Crescent Cove Wildlife Rescue
TEMPEST
T
he sun shone blindingly overhead as Tempest Atwater shielded her eyes to scan the gentle waves for anything out of place. On bright, sunny summer days like this, she adored her job as a marine life rescuer in the sleepy little beach town of Crescent Cove. Fluffy white clouds dotted the sky and a refreshing breeze whistled across the surface of the ocean as her deep blue eyes searched the skyline carefully.
Her sun-kissed skin glowed under the rays of sunlight, a warm, dark tan shade that she loved. Gorgeous teal hair hung down her back in a carefully plaited braid, every strand secure and accounted for. The last thing Tempest needed during a difficult rescue was her hair floating in front of her eyes, or getting tangled in something.
The style had become her signature look; she rarely took her hair down, always prepared for the unexpected. As the day grew late, though, the pull of her braid began to ache at the back of her neck. She rolled her shoulders and tried to work some of the tension from her body.
Lately, she’d had trouble sleeping. Restlessness kept her up, her mind spinning in circles, as her body tried desperately to sink into sleep. Tempest worried that the dark circles under her
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eyes would become noticeable, that someone would say something. The last thing she wanted was to have to explain that she couldn’t manage more than a nap lately.
A splash caught her attention and her head whipped to the left. Tempest pointed in the direction of the commotion and called out to her coworker, Elliot, who navigated their Gala Marine Galaxy Pilot with precision. The two of them had been a team for years, naturally complimenting each others’ talents.
“Over there!” she called, pointing.
As they approached, Tempest could make out the panicked form of a gray seal. Its soft, lightly furred body wriggled desperately as it tried to disentangle itself from a large plastic shopping bag. Her fingers itched to reach out to the little creature, to pull it free of the debris that held it captive.
She knew this job was better suited to her partner and took his place at the helm instead. As a sea lion shifter, Elliot had a way of communicating with the other marine animals Tempest simply could not compete with. His presence, something about the scent of him, those deep brown eyes, brought their rescues a calm that few could accomplish.
Tempest watched intently, pride swelling in her chest, as he settled the anxious seal with a gentle touch and a soothing lullaby that definitely wasn’t human. She fidgeted with the necklace that sat above her heart, a dainty seashell and pearl combination she’d had made years ago. Accessories were not allowed on rescue missions or dives, but she refused to go anywhere without this one.
Her black and gray wetsuit flush against her curves for maximum fluidity.
“There you go, little one,” whispered Elliot from the edge of the boat, where he hung precariously, bent at the waist. “That’s better, isn’t it?”
A loud chirp was the only reply as the gray seal darted away, an echoing call sounding in the distance. Tempest smiled. The seal would be reunited with their herd in a few minutes. Another successful rescue by the Alpha Team of Crescent Cove Wildlife Rescue. Elliot and Tempest swapped positions again, and she moved carefully back to the bow. Her keen eyes were better suited to searching the surface for trouble, while Elliot handled most underwater excursions.
The two of them spent countless days out on the water like this, alternating as needed to resolve each new problem that arose. While Crescent Cove had strict rules about recycling, keeping their beaches clean, and caring for their wildlife, many of the neighboring towns did not. Popular summer getaways and beach towns frequently faced problems from inconsiderate tourists with a sense of entitlement and a blatant disregard for the sea creatures who lived there.
The water pollution had led to a major decision by town elders generations ago: to hide the town of witches and magical creatures from human sight. Crescent Cove had been wiped from maps and memory, signs removed, and a protective spell cast over the town limits. No regular human could simply stumble upon their little haven, and no one else knew to look for it.
Only the magical community knew they were here. Other towns like theirs, hidden in plain sight or cloaked with strong magic, were part of a network that only their kind could find. For Tempest, this meant an insular small-town vibe where everybody knew everyone else.
As the first Storm Witch in three generations of only healers and plant witches, she was known for being an odd duck.Temperamental, they said.Emotional.Overdramatic. Tempest had been drawn toward the sea since the moment she could toddle on her little legs, the pull too strong to resist. Her mother had been terrified she would drown if she were allowed to play in the ocean.
The two had clashed for years, until Tempest was old enough to disobey her mother and do as she pleased. She had always known the sea was her happy place, her home—even if no one else believed her. Even when they said it was mere coincidence the sky unleashed buckets of rain every time she cried.
No living relative in the Atwood family remained in Crescent Cove to teach her about her powers, her magic, or how to control it. Her mother simply chastised her every time she failed to keep a plant alive or manage a healing spell.
It had led to a great many fights during her teen years. Tempest, beyond frustrated with her mother’s insistence that she learn the family magic, often acted out. In turn, her mother began to ignore her more and punish her less. The distance between them had grown and grown until it had become a gaping chasm.
As soon as she had graduated, she’d left home. Her high school job at the Wildlife Center had allowed her to save up enough to move out on her own, and Tempest had relished the sudden freedom. Promoted to a full-time position, she had worked hard to build a life that made her happy.
“Tempest?” Elliot’s gentle voice drifted to her, pulling her from her depressing thoughts.
“Y-yes?” she mumbled, avoiding his gaze.
“Be in the moment,” he said softly. “Should we go for a quick swim?”
The smile that lit her face as she turned to him must have been all the confirmation he needed, as the sea lion shifter dove overthe side of the boat and disappeared in a big splash of sea water. Tempest hurried to join him, sitting on the edge of the boat with her back to the water so she could tip herself backward and fall into the cool blue sea.
Except, it was not as cool as she expected for an early morning in April. Usually, there would still be ice melting down from the north, seeping into their coastal waters at this time of year. Tempest had noticed a consistent rise in temperature over the last five years—warmer waters arrived earlier and stayed longer, too.
