Episode 107

[Author’s note: this episode takes place almost a week after the events of episode 106.]

(New York, September 19, 2019)

Alana realized her mistake the moment she entered the bar. There was some sort of game blaring from seven large TVs — cleverly arranged so that no corner was without a view — and the place was packed. She cursed through her teeth. How the hell was she going to spot him in this? She hadn’t seen the man in many years. Goddamned sports.

Alana felt an urge to drive to the game, walk onto the field and start beating the crap out of the players. Or maybe the fans. They were really the ones to blame. That would be fun, and a lot less tedious than watching some guy scratch his crotch on the big screen while two ex-athletes in ill-fitting suits squabbled over his crotch-scratching technique.

Unfortunately, the consequences of such fun would be decidedly inconvenient. She envied Rin’s unrecognizability. That woman could act with impunity and always had a magic reset button. If what she said was true — and Alana had no reason to doubt her on this particular point — all it took was a month or two in hiding. Nobody would know she was Rin, even if her face was as familiar to them as their own. That would be handy, especially to hide from Rin herself. There would be a certain irony in using a protection to escape the woman who had bestowed that protection because she now was destroying anyone who had protections. God, this was fucked up.

Alana sighed. It was absurd to blame sports or fans or those stupid, loud ex-athletes. It was her own damned fault. For something this important, she should have planned more carefully. There were other places to meet besides pubs, bars, and taverns. She just didn’t like them.

There wasn’t a single place to sit in the whole damned bar. Well, that would be easy enough to remedy. If she started killing people, the rest would scatter. She was unsure how many it would take before the room was completely clear and wondered whether he was having similar trouble locating her. No, he was probably watching with a smirk to see what she would do.

It was never this crowded. Was it his doing? She wouldn’t put such a stunt past the man, but it seemed pointless and extravagant — even for him. No, this was plain old bad luck. She’d have to do things the messy way. Maybe he was equally peeved and thinking along similar lines. It would be comical if they started killing people at the same time. Perhaps they’d work their way toward one another, like a scene from some blood-spattered romance movie. Minus any romance. The last thing she wanted from the bastard was romance. She had seen how that turned out.

Alana hesitated. She liked this bar. No matter how well she tipped, they probably wouldn’t welcome her back after a murderous rampage. There also was the small matter of the police. What the hell was she even thinking? Alana snapped herself out of it. This was the sort of crap that had landed her here, searching for a man she didn’t quite detest but certainly did not like. If she had been a bit less conspicuous … no, if her idiot brother had been a bit less conspicuous.

She sighed again. This too was nobody’s fault but her own. When had she grown this stupid? She stopped herself from sighing a third time, and not just to avoid bad luck. It would have made her look like a lovelorn girl, and she definitely did not want to appear that way right now — especially to him. The man undoubtedly was watching. She wondered whether she should keep it up because he was watching. He’d be easy enough to spot when he burst into laughter. A frown occupied her face.

This was too important for pride or distraction or whatever the hell else this was. Unfortunately, she knew exactly what ‘this’ was, and it pissed her off. She was a lovelorn girl, even after all these years. Just not for him. At least she and her love now had one thing in common: they had fallen for someone bent on destroying them.

Alana pulled herself together. This was not the time for such nonsense. She would have unlimited opportunity to dwell on these things later — literally every other moment of her existence. However, there wouldn’t be very of those unless she took this meeting seriously. She couldn’t allow herself to be dissuaded by prosaic considerations such as morality and convenience. The loss of one bar wouldn’t affect her world nearly as much as the loss of herself.

She didn’t have a gun, but there probably was one behind the counter. It would be best to start with the bartender anyway. That would draw the most attention, yet also buy some time. He was a nice guy, but he’d probably dodge into the back and call the cops at the first sign of trouble. Besides, he was an easy mark. Alana was a regular, and he’d just assume she was being flirtatious if she slipped around back.

She was already moving toward the end of the counter when she caught something out of the corner of her eye. Was that him? He looked awfully familiar. The man in question was sitting at the far end of the bar, sandwiched between two much larger specimens. Neither looked like they ever left their seat, and she wondered how he had managed to end up between them. Maybe they kept a seat free in case a woman showed up, though Alana couldn’t imagine any woman voluntarily planting herself there. They probably just assumed that nobody would sit there at all. To their credit, she sensed no irritation or hostility toward the interloper.

The man in the middle did not seem uncomfortable, but he did look completely out of place. He was dressed in a thin sweater and jeans, wore rimless spectacles, and sported a short, neat haircut. Alana couldn’t tell from where she stood, but she guessed he also had a few days’ worth of facial fuzz, carefully groomed, and expensive loafers.

Was that actually him, or just some random yuppie? Ordinarily, Alana enjoyed adapting to the fashion of the times — or overadapting, as Finn gleefully liked to note. In recent years, she had variously been a hippie, hipster, goth, emo, and boardroom-to-bedroom. At present, she was a neo-hippie. This wasn’t a matter of survival or subterfuge, just a proclivity of hers. Why not fully participate in the worlds she inhabited? Each would pass soon enough, making way for another — perhaps new, perhaps old, and certainly different.

Although Alana generally favored subcultures that involved a certain low-risk counter-cultural element, she did not do so from any ideological leaning. They just tended to attract more interesting people. She had a soft spot for rich brats, and often wondered whether Finn was cause or effect.

One group she had little patience for was yuppies. She simply found them tedious. It would be incredibly disappointing if he had evolved into one. Or devolved. One did not start as a monarch and ‘evolve’ into anything. Except for her.

As Alana made her way through the crowd toward the man at the bar, she felt a tinge of remorse. Finn knew she was consulting someone, but not whom. He certainly would disapprove, if he bothered giving it any thought at all. Then again, if he’d bothered giving it any thought, Alana’s intended liaison should have been clear. She had all but said the man’s name. Besides, it wasn’t as if her brother had a better idea.

No matter how she tried to reframe things, it still felt like she was in the wrong. There were many reasons to deceive Rin — a self-styled enemy, a one-time lover, another woman, and a former student. All of these deserved lies, even required them. But her own brother? The only reason to lie to him would be for his protection. And hers. Even that felt like a weak excuse.

Alana wasn’t particularly worried how Rin would react if she found out about the meeting. There was a small chance she could view it as a betrayal, but most likely she would dismiss the matter as foreseeable due diligence. She would not be pleased, but nothing would come of it. Rin needed the two of them and wouldn’t jeopardize that out of mere pique. She’d find an excuse to overlook it. Moreover, the potential benefits of this meeting outweighed any attendant dangers. Temporary reprieve or no, the woman still intended to destroy them. Alana was willing to risk the little extra time Rin had promised for an eternity of it.

The man at the bar hadn’t touched his drink and pretended to be occupied with the game. Alana felt a bit bad for him, but was immediately struck by the absurdity of this. She felt bad for a mass murderer and the scourge of numerous countries because he was stuck between smelly armpits?

Not that she was any better. It was hard to live so long without accruing a substantial body count. She was probably just as bad by now, but the thought neither pleased nor displeased her. She certainly didn’t feel bad for herself. Alana gingerly tapped on the man’s shoulder.

“Karkov?” she asked, wondering whether he would recognize her. How long had it been? Alana thought for a moment but couldn’t quite recollect. They had met so infrequently in recent years. But why? She could not recollect this either. She didn’t quite detest but certainly did not like … That thought felt familiar. Alana wondered whether she spent too much time alone with her thoughts — or with her brother, which was much the same since he didn’t have any. Maybe she should give her thoughts names. Maybe she was going crazy.

Karkov’s own reticence was a recent thing. He hadn’t exactly avoided her in recent years, but he certainly hadn’t made much effort to remain in touch. Had she been avoiding him before that? Perhaps he was simply responding to her own reserve. This felt like something Alana should remember. She did recall hazy details of previous meetings. Recognizing one another had always been a challenge, though she hadn’t been forced to pick him out of a crowded bar like this. In some sense, all the immortals were blessed with unrecognizability; it just took a bit longer than for Rin.