The Story of Mercy LeBeau

If Mercy had been a man, she would've killed her worthless brothers.

Poverty was the Panek family heirloom. That and trouble and youngin's. Daddy worked hard to keep food on the table by taking from others. Folks didn't take kindly to it. Every two years, they could count on a new baby and a warrant for Daddy's arrest, which meant a midnight flight and a new start for the same old story.

The youngin's worked, too: mostly preachin', fortune-tellin' and spiritualizin'. People thought it was cute coming from a child's mouth, and when the gig was up, no one could arrest them.

When Mercy was ten, her Momma died from pneumonia, and she inherited the youngin's. Every day before school, she had to cook breakfast, wake the youngin's, get 'em washed, fed, and on the bus. After school, she had to do the laundry and mending and cook supper. She didn't know what Daddy contributed, but it certainly wasn't money. She had to beg, borrow and steal to get the food, milk, and medicine.

Best thing Daddy ever did was buy life insurance. Second best thing was getting hit by a train. Some irate husband caught him with his wife and chased him outside. Daddy ran out the window butt-naked and thought he could get across the tracks before the train. He couldn't.

The Panek brood was in danger of being thrown on whatever charitable relatives would take them. No one would take all five children, and Mercy, being eighteen, wouldn't be taken in at all. She'd have to make her own way and visit the youngin's when she could afford it, which would likely never be. So the insurance was a blessing and relief. It was a chance to keep the family together; to pay off their festering shack of a house and put the oldest two boys in college. After college, she'd decided they'd join the military as officers. Officers! From her family! By the time Josiah was grown, she'd have saved up enough money to send him, too. How? Well, Prudence was ten now, which was plenty old to tend the house while Mercy worked in the factory.

The only catch? They couldn't get that money for two years. Daddy had left it to his oldest son, Josh, who was only sixteen when Daddy died. By law, he couldn't collect until he was eighteen.

Mercy borrowed the money to pay off the house and went to work in the factory. Pru took care of things at home (well, not really, but she took some chores), and the boys bucked against school like it was injustice personified. But it didn't matter. Didn't matter how sloppy Pru hung clothes; or how bad Joe's marks were. Didn't matter how tattered her clothes were or how much Josh and Caleb skipped school. This wasn't her life; this was just a sentence until that money came.

The day Josh turned eighteen, he and Caleb went into town to collect. Day turned to evening, evening turned to night, and still no sign of the boys.

Had they been robbed? Had they missed their train?

The next afternoon, they finally stumbled home. Drunk.

"Where the sam-hill y'all been?" She scolded. "I been worried sick!"

"We come t' get our things," said Josh. "We joined de army!"

"The army?"

"Private first class!"

She felt her face flush. "Y'all were supposed t' wait and become officers!"

"When did we agree t' dat? Since de day we was born, you been in charge of everything. Ain't never bought us shoes or fed us proper. You dress us like paupers!"

"We are paupers!" she raged.

Josh puffed up his bony chest. "We're men. We get t' dress like men and eat like men and you know what? Feels damn good. We ain't never comin' back to you and your shack!"

She looked to Caleb, who'd gone along to keep Josh in line. Apparently, Josh had corrupted his younger brother instead. Caleb looked sheepishly away.

"Give me de money," she said.

"Non! Ain't your money! Never was your money! Daddy left it t' me!"

She ran at him, caught his collar, and slapped his head until her hand hurt. He beat her like a man beats a hungry wolf. In the end, Caleb and Joe had to pull them apart. She threw pots and pans at them as they ran down the road.

"Don't you ever darken this doorstep again, you thievin' cowards!"

Pru curled in a corner and cried.

"Save your tears, mon chou, our troubles just begun."

Her sister was too young to understand, but Mercy hadn't taken a loan from a bank or family member or otherwise respectable figure. No, she had borrowed from Lonnie the Loan Shark. He, too, knew when that money came, and he was waiting. If she didn't deliver soon, he wouldn't hesitate to turn her and Pru out. Bad enough to be reduced to forced prostitution, but how would Joe earn money?

No, she wouldn't think of that. She'd find a way.

Her factory job didn't pay enough for her to feed the youngin's and save. Every time she got a little tucked away, someone needed a doctor… She'd have to save every penny for the next six months to cover the loan. No way that was going to happen. Could she borrow from someone else? She'd already bled the Church dry; her relatives had no money to give; and the bank knew she had no collateral to borrow against. What other options did she have? A weaker woman would've pulled a Scarlett O'Hara: donned her best bonnet to catch a rich husband.

Mercy wasn't weak. She'd get the money the only way she could.

She'd steal it.

Rumor said there was a fortune nearby. Supposedly, it belonged to an immortal giantess as beautiful and wicked as the Devil. She only came around once every seven years, but left her money at home, where it was guarded by three hellish crocs.

Mercy knew how rumors worked and figured the story was half-true. Half a fortune was still more than nothing and Lonnie was twice was wicked as the Devil. First, she sent Pru and Joe to stay with relatives. She had no idea when (or if) she'd be back and didn't want to leave them where Lonnie could easily find them. (Her worthless brothers hadn't thought that far ahead. They thought they could vanish for a few years and wait for her temper to blow over. It never occurred to them that she wasn't the one to fear.) Then she had to gather supplies – boots, a bowie knife, and canvas bags.

The whole town said she was nuts. They told her to skip town, marry rich, and never come back. They thought she was weak like her mother and greedy like her father and selfish like her brothers. No. She gave Lonnie her word and she would pay him back, keep her family together, and put the youngin's through school. If Josh and Caleb wanted to blow their cash on immediate luxuries, she couldn't stop them. She had bigger aims… School for Joe; and then the military… School for Pru; and then… What did poor girls do with an education? Teach? Nurse? Well, Caleb's loss was her gain. Someone was getting a damn education!

Once their train left, Mercy picked up her traveling gear and headed out of town.

"Recant your sins!" cried the Father.

"Yer chasin' windmills!" The mayor lamented.

"Ya ain't gotta kill yourself on his account!" said Sarah, her best friend. (Correction: former best friend. Ever since she got married and started making babies, she hadn't done much else.)

Mercy's reply was always the same. "I know. Don't expect you t' understand. It's wrong t' take money under false assumptions and it's wrong for someone t' horde so much when so many are sufferin'. I know this is de right thing t' do, but you don't think so because you're scared."

In the end, they saw her off with the same sad-dog expression. She'd show them!

Head held high, she marched down the unpaved road towards the highway. It was a cold winter's day when the sun never rose. She encountered no one on the road or highway and didn't expect to. Everyone was inside, mending or canning or making quilts for the cold nights ahead. She (more or less) had the world to herself.

Where was she going? No idea. By she knew the witch's fortune wasn't hiding in her home, so she was leaving to find it.

She pulled her coat collar around her cheeks and nose and tucked her head down against the cold gale. Two sleek Ford Fairlanes passed. She didn't stick out her thumb to request a ride, but they pulled over and stopped anyway. Five grown men emerged from the cars and started towards her.

Her heart hammered. For the first time, it occurred to her how foolish this quest was. What had she been thinking?! A woman alone was an easy target for any lonely brute! And this woman happened to owe a dangerous man a lot of money and she'd been talking about stealing from a witch. Why hadn't she realized how dangerous this was until now?!

Shaking, she pulled out her father's Colt 1911 and aimed it at them. (Until today, she'd never even touched the gun before, but hopefully she looked threatening.) The men drew close, undaunted, and removed their hats.

"Are you Miss Mercy Panek?" asked the apparent leader.

"Lonnie send you?" she asked, gun pointed at him. The other men circled around her.

"Allow me t' make introductions," he replied as if he hadn't heard her. "I'm Jean-Luc LeBeau of N'awlins. Dis here's my son, Henri. And dese unscrupulous lookin' scoundrels are our kin – Belize, Theoren, and Pierre. I apologize for their rough nature, but I assure you they're good Christian men."

She eased slightly. "You… don't know Lonnie?"

Pierre, the dark one, muttered to freckled-face Belize, "Not unless he has a lonely wife."

Luc cleared his throat and continued, "We've been sent by the King of Thieves, who's heard tell of your bold ambition and wishes to lend his aid."

"Why?"

"You ever heard 'de enemy of my enemy is my friend'?"

She lowered the gun to her side. "But he's never thought of this himself? Or never had the nerve t' do it..? Must not be a very good king."

The others roared with laughter while Luc smirked. "I reckon he ain't. Care to join our caravan, m' lady?"

"One moment, pere," said Henri. He was built like an ox. Until now, he'd been quiet. Almost menacing. "Before y' get in, please de-cock your gun."

"I don't appreciate your language, sir."

This time, she was the cause of their laughter, and her face burned with humiliation. Henri slowly lifted the gun, shifted the top-thingy (she didn't know it could do that), and made the bullet (at least she knew what that was called) drop harmlessly.

She crawled into the car with Henri and Luc. They both turned and asked where she was headed.

"I… don't… know. Yet."

"Tante Mattie," they replied simultaneously.

The car cranked and continued down the highway. She didn't want to tell them she'd never ridden in a car before. The walls and seat were cold and hard. She wasn't sure what she should do. Looking out the window seemed acceptable, but it soon made her sick and she had to close her eyes.

"Pere," Henri said, "Let's stop and get some fresh air."

They pulled into a gas station with the other car close behind. Luc said he had to find something to appease Tante Mattie (whoever that was), and Henri invited her to take a stroll.

They walked across the highway to a lake and circled it a few times. Like his father, Henri was dressed like a gentleman – tailored suit and traveling cap. (Their smart suits excited her but also made her ashamed of her patched wool dress.) Unlike his father, he was very quiet. She didn't mind. After twenty years in a tiny shack with four youngin's, quiet was a lovely change. As they drew near their companions, he said, "Keepin' secrets is gonna get you killed, miss."

She was too stunned to reply before Luc said, "Think Mattie likes pearls?"

"You know she don't."

Belize added, "She's immune t' your charms, Uncle Luc."

He opened the car door for Mercy and said, "Then let us hope Miss Panek has a chip t' bargain wit'."

She didn't like being used, but at least now she knew why they'd offered to help.

The community around Lake Pontchartrain was a bustling harbor town. From a distance, Mercy saw boats docked and trucks loading cargo. Residents waved as they slowly drove through the market and to the outskirts. Mostly old money and carpetbaggers lived in the marsh, but there were tiny islands where natives and blacks congregated. The island they were destined for didn't have a bridge, so they had to use a self-manned boat older than Noah to ferry across.

Luc stopped talking and the others seemed tense. She soon realized why…

The houses had been demolished. The gardens were destroyed. The people… the people hadn't been spared.

Before they pulled ashore, Luc leapt from the boat and called out in a broken voice. A woman wailed and he ran to her.

Through her hysterical sobs, they learned that crocodiles had attacked the island. These weren't ordinary crocs, but enchanted, flying ones that belonged to Candra, the immortal giantess. She wanted the island for herself and when the residents refused to leave, she had them slaughtered. Tante Mattie only survived because of her ability to wield magic, but she hadn't been strong enough to save her loved ones or kill the dragons.

The men spent all day and night burying the dead while Mercy stayed with Tante Mattie in the ruins of her house.

"What're y' doin' wit' dese thieves, fille?" asked the haggard woman.

"They offered to help me."

"Wit' what?"

Mercy didn't want to confess her plans of thievery, but if Tante Mattie accepted the men, why not her as well? Besides, wasn't Tante Mattie expected to help them find their target? Wasn't Mercy supposed to get the information from her? So she told the old woman everything. Mercy confessed her most intimate secrets and when she'd finished, Tante Mattie said, "Candra don't need dat money. You take every cent. More than you need. But I want you t' kill her beasts. Do dat for me… And I'll tell y' where it's hidin'."

With that knowledge, she was tempted to ditch the men and complete the task herself. More for her, right? There was no way one-seventh of the fortune would equal Daddy's insurance pay-out. And imagine what she could do with extra money… New shoes. Butter. Sugar. Red meat. It made her dizzy to contemplate all the luxuries!

No. What was wrong with her? This wasn't her thinking, this was her father!

If the Thieves hadn't come along and helped, she'd still be on the highway going nowhere… She couldn't betray them now.

They were in this together.

The reason no one had ever seen Candra's hideaway was because it wasn't on land. It was hidden in the river. Not underwater, exactly, but rather an ordinary house hidden beneath the surface. Once you passed the water barrier, you were walking up a yard like any in Louisiana.

Tante Mattie knew this – and she knew the canal where the dragons congregated – but she didn't know the exact entry point.

After some procrastination disguised planning, Pierre leapt into the water and returned soaked. Belize jumped next with the same results. Theoren, Henri, and Luc hadn't any luck, either. They all insisted on going before Mercy, but she could delay no longer. Unless Tante Mattie wanted to try..?

"I'm old, I ain't stupid," she grumbled.

Mercy removed her coat and shoes and plunged in.

And landed on solid earth.

She walked up a cobblestone drive to a pristine white mansion with red shutters. The front door wasn't locked. She let herself in and gasped. A dragon was sleeping on the floor, curled around several coffins. His mouth – the most dangerous part – was agape. (What creature would be stupid enough to wander in..?) His belly – the most vulnerable spot – was tucked under several tons of muscle and armor-thick skin. With a hiss, his eyes slowly opened.

She jumped on his long snout, locking it shut with her weight, and plunged her bowie knife into his soft underbelly. He slithered and rolled, slamming her against the floor and into the coffins. She held on. As his blood covered the floor, he finally stopped struggling and she crawled away.

"Sacred Dieu!"

The Thieves rushed in. The coffins contained beautiful cash, and once they established Mercy was alright, they formed a chain to quickly carry out the bounty.

She stood to help, but Henri stopped her. "You're hurt."

"No, I ain't."

"That's the adrenalin. You'll feel it in a minute."

"There's two more t' kill!"

"Stop it!" he shook her. "You got lucky, but you won't get lucky again. Allons! Before his friends show up."

In the car, she started to feel her wounds. One particularly bad one was on her side. She must've nicked something while he was death-spiraling – she was bleeding badly. While Luc drove like a bat out of hell, Henri rode in the back seat and patched her wound. It was extremely tender and she was panting like one of Daddy's whores. She wanted to die from shame, but Henri carried on obliviously.

They made it to the highway before the dragons discovered their dead brother. A demonic roar echoed through the trees. Minutes later, two flying beasts appeared on the horizon. The cars sped up but they were no match for the speed of the dragons.

Belize, in the rear-vehicle, leaned out the window and threw some homemade bomb in the air. The explosion didn't kill the dragons, but it blinded them. Using sound and smell, they stayed on the trail until a bridge stopped them short. One fell limp with a sickening crunch. The other hit the ground and twitched violently.

They drove on till nightfall.

Luc slowed down as they neared the turn-off to her town. "Y'all hear dat?"

Henri and Mercy sat alert and listened. Wings. Looking out the rear window, they saw the silhouette of dragon against the moon.

"Pull over," Mercy said, "Don't lead 'm t' town. He'll kill 'em like he killed Mattie's people."

Both cars pulled over and emptied. In the distance, Mercy heard the church bell ringing in alarm. She saw her neighbors rushing to safety and determined to lead the dragon away. No matter the cost – she wouldn't allow the dragon to kill anyone else.

She rushed towards him, firearm ready (same gun she'd never actually fired), and the Thieves stood with her. With unfocused aim, the dragon dove for them.

A gun shot cut his roar short.

Mercy looked around, but none of the Thieves had fired. It had come from a neighbor. Other guns shot off again and again. All the men in town had rushed to her defense and their hodge-podge militia brought down the monster. As they apologized for not helping her sooner and asked about her adventure, more and more people gathered around Luc. Apparently, he hadn't been sent by the King of Thieves – he was the King.

She picked up her coffin (one of seven) and headed home. She counted out the money to re-pay Lonnie and delivered it herself. She called Pru and Joe and arranged for them to come home. Only after all that was completed did she finally lay down to rest.

Her adventure had left her drained. She could've slept all day. All week! If only the world would let her.

Sarah called at dawn.

"Is dis what it's like to have poor relations?" Mercy joked.

Sarah frowned and shifted the baby on her hip. "Where y' been? Everybody been waitin' on y'! And dat man, de big one, you didn't even say bye and he's been askin' all about you."

"Y' mean Henri?"

As if on cue, his car pulled in front of her house. He stepped out, removed his cap, and asked to have a word with her. Truthfully, he wasn't a man of many words, and there were just a few he wanted to spare.

"Would you marry me, Miss Mercy?"

She could hardly believe his nerve! The first words out of her mouth were just as blunt: "I don't want any youngin's of m' own. Been raisin' 'em all my life and I'm sick of it."

He half-smiled. "Is dat a 'yes'?"

"I've got a brother and sister still at home."

"We can bring 'em wit' us," he said firmly. "I got a home in N'awlins and it's big enough for all of us. If your other brothers need work, I'll find 'em work, too. See, I may not say much, but I hear plenty." He hesitated. "You've had more than your share of trouble and when I think about a woman as fine as you in this state, it makes me ill. I aim t' make you happy."

"We hardly know each other… Why would y' trouble yerself over someone y' hardly know?"

"I know you're everything I want in a wife."

When she thought about it, she realized Henri was everything she wanted, too. Quiet, strong, dependable, kind and loyal. He was the only person in her entire life who'd let her be herself. He accepted all of her baggage. And more than that, he loved her. To think – she'd nearly let him get away! All because she'd been so damn focused on money!

With tears in her eyes, she accepted.

They married in her church so all her neighbors could bid adieu to their hometown hero. With slack-jawed Pru and Joe in tow, they set up home in New Orleans – the finest city in the world. Henri was firm with them but never mean. In the end, Joe finally fulfilled her dream of becoming an officer. Pru married well, had a couple of babies, and after her husband died tragically young, she joined the army as a nurse. Mercy raised her youngin's, too. It seemed like her parade of poor relations never ended, but Henri didn't begrudge her for it. Working together, they secured her a place in the Thieves Guild – a first for a woman. She wasn't just a pretty addition. Besting the men of her generation, she earned the Elixir of Life from Candra (the immortal giantess she'd stolen from years earlier), and was granted eternal youth. The infinite days of her life were devoted to her husband and their Guild, which filled her heart with joy.

..

The End.

..

Author's Note: This story format's a big departure for me. If you've read my other works, you're probably wondering 'where's the sex? Where's the violence? Where's the angst?' I've been wanted to write a simpler, lighter story for a while, and I think I finally went with a fairy-tale format. This version's extremely stream-lined, so please let me know what works and what doesn't. Thanks for reading!