New Orleans, Louisiana

The Past, Eleven Years Ago

"It's too cold," Remy complained while slouching further into the passenger seat's worn upholstery.

"Have another swig of bourbon," his cousin told him. "That'll warm you up." Cousin Emil was in the driver's seat of the old Buick, which bounced over poorly maintained asphalt down back country roads.

Remy had already rinsed his mouth out twice now with the cheap bourbon Emil had lifted from behind the counter of a seedy bar; stolen from the bottom shelf while no one was looking. The bottle sat half-empty on the floor between Remy's feet, the liquid sloshing back and forth inside. The alcohol sat sourly in his stomach and had done little to improve Remy's mood. To make matters worse, his braces had only been tightened the day before and his entire face ached. Remy stared at the ghost of his reflection in the passenger-side window while rubbing his jaw. The view beyond the glass was nothing but inky blackness.

"We had fun last year, remember?" Emil said hopefully, attempting to continue the conversation.

Last year, Remy thought. Last year, there were three of them. This year, there were only two. The car hit a pothole and Remy braced himself with a hand to the vehicle's ceiling to prevent himself from being launched from his seat. Last year, the car had been full with the sounds of his younger cousin's endless litany of complaints from the backseat, off-key singing, traded insults, and shouts of surprise as Emil veered back and forth across lanes down empty stretches of road. But that was last year, back when the car's suspension wasn't so bad and his younger cousin Etienne had still been alive.

"Maybe some music will cheer you up!" Emil said and cranked the volume knob to the right.

Remy pressed a hand to his ear and reached out to silence the stereo. "I have a headache," Remy told his cousin.

Emil gave an exaggerated sigh. "There'll be a bonfire. You like fire. At the very least, you can think of it as another venue to sulk in. A change of scenery."

Remy really would have liked a change of scenery. He wanted to be locked in his room with a book in hand. He wanted to disappear into a story and appear somewhere else, preferably on a space station bound for Jupiter with a sentient computer his only company. Not driving out into the back country to crash a party with the obnoxious Emil Lapin.

They spotted the bonfire from the road. Various vehicles were parked haphazardly in the grass. They could see figures silhouetted by the firelight. Emil steered his car off into the gravel berm and then onto the rutted grass. He threw the car into park before braking and Remy was thrown forward.

"Here we are!" Emil announced happily. "Grab de booze. Let's go join de fun!"

Emil bounded from the vehicle and slammed the car door closed behind him. Remy sat in the car for a moment, hearing muffled music beat against the car windows, and the sounds of voices raised in laughter. A bonfire haloed the gathering of teens in an orange glow. Remy reached down and picked up the bottle, then opened the car door and wearily climbed from the vehicle. Remy slogged across the grass after his cousin, who was already greeting the other party-goers with his usual enthusiasm. Remy resented his cousin's boundless cheerfulness. Enough so that two weeks ago he'd actually punched Emil so hard he'd sprained his own wrist. Remy didn't understand why Emil insisted on pestering him, into forcing him to come to this party. He didn't understand why Emil thought being completely engulfed in the company of others would somehow fix things. Everything was just the same, nothing was fixed. All this noise and light was just a distraction.

Remy dropped the bourbon to clatter against the other assembled bottles of liquor inside the large feed trough turned ice bucket. He fished a beer out from the melting ice and dried the bottle and his cold hand on the hem of his jacket. He then followed the sound of his cousin's laughing voice. Remy knew a few of the people gathered here from previous parties. Some were family members, mingling with the rest of the partygoers, the regular folk. Many were kids from some of the more affluent schools in the city. Emil liked going to their parties because they brought a better quality of liquor. Remy looked at his beer before twisting off the cap; glass bottles, not cans.

Oh la la, Remy thought with sarcasm. Très de luxe.

He angled himself through the clusters of people gathered around the fire to make his way nearest to the flames. Remy joined Emil who had found a group of girls to entertain.

"Enh, mes belles, dis my cousin Remy," Emil told them and seized Remy's arm to draw him closer to their little group. "He's forgotten how t'have a good time."

Remy fared his cousin with a put-upon gaze.

"Y'see," Emil said, gesturing at Remy as if he were on display. "Mebbe that dark brooding look works on de goth girls, but on tres jolies filles such as these–." The trio of girls Emil referenced were clustered close together, bottles of flavored malt liquor in their hands. They were underdressed for the chill February night air and huddled close to the fire. They each gave Remy an appraising glance.

"Hey," said one of the girls, "aren't you...?" She looked to her friends for affirmation. "Le Diable Blanc?"

Remy looked into the fire and pulled a drink from his beer bottle.

"You're not gonna make too many friends wit' dat sour puss of yours, mon frère," Emil told him while grinning at the girl who'd spoken.

Just then, Remy heard a familiar laugh carry over the other voices and the music. Remy flinched as if expecting a blow. He pulled his arm from his cousin's grip and turned away from the girls.

"Hey, cuz, where you goin'?" Emil asked after him.

"Same place you're gonna go with dese girls," Remy mumbled in response, not caring if Emil heard him or not. "Nowhere."

Remy wove through the crowd, keeping his head down and watching his feet as he paced through the furrowed field grass. He didn't want to be seen here. Not by anyone he knew, and especially not by her.

"Eh, LeBeau, I'm surprised to see you show your pretty little face here," a voice called.

Too late, Remy thought. He'd been spotted. A figure purposefully stepped into his path. Remy looked up to see one of his older cousins sneering down at him.

"Why de glum face?" Richard said and reached out a hand to grasp Remy's chin. "Smile, cher. We at a party!"

Remy jerked his head back, not wanting to be touched. Richard knew what he was doing. He grinned at Remy cruelly. "Aw, you still smartin' from de trip to de dentist's chair, petit chou?"

"Fuck off," Remy muttered before putting the bottle of beer back to his lips. He turned to glance back towards Emil, hoping to look nonchalant.

"What's dat you say?" Richard asked, pantomiming deafness by cupping his hand to his ear. "Can't hardly make out a word you say, mush mouth. Hey, I seen your girl foolin' 'round wit' another boy over there."

Remy stared at his older cousin blankly, refusing to respond.

Richard was overly pleased with himself. "Some boy from Saint Vincent's. Thomas somethin'-or-other. Football player, I hear." He then mimed throwing a football. "Reckon he'll score tonight?"

Remy couldn't help himself. He turned to look for the face that matched that familiar laugh. It wasn't hard to spot Belle's bright blond hair, reflecting orangey-red in the firelight.

Richard wasn't finished. "What's a-matter, Remy? Girl's just gettin' her kicks in before she's saddled wit' you for de rest of her life."

Belle saw Remy, he knew she did because her eyes flicked over in his direction before she turned back to the clique of admirers that surrounded her. Belle flashed her perfect smile and tossed her hair at the boy to her right. Remy turned his attention back to his cousin.

"So de girl's a slut. And an assassin besides. Still better than you could hope for, enh, devil-eyes?" Richard taunted.

For a moment, Remy thought about smashing his half-empty beer bottle across his cousin's face; to give in to the rage that swelled inside him like the ballooning explosion of an atom bomb. He adjusted his hand on the neck of the bottle.

Just then, a hand encircled Remy's narrow wrist with a firm grip.

"What's dis?" Emil said, his devil-may-care grin affixed on his face. "Hey, it's Dickie! All's we missin' is a bottle of our Ton Ton's 'shine and a much shallower gene pool and we'd be having us a reg'ler family reunion!"

Richard gave Emil a disgusted look. "It's Ree-char," he snapped. "Call me Dickie again, Rabbit, and I'll find a hole to stick your head down."

"Re-tard, y'say?" Emil shouted over the music. "Name suits you!"

Richard reached out and gave Emil a shove to the shoulder. Emil maintained his grip on Remy's arm, causing the beer in his hand to spill into the grass.

Richard's eyes darted back to Remy's. "Mebbe you don't care 'bout girls after all," he suggested. "Seein' as how you've got yourself a little boyfriend now."

"Aw, you jealous, Dickie?" Emil said snidely. "I'm sure true love'll come along for you someday."

Richard, Emil, and Remy found themselves the focus of group of casual onlookers. The eager glances and the way the groups started to cluster on the sidelines told Remy they were hopeful to witness a fight. Remy twisted his wrist to free himself of Emil's grip, sloshing beer down Emil's shirtfront. The bottle hit the grass with a dull thud.

"Hey!" Emil protested as Remy turned away. "Remy!"

Remy moved quickly to escape the circle of social vultures before he could be penned in.

"You always let your dumb-as-fuck cousin do de talkin' for you, Remy?" Richard called after him. "Got nothin' to say for yourself?"

Remy had plenty to say, but was afraid that when the words started coming out of his mouth, they wouldn't stop. He'd been so long without anyone to talk to; words were meaningless, and wouldn't change a thing besides. To think, weeks ago he'd actually been excited for the chance to come to this party, to hang out with his friends, meet up with his girl and blend into the crowd of kids their own age. It was a rare opportunity. And then everything changed. A cousin and friend had died. A pact was made. A treaty was signed, and both he and Belle were brought before the combined Guild councils and told what had been decided for them.

Remy had stood there in dumbstruck silence. Belle had broken into one of her fits of rage, screaming at her father, then at Remy's father, Jean-Luc.

You can't do this! Belle had screamed. You can't take this decision away from us! It was ours to make!

Remy's gaze had veered off into the distance, staring at nothing while listening to Belle shriek. He didn't realize Belle had been yelling at him as well until her voice had pierced through the haze of his conflicted thoughts.

Remy! she had been exclaiming. Don't just stand there! Say something!

Remy had looked at her with an empty expression and then held his hands out to his sides helplessly. What could he have said that would change anything?

Belle hadn't spoken to him since that day. She'd found other ways to defy her father. She'd found ways to punish Remy for his inertia, for his unwillingness to fight back. When Jean-Luc LeBeau and Marius Boudreaux sat down to pen that peace treaty, binding their two families together through the betrothal of their youngest children, they'd destroyed anything that had been true and right between Remy and Belle. Suddenly, Remy had been stripped of the easy friendship they shared. The one honest thing Remy had, Belle's love, was taken away. And perhaps that love was a contrivance of their fathers' manipulations all along. Remy hated to think of that possibility; it would mean second-guessing his every action and everything he knew to be true.

Remy walked to the trough of ice and retrieved three beers by their necks, then started off towards the group of vehicles. More vehicles had appeared; more kids had emptied from cars and trucks to join the party. He wound through the vehicles in the relative darkness, passing the occasional occupied car with couples fumbling together in the backseats. He reached the gravel alongside the road and began walking. He'd distanced himself from the noise and chaos of the party, so he was able to hear the muffled shout. A car door flew open and a girl tumbled out. She struggled to throw the car door shut again, slamming it into the boy on the other side who was just climbing from the car after her.

"Hey!" he shouted as he pushed back against the door. The girl stumbled back, then turned decisively towards the bonfire and began marching towards it. "Hey!" the boy called after her again and then darted forward.

Remy had come to a stop alongside the road. He watched as the boy grabbed the girl forcefully by the upper arm and spun her around. She tried to squirm out of his grip, raising her hands to slap at his chest.

"Let go!" she screamed at him. The boy responded by grasping her other arm. He then gave her a shake that sent her long dark hair falling into her eyes.

Remy had almost instinctively turned toward the fighting couple, beers rattling against one other in his left hand. He moved one of them to his right.

The boy was hissing something into the girl's ear. She shouted back at him: "I said: no!"

Remy came to a halt just behind the other boy. "You're missin' de party, mon ami," he told the boy's back. "Girl don't want t'have fun wit' you. Best cut your losses and get."

The boy turned to look over his shoulder at Remy. "Who the fuck–," he began.

Remy let that familiar glow of anger fill him; felt it reach his eyes and set them alight. The light of the fire played across his face as he fared the other teen with a sinister tight-lipped smile. It was almost comical to watch as the other boy quickly released his grip on the girl to back away, using the girl's slim form as a shield between himself and Remy.

"Shit!" the boy exclaimed.

"You okay, chère?" Remy asked the girl.

Her mouth had been agape with fear as she stared at Remy. She closed it now and slowly nodded. The other boy reached out and grabbed her arm again.

"Let's get out of here!" he commanded and began pulling her towards the party.

The girl tried to pull herself free. Remy let his right arm swing out, connecting the end of the beer bottle in his hand with the bumper of a truck. The charge he'd set through the liquid inside caused the end of the bottle to shatter into a shower of bright red sparks.

"Don't touch her again," Remy told the boy, slowly lifting the broken bottle in his hand. The boy fell back a few paces in retreat. "Get lost."

The boy abandoned his date and fled towards the party with a shout of warning. The girl looked after him for a moment before turning back to Remy. She rubbed her arm absently.

"Ça va?" he asked her and tossed the broken bottle into the grass where it exploded with a soft pop.

She nodded once and wiped a hand across her face. "Y-yeah," she said.

"You need a ride home?" he asked her.

The girl glanced back at the party. "I don't–I'm..."

"I was leavin' anyway," Remy continued. He held out his left hand, where he still held two remaining beers. "One for de road?"

The girl was hugging herself, shivering a bit. Remy hoped it was from the cold and not from fright. She reluctantly reached out and took one of the beers from his outstretched hand.

"Thanks," she said.

"It's warmer in de truck," he told her and nodded at the black Ford F-250 beside him. When she gave no response, Remy went around to the driver's side door and out of her line of sight. He set the beer bottle down onto the hood while slipping a slim piece of metal from inside his jacket. He slid the tool down into the door through the window slot and with a quick jerk had the door unlocked and open. Remy grabbed his beer and hopped up into the cab. He leaned across the leather seats and opened the passenger door.

"You comin'?" he called out to her. "Got seat warmers and cup holders and everything."

Remy retrieved another bit of metal from his pocket and stuck it into the ignition.

Some of these vehicles take a little finessing, this one might need to be coaxed...don't embarrass me now, he was thinking but then the ignition clicked and the engine rumbled to life.

The girl had put her hand to the handle just over the door and pulled herself into the truck. She closed the door behind her, sealing them both inside. Her eyes took in the vehicle's interior.

"This is a nice truck," she said appraisingly.

"Thanks. My daddy bought it for me," Remy told her with a sly smile. "For my sweet sixteen."

She raised an eyebrow at him. "Really?" she said disbelievingly, but she smiled too.

"What's your name?" he asked her as he put the truck into drive.

She opened the beer bottle with a practiced hand. "Temperance," she replied and took a swig from the bottle.

Remy felt himself about to break into a wide grin, but quickly closed his lips over his teeth, turning his smile into a smirk. "Nice t'meet you, Tempy," he told her. "My name's Thomas."

Temperance frowned at him. "I know who you are. And your name isn't Thomas."

Remy put on an expression of surprise. "Really?" he said with confusion. "But that's what it says on my vanity plates."

The girl laughed.

Remy steered the truck onto the road, the ride was smooth even over the broken asphalt. "Y'know, Temperance isn't such a common handle. I might have heard of a girl with such a virtuous name 'round my part of town. Mid-City, yeah?"

He could see her glance at him from the corner of her eye. "Mid-City," she affirmed. "Yeah."

Remy nodded as he watched the road ahead. "Might've heard 'bout a paint shop thereabouts, y'know. For trucks like dis one. A shop that could trick out a truck like dis pretty good."

Temperance shifted in her seat and took a long drink of her beer. She reached out and took the second bottle from where Remy held it between his legs. She twisted the cap off and tossed it onto the floor. Temperance returned the open bottle to Remy's outstretched hand. "Yeah, I know of a good shop. My brother owns it. I reckon he'd give you a fair price...on dis truck. I'll suggest it, on account of you bein' so heroic and all, coming to my rescue."

"It's real lucky us meetin' up like this," Remy told her.

"Must be fate," Temperance responded.

Remy smiled and took a sip of his beer. "This lemonade sure does taste good," he told her.

She shook her head at him, her brows raised incredulously. "It's not lemonade. It's beer, Thomas."

Remy took another drink as if to taste it a second time. He took his time considering the swallow. "Really? Well, 'bout damn time life gave me somethin' worth drinkin'. So how's about we take dis here lemon to your brother's place and have him fix me up wit' something worth drivin'?"

"Y'tired of your nice new truck already?" Temperance asked, her hand stroking the leather dashboard.

"I'd like t'pick somethin' out for myself," Remy told her. "Something a little sleeker, a lot faster, and more to my taste."

The girl brushed her fingers through her long hair, then pulled it over her shoulder. "Had anything in mind?"

"Yeah," Remy replied and tossed his empty beer bottle out the window. He saw it explode in the rear view mirror. "I need somethin' that'll take me as far away from dis place as I can get."

~ oOo ~

tres jolies filles – very pretty girls

mon frere – my brother

Ça va – how's it going

petit chou – endearment for a small child, used sarcastically in this instance