How to Care for Cursed Fish: Marine Magic, #1

Prologue

The most life-changing calls come when they’re least expected. Every student learns this lesson sooner or later . . .

Haven? I need you to do something for me.

Coming, professor!

Theirs were the only two voices in New West Key University’s Marine Center and Animal Hospital, Quarantine Wing. It was after hours. Gentle twilight fell in through the skylights, casting white floors, walls, and holding tanks with an undersea glow. Even the charmed sconces set into the walls had dimmed, as they were programmed to do at the end of every work day.

But Sunlit Haven did not believe in work days. Though her voice was deep and calm as twilight when she answered her professor’s call, her boots padded across the tile with haste. Her veterinary scrubs, plain sandy cotton spelled to resist all but the worst stains and spills, covered her up from neck to ankle. Her hands were full, a clipboard, an extra pen, a roll of gauze, a bottle of salt water purifier, a sadly scraped-up gooseneck clam in the crook of her elbow. Her hair too was occupied, chopped short and bound back under a white handkerchief. Pink hair, light eyes, yellow skin—her grandmother had nicknamed her Sherbet, but Sunlit rarely had time for desserts, iced or otherwise. She was the marine veterinary school’s most devoted student.

Even before she reached her professor at the observation platform overlooking a pool of recuperating seals, Sunlit began talking again. I have the gauze you were looking for, Professor. The viral wing has all been fed and locked down for the night, too. And I thought maybe you could check on Corduroy again. His shell’s not cleaning up the way I’d hoped it would.

Yes, yes, the professor murmured. She accepted the gauze and the update without comment, her attention caught between the seals and a bundle of mail in her hand. Considerably older than Sunlit, with long graying hair and a lab coat decorated with schools of cavorting dolphins, Professor Lina McAlpin looked nowhere near as intimidating as her reputation indicated. She was, in fact, a little distracted. After a pause, she leaned against the observation railing and looked at Sunlit, one eyebrow raised over dark green eyes. You named the clam, Haven?

Not—really? Sunlit’s gaze shifted guiltily. "I know we’re not supposed to. I didn’t do it consciously. I just thought—it felt like—he told me, somehow."

The professor’s gaze dropped to the clam in question. Corduroy?

Sunlit’s answer was near a confessional whisper. He’s very proud of the ridges in his shell.

All the more reason to get them cleaned up, then. Lina smiled, her eyes nearly lost in tanned wrinkles. Another of your feelings, Haven?

Yes but he’s very insistent about it, Sunlit said, holding the clam out to her mentor. I mean—that is—it’s really just another feeling, yes.

Professor McAlpin said nothing more as she looked over the clam. She’d been teaching Sunlit Haven for six years, from Intro to Marine Invertebrates all the way to supervised apprenticeships in the veterinary center, and she was familiar with Sunlit’s feelings. They never came with any proof or corroboration. Sunlit herself seemed embarrassed by them. They weren’t scientific, but she insisted they weren’t magical, either. And yet, they often led to the right treatments and happy animals.

The clam’s shell did need extra care. It had been subjected to a poisonous substance, one that could eat away at the little calcium carbonate creature if left unchecked. Professor McAlpin looked back up to see Sunlit crouched down against the walls of the glass holding tank, making faces at the seals. The seals nodded back and clapped their flippers in underwater laughter when Sunlit’s collection of pens fell to the ground.

I’ve got some of that extra-strength gentle cleansing potion left in my office, the professor said, as if she hadn’t witnessed anything. I’ll take Corduroy there now and make a place for him overnight so I can check him in the morning. In the meantime, I want you to read over this letter. I’ll be right back.

As she handed an opened envelope to Sunlit, she added, See what feeling you get from it.

Sunlit straightened up and leaned against the tank walls, obediently focused on the letter as her professor walked away. The envelope was nothing extraordinary, aside from a water stain in the bottom left corner. It was addressed, rather sloppily, to Whom it May Concern at the University’s Marine Research school. Curious, but only mildly so, Sunlit pulled out the letter, which had been folded just once. The torn piece of paper read,

To the New West Key U researchers. They say you’re the best. Here at Seaside we’ve got something you’ll want to see. A giant otter crashed into the old fishing pier in the storm overnight. It needs attention and someone to talk to. Send reply ASAP or better yet send someone. Town vet won’t have anything to do with magical creatures. We need someone with more expertise.

Sunlit read it twice, and still wasn’t sure what she thought when her professor returned.

Well? Lina took the letter back and glanced at it herself, ignoring the seals who watched over Sunlit’s shoulders. I think it’s worth checking out. But—

But, Professor, protested Sunlit, you have the conference in two days.

Professor Lina smiled. Yes, there is the conference, and plenty left to do. So—I’ll have to send someone, don’t you think?

It does seem like a good idea, Sunlit agreed. The poor otter probably needs attention right away. Of course, they don’t specify, but an old dock probably means splinters and bruises and—

The professor held up a hand, and Sunlit went quiet, blushing. Behind her, the seals bobbed above the water’s surface and raised their flippers, thinking this was a follow-the-leader game.

So, repeated Lina. Who do you think I should send?

Sunlit hesitated. The marine veterinary program was small and elite, the only one of its kind in all Beyond. All its graduates were capable. However, some focused primarily on research; some had family or other reasons they needed to stay in New West Key; and others couldn’t quite be trusted to properly clean a clam without assistance . . .

The letter’s from Seaside, Lina observed. "That’s quite a distance. They’ll need someone who doesn’t have to immediately come back here, for schoolwork or other reasons. And they’ll need someone who’s good at thinking on her feet. Someone who has completed extensive study, who isn’t afraid of travel, and above all, someone who listens to animals."

By that point, Sunlit had caught the professor’s drift. Her pale yellow cheeks flushed again. "You don’t really mean me? But there’s so much I have to do here!"

Sunlit Haven, said the professor, severely, "you have been doing work here for years. You have graduated and you are still doing work here. You completed your apprenticeship in only a year, and still, here you are."

The other students need help, Sunlit protested. And the Center always needs more hands. I run study sessions . . .

You do good work, Lina agreed, her tone purposeful. And that is why you are the one I want to send, Haven.

But . . . Sunlit shook her head. Behind her, the seals shook too, sending water droplets over the tank wall and across her shoulders. She didn’t notice. She was looking for excuses, but found she’d run out. With her grandparents passed away and her aunt on leave, she really didn’t have much reason to stay in New West Key. It had simply become—comfortable.

Professor Lina had seen many students come and go. Her voice was kindly. Will you do this, Haven? I think it might be the opportunity that you need.

Sunlit gulped. She wasn’t so sure about that. But she did know there was an otter out there that needed help, stat. So she straightened her shoulders and nodded her head.

I’ll do it, she agreed. And who knows—I might even be back in time for the conference.

1: An Accidental Joy

The giant otter is known primarily for its occasional appearance in old texts, in which aquatic mercenaries were described as riding ox-sized otters as mounts. The breed is exceedingly rare today. It is thought that there may be a colony of giant otters residing in the northwest waters, but as yet no scientist has located them. In general, the giant otter is a strong and clever animal, capable of speech and reason. It has no magic of its own, but retains the sharp senses and the athletic personality that makes its smaller, average counterparts so beloved . . .

—From Traverse’s Guide to Marine Vertebrates, Invertebrates, and Magical Outliers

Seaside was not a town that could be quickly left.

A giant otter had discovered this the night before, and Sunlit would find it out in her own time. The town curved along the ocean waves, crescent-shaped like the moon, but full of sunny faces and bright attractions. A colorful boardwalk lined with enterprising food and game stalls paralleled the beach. Behind it, Main Street featured everything from potions shops and bookstores to hermit crab adoption centers and sailboat rentals. At the north end of town, the land rose into a majestic bluff, atop which sat grand estates for the elite. At the southern end of town, the beach gave way to a working harbor. A long fishing pier marked the point between the two.

Indeed, the pier had often been a point of contention between those in the town who liked fishing, and those in town who liked tourists. Some decades back, the official pier had been rebuilt and moved just slightly to the south, a compromise in which the fishers got nice new fish-cleaning sinks and anti-odor spells, while the beach goers got slightly more room. However, nothing had ever become of the old pier, sandwiched between fish markets and family outings. Its farthest reaches had eroded into the sea, but a good twenty yards of old wood plank remained, hovering a few feet above high tide. Where the pier connected to the boardwalk there was a plaza, the sort of place that might have made an idyllic little town garden or event space, if it weren’t for the unsightly old bait shop. The property had long been abandoned and belonged to the town, but the town could never quite agree on what they wanted to do with it.

They’d never considered the possibility that an otter as big as a young dragon and heavy as a blacksmithing giant’s anvil might crash into it.

The winds that night had been fierce, pushing the waves high and southward. In the darkness and confusion, much of the shoreline had been damaged. Storms were a fact of life along the ocean, particularly in early spring. But no one in Seaside had ever seen anything like this.

Sunlit hadn’t, either. Still woozy from making use of the postal service’s handy—if temperamental and still rather new—teleportation system, and leaning to one side under the weight of her hastily-packed knapsack, Sunlit was not in the best state of mind to process the sight.

After a quick telegram to Seaside’s town council and a trip home to collect her things, Sunlit had traveled to the little town as quickly as she could. She managed to arrive later the same evening, mere hours after reading a strange letter in the quiet of the Marine Center. While the postal service all across Beyond tended to rely on magitech, things like telegram wires and old-fashioned letters, more and more post offices offered a magical teleportation service, too. Though they mostly used it to send on urgent letters, some enterprising souls made it their transport mode of choice. It was expensive and unpleasant and a little bit risky, but just the thing when a giant otter’s life was at risk.

Sunlit might have been hesitant to take on the responsibility, but once it was hers, she certainly wouldn’t let a hurt otter down. Her home in New West Key was shared with her aunt, after all, and not truly hers; it was easy to collect her reference books and a few traveling things before rushing out. One such traveling thing was her ancient blue parrot, Biscuit. The bird clung to her hand, spouting obscenities perhaps related to its recent mode of travel.

It was in this state that Sunlit met Officer Ebb, the police chief in Seaside.

Town council received your telegram and asked me to take you straight to the pier, he informed Sunlit, over the raucous protests of the parrot. He had the tan skin, pointed ears, and blue eyes of many coastal elves. His hair was graying, tucked beneath a brimmed hat. His smooth, if aged, face gave away no irritation nor amusement. Unless you want to stop by a hotel first?

No. Sunlit was definite about that, at least. She’d been able to expense the teleportation cost to the university, and they’d likely pick up her hotel costs too, but she hadn’t yet planned that far ahead. Let’s get to the pier. Can you tell me exactly what happened? Is the otter very badly injured?

You’d know best about that, Officer Ebb said, as they fell into step. They left the low-slung post office building side by side and started down a sandy road into town. Of course, it might tell you, itself. I’ve had my hands full just keeping civilians away from the remains of the pier.

Sunlit tugged a wide-brimmed hat down over her bandanna-covered hair, hiding her face from the evening sun. If that’s the case, then who wrote to the university?

From what I hear, Chip assigned himself that task. Officer Ebb, who stood a foot taller than Sunlit and cut a dashing figure in his blue uniform, sounded a bit helpless in the face of this development. He was the one who officially discovered the wreckage, you might say.

Does he work at the pier? Sunlit asked, her mind mostly on otters.

No one does. Chip’s one of the fishers. The old pier was about to be condemned, if I’d had my say. I’m still trying to convince the council to either take it down or sell it. Of course, that’s no easy task with an otter in the way.

This got Sunlit’s attention. What do you mean? Can’t the otter be moved?

I gather that’s what they called you in to decide, Officer Ebb said dryly. He steered them down a little alley off of Main Street, adding, You’ll see for yourself in a minute.

As they emerged onto the boardwalk, Sunlit tugged again at her hat and loose sleeves, avoiding the glare of the last rays of sun off the water. It took her a minute to make sense of the scene. The beach stretched to their right, dotted with people carrying trash bags and sticks—a clean up effort. To the left, the solid wall of merchants’ stalls divided them from Main Street, and many of the merchants themselves were tidying their wares or re-enforcing spell-protected windows. The old pier was down at the other end of the beach. Sunlit could see how debris had been washed up onto the pier and caught against the breakwater, a massive structure of boulders that supported the new fishing pier beyond. She could see, too, how one of the light posts had fallen along with the wreckage, effectively barring anyone from going out onto the little pier. Slightly further out, an old boat had been driven against the breakwater and held in place by a mess of buoys and nets. In the shadow of that mess, Sunlit could just barely see dark fur.

The more she saw, the quicker she walked. With his long legs, Officer Ebb kept pace with her. The planks of the boardwalk disappeared under her increasingly anxious strides. By the time they’d neared the old pier, Sunlit was running. The parrot, having given up on being carried gracefully, flew overhead.

Chief! A young officer standing sentry at the edge of the old pier hailed Officer Ebb. A woven purple lanyard bore her name tag, which read Sabrina, she/her in careful serif font above the town seal. Sunlit registered this without a second thought; New West Key University was large and efficient, and employed a similar form of identification for students and professors. Sabrina, a rounded, diminutive figure with a long black ponytail and violet eyes that matched her lanyard, shouted again. Just a moment!

Sunlit stopped on the tips of her toes, frustrated by the distraction. The downed light post blocked her way and meant that the pier was cast in shadow; she couldn’t quite make out the mess behind it, where the otter lay.

Any news? Ebb asked the junior officer. The two of them stood beside an old building while Sunlit stared out along the pier, still searching for signs of her patient.

The clean up crew wanted to get over here and start on the debris, but the council wouldn’t let them, Sabrina informed them conscientiously, her painted nails flashing silver against her tan skin. She waved her hands frequently as she spoke. Liability, and all that. Said the whole pier might still come down.

So no one’s been out to the otter? Sunlit turned, outraged.

Hello, called a faint voice from underneath the trapped boat. At twenty paces away, it was weak and watery.

Hello! Sunlit called back, instantly forgetting both officers. How are you? Where are you hurt?

My tail, the voice mourned. And a little bump on the head. And I just can’t tell you how I’m dying for something to eat.

Have you lost any blood? Sunlit asked. She was very tempted to climb over the light post, but her boots were heavy, and her pack still held her back.

Dear me, I don’t know, came the reply. Now that the otter had found someone to talk to—as suggested in the letter, coincidentally enough—it seemed to be perking up. "But it’s awfully cramped in here. I can’t turn around, or I’d tell you for sure. What else would you like to know? Mind you, I don’t remember anything after that anchor conked me in the head. I’m sure I do wish