monsters, as weird as that sounds. They killed all the other monsters―the Hákarl―that were eating people. Tamazusa controlled the Reavers in some way, because they had obeyed her, from what little I remember.
When I felt stronger, after I had been here about a week, I started lessons on how to be a girl, or more precisely, a tayuu ―a prostitute―since I was supposed to be one when I went someplace with Samojirou. I learned how to walk in the high geta ―sandals―they wore and manage the heavy, colorful kimonos and the large obi that was part of their outfit. I also learned how to flirt, tease, and sound sexy to a man. In short, to be everything I was not but what Sakura would be.
I should have been angry about these lessons. But I couldn’t be.
Samojirou wanted this, and I bowed to his will. I never forgot that the man owned me, no matter how kind he was to me. I knew he could hurt me, and no one would say anything about it. He still scared me sometimes, but all he seemed to want was for me to be a good companion to him. I still didn’t know if I liked men or women for that, but Samojirou seemed to be letting me make up my mind about it.
FELICITAS IVEY
42
My tutor for being a tayuu was a tiny woman called Yoshinoko, who looked older than my grandmother. The maids were in awe of her, and she commanded the respect from even the roughest of Tamazusa’s samurai. When she came to fetch me for my first lesson, I was in the practice yard. I was sweaty and out of breath, just having finished the morning’s practice. I wondered if I could shrink into the ground as she studied me. Yoshinoko was dressed in a simple but elegant kimono.
The only reason you could tell she wasn’t a married woman was the way her obi was tied in front. She wasn’t even wearing any makeup.
“You?” Yoshinoko asked. She sounded scandalized.
I blushed, and the rest of the men laughed. Yoshinoko slapped Okita on the arm with her fan. He stopped laughing, and so did the others.
I bowed to her. “It’s the will of Samojirou-sama.”
“You seem to have some manners, boy,” she said, frowning a little. “Escort me back to my chambers.” I bowed and followed her out. I felt I was more of a trailing puppy than an escort. I felt like that a lot here. She studied me some more, including watching me wash and change into clean clothing. She continued to frown, and I wondered what I had done wrong when the silence stretched out uncomfortably.
“You will do,” Yoshinoko finally said. She smiled. “In fact, I am going to enjoy this.”
MASON
I GOT stuck listening to the ice bitch Romejinoff whine about the tragedy of that fat pig Heiseg’s death. Anya Romejinoff had been his live-in piece of tail. She was tall and blonde with fine features and pale skin, a woman who walked and acted like she was a supermodel, even 43
DREAMLANDS
though she had dual doctorates in something weird. She could have been a model, if the American public realized that women were supposed to have these things called hips and breasts. Romejinoff wasn’t what you’d call fat. I’d call her―if it didn’t sound so faggy―lush.
My problem with her was that she had been living with Wolf and fucking Heiseg before Wolf caught them at his place, in their bed. It nearly killed him. And now the bitch was crying on Wolf’s shoulder, and he was letting her.
I was still worried about Keno but glad we couldn’t find a sign of him. He hadn’t been among any of the remains that had ended up in anonymous bags. We ID’d those bags by DNA. All the coffins had been closed-casket and sealed, filled with some sort of weight so that it seemed like there was a whole body in there.
Murphy was being an asshole and blaming Keno for whatever happened, because Keno had to be the mad genius who had summoned those things, since he was gone. Never mind that Heiseg had been the expert at weird shit. Never mind that the kid was so scared he wouldn’t say “shit” if he had
When I felt stronger, after I had been here about a week, I started lessons on how to be a girl, or more precisely, a tayuu ―a prostitute―since I was supposed to be one when I went someplace with Samojirou. I learned how to walk in the high geta ―sandals―they wore and manage the heavy, colorful kimonos and the large obi that was part of their outfit. I also learned how to flirt, tease, and sound sexy to a man. In short, to be everything I was not but what Sakura would be.
I should have been angry about these lessons. But I couldn’t be.
Samojirou wanted this, and I bowed to his will. I never forgot that the man owned me, no matter how kind he was to me. I knew he could hurt me, and no one would say anything about it. He still scared me sometimes, but all he seemed to want was for me to be a good companion to him. I still didn’t know if I liked men or women for that, but Samojirou seemed to be letting me make up my mind about it.
FELICITAS IVEY
42
My tutor for being a tayuu was a tiny woman called Yoshinoko, who looked older than my grandmother. The maids were in awe of her, and she commanded the respect from even the roughest of Tamazusa’s samurai. When she came to fetch me for my first lesson, I was in the practice yard. I was sweaty and out of breath, just having finished the morning’s practice. I wondered if I could shrink into the ground as she studied me. Yoshinoko was dressed in a simple but elegant kimono.
The only reason you could tell she wasn’t a married woman was the way her obi was tied in front. She wasn’t even wearing any makeup.
“You?” Yoshinoko asked. She sounded scandalized.
I blushed, and the rest of the men laughed. Yoshinoko slapped Okita on the arm with her fan. He stopped laughing, and so did the others.
I bowed to her. “It’s the will of Samojirou-sama.”
“You seem to have some manners, boy,” she said, frowning a little. “Escort me back to my chambers.” I bowed and followed her out. I felt I was more of a trailing puppy than an escort. I felt like that a lot here. She studied me some more, including watching me wash and change into clean clothing. She continued to frown, and I wondered what I had done wrong when the silence stretched out uncomfortably.
“You will do,” Yoshinoko finally said. She smiled. “In fact, I am going to enjoy this.”
MASON
I GOT stuck listening to the ice bitch Romejinoff whine about the tragedy of that fat pig Heiseg’s death. Anya Romejinoff had been his live-in piece of tail. She was tall and blonde with fine features and pale skin, a woman who walked and acted like she was a supermodel, even 43
DREAMLANDS
though she had dual doctorates in something weird. She could have been a model, if the American public realized that women were supposed to have these things called hips and breasts. Romejinoff wasn’t what you’d call fat. I’d call her―if it didn’t sound so faggy―lush.
My problem with her was that she had been living with Wolf and fucking Heiseg before Wolf caught them at his place, in their bed. It nearly killed him. And now the bitch was crying on Wolf’s shoulder, and he was letting her.
I was still worried about Keno but glad we couldn’t find a sign of him. He hadn’t been among any of the remains that had ended up in anonymous bags. We ID’d those bags by DNA. All the coffins had been closed-casket and sealed, filled with some sort of weight so that it seemed like there was a whole body in there.
Murphy was being an asshole and blaming Keno for whatever happened, because Keno had to be the mad genius who had summoned those things, since he was gone. Never mind that Heiseg had been the expert at weird shit. Never mind that the kid was so scared he wouldn’t say “shit” if he had
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