S. Cedric - Of Fever and Blood

She had been living in Paris for three months now, and walking down this street had become part of her normal routine. She had hoped that the anxiety would leave her. But it hadn’t.

She tightened the collar of her jacket, while her two friends chattered about the day at school.

“Okay, are you guys ready then?” asked Miriam, a short brunette whose breasts strained against her tight cream-colored sweater. “I can take care of the screenplay if you want.”

She was talking about the project that their teacher, Lucas Bringer, had given them. They had three months to make a short film. It would be their main assignment for the first semester.

“Scare me,” Bringer had told the class. “That’s what I want you to do. You’ll work in groups of three.” The announcement had triggered a wave of excitement in the lecture hall. They all loved horror movies, and they couldn’t wait to get started. They immediately started conferring with one another, looking for partners and tossing out ideas.

Eloise was the only one who did not show any special enthusiasm.

She agreed to team with Miriam and Charlotte simply because they were the only two people she had talked to since the beginning of the school year. She did not know much about them, and they knew nothing about her. It was all her fault. So far, she had not opened up to anyone. She did not feel ready for it yet.

“We could do a vampire story,” Miriam suggested as she lit a cigarette. “What do you think? A boy who wants to kill a girl while she’s sleeping, but then he falls in love with her? Something real hot, like True Blood ?”

“Actually, what you really want to do is find a cute boy to play the vampire so you can get laid, don’t you?” Charlotte snickered.

“So what, you never know, right? Jeremy, for instance, he’d be a hot vampire. You know, the guy with the dreads in art history class. I heard he plays in a metal band.”

“Oh, so he’s into satanism,” Charlotte chuckled.

“And you’re such a jealous bitch. I am the one he’s secretly been eyeing in class.”

“In your dreams.”

“It’s true!” Miriam insisted. “Every time I take a look at him, he’s looking at me!”

Charlotte laughed even harder.

“Jeremy is fucking hot, all right. I’ll give you that. But I’m sure you’ll find yourself other occasions to get laid. I say we make a movie with a serial killer, what do you think?”

“What? Like a slasher flick? It’s been done to death.”

“But it always works. And you should know, Miss Vampire Banger, that the serial killer is nothing but a modern vampire without all the cheesy romance.”

Miriam burst into laughter.

“And I think you’re spending too much time in Professor Dormesson’s class. A bit less intellectualism and a bit more sensuality wouldn’t hurt you, you know. I like romance, as long as there’s sex in it, of course.”

Charlotte sighed.

They both stopped talking and glanced at Eloise, who still had not said a word.

“So what about you? What do you want to do?” Charlotte asked.

“You’re cute. You can play the lead if you want to,” Miriam said. Then, suddenly inspired, she added, “I know! You can play the victim!”

Eloise stared at both girls.

“No, I can’t do that.”

“Of course you can,” Miriam said. “Look, it’s only homework.”

Charlotte stepped toward her and caressed her neck. “Be my victim,” she whispered in a suggestive voice.

“No!” Eloise cried, backing away.

“Okay, fine,” Charlotte said. “Sorry. I was only kidding.”

“I know,” Eloise said, breathing heavily. “I know, but…”

Unable to finish her sentence, she turned on her heels and hurried away from the girls, joining the flow of pedestrians.

“Jeez!” Miriam spat out. “Why do I have the feeling that we’re going to end up doing this assignment without her?”

“What did I do to her?” Charlotte wanted to know.

“Nothing at all, don’t worry. That chick, she’s just weird.”

Around them, swarms of people walked by in all directions, an anthill of anonymous bodies hurrying before the rain started again.

An anxiety attack. It was only that. Her limbs going numb, her heart feeling as though it would tear apart her chest. Only that, yes. As always. Like every fucking day of her life.

The shrink had explained that these panic attacks were inevitable, that she would have to learn to live with them. Healing from her trauma would take years, assuming that the wound in her soul would ever mend at all. But it had been more than a year now. She had not learned to live with the panic attacks, and the therapy had not helped. The tranquilizers alone provided a vague hint of calm. The rest of the time, she felt invisible and hungry eyes staring at her every moment of every day and night.

She stopped walking. She was shaking.

She took a slow, deep breath.

This was not entirely true. Since she had arrived in Paris, her nightmares had eased. Her insomnia was not as bad as before. She had even cut back on her meds a little.

Until the horrible murders last weekend.

Now she was obsessed with the news. Reporters talked about two women being murdered and savagely mutilated. Rumors swirled on the web about the victims being tortured for several days. But the police refused to disclose any details.

There could not be any connection to her own story. That is what she kept telling herself. Impossible. Paranoia.

Eloise really wanted to tell Miriam and Charlotte everything. But she was paralyzed with terror.

Tonight she would simply take another sedative, and she would be okay. She was overreacting. She was far away from that place where everything had happened. And yet, every unanticipated movement around her made her catch her breath.

She peered at the heavy black sky.

You’re delirious, girl. No one is after you. No one at all.

Her phone rang.

She looked at the number. She didn’t know who it was.

She decided not to bother answering it and headed home.

Eva waited for the beep and, trying to sound as natural as she could, she said, “Hi, Eloise. This is Eva Svarta, from Homicide. I would like to talk to you. Could you please call me as soon as you get this message?”

She set her phone on her stomach. It was all she could do right now.

“At least she has the same cell phone number as before.”

Vauvert leaned against the wall, a puddle of acid in the pit of his stomach. They had explained the situation to Erwan Leroy, who was now on the phone in the hallway, trying to get the Lombards’ address.

Eva was fuming at herself.

“When I think that she actually told me, and I didn’t get it! She’s killing these girls as a sacrifice to the ancient gods, and she’s convinced that each of the victims was handpicked by those deities in order to quench their thirst. In her twisted logic, when I prevented her from killing Eloise, I stopped her ceremony. Without that girl’s death, her ritual can’t be completed.”

“I knew there had to be a reason for Saint-Clair moving up here,” Vauvert slammed the wall with his fist. “The crazy bitch was following her victim, planning to continue her ritual. Eloise Lombard. That’s who she wanted all along. It was all there, right under our eyes! How could I not have thought of it earlier?”

Eva pulled the sheet away and slid her legs over the side of the bed.

“Hey!” Vauvert said.

Eva flashed him a grin.

“I’m fine, don’t worry.”

Leroy walked into the room. His eyes opened wide.

“What the hell are you doing?” he asked.

“What does it look like? I’m sitting up,” Eva grumbled. “So? Did you get Dispatch?”