Heretical Fishing

Book 3: Chapter 23: Hooked

As with every other cultivator, Roger and Sharon were fast learners when it came to knots. Their fingers deftly tied the thin lengths of line together, easily replicating my movements.

“How does this look?” Sharon asked, holding up her paternoster rig.

“Perfect, Mom!” Maria gave her a wide grin. “You’re a natural.”

“Yours is expertly done too, Roger,” I added, earning a mild grunt in response. “Usually, I’d say we should catch some bait, but we’re already got way too much.”

We’d been catching plenty of eels, storing them in buckets of brine to preserve the meat. Wanting to give Roger and Sharon the best experience possible, I went for a bucket marked with a yellow ribbon; it contained the pungent monkeyface variety. Though the brine did a wonderful job of keeping the eels intact, it did nothing to remove the smell.

As soon as I removed it from the salty solution, Sharon covered her nose. “Gods above—is that really okay to use for bait?”

“The smellier it is, the better it is as bait.” Not wanting to subject her to the scent for too long, I swiftly cut it into small chunks and threw the excess pieces back into the bucket. “I can put the bait on the hook if you’d like?”

Sharon shook her head. “No. We want the full experience, even if it’s the worst thing I’ve ever smelled.”

“Even worse than that time Dad accidentally cooked a rotten hunk of meat for eight hours?”

Color rose to Roger’s cheeks, and he scowled at the two women he loved most.

I raised an eyebrow at Maria, but decided to ask her about it later when Roger wasn’t around to hear.

“Okay, gang. Follow along.” I grabbed a piece of eel and slid it onto the hook.

They easily did so, Roger still flushing, Sharon trying to hide a smile.

With all of our rods ready to go, I faced the east.

The tip of the sun was just starting to breach the horizon, shining a reddish light over us. Fergus and Duncan had both won the battle versus their respective fish. Either of the creatures would have made a good meal, yet they let them go, the men sharing a high-five before washing their hands in the waves. A cold breeze blew from behind me, ruffling my clothes and tickling my skin. Though a shiver ran down my back, it was a pleasant sensation, the modicum of wrath coming from the sun enough to take the sting from it.

I turned to take in Maria and her parents, finding them also enjoying the view. Even Roger had a small smile, though it quickly morphed into a frown upon noticing my attention. I led them up the rockwall, waving at the smiths as I passed.

“Did you guys already have brekkie?” I asked. “Those were the perfect size for a meal!”

Duncan grinned up at me. “We’re waiting for a larger version to come along!”

“The mature ones taste better anyway,” Fergus added, giving us a nod that froze when he caught sight of Roger and Sharon. “You’re finally trying fishing!” He bellowed a laugh. “Enjoy!”

“We will!” Sharon called over her shoulder.

We strode to the end of the rockwall, stopping only when there was no more path to traverse. I held my rod forward, flicking the reel open. “Put it in this position to cast. Hold your finger on the line so it doesn’t unspool, then let go as you cast the rod forward. Like so...”

I sent my sinker out. It arced over the ocean, landing with a soft plop not far away.

Maria repeated the same action, letting them observe it twice. I watched their faces intently, noticing how focused they were on our actions.

“Ready, dear?” Sharon asked.

“Mhmm,” Roger replied, stepping forward, his eyes roaming the small waves between us and the horizon.

They flicked their reels forward, held their fingers to the lines, and cast out. They mimicked our movements perfectly, their bait flying at the perfect angle and splashing down into the bay. They reeled in the slack line just as we had, then rested a fingertip to their lines, waiting for the telltale bump of a fish nibbling their bait.

Though I always found the wait for a bite thrilling, I couldn’t help but steal glances at Sharon and Roger—especially the latter. I was entirely too invested in him and his potential enjoyment of fishing. The longer I watched him, the more sure I became.

Roger was enjoying himself.

He did a wonderful job of appearing stoic, but even without my enhanced senses, I’d have noticed the way he held himself—the set of his shoulders, the severity in his gaze, and how his fingers twitched slightly as they waited for a bite. With my awareness of chi, though, his very core screamed his excitement for anyone with the requisite advancement to hear. It pulsed from his abdomen, tasting of anticipation, curiosity, and urgency.

He didn’t have to wait long; his line dipped, a fish having a nibble.

“Wait,” I hissed, feeling his intent to reef the line and set the hook.

He jolted to a standstill, shooting me an accusatory glare.

If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

“Not yet, mate,” I continued. “Wait for it...”

He returned his attention to his line, the wooden handle creaking within his empowered grasp. The impatience radiating from him increased, but even so, he waited, not flinching until another bite came. Seconds felt like an eternity, everyone holding their breath as we watched the rod’s tip. The creature bit the bait again, this time swallowing it whole.

Roger reacted immediately, reefing the rod upward and setting the hook. He wound and lifted the rod, his eyebrow furrowing. He tugged again and again, but it didn’t budge.

“Shit,” I said. “It might have swum into coral or spat the hook somehow. Maybe it took it on that first bite…?”

Roger’s lips formed a line as he shot a venomous glance my way. “You told me to wait...”

“It was the right call,” Maria tried, her voice soothing. “It seems like you’re stuck on a rock to me, but there are plenty more fish in the sea.”

I chewed my lip, considering. We’d caught only blue fish since they’d come on, the predatory creatures likely chasing everything else from the bay. Whatever had bitten Roger’s line, though, didn’t seem to be one of the seasonal fish we’d been targeting. The blue fish were aggressive, always smashing the bait on the first go. If they missed the first bite, they’d return a moment later, slamming into it and swimming off.

A single tug didn’t match their behavior—neither did retreating to cover behind a rock or snag.

“I’ll go get Snips or Claws,” I said, giving Roger a wincing smile as I stepped forward to help. “They can swim down for us and dislodge—”

Roger’s rod suddenly bent almost in half, something on the end of his line darting out to sea at incredible speed. His reel whined, the bearing spinning freely.

“Fish on still!” I yelled, pointing at him.

His eyes went wide as he moved in a blur, easily grabbing the wooden handle.

Feeling its tether go taut, the fish changed direction, swimming south east in a straight line. Roger’s mouth parted, revealing the flash of teeth as he grinned despite himself. He kept the tension a little too tight, and I felt the need to correct him, but him being, well, him, brought me up short, my need to help warring with my desire for him to enjoy himself.

Thankfully, Maria wasn’t held back by such worries. “You’re holding it too tight, Dad! Reel backwards!”

“What?” he yelled. “What do you mean real backwards? You told me to keep it taut earlier!”

“Your line is too tight! It’s going to snap off!”

He did his best to follow our contradicting instructions, but having not spent any time watching us fish, his mistakes piled up.

He didn’t move, instead choosing to hold his ground on one of the rockwall’s boulders. His rod was held at the wrong angle, the tip not high enough to let the wooden pole flex and handle the fish’s mighty head shakes. And though he reeled backwards and let some of the line out, it was nowhere near enough. If the creature he’d hooked had been a blue fish, he would have likely been fine.

But this was no blue fish.

I had no clue what it was, but the thing tore through the water like a missile, occasionally changing direction before launching off once more. Roger’s mistakes compounded, working together to place too much stress on the line, and when he reefed the rod at the wrong time, he lost the battle. His line went slack, Maria having to dash over and stop him from falling to ass-first onto the rocks.

His core radiated disappointment, the sensation honed by his blade-like chi, so sharp that the edges made my hackles rise. But as he wound in his line, more emotions leaped forth. First and foremost was curiosity, his mind unable to comprehend what kind of creature he’d hooked. Joy, elation, and even a sprinkle of gratitude bubbled up, slowly but surely overwhelming his negativity.

As I felt the switch in attitude, my core sang. I’d hoped he would enjoy fishing, but this was better than any hypothetical scenario I’d entertained. Unfortunately for me, Roger had an increased sense of the world around him after his last breakthrough; he felt my happiness. Still winding his reel’s handle, he leveled a glare at me, his eyes narrowed and lips pressing together.

I whistled, rocking on my heels and looking out at the churning ocean and rising sun.

“What was that?” Sharon asked, her voice tinged with disbelief.

“Big bloody fish,” I replied, still averting my eyes. “I think it was a new species based on how it fought. Never seen anything like it.”

Roger finished winding in his line. It had snapped below his leader, the sinker remaining but the hook nowhere to be seen. He watched it for a long moment, contemplative.

“Would you have been able to catch that, Maria?”

“Well, I mean maybe, but only because of my fishing level. Even then—”

“Maria,” he interrupted. “Don’t honey your words, young lady.”

I blew air from my lips at the way he addressed her like a misbehaving child, but resumed whistling and looking literally anywhere else when they both shot me a look.

“Lovely day, isn’t it, Sharon?”

She just laughed at me, shaking her head.

Maria sighed. “Yeah. I probably would have caught it, Dad. You made a lot of mistakes. They were why the line snapped.”

“Okay.” He nodded to himself, chewing his cheek. “I can accept that. I didn’t think that it required any level of skill, if I’m being honest.”

Focused as I may have been on the conversation, I couldn’t miss my line going tight.

“Whoa! Fish on!”

The blue fish on the end of my line took off, wasting no time in trying to escape.

“Me too!” Maria yelled, setting her hook.

“Oh!” Sharon said, her rod also bent in half.

I shot Roger a quick grin. “Watch what Maria and I do—you too, Sharon!”

My fish swam to the north, and I reeled it in with exaggerated movement, letting line out whenever it took a large run. When it darted to the left and headed toward the shore, I ran along the rocks, keeping my line just tight enough with each step.

“Keep your rod like this!” Maria yelled, also running along the boulders to my right, dipping under Sharon’s line. “If it’s at a forty-five degree angle, the wood can flex when the fish shakes its head!”

On command, the creature on the end of her line thrashed around, making the tip bounce and absorb the vast majority of the force.

Not wanting to make my fish fight for too long, I ended my exaggerated movements, bringing it in toward the rocks. It was a juvenile blue fish, but one of the biggest ones I’d ever seen, likely only days or weeks from becoming the mature version. Though I was happy with its size, I didn’t need any more food. I removed it from the hook and dipped it back underwater, watching as it disappeared with a mighty kick of its silvery tail.

Maria pulled hers up on the rocks too. It was much smaller than mine, so after freeing it, she lobbed it back into the water.

“Bye, fishy!” she called, giving it a wave.

Sharon was still fighting hers, mimicking what we’d done to land ours.

I turned to check on Roger, but he was nowhere to be seen. Raising an eyebrow, I scanned the rockwall, finding him hunched over a tackle box. He was tying another hook in place with rapid movements, darting looks back towards Sharon to check on her progress.

I took a deep breath, sighing it out as I glanced at the water.

“Mission successful,” Maria snickered, also sneaking looks back toward her father.

I shot her a wink, nodding. “We’ve hooked him.”

“I can hear you!” he yelled, making us both cackle with laughter.

This chapter upload first at NovelBin.Com