Of Fever and Blood

They had not even had any arguments. Quite the opposite, actually. They had planned to spend the weekend together.

Was it some kind of game? Was she really supposed to forget about her just like that?

If only that were possible.

Audrey clutched the phone, her knuckles turning white. She had put up with that kind of thing with so many men. They had left her for other lovers. What did those other women have that she didn’t?

She knew what. They were so much younger than she was.

Do not call her again.

Audrey tossed the phone of the table and gave it a spin. She watched it twirl, a small plastic top, before it slowed and came to a stop.

Did Barbara want to play with her nerves? Was that it?

Fine. Audrey could play. She took a swallow of whisky. Even the clinking ice cubes seemed to be laughing at her. She wanted to scream, to hurl the glass, to do something brutal. Why was Barbara making fun of her this way? And why was she letting herself be humiliated? Why was she groveling before that kid?

To hell with her, yes.

After two more gulps of whisky, she grabbed the phone again. She scrolled down the screen until she reached Barbara’s number.

But then the intercom at the far end of the boardroom table, rang out.

Audrey Desiderio jumped. Then was intrigued. Who the hell would want in the building at this hour?

The intercom chimed a second time.

She got out of the chair and pressed the speak button.

“Yes?”

“Let me in,” a voice whispered.

“Barbara?”

There was breathing.

The same strange breathing she’d heard on the phone the night before.

“Barbara?” she repeated. “Is that you?”

Of course it was Barbara. It could only be Barbara, and she was playing a game with her. Audrey had told her to never come to her office. Under no pretext whatever. She had been very clear about it. Now Barbara was getting back at her.

Audrey turned the situation over in her mind. It was late. Except for her presence, the building was deserted. The cleaning women would not be around before four in the morning.

Barbara and she really had to talk. Might as well do it here and now.

Audrey hesitated, then pressed the button.

“Come in. I’m on the eighth floor.”

Through the intercom, she heard the main door open and slam closed.

She straightened. She was crazy, letting Barbara up here. But at the same time, she could not help looking at the leather armchairs around the boardroom table. What would it feel like to be stark naked in these chairs? What would it be like to try them out, one after the other, knowing that her prissy colleagues would be sitting in them on Monday morning?

And if it made her young again, to behave like some reckless college kid, what was the harm? A few hours of youthful fun were worth it, wasn’t it?

She crossed the room, stopping in front of the chrome-framed mirror.

In it she saw her reflection, a take-charge woman in a Chanel suit and designer heels. Her makeup was still fresh. Her impeccably highlighted hair was perfectly coiffed.

But then she saw something else in the mirror.

She saw a wolf. The beast was watching her with deep red, attentive eyes.

Startled, she glanced over her shoulder to make sure she was all by herself. The boardroom was absolutely deserted. She must have picked up a reflection, lightning from the storm outside, maybe. Her imagination had gotten away from her.

She turned back toward her reflection.

The wolf was still there.

Except it was not a reflection.

The wolf seemed to be on the other side. Inside the mirror. It was staring at her with its crimson eyes.

No fucking way. Okay, the alcohol was screwing with her mind. She may have had a few more drinks than she had realized. What would Barbara think when she got here? Would she smell her breath and leave?

The wolf remained perfectly still. Watching her.

But Audrey Desiderio was not a woman easily impressed.

“Hey, I’m not scared of you.”

She took a step toward the mirror, challenging this hallucination.

The wolf lunged at her.

14

Toulouse

In the dark of night

Vauvert realized he would not sleep.

Not with that storm outside. Thunder was rolling over the city, making the walls of his apartment shudder.

“Shit.”

He was exhausted, yet he knew that if he went to bed now, he would never fall asleep. He had been prone to such bouts of insomnia ever since he was a child. No medication had ever done a thing. And he had tried dozens. He had finally given up on the meds, and he was tired of using earplugs. He had simply come to accept his fate. Two out of three nights, he did not sleep, and that was it.

Tonight, like every other sleepless night, he just stayed on the couch. There was a German cop show on television. It was mindless enough to make him smile and occupy his attention for a few hours.

He brought his cigarette to his lips and took a last drag before dropping the butt into an empty beer can.

There was a short time in his life when he was able to sleep. When he was with Virginie, when he held her and felt her soft body, her curves where he could lose himself and forget about everything else. Yes, back then he had actually rid himself of the stress that devoured him, and sleep welcomed him at last. The simple illusion of not being alone was finally enough to permit him to let go.

That was ten years ago. When Virginie was his wife. When he believed in the illusion.

Insomnia had returned with the divorce.

And it was worse than before.

Vauvert sighed.

The German television show ended. He flipped through the channels and settled on an erotic flick from another age with faded colors and a cheesy soundtrack.

He got to his feet in no hurry, stretching his six-foot-seven-frame, which had once been all muscle. Now he had a small paunch. He headed to the fridge to get the beer and pulled another pack of cigarettes from the desk drawer.

He looked at his desk-or, actually, the chaos of papers and folders heaped on top of it. He was in the habit of copying his papers from work and bringing them home in case he needed to check them.

When was the last time he had sorted through the mess? Months ago? Or was it just last week? His own life was a reflection of this desk. He was overwhelmed by the chaos of his job. There were so many unsolved cases