Coda

“I knew I’d find you here. How’s it going, Elio?”

“Hey boss.”

The ice in Reiko’s cocktail clinked. It reflected the colors of the oak wood countertop. Her fingers circumnavigated the precipice of a thin, tall glass. She gazed at the condensation and wiped it on a paper napkin.

“You look like you’ve been stabbed in several dozen places,” Kazuo said.

“I was stabbed in several dozen places.”

“Like I said, I have spare clothes in the back,” said the bartender. “When you have a moment, go put them on. You’re going to scare away my other customers.”

“They think it’s hot,” Reiko downed the drink. “Another.”

“This is your last one,” Elio warned.

“Arataki called, by the way,” Kazuo said. “He congratulates us on a job well done.”

“That’s not what he told me when he ambushed us.”

“It’s just politics,” Kazuo shrugged. “The commission wants to say they had a hand in solving a famous cold case. Who cares who gets the credit? What matters is we got the bastard.”

“We didn’t get him,” Reiko shook his head, “and that thing he summoned is still out there. You don’t seriously think the mages at the commission can catch it?”

“Just leave it alone–”

“Something’s not right,” Reiko snapped. “I saw her, Kazuo. I heard her. When I tried to burn that thing alive, she was there. And now they’re telling us that a bunch of amateurs are going to handle it? Seriously? If that’s her–”

“I think you should stop for tonight,” the old man said.

“Don’t patronize me,” Reiko snarled. “I saw what I saw.”

Elio returned to the counter with a fresh highball. Kazuo waved him away.

“Look, I need you and the rest of the team ready for tomorrow,” Kazuo said, “provided we still have a team tomorrow.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Don’t pretend not to know,” Kazuo frowned. “I reviewed the video footage before coming out here, Reiko. You shouldn’t have tested them like that. Fujimoto’s going to quit.”

Reiko threw back her head and laughed.

“No he won’t.”

“He won’t?”

“Hotshots like him don’t quit,” she muttered. “Their pride doesn’t let them. He’ll be the first in the office tomorrow. Just you wait.”

The section chief sighed. He placed a hand in his coat pocket and fetched out a leather wallet.

“He won’t be first in the office tomorrow,” he said, laying a plastic card on the table. “You will. Elio, I’ve got her tab. Don’t give her anything else.”

“You got it boss,” Elio looked at Reiko and shrugged. “Sorry, Rei. You know the rules.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Reiko pushed her empty glass away. “Just water's fine.”

Postwar American jazz syncopated on the vinyl player that Elio had set up at the end of the counter. The bar was filled with warm orange light. The bartender liked it that way. It was better than the green, murky colors of the incantation named after him.

Reiko surveyed the rest of the lounge. There were no more than a half dozen people sitting at their own booths, surrounded by old vinyl and yellow stained paperbacks. It was an old place. Elio’s father had opened it decades ago.

There were several regulars. There was a woman, for instance, in a doctor’s lab coat, with square glasses, a plastic pen, and too many papers bursting from a stack of manilla folders.

Reiko couldn’t be more disinterested. She slid out of her seat.

“I’m going in the back,” she said. “Where are the clothes?”

“In the closet,” Elio called after her. “Your water’s on the counter.”

Reiko returned a few minutes later, dressed in a fresh new blazer and charcoal slacks. Elio kept many spares for her, just for days like this.

She scanned the bar again. This time, she spied a cute little thing. Nervous, uncertain, their fingers tapping on their phone waiting for a call that would never come.

She downed her glass of water. It was cold. On nights like this, Reiko wished it was even colder, colder than the depths of the ocean or a ravaged lunar sea, where no fire, not even the one that burned eternally in her heart, could survive.

“Hey,” Reiko smiled as she approached. “My name’s Ayane Shirosawa. It’s nice to meet you.”

Thus I Burn Eternally - END