Disclaimer: The Southern Vampire Mysteries are copyrighted to Ms. Charlaine Harris. All rights to characters and locations in the Sookie Stackhouse books belong to Ms. Harris. Copyrights to original characters belong to me. This work of fiction is not intended infringe upon rights held by others than myself, and I make no profit from this work.

CAETERA DESUNT (The Rest is Wanting)

Chapter 3: It Came Upon a Midnight Clear

"O ye beneath life's crushing load, whose forms are bending low; who toil along the climbing way, with painful steps and slow..."—Edmund H. Sears/words, Richard S. Willis/music

"Of course it wasn't a vampire." Pam sounded patiently pissed as she spoke into her cell phone. "And, no, we didn't call the police."

Chase figured Eric must be acting singularly obtuse for his childe to speak thus, but he was more concerned with getting Catriona's story. The waitress calmly sipped whiskey as she recounted how she came to find the body. Brandon listened, making mental notes since he was certain the Viking would want to handle this without involving police.

A typical college student, Catriona's car was a home-away-from-home. She explained with some embarrassment how it accumulated a plethora of empty fast-food and drink containers, crumpled receipts, and empty plastic bags during the week. It was her usual habit to clean the car on Saturday afternoon before work, but she went to a Christmas party instead. Since she had two weeks off for the Holidays, she decided to clean it after work so she could get on the road early.

"I figured no one minded me tossing some trash," she told Chase. "So, I pulled over by the dumpster and started putting trash in an empty Wal*Mart bag. When I lifted the lid, I saw this woman lying there. I thought some one threw away a mannequin." She stopped, pressing her lips together, eyes frightened, but the glamour held. "Only ... it wasn't." Catriona stared at her hands.

"Did you see anyone in the parking lot? Anyone strange?"

"No, sir—just Greg and Sara, but they left by the time I moved my car." She emptied sipped from her glass, then set it down on the table. "There was blood—" A hand fluttered around her throat. "Was it a vam—"

"No." Brandon interrupted, wanting to immediately derail that line of thought. "Not a vampire."

Catriona first looked relieved. Then she frowned. "M-maybe someone wants everyone to think it was one of you?"

Catriona's question caught Chase off guard, but his expression never wavered. "It's possibile, but why don't you let us worry about that? You should rest," Brandon suggested, meeting the girl's eyes. "I'm sure Northman will have questions when he gets here."

The waitress nodded, switching position until her back was against the wall, her legs stretched along the bench-seat. She had already closed her eyes by the time Chase stood up. He went to Pam's booth, sliding smoothly into the seat across from her. She was still on the phone with Northman, so Chase remained silent, expression thoughtful.

The idea of someone wanting to frame a vampire for murder made sense. It also filled him with resentful anger—and a touch of fear. He'd seen witch hunts spring over lesser matters, and watched innocent people meet their end at the hands of panicked peasants. Mob rule was ugly—just ask the French aristocracy or those poor women in Salem. Even in this so-called enlightened age, rebels, fanatics and religious zealots were dangerous adversaries. The Reveal may have allowed vampires to live in the open, but it also made them vulnerable to attack by any number of the lunatic fringe.

Like the Fellowship of the Sun.

The Fellowship claimed vampires were blasphemous parasites without souls. Abominations before the Lord. They were determined to save humanity from vampires, and they weren't particular how they accomplished their goal. Irrational hatred for his kind made Brandon fairly certain their means included cold-blooded murder—especially if the human sympathized with vampires. Chase knew the Fellowship was after the Stackhouse girl; he heard about violent encounters with the FOTS. They'd taken her prisoner in Dallas, staked her Jackson, and she'd only recently survived their attempt to crucify her in Bon Temps.

No doubt about it, true believers like the Fellowship shared a dangerous fanatical determination amongst them. Chase was wary of the Viking's close association with the Stackhouse girl. With the FOTS after her, the Area Five vampires would all probably be safer if she relocated to Nevada. Let Felipe de Castro face the peril of having such a high profile pet. Better the king than the Sheriff. If she stayed in Louisiana, Brandon was sure she'd eventually get Northman killed.

And he'll never see it coming until it's too late.

At the moment, however, Chase had other things to consider than the Sheriff's unsuitable love interest. Like a dead woman in a dumpster. According to Catriona, once she found the body she went straight to pounding on the back door. She was sure the parking lot was devoid of life, human or otherwise. She had been outside earlier for a cigarette break with Janine Hunt, but couldn't recall seeing anything or anyone suspicious—other than two bums asking how to find St. Vincent Mission. They left immediately after Janine gave them directions.

Brandon made a thorough search but found no sign of the woman's clothes, purse, or the murder weapon. Which led Chase to the body. He climbed inside the dumpster, trying to ignore the sickening stench while examining the dead woman. Using a penlight, he found three sets of "fang" marks: throat, left breast, and over the femoral artery . Her pallor and blue-tinted lips suggested exsanguination—but that still didn't mean she was attacked by a vampire.

A punctured femoral artery is a death sentence, period. Humans bleed to death in five minutes from a pierced femoral artery, less if the wound is near the groin where it's impossible to place a tourniquet. Vampires know this: that's why they're careful not to bite too deep or drink too fast. However, they're not the only ones who know this. Anyone with rudimentary medical knowledge knows it, and the information is easily found in books, by surfing the Internet or watching The Learning Channel.

"Fine. We'll be here." Pam sounded resigned as she snapped her cell-phone shut. The noise pulled Brandon from his reverie and he looked at her. She dropped the phone into her pocket, frowning in frustration. "He'll be here shortly." Pause. "With Sookie."

Chase nodded. It actually made sense to bring the Stackhouse girl; Eric would undoubtedly question Catriona, and the human telepath might come in handy. If the murderer was meant to cast suspicion on vampires, it behooved Sookie Stackhouse to help find the perpetrators. Things would get real ugly real fast if the FOTS really was behind the crime.

Not that Chase thought Catriona was a member of the Fellowship. She started working at Fangtasia right after it opened. She was polite, respectful and got along with nearly all the Shreveport vampires. Of course, Chase had made mistakes about humans before, but the sloe-eyed Hispanic waitress just didn't seem the type to condone murder.

First off, she was a devout Catholic. Second, she had no problem voicing her opinion of people who joined "cults" (her word, not his) like the FOTS, and it wasn't favorable. Third, she'd been terrified and nearly incoherent after finding the body; no human was that good an actor. Lastly, under his glamour, the truth would've come out the moment Chase asked if she was involved. She couldn't lie to him, and her answer was an unequivocal no. Chase believed her, but the Stackhouse woman could literally read Catriona's mind.

Chase watched Pam, who in turn, watched Catriona. After a few minutes, she looked at Brandon, apparently satisfied the waitress was asleep. "Did you find anything?"

"No." Chase met Pam's gaze evenly. "Couldn't smell anything for the garbage. There was no indication of sexual assault, and I didn't notice anything under her nails—but I'm not an expert on forensics."

Pam nodded. "Eric's concerned."

"He should be. This is serious." A pause, then, "Could it be personal? A warning?"

"I don't know. He doesn't tell me everyth—."

Northman and his telepathic pet walked in at that moment. Chase turned to watch them approach. Eric must've flown, since his Corvette was still out back. Carrying the Stackhouse girl on his back wouldn't trouble a vampire that old. She looked half-frozen, shaken and her hair was a wind-blown tangle. Brandon and Pam immediately stood; Chase woke Catriona, who followed suit.

"Tell me." Eric's icy stare riveted on Catriona. The girl visibly shrank at the hard tone. In a fairly steady voice, the waitress related the same story to Eric she had to Pam and Chase, not a single detail missing. The Viking's Nordic blue eyes never left at his employee, demeanor cold and dangerous. "Do you know what I'll do to you if you're lying?" Northman's fangs suddenly dropped into full view.

Catriona looked paler, if possible, shrinking away from Eric and crossing herself.

"Eric—"

Chase's eyes narrowed to slits at the Stackhouse girl's censorious tone. She really needed to remember her place.

"Sookie, this is my business. She is my employee." Eric's voice was the epitome of strained patience.

"Then why drag me along?" Chase saw anger flash in her eyes. "I would've preferred to stay hom—"

"Enough." Northman turned his hard eyes on her, and she quieted. After a few seconds, his attention went back to the waitress.

"I k-know, yes." Catriona spoke softly, fearfully. "I'm telling the truth, sir. I'll take a lie de—"

"No need." The Viking looked to Sookie.

A few minutes passed, then, "She's telling the truth." A pause. "Now, take me home, Eric."

Brandon studied the Stackhouse girl, wondering if she knew how she undermined Northman's authority when she flaunted her self-righteous independence in front of his fellow vampires. Other than de Castro, her lover was the ultimate authority in Area Five, and no mere human should order him about as she did. Most vampires would severely punish a servant for such temerity. She was too lucky for her own good.

"You may go," Eric told Catriona, "and say nothing of this to anyone, understood? Do not let this ruin your holiday." The Viking gave Chase a meaningful glance. "Escort her to her vehicle."

Chase nodded, walking her to her car. It took only a moment to implant a memory in the Catriona's mind, one which didn't include a dead body. When he returned, Eric and Pam had sat down in the booth. They wore serious expressions, but the Stackhouse girl seemed more angry than worried. Pam seemed cool as a cucumber, but Eric was clearly annoyed when he turned to Chase.

Brandon slid in beside Pam. "She took pleasant memories home with her. I also checked the area. Nothing and no one."

The Sheriff nodded. "You and Pam will dump the body where it won't come back to haunt me."

It seemed a logical solution to Brandon, but the Stackhouse wench looked horrified. "Eric!—you can't do that. You have to call the po—"

"No, I don't." Those words held a finality to them. "This is not your decision."

Chase saw the woman's head come up, chin set in defiance, but Pam derailed further argument. "So, was this aimed at you?" Her eyes sought Northman's. "A personal vendetta? The Weres stirring up trouble? Maybe the Fellowship?"

The Viking was silent. "None of them." Chase spoke with the assurance of someone who'd thought things through. "The police weren't given an anonymous tip."

"How polite of the murderers not to send police out on a wild vampire chase."

Pam's sense of humor appealed to Chase. His lips quirked into a smirk as he watched Eric's lip curl. The Stackhouse girl snorted, pretending a sneeze, but her eyes sparkled with amusement. The cold had put color on her cheeks and she seemed to literally pulse with life. Brandon risked incurring Northman's ire by letting his eyes roam over her, seeing other reasons for Eric's infatuation than her telepathy.

"Funny." The Sheriff's voice was frosty. "See anything out of the ordinary on your little errand of mercy earlier?"

Chase met Northman's eyes squarely. "Nothing, unless you consider abandoned houses and homeless vagrants unusual." He paused, adding, "I saw her friends in the parking lot on my last round. Overheard them say someone called her a cab. They were concerned because she wasn't answering her cell phone."

"Me." Pam smiled lasciviously. "Would've liked to take her home with me. She looked delicious."

"You actually see her get in the cab?"

"No. I was helping Tricia in the gift shop." Pam shrugged. "Didn't know it was my turn to babysit the drunks."

The Stackhouse woman spoke up, supporting Pam."It's like that at Merlotte's, too. You can't watch everyone every minute. They're supposed to be adults."

"Right. Next time I looked outside, she wasn't there."

"Her name's Viola, but there was no ID on the body. No purse, no clothes."

"That's it, then." The Sheriff made ready to leave, simply tying up loose ends. "Pam, you and Brandon dump the body in a suitable spot. She'll be reported missing, and I want her found far enough away from here her death won't be connected with the bar. Police will know she was here before she disappeared, but no one besides us—and Catriona, whom Brandon took care of—can know anything about the body being found on my property."

"There goes another pair of shoes," Pam grumbled. "You still owe me for the last ones, Eric."

Eric shook his head, a corner of his mouth lifting. "Who knew I raised such a fashionista." The Sheriff clucked his tongue, grinning almost wickedly at Pam, then looking at the human beside him. "We'll stay at my place tonight." It wasn't a request.

"I'd prefer to go home."

"We stay where I know we're safe, my lover."

Chase watched the girl reluctantly capitulate. The human looked as good from the neck down as the neck up, but Brandon was smart enough to not show any interest. The Sheriff was exceedingly possessive of his pet telepath. Chase and Pam both stood, bowing to Eric. They turned, heading to the rear exit. By the time Chase brought the bar van around, Eric and his lady were gone.

"You keep watch, I'll stow the body."

Another hour in the cold hadn't improved the stench, though rigor mortis made transfer of the body easier. By the time Pam returned, Viola was wrapped in a black tarpaulin. Chase was careful to check for anything incriminating in the dumpster, but found only a couple of blood-speckled newspapers. These were left, and he closed the rear doors of the van. Pam was behind the wheel, and when Brandon climbed into the passenger seat, she wrinkled her nose but said nothing. Ten minutes later, they were headed south on I-49. The rainfall stopped about fifteen miles outside Shreveport and the night sky cleared. The moon hovered dangerously near the horizon.

Pam chose an exit twenty miles from nowhere. The two-laned road lead into the dark, deserted countryside about an hour south of the city. She found what Chase felt was a good site and they went to work. Poor Viola was rolled down an embankment, landing amongst a collection of refrigerators with no doors, dead furniture and old clothes. A brown-water stream nearby washed over broken tricycles, plastic toys, rocks and half-submerged tree roots. She looked rather pathetic lying there amidst the flotsam of civilization. Half covered by a dislodged pile of leaves, her skin was translucent pearl in the pale moonlight. No telling how long she'd lie there before someone discovered her body.

Back in the van, Chase took the wheel while Pam ruefully tried to clean thick, Louisiana mud off her high-heeled leather boots. Her efforts didn't look promising.

"You know, if this keeps up, I'm going to make him buy me an entire God-damned shoe store."

AUTHOR NOTES:

Thanks to everyone who reviewed Chapter 1 & 2. Feel free to let me know if you find glaring errors, are confused by anything, or have suggestions on how to improve the story.

Also, I want to draw attention to my incredible Beta, Nox-Alatus. Without her, I'd have never had the courage to post this story. I am her humble servant!