Submerged by Seanan McGuire

Author:Seanan McGuire [Joshua Palmatier, SC Butler]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Jabberwocky Literary Agency, Inc.
Published: 2017-07-04T16:00:00+00:00

TAMATORI

Susan Jett

Shizuko was nearly out of breath when she saw Keiko struggling. She swam closer. Keiko’s tenugui kerchief had come unknotted and her loose hair had tangled around the rough coral branches, trapping her. Shizuko darted forward to help, but Keiko was panicking. Almost out of breath, Shizuko pushed hard for the surface, thinking to fetch the abalone knife they’d left floating on their buoy. Keiko clutched at her feet, but Shizuko kicked away. I’ll be back, Keiko.

Gulping air, Shizuko grabbed the knife and dove deep. She could pass the air in her lungs to Keiko while she worked. She descended as quickly as she could, ready to steel herself against Keiko’s flailing arms. But her sister’s arms were limp. Desperately, Shizuko tried to give Keiko a breath, but she was past needing it. Keiko’s eyes opened, red with broken blood vessels and rage. She reached out, dragging Shizuko down one last time—

In her bath five thousand miles away, Shizuko bolted upright, sloshing water across the wooden floor. She was halfway out of her tub before she remembered. Keiko’s death had been a lifetime ago, in a different world, back when Shizuko was a fisherman’s daughter, not a courtesan. Just a nightmare—everyone in San Francisco was plagued by bad dreams lately. This one had been particularly horrific, but it was still just a dream.

Taking a deep breath, Shizuko reclined again in the cooling water. It had been a long night already, and she just wanted to sleep. Preferably alone. But Old Chen had paid extra to be allowed to “surprise” her in her bath. Shizuko didn’t mind too much. If only all my clients were so easy to please…

The door snicked open, and she closed her eyes and put on her habitual half-smile. As long as she hid her thoughts behind a smile, they still belonged to her.

“Tamatori,” Chen whispered hoarsely. “See what I bring you? You want this?”

Shizuko smelled ocean brine on the old man’s hands; not unusual for spot prawn season. Opening her eyes, she found herself staring down the narrow neck of a ceramic tako-trap. Without another word Chen dropped the jar into her bath. Shrieking in surprise, Shi-zuko scrambled out. A tiny octopus, rosy as a peach and no bigger than her hand, billowed out of the jar.

She stared at Old Chen in disbelief, but he just shook a tattered print in her face. So that’s why he called me Tamatori. The erotic image by Hokusai was well-known in San Francisco’s pleasure houses, though Shizuko had never heard of a client who’d tried to reenact it. Her lip drew up in a grimace, but the octopus Chen had brought was so tiny it was hard not to be amused. Ridiculous and disgusting. Rather like my life.

Grabbing her robe, she stalked away from Chen and his pet. “Hercule,” she called. “I need you up here now!” The huge strongman thudded upstairs. “Get him out of here, Hercule-chan. Please.”

“What’s going on, Chen? Augh—!” Hercule’s fluent Cantonese quickly outstripped Shi-zuko’s understanding and she stepped out of his way.

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