You are coming home
Are you still alone
Are you not the same as you used to be
As the sun grows high
And you serve your time
Does each day just feel like another lie
Are you not the same as you used to be?
Used to be

-Used To Be, Beach House

"I don't see why I have ride in the back with the stupid dog," Joanna griped.

"You didn't call 'shotgun,'" Remy answered and turned to look back at her and Bobby. "And he's not stupid. He's a smart boy, isn't he?"

The dog licked Remy's face.

"Gross," Joanna hunched back into the seat and folded her arms.

Bobby asked in a deadpan voice: "You can charm animals?"

Remy considered this a moment. "Hm, no, not all animals. Just the domesticated kinds what understand humans a bit. Not cats though. Never could get a cat t'do what I wanted it to."

"Sheriff seemed t'have a bone t'pick with you," Logan remarked.

"A more wretched man never drew breath," Remy said.

"How did you get on his bad side?" Logan asked.

"Pollard ain't got no other side but bad. And I didn't do nothing. That man and his cronies would pick up any thief child they could lay hands on. Then hold 'em for ransom 'til the parents paid up. Sometimes the kids would come back in one piece."

He let this sink in for a moment before adding: "Never got a hold a'me though, but not for lack of trying. He'd have loved to have somethin' over Jean-Luc. Made him mad my father had more pull than he did."

They were driving away from the cabin and the lake, back towards the city. They passed numerous derelict homes left vacant by storms. Every once in awhile, a house would appear to be inhabited, conspicuous amidst the surrounding devastation. Eventually, they came to neighborhoods that appeared more prosperous. Soon they were within the city and looking at the gated houses of a more charming district. Remy directed them to a large white home set behind a wrought-iron gate. The house was beautiful in the late-afternoon light, flanked by live oak trees and drooping Spanish moss. Logan drove his truck up the curving drive towards the front door. On closer inspection, the dazzling light had masked the slight decay that had overtaken the facade. The paint was peeling, the shutters sagged.

"Go up towards the back," Remy said. "We don't use the front door."

"Is this your family's house?" Bobby asked.

"They're here all right," Remy said as Logan parked. The rear of the house was a mess of overgrown grass and brush. There was a moss-covered patio with a fountain set in the center full of stagnant water. Light spilled from a set of French doors onto the patio. Through the window, they could see a woman moving around in the kitchen.

"I can't imagine what they must be like," Joanna said. "Like several versions of you in one house. I don't think I can stand it."

"Oh no," Remy said. "I ain't nothin' like any of them. Something they pointed out to me quite often, in fact. Aren't you in for a treat."

"Gird your loins, folks," Bobby said as they disembarked from Logan's truck.

Remy walked to the doors and entered the kitchen. The blond woman was standing at the kitchen counter island dicing onions. Piles of diced celery and red peppers were mounded up on the counter beside her. She looked up from her work and rubbed tears from her eyes. The smell of raw onions was potent.

"Where de hell have you been?" she asked.

"Hey, Mercy," Remy responded. "Just over at Tante Mattie's."

She opened her mouth to respond then spotted the three people behind him. "And you've brought-guests?" Her expression was perplexed.

Remy gestured to the trio as they entered. "Dis is Logan and Bobby and Joanna. Y'all, this is my sister-in-law, Mercy. Her charms are far more...obvious, than mine. Mercy, don't you own a whole shirt?"

Mercy held her knife over the chopping block. Her blue eyes were very round. "It's not like I was expecting company. You brought... people... here? Are you insane?"

"Now, if we're imposing...," Logan began, raising his hands.

"Pas de tout!" Remy announced. "It's my home after all. You're perfectly welcome. Don't let Mercy give you the wrong impression on what southern hospitality is all about. Have a seat, make yourself at home. Let me get you somethin' t'drink."

Mercy was opening and closing her mouth like a beached fish. Finally she blurt out: "Where did that dog come from?"

"Good breeding stock if I'd guess," Remy responded, pulling open the refrigerator. "What'll y'all have? Sweet tea? Coke? Somethin' stronger?"

"Aaaawk-ward," Bobby said quietly.

"Hope we haven't kept Remy too long," Logan told the woman. "We were just cleaning out some stuff. Had a bit of a run-in with one of your lawmen."

Mercy continued to eyeball the dog, who had made himself at home under the kitchen table. She pointed at it with the knife, spraying the floor with bits of vegetable. "Dat dog looks like one of Pollard's."

"Might be," Remy said, putting a pitcher of iced tea down in the center of the kitchen table.

Mercy set down the knife and put her hands on the counter as if to draw strength from the marble top. "Dis might be a new record for you, Remy. The most amount of trouble you can get yourself in to in the shortest amount of time!"

"I bet I can beat it," Remy responded, collecting glasses from an upper cabinet.

"I don't have time for your nonsense, Remy!" Mercy said. "Just like I don't have time to cook and clean before the calling hours tomorrow. Or time to take Theo to the hospital after you broke his face because if you'd forgotten, our traiteur is dead!"

Remy was about to respond when a voice called from the gloom of the connecting hall. "Have Mercy, Mercy! Yellin' loud enough to wake de dead."

Everyone turned to see a youngish man with reddish-blond hair leaning up against the wall with his arms folded. He was somewhat short, with freckled skin and a ready grin.

"God give me strength," Mercy said.

"And look," the man continued. "We have guests! How...unusual! Cousin, why don't you introduce me to your friends, especially dis one." The man pushed himself from the wall and strode over to Joanna. "Enchante, ma doucette," he said, taking her hand.

Joanna snatched her hand away before he could bring it to his lips. "What did you just call me?" she asked in a deadly quiet voice.

The man smiled wolfishly at her. "Why, I'll call you whatever you like, mademoiselle. I go by Emil. You'll want to remember it. For when you're callin' it out later."

Bobby took one large step back from Joanna. Logan tensed as Joanna's mouth slowly opened.

"Ha!" she laughed. "I didn't think it was possible, but you're worse than Gambit."

"Accept no imitations. It was I what taught my cousin everything he knows," responded Emil.

"Must've taken all of five minutes," Joanna quipped.

Emil laughed merrily and laid a companionable arm over Remy's shoulders. "I like dis one!" Emil said, pointing at Joanna. "Gives as good as she gets, I can tell. Not like that stick-in-de-mud weather witch or that skunk-haired prude you usually bring 'round."

Joanna was still grinning as she pulled out a chair and sat. Remy folded his arms and glared at his cousin.

Emil poked Remy in the ribs. "Lemme bum a smoke," he said.

"I quit," Remy said.

"Liar," said Emil, and Remy sighed and drew a flattened pack from his jacket.

"'S my last one," he pouted. Emil grinned and stuck the cigarette into his mouth.

"No smoking in de house," Mercy said, resuming her vegetable massacre. Bobby stared at her, enraptured. Joanna pulled him down into a chair by the back of his shirt.

"Gimme de keys t'your SUV," Remy told Emil. "I have t'go to de church to talk with Father Potier about de services."

"What happened to Genard's truck?" Emil asked.

"I might have parked it in a ditch," Remy explained.

"He's gonna be pissed," Emil said, delighted.

"Language," Mercy said, dispatching a pepper with extreme efficiency.

"So what else is new. Keys," he said to Emil, opening and closing his hand.

"Mais non. Not de way you've been popping those horse tranquilizers like they're Pez," Emil said. "What's in dese t'ings anyway?" An amber bottle had materialized in Emil's hand. He inspected the label. "Give you a good buzz?"

There was a split-second between the moment Remy realized his pocket had been picked and the moment when Emil was sprawled face down on the countertop. Vegetables scattered onto the floor.

"Stop it, you two!" Mercy cried. "Stop it, stop it, stop it!" she punctuated each exclamation with a stomp of her foot. Bobby gaped, his eyes absorbing every bounce. Joanna was howling with laughter. The two men struggled, Emil pleading and Remy snarling a stream of curses. It was Logan that descended on Remy, seizing him by the back of his coat and hauling him off Emil. Logan set Remy down on the opposite side of the room.

"Eh, Remy!" Emil said, rubbing the back of his neck. "What's de matter wit' you? Usually takes me at least an hour or two to wind you up."

"I'm having a bad day," Remy replied.

"You!" Mercy said, pointing her blade at Emil. "You're not completely useless...at least you can serve as a perfectly terrible example!"

"What did I do?" Emil asked innocently.

"No stealing from family!" Mercy barked.

"But, he-," Emil began, pointing at Remy.

"Be quiet! Now get out of here and take de children to their lessons!"

"Children?" Bobby asked. "What child-oh, hey...where did you come from?" He looked down to see two small girls of such a similar age they could be twins. They had seemingly appeared at Bobby's elbow from thin air. Their blue eyes were level with the tabletop and were staring at Bobby rapturously. He felt something repeatedly kicking his leg and peered under the table. The dog was lying on its back kicking its hind leg while another little girl scratched its belly enthusiastically. A fourth child, smaller than the others, was probing the dog's mouth with a forefinger. With their blue eyes, strawberry blond hair, and freckles, the paternity was not a question.

"These are your kids?" Bobby asked Emil incredulously.

"Dat's what my wife tells me," Emil responded.

"Your wife?" Joanna snapped.

"I don't know why Marie-Therese hasn't smothered you in your sleep by now," Remy told his cousin.

"It's 'cause I make such beautiful babies!" Emil claimed, ducking behind the kitchen island and producing another smaller child, perhaps just one year old. He held her up by the back of her pink overalls. "Look at dis one! Not my best work, mind you-."

"Out," said Mercy with deadly malice.

"Okay, ducklings," Emil said cheerfully, putting the baby over his shoulder, "fall in line!"

The four girls padded silently after their father. The baby waved bye-bye from Emil's shoulder as they vanished from the room.

"Is he raising his own army?" Joanna asked.

"Prolific family," Remy answered. "Mercy-."

"No."

"But-."

"Nevermind, Gumbo. I'll drive you to see the priest," Logan said.

"We can't stay here," Bobby hissed at Logan.

"Remy says you can, so I guess that's that," Mercy said. "Pierce will have some rooms made up for you."

"Pears?" Bobby repeated.

"She said 'Peers'," Joanna said.

Someone cleared their throat and they turned to see a middle-aged man standing in the hall. "It's 'Pierce,' actually," said the man. "As in, 'with a knife.'"

"I would've gone with 'like pierced ears,'" responded Bobby.

"As you wish, sir. And I have all ready prepared the guest rooms upon Mr. LeBeau's arrival. If you'd like to gather your things and follow me?" said Pierce.

"C'mon, Gambit, let's go," Logan said. He gestured to Bobby and Joanna. "You two are on your own with Pierce, here. I've reached my limit. Good luck, pal." He clapped Pierce on the shoulder, then turned and walked out the French doors.

Remy's shoulders slumped and he followed Logan, closing the doors behind him.


They drove in blessed silence for some time, with Remy wordlessly pointing out turns and Logan driving. They were in a neighborhood of shotgun style houses. People sat on their front porches fanning themselves in the heat. Windows flickered with the blue glow of television sets.

"Should I be worried about you?" Logan asked finally.

"No more'n usual."

"That bad, hunh?"

"This is it," Remy said and Logan pulled into a cracked blacktop parking lot alongside a small Catholic church. There was a a man waiting at the top of the steps leading to the transept of the church. The man detached himself from the shadow of the building and proceeded down the cement steps. Logan rolled down the driver's side window as the priest approached.

"Evening Father," Remy said.

"Remy. It's been awhile," said Father Potier. "So sorry we're meeting under these circumstances."

"Right. 'Cause the last time I saw you was such a joyous occasion."

"Oh yes. Wedding day. Not my best work," the priest responded.

The remark was too similar to Emil's joke from earlier. Logan looked at the priest. "Are the two of you related?" he pointed at the priest, then at Remy.

"Cousins," responded the priest. "And you're a friend of Remy's?"

"Sometimes," said Logan.

"Well will you warn me when you aren't? You don't look like someone I'd like to meet in a dark alley," said Father Potier.

"I have respect for a man of the cloth, Padre," said Logan.

"Even one by way of the Thieves' Guild?" the man smiled.

"You?" Logan said surprised.

"Some of us have a higher calling, don't we, Remy?"

"Mumble mumble," Remy said.

"Shall we discuss the services, then?" the priest asked.

Remy stepped out of the vehicle. "I won't be long," Remy told Logan. Logan nodded and Remy threw the door shut.

"Any hymn requests?" the priest asked Logan.

"I might be able to hum a few bars of 'Amazing Grace,'" Logan responded.

"Maybe we can convince Remy to gift us with a song? Enh, just like the good old days? Our own little devil with the voice of an angel?" the priest grinned. Remy came around to the driver's side of the vehicle with a frown on his face.

"What's this then?" Logan asked.

"Children's choir," the priest answered. "What Remy lacked in harmony he more than made up for with enthusiasm."

A slow smile spread across Logan's face.

Remy put himself into the driver's side window. "If you breathe a word to anyone...something will happen to you. I don't know what yet, but it won't be good."

"Speaking of which, would you like to make your Confession while you're here?" the priest asked Remy.

"Depends on how much time you have."

"Hah, good one." The priest took Remy's arm and they walked toward the church.

Logan leaned back against the seat and pulled out his cell phone. He dialed the first number in his contact list. "How's it going? Anything on fire?"

"Good news," Kitty responded. "Quire decided not to sue us this time! Joanna won't be able to participate in any extracurriculars anymore, but otherwise, we're all copacetic here."

"Well, that's a nice change of pace," Logan said.

"How's things in New Orleans?" Kitty asked.

"Hot and sticky."

"I'm assuming you're talking about the weather and not about Gambit," said Kitty. "Seriously, though, should we send flowers? Like from the school?"

"That might be a nice gesture," Logan said. "I'll forward you the address."

"What should we put on the card?"

Logan sighed. "I don't know, Kitty. Just come up with something. Is Rogue around?"

"I think I saw the light on in the teacher's lounge. Do you want me to try to ring her?"

"Sure," Logan said.

"Please hold while I transfer your call," Kitty said in a cool automated voice.

"Cute."

"But you hold on for one more day...and break free from the chains...break free, break from the chaaaains..." Kitty sang.

"Kitty!"

"Okay, I'm really going to transfer you this time."

Logan sighed again as the phone began to ring.

"This is Jean Grey School, Anna speaking," Rogue said.

"It's me," Logan said.

"Logan. Everything all right?"

"Everyone is a damn comedian," Logan said. "Kitty, Bobby, Gambit's obnoxious cousin... even the priest."

"Ah'm sure they're just trying to lighten the mood," Rogue responded. "Ah take it you found Remy okay?"

"Right where you said he'd be."

"Ah thought he might go there," Rogue said.

"He must've spent a lot of time at his aunt's house."

"The 'Tante' is an honorific," Rogue explained. "Everyone calls her 'Tante Mattie.' She's more like Remy's momma."

"You seem to know more what's goin' on here than me. Should be you here."

"I have a flight in to New Orleans tomorrow morning. I'll be there for the calling hours."

"Need me to pick you up?" Logan asked.

"Ah'll get a rental. Keep my distance. Ah got the impression Remy didn't want me around."

"Seems unusual."

"We'll see how he is tomorrow. Ah'll talk to you later," Rogue said and signed off.

Logan put his phone back into his pocket, slouched down in the driver's seat, and pulled his hat over his eyes. For the most part, it was quiet save for the occasional bark of a dog and the very distant wail of an ambulance siren. It wasn't long before Remy reappeared at the window.

"You shouldn't be sittin' here sleepin' in de truck," Remy said. "Dis ain't the best neighborhood."

"You think someone's likely to get the jump on me?" Logan asked, pushing up the brim of his hat.

"It's not you I'm worried about. I just don't want you maiming one of my relatives," Remy said. "If you go back t'de house, Mercy'll fix you up something t'eat. Her bark is worse than her bite, believe me."

"Where do you think you're going?" Logan asked as Remy began to walk away.

Remy didn't answer, but proceeded down to the sidewalk and continued walking. Logan started the truck and pulled out into the street. He idled alongside Remy and lowered the passenger side window.

"Get in the truck," he told Remy.

"I don't think I can go back," Remy responded.

"That's fine, I'll take you where you want to go."

"No, not to de house. Back to de school," Remy said, eyes forward. "It's not going to work out."

"What makes you say that?"

"Rogue and I had words," Remy answered.

"Forgiven and forgotten, Gumbo."

"I suppose there's a first time for everything," he muttered. "If I'd thought in a million years that she'd pick goin' to de school over him, I'd have stayed in Utopia and kissed Scott's ring and been glad t'do it. But I guess I don't know her as well as I thought, if I ever knew her at all."

Logan didn't need to ask who Remy was referring to, but it was news to him that Remy was trying to put distance between himself and Rogue. An entire country's distance, in fact. "I think you're being a bit melodramatic," Logan said.

"I'm sure it seems dat way t'you." Remy held up his hands to either side of his face, making blinders and narrowing his range of vision to the sidewalk directly ahead. "I wish I could see what de world looked like through someone else's eyes, just to get a gauge of how far off de mark I really am."

Logan didn't know what to make of this statement. "We can talk about this later. Just get in the truck."

"I need some time to think."

"You can think in the truck."

Remy stepped off the sidewalk towards the vehicle and Logan braked. "I can't go back to de house just yet," Remy said through the window.

"Where to then?"

"Home," Remy said.


Pears or Peers or Pierce led them from the kitchen after they had gathered their bags. Bobby found that Slim Jims worked just as well as hypnotic charm on dogs and now found himself with a new four-legged best friend. Bobby and Joanna passed through a dim corridor and into a foyer, which must have been very grand once. The wood floors were now worn and scuffed, the wallpaper muted and buckled by hot New Orleans days, the carpets threadbare.

"This is the sitting room," Pierce said, gesturing to the double doors to his left. "On your right is the study. You're welcome to use the library there during daylight hours."

They started up a curved staircase to the second story. The faces of young men posed in groups stared out at them from the framed photographs hung on the walls. Once on the landing, Pierce proceeded a short ways down the upstairs corridor and showed Joanna and Bobby to their rooms.

"So, Pierce," Joanna said. "What are you, some kind of thief butler?"

Pierce gave her a grim close-lipped smile. "Not exactly," he said. "I'm a sort of liaison...between the Guild and the... outside. I've been chosen to act as the go-between our world," he pointed to himself, "and yours. I arrange meetings with clients, talk to the city, pay the bills... I arrange the necessities with Les Autres."

"What?" Bobby asked blankly.

"Les Autres...the others, like yourselves."

"The Others? Heh, kind of like on LOST?" Bobby asked.

Pierce stared at him blankly for a moment. "Ah. Does that relate to some popular culture? Yes. I'm afraid your references will be lost on me, and anyone else in this household. We don't have televisions here or watch movies and what have you."

"No TV?" Bobby asked, stunned.

"I'm afraid not. This home serves as our...school. It doesn't do to have distractions," answered Pierce.

"Oh, yeah, sure," said Bobby, trying to picture what the students at Jean Grey School would do if they didn't have television. Probably start another riot.

"If you need anything at all or have any questions, please don't hesitate to ring the bell-pull at your bedside. We keep late hours here, so don't feel as if you're a bother. I ask that you keep to your rooms and the common areas, the sitting room, kitchen. Please don't go exploring. And above all, do not interfere with the schooling of our children."

"No...no problem at all!" said Bobby.

Pierce declined his head in gratitude and disappeared down the corridor.

"Weirdo," Bobby said.

"Creep," said Joanna.

Joanna tossed her belongings into her room and reappeared in the hall. "What are you doing?" Bobby asked as she hovered just outside his door. He set his things down onto the padded bench at the foot of his bed.

"Exploring," she responded. "I want to look at these creepy photos."

Bobby rejoined her in the hallway. He pushed the dog back into his room with his foot, closed the door, and stood next to Joanna at the first photo. The photographs were spaced evenly along each side of the corridor. In each one, a group of young men stood or sat in a group. They were all dressed peculiarly, in arcane clothing that seemed from the distant past. Each photograph was dated with an engraved plaque nailed to the frame.

"Must be class photos?" Bobby wondered aloud.

They wandered up the hall looking for the oldest photo. They passed daguerreotypes from the 1800s, then sepia hued photos from the early 1900s, which eventually gave way to crisp black and white, then color. The oldest images showed men in groups of twenty or thirty. As the years became more recent, the numbers decreased to groups of ten or more; the earliest, just a handful.

"They're all men," Joanna remarked.

"Nope, found a woman," Bobby said. "Here."

Joanna peered at the photo. "Looks like the woman in the kitchen, Mercy," she said. "I recognize her big...personality."

"That's impossible. This photo was taken ages ago. If that's Mercy, she's got to be like, fifty."

Joanna shrugged. "Maybe it's her mom. Here, let's try to find Gambit's picture."

They continued down the hall several feet. It wasn't too hard to find Remy amidst the groups of young men. Most of the men in the photos had a certain familial look. Remy stood out for being taller and thinner than the rest. His enigmatic eyes would have made him easier to spot, except that the photo was slightly blurred. It appeared he had just moved when the photo was snapped, leaving two impressions of his face. Emil was in the photo beside him. He was the only person in all the photos with a smile.

Joanna was disappointed that the photo wasn't as embarrassing and she'd hoped it would be. Remy looked pretty much the same as he did now. Save for the goofy Guild clothing.

"Hey, do you hear that?" Bobby asked. The house had been strangely silent except for the creaking floorboards beneath their feet. Somewhere on the first floor came the faint sound of music.

"Must be a radio," Joanna said. "I hope it doesn't distract anyone."

"If there's a radio, maybe we could listen to the news or something."

"I guess it beats talking to you," replied Joanna.

They walked back up the hallway to the landing and started down the curved staircase. As they walked, the music grew slightly louder. They found it was emanating from the study. Joanna put her hand to the door latch.

"Pears said that the study was closed," Bobby said, putting his hand out to stop her.

"No, he said we could use the library during the day. He didn't say anything about it being closed."

"I'm sure that's what he meant," Bobby said.

"Fine, let's just stand out here then," Joanna complained.

"Oh, all right! Let me just peek first," Bobby said, stepping into her path so she had to move away. He pushed the latch down and opened the door slightly. Light spilled into the foyer from the well-lit room beyond. Putting his head into the crack between the two doors, Bobby found himself looking down a long room lined with book-filled shelves. At the far end of the room was the source of the music. A quartet of violinists was performing, three boys and a girl. Bobby was looking at the backs of their audience, which was turned to face the musicians. Ranks of young men and women were standing silently and quite still, the youngest grouped toward the front closest to the violinists, the eldest closest to Bobby at the back. They were all dressed in loose fitting tunics over dark long-sleeved shirts. They wore fitted pants and soft soled leather boots. Several had bands of color on their sleeves, but the majority were dressed in solid shades of gray and black. Bobby found their stillness strangely eerie.

"Bobby..." Joanna whispered urgently. He waved her back.

Well, they weren't completely still, as he realized. The two teenagers nearest to the back had their arms folded. One would make silent covert gestures with his fingers, then pause. The other responded in kind. Bobby realized they were signing to one another. The taller boy must have made some kind of joke, because the other ducked his head and concealed a smile with his gloved hand.

"Bobby...!" Joanna hissed, tugging his arm. Bobby slapped her hand away.

The girl in front of the two boys must have sensed their movements, because she turned to give them a disgusted look. As she moved to resume her attention on the performance, her eyes flicked in Bobby's direction. They grew wide and her head snapped back to face forward.

"Bobby!" Joanna now said loudly.

The audience seemed to turn as a unit to look back at Bobby. One of the violinists, a thin Asian boy, squeaked out a shrill note. An adult thief moved to stand in front of the violinists, looking directly at Bobby with an unfriendly look on his face. Bobby quickly shut the door.

"Joanna!" Bobby scolded. "What is it? You just got me busted!"

Joanna was pointing up towards the top of the stairs. "There's someone or something up there!" she said.

"It's probably creepy weirdo Pierce Like-With-A-Knife," Bobby said, wiggling his fingers at her. "Mwahahaha."

"No it wasn't!" Joanna said. "It was something else. Something creepier and weirder!"

"Hard to imagine."

"What are you two doing?" a voice asked from across the foyer.

Bobby and Joanna startled and turned to see Mercy standing in front of the double doors leading to the sitting room. She had her hands on her hips.

"Uhm...we were, ah...definitely not exploring," said Bobby.

Mercy pursed her lips. "Come with me," she said and beckoned them with her finger.

"Now you've done it," Joanna said.

"Me? It was you who-."

"Just in here," Mercy said, opening the sitting room door. "You're not in trouble. I apologize for earlier. I don't make a very good first impression."

Bobby was the first to walk over to her. "No, it's okay," he told her. "Stressful situation. We're cool."

She smiled at him and he felt himself smiling stupidly back. He followed her into the sitting room, Joanna reluctantly trailing behind. This room was dim, lit only by several burning candles which rested on every available flat surface. The curtains were drawn, and it had been dark outside now for at least an hour. There were candles on the tabletops scattered about the room amidst small groupings of chairs or settees. Several more candles lined the mantle where a clock sat silent, the hands stilled. There was a man seated in front of the fireplace, lit from behind by the glow of yet more candles behind the fireplace screen. His glasses reflected the light. He seemed to be outfitted in his work attire, if you spent your work hours climbing through windows in the dead of night. He was holding something in his hand that made a faint rattle in the dark stillness.

"Enh, Genard," Mercy called. "I'll take over from here."

Genard unfolded himself from the chair and glanced behind Mercy to see Bobby and Joanna.

"Remy's friends," Mercy said, waving airily at the pair.

Genard shook his head impatiently, then pocketed the string of rosary beads he was holding. He strode from the room without a word.

"Friendly guy," Bobby said.

"He'll be even friendlier when he finds out what happened to his truck. Have a seat wherever you like," Mercy said. "Would you like some wine? I could use a drink."

Bobby sat himself on a sofa. Joanna adjusted a chair and was about to sit when she spotted a long table set at the far end of the room. The narrow end faced the door. On it was the unmistakable form of a body draped with a black cloth.

"You intend for us to sit in the dark with a corpse?" she asked, pointing.

"Well, it's not entirely dark, we've got de candles. And someone has to sit with Tante Mattie until Remy comes back and takes his turn," Mercy said as she opened a cabinet and removed a bottle of wine. "I hope you like red. I've been saving dis Cab for awhile."

Bobby tried to pull his attention away from the body on the table. "Uhm, I'm-."

"I'd drink paint thinner at this point. Just put some alcohol in a glass," Joanna said and plopped herself down onto a chair.

Mercy corked the bottle, pulled three wine glasses by their stems from the cabinet with one hand, and sashayed her way across the room. She sat and set the glasses on the table. "I got dis from a client of mine. He was really impressed wit' my work," she said with a sly smile. "But maybe you know him? Tony Stark?"

"Multi-billionaire playboy Tony Stark? What kind of work were you doing, exactly?" Joanna said snidely, and Bobby stepped on her foot.

Mercy grinned. "I keep the details of my work in strictest confidence," she said. "And Mr. Stark only wanted to show his appreciation for my talents. I told him I was a happily married woman, but I'd be glad to accept a alternative bonus." She poured three glasses and set the bottle down. "I t'ink I made de right choice between de two. Dis bottle will certainly last me longer."

Bobby choked and began to cough.

Joanna picked up the glass by the stem, swirled the dark red liquid around, smelled it, tasted it, and pronounced it good.

Bobby stared at her.

"What?" she snapped. "I can't appreciate wine?"

Mercy had left the sitting room door open, so they could hear the faint sounds of the recital resuming in the room across the foyer. Apparently they had moved on to the piano.

"Isn't dis nice?" Mercy said, raising her glass to the still figure on the table and then taking a sip.

"Is this some sort of after-school recital?" Bobby asked, referring to the students in the next room.

"Oh, no. This is de regular class time. They do their music 'round dis time," Mercy responded. "But they should be done before ten, so if you want to sleep you won't hear anything from them after that. They'll all be studying."

"Yeah," Bobby said slowly. "They seem very...well-disciplined."

Mercy nodded and swallowed another sip of wine. "Dis isn't such a bad bunch, these kids. Most of the strays Remy sends here are a bit unruly, save for de last group he picked up. They came pretty well-behaved."

"How do you get them all to shut up?" asked Joanna. "If only we could figure that out at the school..."

"Regular public beatings," Mercy answered. "You know, to set an example."

Bobby and Joanna stared at her.

"I'm joking!" Mercy said, exasperated. "You don't think we beat our kids, do you? We don't have to. They just fall in line."

"I work with teenagers every day and I've never seen anything like that," Bobby said, pointing to the door.

"Well, it's like dis," Mercy said, swishing her wine around her glass. "The littler ones get paired wit' the big ones, who set an example for the littler ones to follow. If you can follow de example, you get to be a sponsor when you're old enough. Can't become a Guild thief if you don't become a sponsor first."

"So you have kids taking care of other kids? Must take some pressure of the teachers...and the parents," Bobby said.

"I wouldn't know," Mercy said. "My husband and I never had any kids." She took a sip of wine. "I always thought there'd be more time, but then there wasn't. Henri died, so I guess everyone else was right. A girl can't be a Guild thief and a proper wife after all."

"I'm so sorry," Bobby said finally picking up his glass and staring into it. "About your husband."

Mercy shrugged off his apology and the sad look on her face disappeared. "Oh...well, Cousin Emil makes enough babies to fill de ranks. Five and another on de way." She muttered darkly with a small mean smile: "Marie-Therese'll never have her figure back, that's a certainty."

"More cousins?" Joanna said. "You and Remy are both cousins with Emil?"

"Oh, we all call each other 'cousin.' We're all related somehow so it saves on de confusion," Mercy said, gesturing grandly with her wine glass.

"One big happy incestuous family," Joanna remarked.

"Joanna!" Bobby scolded.

"We're not all of us that closely related. We've got matchmakers to figure that sort of t'ing out so no one marries their sister or something and ends up with a kid with two heads." Mercy was about to take another sip when her face began to turn red. "I mean...not that a kid with two heads is bad or anything or—-you don't have any students with multiple heads, do you...? I'm not tryin' t'say any of y'all are a product of incest. Sorry! Dat came out wrong."

Bobby held up a hand to quiet her. "Don't worry about it. No offense."

"Speak for yourself," Joanna muttered into her glass.

"So you were saying...about the matchmakers? Like, Cajun Yente?"

Mercy smiled, her face still flushed. "What..? What's 'Yente?'" she asked as the voices of children singing wafted down the hall.

"Yente from Fiddler on the Roof...?" Bobby hedged. "The matchmaker? 'Matchmaker matchmaker make me a match...?'"

Mercy shook her head.

"Wow, for real? You don't even get that reference?"

"Wait, so your marriage was arranged?" Joanna asked.

"That's right," Mercy responded.

"Oh, well that explains it," Bobby said. He was thinking of the cubicle they all shared in the teacher's lounge that was plastered with snapshots. Remy had a photo of himself and his brother Henri, where Remy was laying his head on top of Henri's so to make his bald brother look as though he had a head full of hair. Remy had his eyes closed and mouth open. Henri's expression was one of bemused tolerance. Bobby didn't like the photo, because it made him think of Gambit as less than just a jerk (which he was), and more like an actual real person. Someone's annoying kid brother.

"Explains what...?" Mercy asked.

"Well, Henri is-," Bobby said, suddenly realizing the path his words were walking down. "And you're so...I mean, you're so... you." He gestured expansively at Mercy, her long blond hair, curvaceous body, full lips that were now curved down at the corners...

"You think that because my late husband wasn't conventionally handsome I wouldn't be attracted to him?" Mercy asked, raising her eyebrows.

"Erm..." Bobby said and Joanna snickered at his discomfort.

"Who's got 'foot-in-mouth' now?" Joanna asked.

Mercy shook her head. "Nevermind, we've all said something stupid. I blame the wine," she said, sipping thoughtfully. "Henri had plenty of attractive qualities. He was a real catch. All the other girls couldn't believe my luck when I was picked for him." Mercy's expression was smug. "He was a high-ranking thief in the Guild," she began, ticking off the points on her fingers, "and a LeBeau."

"How is that a good point?" Joanna asked.

"The LeBeau clan is the ruling family," she answered haughtily. "And it was always assumed Henri would take over leadership after his father Jean-Luc. What seventeen-year-old girl doesn't dream of being a princess?"

"I didn't," Joanna responded. "And I guess your dream ended when Remy showed up. I bet you were ticked."

Mercy gave her a squinty-eyed look. "Maybe I was at first...when Jean-Luc arranged for Remy to be married to Bella Donna and unite de Guilds under their leadership...But Henri never let it bother him so I tried not to. No. Henri could've been a jerk, everyone thought he was entitled to be. But he was a better man than that. He took t'teaching Remy everything he'd learned so Remy could assume the title. A lesser man would've left some upstart kid's ass flapping in the wind and been glad to watch him fail. But not Henri, he loved his little brother."

"For all the good it did him," Joanna said.

"Yes, well...what happened was't entirely Remy's fault," Mercy responded. "And it certainly wasn't his choice to leave. He would have rather died than go into exile and probably would have if Candra hadn't interfered."

"Why does that name come up again?" Bobby wondered.

"Candra was a major factor in our existence. She had a hand in just about everything we did," Mercy pointed with her wine glass. "Y'all did us a major favor by offing that sick bitch. So thanks for dat!"

"But you said she saved Gambit from being killed," Bobby said.

"I said she kept him from dyin'," Mercy said finishing her glass and pouring a second. "Or rather, the assassins saw to it by selling him off to Candra to pay his debt. He was worth more alive than dead t'them, as a ransom."

"What debt?" Joanna asked.

"They were owed the sum of what Julien, de assassin Remy killed, would've made if he'd lived. Which is in my opinion was a whole lotta nothin'. A more worthless human being you're never likely t'meet. Anyway, the Thieves' Guild didn't have de funding, so Candra offered to pay."

"Worst in-laws ever," Bobby said.

"Seriously," Mercy said. "And if anyone asks, you never heard me tell dat tale. If it ever got back to Belle, Remy would be super pissed wit' me."

"How could she not know?" Bobby asked. "Her family sold her husband!"

"Well, she don't. Let's keep it dat way. It would hurt her if she ever thought her own kin did that t'her or t'Remy."

"So is that how Gambit ended up with Candra?" Joanna asked.

"He had to work for her to pay off de ransom she paid. Jean-Luc is usually cool as ice, but when Candra took Remy he was really rattled. He tried to get Remy t'throw her over, but Remy wouldn't. She messed him up good. When Remy did turn up somewhere out west, he was meaner than a snake. He was never mean before. He could be amazingly insensitive and breathtakingly stupid sometimes... and he definitely didn't follow de rules... but he was never mean."

"Are you so sure about that?" Joanna asked, setting her glass down hard on the table.

"Yes, of course!" Mercy responded. "I know he could have a temper if you pushed his buttons long enough, God knows Emil's seen it...but Remy'd never have hurt anyone on purpose. Especially not his own brother. And when Henri tracked him down t'go talk t'him..out near Seattle, I think... Remy attacked him! When Henri told me what happened, I didn't believe it."

"Well, believe it!" Joanna said. "I've seen it! I've seen him at his worst. I saw him with Candra and she didn't make him do anything he didn't all ready want to do. So, sorry to break it to you, but your rosy view of Gambit is way off base. He's a liar and a killer and worse."

Mercy was shaking her head. "No!" she glanced over at the figure on the table behind them. "He wasn't himself! It was Candra-!"

Joanna grabbed the arms of her chair. "He did throw Candra over! For me! Or so I thought! He only took up with me to make her mad! You should have seen her face when she caught us. She'd never believe he'd choose me over her..." her mouth twisted with fury. "But I did! He played me for a fool!"

Mercy eyes and mouth were wide as Joanna stood, threw back her chair, and stormed from the room. When the door slammed, Mercy dropped her glass and hid her face in her hands.

For a moment, Bobby sat frozen on the spot until Mercy made a small sad noise and began to cry. He stood and righted the chair, placing it close to where Mercy was seated.

"I'm really sorry about that," he said softly. "Really, that was...I think Joanna does care about Gam-about Remy in a weird sort of way, and doesn't know what to do with it. She's not the most introspective person ever."

Mercy sniffled and wiped her palm across her cheek. "I really thought Remy was better," she said miserably. "I thought ever since he'd signed up with y'all he was more himself. Not like de same as he was, but better. Saner."

Bobby put a hand on her shoulder. "Sure, he's...better. You know. Anyway, the Remy I know wouldn't do what Joanna said. Not now anyway."

Mercy nodded sadly and smiled through her tears. "It's so nice of you t'come all dis way and watch over him. Heaven help him, he can barely look after himself. You're a good friend."

Bobby felt very guilty all of a sudden. "Yeah...well. It's no problem."

"You have t'believe that Candra manipulated him," she said urgently and looked back to the table. "I hope what they say is wrong, and de dead don't linger until they're laid t'rest. Tante's heart would break in a million pieces if she heard any of that. Candra hated Jean-Luc...and Tante Mattie for dat matter. She'd have done anything t'hurt them, and Remy was de best way to strike at their hearts."

"But why?" Bobby asked. "What did she have against them?"

"Who knows, she's a crazy bitch," Mercy said, shrugging. She picked up her fallen wine glass from the carpet. Fortunately, she had emptied it before it fell. "But I do know that your friend Logan should've brought Remy back by now."

"They're not in any trouble, I'm sure," Bobby said.

Mercy tsked. "I know I tried to defend him, but Remy does have a way of slipping out of responsibility. He needs to sit up with Tante so I can finish cookin'."

"How about I take Joanna and we go track him down?" Bobby asked. "That way you won't have to worry about either of us."

She smiled and touched his arm. "Would you?"

"Sure," Bobby said, mesmerized by wide blue eyes. "Where do you think he'd go?"

"De same place he always goes when he's avoiding de rest of us," Mercy said. "Back to Tante Mattie's house."


From the author: Next time...Flames, explosions, and other fun stuff.