FISH STORY

Mina Sanders finds herself hunting for an entirely different type of quarry than her usual fare
when her brother arrives on her doorstep, bruised and bloody.
I. Still, Gently Flowing
They’d fought so hard for each other that she’d ignored the warning signs. The marks on
Thomas’s neck, right above the collar. A certain tightening around his eyes. The way he’d
sometimes start to say something and then break off, scrubbing a palm hard across his lips.
She’d ignored it because this, perhaps, was their love; something rough, sometimes stony,
but a thing hard-won. Who was she to deny that?
Now, staring at Thomas’ shaking figure, wrapped up in Mina’s softest duvet and
clutching a mug of Earl Gray to his chest, Mina wished with all of heart that she had.
“What did she do?”
Thomas said nothing, had said nothing since arriving barefoot at their childhood home a
few hours prior. Mina felt something sharp curl around her lungs as she watched her brother
burrow further into the nest of blanket around him, retreating. She stared at him for a long
moment, taking in the deep hollows under his eyes as she sipped from her own mug. It was
bone china, a hefty, solid piece won by their father in a grudge match against the Hellions of
Fen. For a moment she wished dearly that he was in the room with them. He had always
known which path to follow. Now there was no one but Mina. She gathered her thoughts.
“I’m going to kill her,” she said softly, placing the bone-cup just so on the coffee table
between them.
She waited. Thomas shook harder, then—hardly anything but a twitch—he nodded,
fingers tightening convulsively. Mina rose smoothly, pausing by the door to shoulder on her
heavy coat and scarf.
From deep within the blanket pile, she heard a whispered, “feliciter” and almost smiled at
it, a remnant from their childhood.
Good luck, good hunting, be careful.
“Not this time, little brother,” she whispered, as something feral rose inside her, singing
through her blood. “I don’t need it for this.”
Outside the wind was fierce, whipping strands of Mina’s hair free from the low bun she
had gathered at the base of her neck. She pulled up her hood and headed away from the
house proper, following a stone path out towards the tool shed. Like so much else, Mina had
inherited the property from her parents, split evenly with Thomas and Maru. Mina got the
house, Thomas, the restaurant, and Maru—well. Maru was in Prague now, fighting a band of
djinn. Mina and Thomas managed the restaurant between themselves, and Mina cared for the
house. Once, her mother done the same. She had spent many long hours under the hot sun, on
her hands and knees in the dirt. As with many things, that responsibility now lay with Mina.
The door to the tool shed swung open easily to her touch. She visited the shed frequently
for supplies; had, in fact, use it just that morning to grab a long pole spear with which to
bring in black bass from a nearby pond for the restaurant’s catch of the day. Now, not
bothering to flick on the overheads, she bypassed the fiberglass spears entirely and walked
with steady steps to the back of the shed. She slowed, almost unconsciously as she
approached her target: a rack set into the back wall of the shed, holding her father’s bone
spear.
It was as unlike the commercial spears as a lap-dog to a wolf. The shaft was a smooth
white, covered in delicate, scrawling runes that extended down to where the head began: four
feet of wickedly sharp bone that extended jagged teeth from its right side, culminating in a
sharp point at the end of the weapon. It shone palely in the gloom of the shed, beckoning.
A charm of seeking was tied above where the head met the shaft, a narrow red ribbon
that fluttered slightly as if caught in a nonexistent breeze. Mina touched it gently, closing her
eyes. Oksana, she thought, feeling the slide of the ribbon between her fingers. Eyes still
closed, she reached blindly towards one of the spear’s teeth and pressed down, slicing the
skin on the pad of her thumb. There was a brilliant flash from behind her closed and eyelids;
when Mina opened her eyes the spear was glowing, the traced runes lit up in a dull blue. She
pulled it free from the rack and felt the charm close in around her immediately, sinking hooks
into her lungs that sang out north, north, north. The lake it was, then.
Mina left the shed, but not before stopping to stock up. She grabbed a small pouch of
healing stones and a bundle of bait, hesitating for a moment before grabbing three charm
slips as well. Her father had collected the things religiously, squirreling away little trinkets
and charms for future use. He had rarely used them himself, and had been carrying nothing
on him at all the day he walked into the Caves of Amin and never returned. She debated
grabbing more for a long moment but ultimately discarded the idea in favor of prudence; like
any good hunter, she knew well the power of three.
Outside once more, Mina walked briskly into the woods to the north, letting the charm
guide her steps. She was unsurprised when the path led her unerringly to the lake; she hadn’t
expected Oksana to abandon her watery home, not even knowing that Mina would surely
come for her there. Oksana had always had a measure of arrogance.
It wouldn’t last.
II. Current, Moving Swiftly
The jon boat was still moored to the small dock jutting out over the lake’s waters where
she had left it that morning, bobbing in the water. The lake was big enough to generate its
own waves though it was usually calm, lulled by Oksana. Today the water was rough, dark
with silt and the promise of violence. Mina swung herself into the jon boat and took off, the
outboard motor guttering to life under her hands.
The water was choppy, rocking the little boat in its path. Mina pulled up her scarf against
the spray, the bone spear laying quiescent in her lap. She cupped her hands to her mouth.
“Oksana, you bitch. I’ve come for a reckoning.”
 There was no response; then again, she hadn’t been expecting one. The lake began to take
on another color, though, growing storm-green beneath her feet. If Oksana hadn’t realized
Mina was there before, she surely did now.
Ahead the waves began to grow stronger until they were smashing into the jon boat,
tossing it to and fro in the rough water. From overhead a drizzle began that quickly turned
into a downpour that limited visibility on all sides. Mina was quickly soaked through, fingers
slipping as she struggled to keep the course set by the charm. The boat was skipping over the
waves, taking air and landing with bone-jarring thuds that had her clenching her teeth to
avoid biting her tongue.
A bad hit spun the boat sideways and the next wave hit it broadside. The boat tipped
alarmingly, threatening to capsize. Briefly abandoning the motor, Mina threw herself hard to
the left. The boat rocked, then settled, just in time to take another hit across the bow that
instantly filled the hull with water. Mina shook damp hair out of her eyes and made a
decision, grabbing the first of her three charm slips from her pocket.
When she pulled the slip out, her fingers were shaking badly enough from the cold that
she fumbled it, watching it pinwheel away through the downpour. Mina made a frantic grab
for the charm, nearly overbalancing the boat from where it sat low in the water, and caught it
between two water-damp fingers. She swore under her breath, hearing the ghost of her
father’s voice faintly chastising: keep your head, Mina.
Turning, she sliced her thumb on the bone spear and smudged the charm with trembling
hands, whispering a prayer before sticking it to the stern. The boat righted itself instantly,
water draining away from the bottom as if sucked away by a straw.
She had two charms remaining with which to fight Oksana.
III. Clouds, Beckon Forth
“Oksana,” she called, voice echoing over the water.
The little boat was now, briefly, in a center of calm; though still buffeted by the waves it
no longer rocked in its path, and the water refused to enter the hull of the boat as if repulsed.
Mina had no idea how far she’d come; the far shore was still obscured by a heavy curtain of
rain.
She cupped her hands around her mouth once more.
“Oksana, I’ve come for a reckoning.”
Again, there was no response. It had grown steadily darker; now, she reached out to the
floor of the jon boat and pulled up a hatch, revealing a lantern that shone like a beacon when
she switched it on. Mina affixed it to the bow of the ship, shooting out light twenty feet in
every direction. The waves began to slow, turning into rolling things that swelled and died
beneath her feet.
 Ahead, Mina caught a flicker under the light of the lantern. She narrowed her eyes,
slowing the motor to reduce the sound and praying that she hadn’t been noticed. From her
left side came another flicker, then another, then another, until the boat was surrounded by
small movements that were nearly indistinguishable from the patter of the raindrops hitting
the water. She grabbed the bait out from under her seat where she had left it and, setting it on
her lap on top of the bone spear, pulled out a large handful of whitefish and flung it as far
away from the boat as she could manage. The little splashes chased off after it. Oksana’s lake
had long since been hunted almost bare by its denizens, neglected by its mistress in favor of
her human lover. Mina counted on that now, reaching into the bag again for another handful
of whitefish to toss into the dark.
Just then—whether by design or sheer accident, Mina would never know—the boat
seemed to hit something in the water ahead of it, with a heavy thump, jerking it harshly to the
side. Mina grabbed for the tiller with both hands, twisting her torso to accommodate, and
when she turned back around the bag of bait had slid off of her lap into the muddy water. She
made a dismayed sound and lifted the torch to search for it; no luck. There was nothing to do
but continue on. Mina gunned the motor, no longer caring about the disturbance it might
cause. Her eyes roved over the dark waves, searching, hoping—
There came another thump. The boat shuddered, then continued on. Flickers, from all
around the boat’s path: first hanging back, then gaining, until they were squarely in front of
the little boat.
“Honored ones. There is no need—”
Another thump. The boat rocked. Mina tried again.
“My brother, I know you hold him in regard—”
There was a sigh of laughter on the wind. Mina turned her head in time to see hands,
grasping up from the waves on the starboard side; they were close, much too close—
Mina huffed out a breath from between closed lips, nostrils flaring, and grabbed the
second charm slip, wasting no time in pricking her finger again on the bone spear. There was
something cold and wet; she looked down to see a green hand firmly grasping her right wrist.
Another hand attempted to grab the bone spear, pulling back with a shriek when a flare of
light pulsed off of the weapon.
With a smooth, implacable motion, the hand on Mina’s wrist began to pull her towards
the edge. She tipped alarmingly before flailing with her left hand, smearing blood on the
charm slip, and reaching out to smack it over the lantern. Instantly the lantern flared up; Mina
squeezed her eyes shut and threw up her hands to cover her face. Even so, it was long
seconds before she dared open them again, a bright afterimage pulsing a band across her
vision. The hand on her wrist was gone.
Now, she had one charm slip remaining.
She powered on to the center of the lake, lantern casting deep shadows onto the water.
IV. Waters, Running Deep
For the third time, Mina cupped her hands to her mouth.
“Oksana, I’ve come for a reckoning.”
Again, there was no response. Instead, there came a stillness. The waves began to slow,
then stop, until the lake was smooth and quiet. Only the swells of Mina’s boat cut into it now.
Overhead the rain stopped, clouds shifting to reveal the bright moon. Mina grasped the bone
spear firmly, felt it hum through her. Oksana was here.
She killed the motor and let the boat drift.
There came a deep rumble from the water below. Mina stood, readying the bone spear.
From just off of the stern of the boat, there was a sharp splash, then Oksana came flying up
from below. The moonlight glinted off of her scales as she bared her teeth at Mina before
resubmerging, no doubt diving deep to throw Mina off of her trail.
Mina, however, was experienced: holding the bone spear with both hands, she watched
the waters. Her hands didn’t tremble.
“Oksana, you bitch,” she whispered. “I’m waiting.”
From behind her, there was the faintest of sounds; Mina turned in time to see Oksana
launching herself forward, teeth aimed at Mina’s throat. She raised the bone spear. Oksana’s
wild eyes widened.
Mina thrust it the bone spear down Oksana’s throat, adrenaline turning her movements
sharp and sticky. Freeing a hand, she pulled out the last of the charm slips, thrusting out a
finger and cutting it on one of Oksana’s sharp teeth.
Oksana hissed in frustration, pulling herself backwards on the teeth of the bone spear.
There was a high-pitched chime, a shimmer, and suddenly Mina was looking at a woman,
impaled on the end of her spear. She looked at Mina with pleading eyes. Mina looked back
scornfully.
“Do you think my brother would find you beautiful like this?”
Oksana’s eyes widened again, and she pulled her head back even farther, shaking her
head sharply—
Mina swiped her thumb over the charm paper and stuck it securely to the middle of
Oksana’s forehead.
There was a crackling sound; the charm began to glow over Oksana, who made a sound
that was nothing human at all. When Mina pulled the bone spear back, there was nothing left
at all of Oksana.
“You will never touch him again,” Mina whispered, setting the bone spear down by her
side.
 Swaying with tiredness she gunned the motor and started back for the shore, a shadow
against the water under the light of the moon.