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 11: Coventry Carol
"That woe is me, poor Child for Thee! And ever mourn and sigh, For thy parting neither say nor sing; Bye, bye, lully, lullay."—Written down by Robert Croo, c.1534
Northman and the Stackhouse girl showed up at Fangtasia the following evening. Neither of them looked particularly refreshed after spending four days with His Majesty in Las Vegas. They were greeted with mixed emotions: relief from Pam, nonchalance from Chase, eagerness from Menéndez. The first thing the Viking did was order the three of them and Sookie into his office. Once they were settled, Northman studied some papers on his desk, leaving everyone else to sit in silence, waiting.
Finally, "Another murder, the victim definitely associated with a vampire."
Julio spoke up. "I have procured information regarding some of the earlier victims. Karen Collins. The owner of Belle's has a silent partner—a vampire who was fond of her dancing. Before Katrina destroyed New Orleans, Ellen Hatcher was a maid who worked for none other than the late Sophie Anne LaClerq." He seemed inordinately pleased with himself. "The latest victim's father is a trusted business partner with Her Majesty of Tennessee."
"So, now we know we know—" Eric began.
"—and knowing is half the battle." Pam's voice was sarcastic, as usual. "In this case, knowing is way less than half of anything. All we really know is the victims have connections to vampires. We don't have any concrete info on who's behind this."
"Except for Brandon's van." Menéndez interjected with a degree of sarcasm. "We should obviously spend our time watching for this mysterious van, no?" The sneer was implied if not expressed on his face.
Chase refused to rise to the bait. "I saw that van minutes after I found the body," he stated flatly, "and it was cruising Fangtasia's parking lot. I'd say that's suspicious enough to bear investigation."
"And your proof is the sound of an engine?" Julio sounded skeptical. "You saw nothing of the men inside, nor do you have a license number. The police need something more substantial than your gut fe—"
"Enough." Northman's expression was cold; easy to see he was in no mood for bickering. "If Brandon says the van is worth investigating, then it is. Since you feel the police won't be interested, I will have my people handle this." The Sheriff was adamant. "If nothing else, perhaps we will scare these killers away from my bar." The Viking fixed Menéndez with his steely eyes. "I understand the body found near Coushatta was identified?"
"Viola Adams." Julio now sounded flat, like the Sheriff had knocked the wind from his sails. "It was confirmed yesterday." The detective frowned. "Because the body was so decomposed, it was nearly impossible for the Medical Examiner to determine cause of death," he told them, "however, the autopsy revealed very little blood remained in her body. There is supposition she might have been the first murder victim, but—" His shoulders lifted. "—we do not know why she was dumped so far from here. All the other victims have been easy to find."
Chase saw the Stackhouse girl's eyes dart to Northman, and he waited for her to say something stupid. A icy glance from the Viking seemed to bring her to her senses, and she occupied herself by braiding her ponytail. Thankfully, that brief exchange was lost to the detective.
"Interesting." Northman nodded. "Could be her death isn't related to the others." The Viking steepled his fingers in front of himself, a gesture Chase recognized as a prelude to conjecture. "What I find most curious is how the perpetrator seems to know so much about vampires and their associates. We are not usually so forthcoming with our business affairs."
Chase pondered Northman's comment, a finger tapping his lower lip. The Viking had an excellent point. Whereas one might assume someone leaving Fangtasia consorted with vampires, it wasn't so easy to find out a strip club's silent partner preferred a specific dancer. And, how would an ordinary person find out a systems analyst working in Shreveport was associated with a vampire from Gulfport? Or, discover the daughter of a man partnered with the Queen of Tennessee was attended Centenary College?
Those associations would be known only by a trusted few: long-time retainers, business associates, investors. Members of the human's family might not even be told, or if they were, would be warned not to speak openly of such. A vampire might share things with a lover or their man of business, but by and large, vampires were far too security conscious to be free with their personal information.
Curious how they seem to know so much about powerful vampires and their human associates.
"Anyone bothered to check if there've been similar deaths elsewhere?" This from Pam.
"An excellent suggestion." To the detective. "Have Compton do a search. Return when you have the information." Northman dismissed Menéndez with a wave of his hand.
Once the detective left, the Viking moved on to other business, asking Chase what plans had been made for security on New Year's Eve. Brandon outlined the procedures he set up, which included hiring a few of Alcide's pack. The unofficial truce between the Vampires and Weres allowed for occasional cooperation, but Chase was fairly certain the wolves would honor the contract he negotiated. The particular men he hired were dependable and level-headed; he had Alcide's word they'd conduct themselves appropriately. Other security measures were already in place: bouncers, hidden cameras, escorts for patrons, roving patrols of both parking lots.
"The police promised to patrol our area as often possible, but that night is usually busy." Chase concluded his report, handing Northman a written copy of everything he just explained. "I don't anticipate problems, but if something occurs, we'll be ready."
"Good." Northman discussed entertainment with Pam, then told his childe to head out front.
When Chase rose to follow her, the Viking waved him back down. Curious, Brandon complied, studying Northman closely. The Stackhouse girl seemed suddenly uncomfortable, glancing from one to the other of them. Chase said nothing; this was Eric's show.
"Sookie will be making rounds with you, especially outside." It was not a request.
Chase looked at the girl sitting on the sofa. She didn't look particularly happy, more resigned. "Very well."
"I also want you to show her the overpass where you said you heard someone speak of dumpsters." Again, there was no argument from Brandon. Northman nodded at Sookie as if asking her to speak.
The Stackhouse girl glanced at Chase, demeanor more subdued than usual. When she spoke, her soft, Southern accent seemed quiet and respectful. "There wasn't much for me to do when Eric was talking to the King, so I started reading those reports Menéndez gave him." She paused, pressing her lips together a moment, then added, "In at least two cases witnesses reported seeing homeless men—behind Sears and at the convenience store."
Chase listened, remembering mention of bums. "You think they have something to do with the murders?"
"I'm not sure, but Eric said you heard someone say 'dumpsters' as your drove through a place where the homeless hang out." She shrugged one shoulder. "I thought I'd at least give a listen and maybe pick up something." Another pause. "Nothing ventured, nothing gained."
All things considered, Brandon had to admit it was worth a try. "Very well," he agreed. "The bridge is several blocks west. Do you want to walk or drive?"
She looked at the Viking, expression uncertain. "Drive." Northman's voice was firm, but softened as he added, "You will be safe with Brandon."
The Stackhouse girl didn't look particularly convinced, but nodded her acceptance of the Viking's will. "Just tell me when you're ready to go."
She was, at least, dressed appropriately: dark blue sweater and pants, black trench coat, black shoes. The only lightness about her was her face and hair, but even they wouldn't be much of a problem. The moon was past full, but still bright enough to cast deep shadows.
"As you wish." Chase stood up again. "I'll make my first outside round when I leave here," he told her, nodding to the door. "After you, Miss Stackhouse."
He lead her through the back to the employee exit, then outside. The weather cooperated; no rain, just a chill breeze. She was quiet as they walked through the rear parking lot, stiffening as Chase paused to check the dumpster as was his habit of late. It was, thankfully, devoid of dead bodies. Indicating they should proceed across the street to the public parking area, Brandon guided the girl with a hand at her elbow. She didn't react adversely, though Chase heard a soft gasp of surprise.
"Don't worry," he told her, "I already ate dinner." The humor eased the tension, and he felt her relax.
The public parking lot was nearly full, only a few empty spaces. Chase and his companion strolled almost casually down the rows of cars, finding only a couple making out inside one vehicle. They passed one of the bouncers returning to the bar after escorting a young lady to her car. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary—until they reached the farthest row. Chase abruptly stopped, eyeing a faded black, Ford Econoline van. No expert on vans, he placed the year sometime in the mid-80s. Without hearing the engine, Chase couldn't be certain it was the same van he'd seen twice. Still, it was worth a closer inspection.
Walking around the van, Brandon opened up his preternatural senses. There was a clicking noise as the engine cooled. It was locked, and he couldn't see much through the front windows because of a solid partition between front and back. He smelled exhaust and the faint scent of burning oil from the front, but he couldn't detect much from the sides or back. The odor of stale sweat and unwashed bodies mingled with other less definable smells. He thought he caught the tangy scent of blood, but wasn't certain enough to risk breaking into the van.
In the meantime, the Stackhouse girl followed Chase, saying nothing. He saw her pull out a small pad and a pen from her coat pocket, figuring she was writing down the license number. Only there wasn't a real plate, just a temporary cardboard placards. She nonetheless jotted down the number, noting the temp tag was issued in Florida. Neither she nor Chase could find a dealer sticker nor anything else to indicate where in Florida.
As if by mutual agreement, he and the Sookie headed back to the bar.
Inside Fangtasia Chase went to each of the bouncers, while Sookie headed straight for Northman's office. He assumed she was informing the Viking about what they found in the parking lot. Brandon told Greg to pass the word amongst the other security: keep an eye out for anything strange, especially if it involved two men. He also told Greg to work the outside front, and have another bouncer keep an eye on the van. Brandon was to be informed immediately if they saw anyone go to the vehicle—especially if it was two men and a woman.
Pam was lounging on the dais, sprawled in a smaller, plainer version of Northman's throne. Her usual fan bois sat or stood near, waiting to fulfill her every desire. One of them was kneeling on hands and knees, his back serving as a table for her drink. Chase's eyebrows lifted as he approached, a smirk on his lips. Pam lifted her goblet of True Blood in a toast to him, her face a mask of aloofness as she played the part of a bored vampire. Chase stepped onto the dais, perching on the arm of her chair. Leaning close to her ear, he pretended to kiss her bared shoulder. Instead, he whispered what he'd and the Stackhouse girl found in the parking lot.
Pam's eyes immediately scanned the bar, but it was impossible to know which men were from the van. The dance floor was full of gyrating people, the colored lights and strobe effects distorted features. Booths and tables were dimly lit, and those seated at the bar had their backs turned toward Pam and Chase. Unlikely the killers (if the men in the van were the killers) would announce themselves by attacking anyone in the bar.
"Like the proverbial needle." Pam scowled, kicking one of her loyal sycophants, making him stop polishing her boot. "All of you—go. You bore me." They reluctantly left, even her human table. "There are times I wish—"
"—wish what, my cynical childe?" Northman interrupted Pam with a sardonic twist of his lips. The Viking sat on his throne, eyes scanning the full bar like a king surveying his kingdom. Sookie stood beside him, his hand stroking her arm possessively. Chase watched, eyes narrowed slightly as Eric made a blatant display of his "affection" for the human girl. Unusual behavior for Northman, who was generally more discreet in public. Now he made it obvious to anyone who glanced his way that the girl was his property.
Pam, too, noticed the change in her sire's behavior, watching him touch, pet and generally show the world he was possessive of the girl. Her brows lifted in mild surprise.
"When do you plan to have 'Property of Eric' tattooed on her ass?" Pam asked with a smirk. "I definitely want to see that." She deliberately licked her lips in a suggestive manner.
Pam's remark had the desired affect. Chase watched Sookie's cheeks turn bright red as Northman laughed. The Viking upped the ante by pulling her across his lap and kissing her passionately. His hands stayed almost proper when they stroked her.
"Well, that's subtle." Pam again. She smirked, turning her attention back to the crowd.
As usual, several fangbangers were gathered near the dais. Some were tourists, others bar regulars. A few looked shocked at the open display of fangs on the Viking. Chase eyed them all, keeping a careful watch on their expressions, body language, attitude—anything which might give him a clue to their thoughts. Other than the tourists, most of them acted and dressed similarly, conforming to non-conformity. Any one of them could be the killer, or the killer's accomplice.
It wasn't long before Chase heard Sookie give a soft gasp. He instantly focused on the girl. She had her face buried against Northman's chest, one of her hands clenched into a tight fist. Every line of her body screamed tension. Chase saw her stiffen in Eric's embrace, and her lips press into a thin line. Her mouth moved against the Viking's ear, but Brandon couldn't catch exactly what was said.
Northman abruptly stood, still cradling Sookie against him. In a blur of motion, he was off the dais, heading toward his office. Pam exchanged a startled glance at Chase. In seconds she was following the Sheriff.
Brandon was slower to react, but not for of a lack of wit. He scanned the crowd, a mix of men and women, some young, some older. He wasn't sure for what he searched, but knew something had upset the Stackhouse girl. It was hard to see each individual present, especially with everyone in motion. People danced, moved from booth to booth, visited the gift shop and left the bar.
He cut through the crowd like a sword through flesh, studying faces as he passed. He met eyes directly, stone cold expression disturbing most. Curious tourists abruptly found the gift shop a lot more interesting. Fangbangers stepped out of his path, instinctively knowing this was not time to approach him. The wait staff took one look and avoided him. Vampire wannabes suddenly didn't want to be vampires that badly.
Chase saw no bums or homeless men amongst the patrons. No one acted suspicious or strange—unless he considered their reaction to his icy stare. He smelled their sweat, their lusts, their fear and their perfumes, but no blood. He was a wolf amidst sheep, a hunter on the prowl with no quarry in sight.
With a last glance, Chase turned toward the Sheriff's office. There was no way to find his prey, though he felt certain he was close. Somewhere amongst that sea of humanity was someone different from everyone else. Someone with a taste for blood, who wasn't a vampire. Someone whose thoughts had terrified Northman's telepathic lover. Someone Brandon very much wanted to find before another innocent woman died.
Being associated with vampires certainly had its share of danger, but it should never be a death sentence.
AUTHOR NOTES: Thanks for the reviews. Another update soon.