was awake but just barely, leaning against her brother as the two of them sat on the boat floor.

“Was that magic?” Gabriel demanded.

Milo snorted, head still resting on the wheel. “No, Warden. That was blind luck. Put that in your report.”

Gabriel was bristling. “That kind of magic is strictly prohibited under article–”

“Fuck your article,” Milo snapped. “She saved our fucking lives and you know it.”

More silence.

It was often the things that went unsaid in those moments that brought actions into full clarity. For example, the little witch at the end of the lane, the one that scented her satchels with lavender and didn’t charge a single bit to anyone who could not pay, was also a woman who could take out sea creatures that the entirety of the Night Market steered away from.

“Hazel,” Belladonna’s voice was quiet. “Are you alright, little one? What needs to be done to keep you from dropping.”

Magic drops were some of the most unreliable side effects of magic. Like an empty cup that was continuously under an onslaught of liquid but there was a hole at the bottom of the glass that wouldn’t allow anything to keep. The emotional high and low that swelled and ebbed was enough to make anyone weep. Bad enough drops didn’t see the survival of a user.

“Time,” she whispered. “I need time.”

“She needs food,” Malcolm corrected. “Food and quiet and to not be interrogated.”

Gabriel frowned. “I am not interrogating.”

There was a rustle from the front as Milo moved, digging under the captain's seat for a bag of mixed nuts and berries. Something specifically harvested from Hazel’s garden to give her connection to her power again.

Her eyes were sticky as she blinked at the proffered bag, still leaning heavily on her brother and feeling her world tilt. “Oh, you brought the yummy ones,” she murmured.

Milo knelt in front of her. “Well, yeah. Can’t have you eating substandard trail mix.” She smiled weakly at him, taking a handful from the bag and laboriously munching on it. It was seen through the way that Milo lingered, how he looked towards Malcolm for either reassurance or comfort. His heart had hammered in his chest when he had seen the slow sickness of green magic dripping from her. Too many nights where she had been out of control had passed. Too many nights where Milo had held her through it all.

“We need to talk about what we are doing next,” Belladonna said, taking control of the situation. It wasn’t like anyone was about to protest the change in command. “Are we off course?”

Milo nodded. “Yeah. I don’t know how much.”

Gabriel stepped forward. “Do you have a sextant?”

“A sexy what?” Milo was staring up at him with a bit of shock. Like Gabriel had said something uncouth and Milo was all for that but also a little terrified of anything having to do with sex coming from Gabriel Caine’s mouth.

“A sextant,” Gabriel sighed. “It’s how ships navigate the waters.”

“I don’t have one of those. Probably tossed it overboard or something.”

Detaching himself from his sister, Malcolm went below deck without a word. When he returned, he held an old and dusty box. “In here,” he said. “The previous owner left everything down below. I made sure to pack it up.”

Gabriel dug through the contents, coming up with something brass and oddly shaped. He grabbed paper as well and began to map the stars, measuring the distance with the small contraption.

“Reese really did teach you well,” Belladonna said, somewhat fondly. Gabriel often thought she should have been Reese’s child over him.

Malcolm stood by Gabriel’s side, watching him silently. Gabriel worked with precision and an efficiency that was somewhat terrifying to witness. Gabriel was the type of person that a jealous man looked at with envy and a contented man looked at with pity.

“How bad?” Malcolm asked when Gabriel set the sextant down.

“Not terrible. Perhaps only an hour off course. More if we decide to navigate around the breeding pocket we went through.”

Malcolm nodded. “Hazel won’t be able to handle another attack. We’re on our own if we run into trouble again.”

“We brought harpoons,” Gabriel said. “If we have enough warning we can take the monsters ourselves.”

“We could, but I would rather do this with as little provocation as possible. I’ve heard the stories about these serpents. They never forget the scent of their attackers. I go down to the Deep quite frequently and would rather not have sea worms on my tail.”

“They are closer related to a sea snake,” Gabriel corrected.

Malcolm felt his lips twitch. He would never say it out loud but he did enjoy Gabriel. “Do you think you could get us back on course?”

“Most certainly.”

“Good.” Then, turning towards Milo and his sister, Malcolm pitched his voice towards them. “Button, you’re demoted as captain. Gabriel is now in charge. Don’t be a bitch about it.”

“Oh, I’ll be a bitch about it,” Milo said, warring between fury over Malcolm’s command and the deep desire to stay next to Hazel, prompting her to eat with little nudges to her side. When Hazel rested her head against Milo’s shoulder, he was a goner, however. There was probably something there about women and mommy issues and keeping little sisters safe. 

“Button?” Belladonna raised a brow at Milo, watching the blush spread to his cheeks. “That’s a fun pet name.”

“Mal gives names to everyone. Shut up.”

“I don’t have a nickname,” she said, holding her hand offendedly to her chest. “Male Albright, why do I not have a nickname.”

Malcolm smirked. “I’ll give you one, Malady. But you have to promise to like it.”

She smiled back at him, her voice dipping into a low purr. “Oh, you would be a fun one behind closed doors.” When Malcolm winked at her, Milo could only look at the two of them, mouth agape. He had been trying to hit on Bella for years and had only ever gotten a black eye from it.

Gabriel was staring down at the markings on his paper, double checking his measurements. “Nicknames are juvenile. Your given name at birth is your marker in life.”

Belladonna rolled her eyes. “Says the man who calls me Belladonna instead of Madeline.”

He looked up at her, blinking once. “You told me Madeline is dead. That Belladonna was the one born in her place. Of course I would call you by your given name.”

“Madeline’s a pretty name,” Hazel said through a mouthful of food.

Belladonna couldn’t help but look at her with far more affection. The little witch was strong and yet docile all at once. In another life, she would have eaten her up. “My mother thought so as well.” She rarely thought of her mother now. She couldn’t even remember her face. Sometimes she couldn’t remember her name. It was an eventuality of eternity that she tried not to think about.

“It's beautiful that we are being nostalgic about the loins we came from but we really need to be getting back on course,” Milo said.

“Ignore him,” Malcolm said. “He’s generally always pissed at his parents.”

“Shouldn’t I be?”

He should. Abandoning a child so small was not a forgivable feat. It became even more unforgivable given the knowledge that Milo would never be able to confront them about it.

The sad truth was, if anything was to draw the five of them together, it would be their parents. Most of that particular conflicting storm was hidden away, however, trying to be forgotten. But Belladonna’s father had not believed her and chose to cast her in sin and allow everyone to die in the name of their god. Hazel and Malcolm’s mother had abused them until they didn’t recognize themselves. And Milo’s father had left him as a small child to try and survive within the streets. He knew nothing of his mother just as Hazel and Malcolm knew nothing of their other parents. It left Gabriel. Parentless by the definition of it. Yet, he had been adopted by two men who thought the world of him. Oddly, he would have been the most well adjusted.

And wasn’t that saying something all in itself?

Part 7

The boat slowly turned, heading in the opposite direction. “We have a few hours,” Gabriel said. “If we wish to speak of parentage, we can. It may be best if we stay quiet so as not to call forth the serpents again.”

“They’re horny,” Milo laughed. “Our voices aren’t foreplay.”

“Maybe he just doesn't want to listen to us talk,” Hazel stage whispered. She had eaten half the bag of trail mix and color was returning to her cheeks.

“Probably far more accurate,” Milo agreed. He was settling against the side of the boat, eyes cast to sea. When Malcolm walked past him, he made sure to brush a hand across his shoulder, trying to comfort him. Milo didn’t like responsibility. He tended to steer boats accidentally in serpent breeding waters when he had it.

“We do need to speak of what to do with those serpents,” Belladonna said. “I have a suspicion that the closer to the tear we get, the worse it is going to be.” She lowered herself to the boat floor, crossing her legs delicately beneath her. Both Milo and Hazel looked at her with an air of surprise. It was not often that people saw the great Belladonna Malady lower herself to their level, mentally or physically.

“The serpents have been coming around far before the tear,” Hazel said, trying not to gawk. “Do you really think they are related?”

“The serpents? No. I do have good reason to believe however that they are attracted to pockets of magic that are unstable. Sea serpents need a little help in their breeding habits. While they existed in some realm, somewhere, they are not native to the Night Market and are considered more animal than sentient creature. Animals cannot survive here. So, they need help in order to create life.”

“Sea creatures seem to play by different rules,” Malcolm said. He had gone down to the Deep enough to see what swam in the oceans and lurked in the depths.

“They do,” Belladonna agreed. “But existing in a world you shouldn’t and creating life in a world you shouldn’t, are two very different things. Hence, them gathering during the height of the moon, after the lanterns have reset, and near anything that may be considered a bit more heightened in magic.”

“What was so heightened about our boat?” Hazel asked. “It wasn’t me, was it?”

“While you should take something like that as a compliment and not a fear, no, I do not think it was you. I’m assuming it was the boat, however, and the mass amounts of spells that have been put on this ship? Or maybe there was something beneath the waters we couldn’t see and they saw our boat as an advantageous reward.”

“So,” Milo said. “They were possibly just fucking and we bumped into them?”

“Percisely.”

They sat there with that, considering their bad luck. It was about right. The random happenstance that felt like an attack when it came to a personal situation.

“Alright, assuming it is that,” Gabriel said. “Is there something you propose we do to keep us out of this state of trouble?”

“Be alert.” When everyone looked at her, she simply shrugged. “I love having all the answers, my darlings but sometimes, it does truly just work out as ‘pay attention’. Whether we like it or not, we are in the serpent's territory. We don’t have resources here. And we are on the equivalent of a dingy–”

“Hey!”

“In the middle of the ocean,” she continued. “Nothing about this plan was sane and yet here we are. Going along with it.”

There was a collective sigh because no one could really refute that. They had all chosen to board the ship and they did so with the blind gusto of those frantic enough to try and solve the problem without considering the variables of their plan.

“So we keep going,” Malcolm said. “We do lookout in shifts. We navigate around the serpents when we can. Hazel recharges and when we see the tear, it's all hands on deck.”

No one said anything. It was the best plan of action they had. The only plan of action.

The boat continued to drift through the water, a silent fin edging through the wet tide.

Part 8

They spoke infrequently. Gabriel was focused on navigating through the water and avoiding anything that looked like scales reflecting on the moonlight. Malcolm had taken up residence at the top of the boat where his sister had been, keeping watch as well. Hazel was resting while Belladonna was pouring over one of the books she had brought, trying to come up with a last minute plan for the tear in case the several others they had in place failed. And Milo was pacing.

“Sit down,” Belladonna growled at him.

“I can’t.”

“If you don’t sit down I will break your legs,” she sang to him.

Milo ignored her, continuing to walk.  

“You are nervous.” When Gabriel was the one to make the observation, Milo knew it was bad. He stopped near the bigger man, glancing at him. His face was lined with silver, not just from the moon but from his celestial heritage running lightly in his veins.

“Nervous?” he laughed. “What is there to be nervous about? Just need to get close to a giant tear in the world and if I fail, the entirety of the Night Market could implode in on itself. I think that’s fine.”

“I do not think it would implode.”

“It wouldn’t,” Belladonna sighed, flipping through her book. “Not right away. But people would die and it would be your fault.”

Milo’s laugh was wet and manic. “Thanks.”

“You're welcome.”

Gabriel turned the wheel slightly, adjusting their course. The horizon had gradually grown more pink as they traveled. They were getting close.

“How many tears have you closed in your time as Gatekeeper,” he asked.

Milo glanced at him, unsure if Gabriel and him had ever had an actual conversation. “Like sky tears or random doors?”

“Sky tears?”

“I don’t know. Somewhere in the forties. Not all of them were big.”

“That is still a lot.”

“Is it?”

Malcolm cleared his throat. It was hard for someone not to eavesdrop in on anyone's conversation here. “Milo, in the entire time I was Gatekeeper, I closed five tears. Most of them in that last year of my life. Over forty is a big deal.”

“Not really,” Milo reasoned. “I’ve been a Gatekeeper now for over a decade.”

It was sometimes hard to believe that he was the longest Gatekeeper to have existed. Most only lasted a few years at best before either succumbing to a power hungry denizen who thought Baronhood was a way to elevate their life, or they slipped into death from their own hands.

Malcolm frowned. “Rephrase the question. He’s lying about something.”

Milo’s eyes narrowed at his on again, off again, boyfriend. Hazel usually could tell just by the sound of his voice when Milo wasn’t telling the entire truth but at least she had learned not to care.

“That’s right. You are fae,” Gabriel said. “Well then. How many tears have you closed? Not just ones that have appeared in the sky, but tears that have occurred within the world that did not stem from sanctioned doors.”

Milo was quiet. The water splashed on the side of the boat, a dull thunk coming from the bow as a few tied off crab pots tapped against the wood.

“Milo?” Hazel asked gently. 

Milo closed his eyes, warring with himself over just not answering. Not answering was always the easiest way to lie. Though, he could feel four sets of eyes on him and they would do that annoying thing where they wouldn’t shut up if he didn’t answer.

“Three hundred and sixteen.”

“What?!” He wasn’t sure who said it. A cacophony of noise followed that was quickly hushed by Gabriel as he reminded them all that just because they weren’t in the middle of a serpent breeding ground, didn’t mean they weren’t there and ready to capsize their boat.

“Milo,” Hazel cried softly. “That’s too many. That’s– why didn’t you say anything.”

“Because up until recently, I didn’t know if that was normal,” he said. “And by recently, I mean a few minutes ago when Malcolm said he had only closed five.”

Belladonna groaned. “This Gatekeeper role is designed to keep the fates of the world isolated. It is ridiculous that we have not known this. One man, and I do say man with disdain, meant to take over the role and covet it as the most important job in the market, and yet there is no one to talk to about the issues this presents because why?”

“Mostly because we don’t want to be murdered,” Milo said, glancing at Malcolm.

“Then change the circumstance,” Bella snapped.

“Agreed,” Malcolm said. “Something I was trying to do before Kavatti.”

“Cunt,” Bella grumbled. When Hazel looked at her shocked, Bella waved it off. “Kavatti. Not your brother.”

Gabriel was staring at Milo with a mixture of respect and fear. Fear not for the man himself but fear for what this all meant. “I will need you to come to the precinct and speak to me when we get to shore.”

“No.”

“That was not a request.”

Milo whirled on him. “I’m not doing it. And yeah, I’m about to sound petulant here but who the fuck cares? I’m the Gatekeeper. No one gave a shit about what I was doing before, why care now.”

“Because the world might be dying!”

“I’m taking care of it!”

“Both of you shut up,” Bella hissed.

“Look, there is nothing you can do,” Milo said. “I need you to remember that. Sure, you might know the doomed state of the world but what is that going to solve? The Velvet Guard is not notorious for inspiring calm and confidence within the world. You’ll take this, and you won’t mean it, but you’ll end up causing a panic. You’ll out me. Then, most likely I’ll die and you’ll get another chump in the position that is going to flounder around like I did for a while and everything is going to be a hell of a lot worse.”

“Don’t talk like that, Milo,” Malcolm intoned.

“Why? It’s true, isn’t it?” He whirled back on Gabriel. “If I thought you or anyone could help, I’d ask for it. You know that’s true because I can’t lie. But guess what? No one can help with this. No one can do what I do. It’s a sad design of a job that no one truly wants because it's a death sentence to both you and everyone around you. So, you can be mad, you can investigate or whatever you are paid to do, but you’ll excuse me if I skip that meeting.”

The tension hung thick around them. They were words that were rarely said, only seeing the fresh ocean breeze because no one else was around to use the moment of weakness against them. Because that’s what being a Gatekeeper was. A series of weaknesses. Milo knew it. Malcolm had lived it. And the rest of them had watched it all unfold in a helpless breath while also thanking the fates that this had not fallen to them.

On the horizon, the pink strip of light was slowly undulating. Black goo formed around it, darkening the edges but making the middle blinding. The void from the stars bleeding in. Distant screams were drowned out by the rolling ocean waves and there, like a bleeding wound across the night, was the tear.