Opening her eyes, Rogue's first thought was that waking up at the Guild Hall was becoming far too routine. Rolling out of bed, she headed for the kitchen and coffee. Pulling out the alligator mug she had commandeered as her coffee mug, she greeted Tante Mattie and Mercy, who were already sitting in the kitchen.

"Where is everyone this morning?" Rogue asked, noting the house seemed oddly quiet.

"Jean-Luc, Henri, Remy, and de others are in a meeting planning the details of the Boucherie. We got the news that the Assassins agreed to it late last night," replied Mercy, who was slumped over her own coffee and clearly not awake yet.

Rogue made a sound of acknowledgment in the back of her throat. "Does that mean that it would be okay for me to stay at Irene's house," She backpedaled at Tante Mattie's and Mercy's sharp look, "Not that I don't appreciate all of your hospitality. I just don't want to wear out my welcome."

"You're always welcome here, Child," stated Tante Mattie gently.

"Oui. I know the circumstances aren't the best, but it's been great having you here. Especially after everything Remy has told us about you." Mercy added.

"He talks about me?"

Mercy and Tante Mattie gave each other a look that clearly meant they thought Rogue had a screw loose. Finally, Tante gave her another smile before patting her hand as she got up from the table, "Yes, Honey. He talks about you."

Rogue deliberately chose to ignore the subtext of that answer.

"Mais, it might be best if you stay here another night. At least until the details of the Boucherie are worked out," Mercy suggested.

"Any idea how long that will take?" Rogue asked, taking another sip of her coffee. Mercy shook her head. Rogue bit back a sigh of frustration. This wasn't Mercy's fault, and she shouldn't take it out on her. "Would it be okay if I borrowed a car to pick up clothes?"

Mercy thought for a moment but nodded in agreement.

"Don't see why not." She got from the table and pulled a set of keys from a hook on the wall. "The Assassins didn't bother you the night you and Remy stayed together. Where did he sleep, by the way?" The blonde woman shot a sly grin over her shoulder, and Rogue felt the heat start to creep up her neck.

"In the guest room. Where else would he have stayed?" she asked brusquely.

"Well…"

"Don't be vulgar, Girl," Tante Mattie cut Mercy off with a look.

"Yes, Tante," Mercy replied dutifully but turned back to give Rogue a knowing smile. Rogue swallowed down the rest of her coffee and decided she didn't need breakfast that morning. Not when Mercy was clearly hinting for more information than Rogue was willing to give.

Riding in Mercy's luxury sedan with ventilated leather seats made the trip into the city much smoother. It also made it easier for Rogue to get wrapped up in her thoughts. It always felt like she was being pushed in one direction or another. In trying to stay out of the Swamp Rat's drama, it seemed like she kept getting sucked in further. Granted, Remy and his family hadn't forced her to do anything she wouldn't have done anyway.

Pulling up to the house, Rogue rested her head on the steering wheel. Staying at the Guild Hall was a smart decision. She knew that. Even if the LeBeaus hadn't offered, Rogue would like to think she had enough common sense to have asked for their help once she found out the Assassins knew where her house was.

Then again, she probably wouldn't have.

Rogue could admit that she had a stubborn streak that often got her into trouble. Maybe that was the problem. She was just being contrary for the sake of being contrary.

Who? You Chere? Remy asked. Rogue groaned and thunked her head on the steering wheel. Sometimes having a ride-along peanut gallery really sucked.

Stepping out of the car, Rogue looked around to see if any miscellaneous street urchins were hanging around, ready to report her movements back to the Assassins. Not seeing any, Rogue headed inside and up to her bedroom.

Grabbing her smaller carry-on bag, she began packing what she needed for a few days' stay. Moving from the bedroom to the living room, Rogue mentally ticked off everything she might need—clothes, makeup, toothbrush, phone charger…that should be it.

The envelope.

Entering the study, the envelope innocently peeked out from where she had stuffed it back inside the book it had fallen out of. Plucking the cards out of the envelope, she carefully laid them out on the desk.

The Reverse Six of Pentacles…unpaid debts

The Reverse King of Swords…weakness

The Five of Swords…winning at all costs.

Irene had never liked Tarot cards or those late-night infomercials for phone psychics.

It's nothing more than a parlor trick. A ploy used to prey on the insecure and desperate, Irene had told her once.

Rogue fingered the final card from the envelope. Printed on the front of the card was the name Madame LaCour, Tarot Reader, and an address on Canal Street. Rogue knew Canal Street was technically located in the Quarter, but it created the border to the Garden District.

It's close by and right on the edge of the Quarter. If I park a block or two away, I can just run across the street and see if I can get any information about these cards. Rogue mused as she tapped her finger on the edge of the business card before making up her mind. Shoving the book, cards, and everything else into her bag, she headed out the door.

It was already late in the morning when Rogue parked Mercy's car two blocks away from Madame LaCour's. Crossing Canal Street, Rogue found Madam LaCour's shop. The front door was in need of a new coat of paint, and in the window, a neon sign advertised the shop as 'a fine purveyor of tarot readings, crystals, and more.' Rogue snorted to herself. There was nothing fine about this place.

Show some respect for your betters, fille, Julien snapped at her.

Rogue winced, rubbing her forehead. She had forgotten Julien was still lurking around her head. Opening the door, a little bell rang overhead, signaling her entrance. As her eyes adjusted to the dim interior, she tried not to cough as the heavy smell of incense and dust filled her nose.

The shop was small, with shelves lining the walls on all sides, bowing under the weight of incense, charms, and crystals. In the center of the shop, books on tarot, numerology, and voodoo filled one table, while another held wooden bowls of beaded necklaces made from semi-precious stones labeled with their purpose. At the far back of the shop was a countertop that nearly disappeared under all the trinkets that covered it. In one corner sat a high-back wicker chair where a black cat lazed in a sunbeam next to a low table.

The shop appeared to be empty, not that it made Rogue feel any more at ease. Suddenly a heavy curtain behind the counter shifted, and an older woman stepped out. "Hello, Dearie. I've been expecting you."

Sure you have, Rogue thought. Politely she asked, "Madame LaCour?"

"Mmhmm."

Eyeing the woman in front of her, Rogue wasn't sure what to think. Madame LaCour was tall for a woman and on the wrong side of middle age. She had probably been a beauty in her youth, with black hair and ice-blue eyes. She probably would still be considered beautiful, but there was something cold in her eyes. Like she was judging you and had found you lacking.

"You're here searching for answers," moving around to the front of the counter, Madam LaCour's ice-blue eyes watched Rogue intently.

"Did the stars tell you that?" Rogue snapped, crossing her arms and cocking a hip to the side. Unease slid down Rogue's spine—she was starting to feel like she was a mouse and Madame LaCour was the snake.

Careful, Kid, Logan warned, don't go making enemies out of strangers.

The tarot reader gave Rogue an airy snort, "You're in a mystic shop, Dearie. People only come here when they have questions that need answers." Brushing past her, Madam LaCour walked back towards the high-back chair and shooed the sleeping cat off it before seating herself like a queen. "Perhaps you have questions about your future. Would you care for a tarot reading?"

"No, thank you, Ma'am. I don't care to know my future." Rogue turned back to the shelves and made a show of browsing them. Running her fingers over random books and knickknacks, Rogue could feel the woman's eyes burning into the back of her skull, setting her teeth on edge.

Raising a perfectly manicured eyebrow, Madam LaCour picked up her cards and began shuffling, her eyes never leaving Rogue, "Truly? You're not like most people who come in here."

"I prefer to live in the moment, I guess," Rogue shrugged.

"I see. I suppose there is something to be said for that," Madam LaCour paused, considering Rogue for a second before continuing, "That's black obsidian you're holding. It protects against dark forces and ill-willed people. Perhaps you should take it with you if you are determined to live in the moment." Madam LaCour suggested indicating the stone in Rogue's hands.

Rogue startled, glancing down to see that she was indeed holding a black stone. It was slightly larger than a quarter and felt smooth and heavy in Rogue's hand. The stone's glassy black surface glinted eerily in the dim light. Quickly Rogue placed it back on the shelf.

"Um, no, Ma'am. Like I said, I'm not really looking for anything in particular," Rogue murmured, moving down to the next shelf quickly.

"Yes, I suppose you'll know it when you see it." The older woman replied, shifting back in her chair. Rogue wished desperately that the woman would focus on something else.

Has she even blinked? Rogue wondered as she continued to browse the shelves mindlessly.

Rogue turned, looking over her shoulder to see if the woman was still watching her, but Madam LaCour was no longer paying her any mind, busy turning cards over on the table. Rogue moved to the next shelf as silence filled the shop, except for the sound of cards being flipped over.

What the hell had Irene sent her here for?

Desperate to break the silence, Rogue looked at the cards on the Madam's table. "Can you really read the future with those?"

"To an extent," Ice blue eyes found Rogue's again as the woman turned over another card with a picture of people falling from a tower. "The cards can indicate what may happen in the future, but not how things will occur."

"What good is that?" Rogue asked.

"They can act as a warning of things that may soon be upon us."

"Like what?" Rogue asked, frowning. Seriously, a minute ago, she couldn't get this woman to shut up, and now it was like pulling teeth trying to get an answer from her.

The older woman raised an eyebrow at Rogue's tone, leaving Rogue feeling like she was being judged again. After another moment, Madame LaCour broke eye contact and indicated two cards on the table.

"The Tower and The High Priestess. The Tower in an upright position represents sudden change and chaos. It is a warning that inescapable events are coming." Madame LaCour replied, indicating the first card. Rogue stared at the image of a stone tower that was being struck by lightning set against a black stormy sky. Two people were falling – jumping, maybe? – from the tower down onto the rocks below. Something curdled in Rogue's stomach at the image.

"In contrast," the older woman indicated the second card with a picture of an elegant woman sitting between two pillars, "The High Priestess in the upright position represents intuition, the subconscious mind, and the divine feminine. She encourages us to listen to our intuition and inner wisdom."

"And that means?" Rogue prodded, staring at the second card. She liked this card's meaning a lot more.

"I would venture that there will soon be events coming to pass that will cause great destruction and will only be solved by listening to one's intuition instead of conventional wisdom." Madame LaCour predicted, staring at the cards calmly.

"But that could be anything. How would you know when something important is about to happen?" Rogue demanded, feeling like she was going to pull her hair out.

"Many times, we only understand the importance of something after it occurs – a meeting, a message, a prophecy. As I said, the cards can indicate what may happen in the future but not how things will occur.

"And now, Dearie, our meeting is at an end. I'm afraid you will need to buy something or leave. I have other guests arriving soon." Madame LaCour stood from her chair and began gathering her cards back into a stack. Rogue didn't wait and turned on her heel to leave.

Of all the stupid wastes of time, she groused.

"Oh, and Dearie?" Madam LaCour's voice called out. Rogue paused with her hand on the doorknob turning back towards the future teller. Madame offered her a thin smile. "I'm so sorry about your Aunt. We never saw eye-to-eye, but we knew each other well enough."

Rogue felt her foot miss the step, the bell over the door clanging, as she stumbled out of the dark shop and onto the sidewalk away from those piercing eyes. Blinking, she tried to clear the temporary brightness of the outdoors.

Heads up, Kid, shouted Logan.

Turning around, Rogue caught sight of Julien Boudreaux stepping out of an alleyway halfway down the block. The man froze, eyes widening as he spotted her before taking a step towards her.

"Rogue! Is that you?" Rogue's head snapped in the other direction and came face-to-face with Colt. Turning to look back down the block, Julien was nowhere to be seen. Colt peered at her. "You okay there?"

"Y-yeah, I'm fine," Rogue mentally shook herself, pulling her thoughts together, "I was just picking up some things. I thought I saw Julien."

Colt looked over her shoulder, then nodded slowly, "I see. In that case, how about I walk with you to your car?"

Normally Rogue would have bristled at the idea of needing protection, but after Madame's message and seeing Julien unexpectedly, she was grateful for the company. "That'd be great. I'm parked a few blocks away."

"What were you doing at LaCour's?" Colt asked as they started walking down the street.

"Just browsing," Rogue replied automatically. Pausing, she asked, "Why?"

"Julien is one of her frequent visitors."

"Really?"

"Yep."

Rogue's face must have shown her disbelief because he continued, "Madame LaCour's family used to hold a high position in the High Court, but her family had some sort of falling out with the Guilds and were removed from their position about fifty years ago. Madame LaCour has been vocal that she feels her birthright was stolen from her."

"And Julien agrees?"

"He agrees with most of what the Madame says because she says what he wants to hear."

"What do you mean?"

"Both the Thieves and the Assassins' Guilds believe in mysticism, but Julien… he's obsessed with it. Has been ever since he heard about the Le Diable Blanc prophecy. He's convinced that he is destined for some great prophecy of his own."

"And Madam LaCour believes he is?" Rogue tried to fit the pieces together in her mind.

Colt shrugged. "Not sure if she believes he is or if she's just blowing smoke. Either way, she's gained back a bit of power by having Julien's ear. My guess is that she'll gain even more when he takes over as Guildmaster."

Rogue pondered that for a moment. Pausing, she asked, "You said that the Thieves and the Assassins believe in mysticism. What about the Runners? Do they believe in all this stuff too?"

Colt snorted hard, "Alden will believe whatever gives him power."

Rogue raised an eyebrow at that. Seeing her look, Colt continued, "The Runners Guild doesn't carry as much weight as the Assassins and the Thieves Guilds do. See, the Assassins and Thieves were already set up in France when King Louis XIV sent a bunch of prisoners over to build New Orleans. I guess there must have been a couple of Assassins and Thieves in the bunch because the Guilds sprung up here too.

But the Runners didn't come to power until the 1860s when the Civil War broke out and guns were needed. The Runners were able to make good money but don't hold much territory because it was already held by the other Guilds."

"And Alden doesn't like that?" Rogue guessed.

"Absolutely hates it."

Arriving at Mercy's car, Colt put a hand on Rogue's arm, halting her. "Listen, Rogue," Colt broke off, looking around and raking his hands through his hair. Sighing, he started again, "Look, I don't know if anyone has explained this to you, but you're in a dangerous position."

"What do you mean?"

"Everyone in this city knows about your powers, and they would be very useful to a lot of people. Whichever Guild could possess you would have a huge advantage over the other two, something the two remaining Guilds wouldn't want to see happen."

Rogue fisted a hand on her hip, "I'm not one to be pushed in any direction, Sugah"

Frowning, Colt shook his head at her, "That doesn't mean the Guilds won't try. Even the Assassins would look the other way about your involvement in freeing Jean-Luc if it meant they could secure your loyalty for their side. You're already in this game, like it or not. Be careful."

Rogue watched as Colt turned and headed back the way they came. Sliding into the driver's seat, she pulled out her phone and realized two things: one, Remy must have stolen her phone at some point and programmed his number into it, and two, she had five missed calls from him.

XOXOXOXOX

Next Chapter: Rogue spends time with Remy's family and Julien makes his move.

Fun Facts:

Madame LaCour's surname literally means "the Court" hinting at her family's status within the High Court.

New Orleans was built, in part, by prisoners sent to the colony from France in the early 1700s. At the time it was pretty much a death sentence because of the lack of infrastructure and the high rates of disease.

In the 1840s and 1850s German immigration to New Orleans reached its pinnacle. You might have noticed that Alden Hofmann and Colt Breaux have German last names, not French, showing the Runners Guild started after Louisiana was no longer a French colony.

During the Civil War, the Union blockade was a naval strategy by the United States to prevent the Confederacy from trading. Blockade Runners became the main means of importing firearms into the Southern Confederacy. Runners could only carry small amounts of weapons and goods at one time and many were captured, but it is estimated five out of six attempts to evade the Union blockade were successful. Throughout the conflict, at least 600,000 arms were smuggled by blockade runners to the Confederacy, 330,000 of them into the Gulf ports.