NEW ORLEANS, 1974

Jean-Luc LeBeau, patriarch of the New Orleans Thieves Guild, parked his car in the driveway of the Alouette home and paused before getting out. He sighed and leaned on the steering wheel for a few moments. He always hated doing this kind of thing, but, as Mattie had told him only fifteen minutes before, she wasn't God, and she had done all she humanly could in her capacity as a healer. There was simply nothing to do but go inside and be there for Pierre and Genard when they needed him.

That was the most difficult part, in Jean-Luc's mind. Not the being there, that part was easy. But Jean-Luc had to help his friend try to explain to an innocent five-year-old boy that his mother was dead. That was always the hardest part of telling one of the Guild families that a member of that family was killed. Young children didn't find it easy to grasp the idea of death and that someone they love, especially a mother, wasn't ever going to return to them. Jean-Luc sighed again and opened his door, stepping out of the car into the bright New Orleans sunshine.

"Jean-Luc, wait."

Jean-Luc stopped in mid-stride and turned to find his daughter-in-law, Mercy, coming towards him. The young woman had married his only son, Henri, three years before, and Jean-Luc was suddenly relieved she was there. Henri must have told her that Yvonne was dead.

Mercy caught up to him, her blond ponytail swinging down her back. She was the first woman in this history of the Thieves Guild to participate in and pass the tilling, the Guild rite of passage. She had been bound and determined to become a full member of the Guild, rather than just a woman married to a Guild member. She flashed Jean-Luc a bright smile and sighed. "You're gon' need my help, whether you know it or not."

"I'm glad you've come. I do know you can be of valuable assistance here right now." Jean-Luc, being the Guild leader, the truth behind Genard's paternity, but had promised to uphold the wishes of the four adults involved and not say a word of it to either Genard or Mercy. "It's strange, de bond you formed wit' Genard in such a short time. He's gon' need your help to understand dis."

"I know, Jean-Luc. Dat's why I came de second I found out Yvonne had died. You an' Pierre can only do so much to help him t'rough dis. Since my father died last year, I t'ink I can explain it better to him." Mercy replied. What she didn't know was that due to her own father's death, both of Genard's biological parents were no longer living.

Jean-Luc knocked on the front door of the modest split level house and he and Mercy waited for either Pierre or Genard to answer it. They chuckled when they heard the sound of a chair being dragged across the floor. Genard wasn't tall enough to see out the window on his own yet, but even at his young age, he was trained to make sure he knew who was outside before answering the door. They watched him, smiling, as he moved the curtain and looked out at them, a huge grin lighting up his face when he recognized them. He jumped down off the chair and pushed it aside, calling to his father and unlocking the door.

"Good morning Genard." Jean-Luc greeted the small boy once the door was opened. "May we come in?"

Genard absently pushed his glasses up on his nose, a gesture that was as automatic to him as breathing, and nodded. "Sure. Papa's in de kitchen. Hi Mercy."

Mercy followed Jean-Luc into the house, ruffling Genard's wavy blond hair as she passed him. "Hey kiddo."

"Mercy," Jean-Luc said. "Why don' you an' Genard watch television or somethin' while I speak wit' his father?"

"Dat sounds like a good idea." Mercy agreed. "Genard, I t'ink de Chipmunks are on, why don' we watch dem?"

"'Kay." Genard led the way into the living room, watching Jean-Luc go into the kitchen. "What's he wan' talk to Papa for, anyway?" He asked, turning on the television set and finding the Chipmunks.

"Don' worry 'bout dat jus' yet, kid. You'll find out soon enough." Mercy replied, sitting on the couch and pulling the little boy up into her lap.

"Pierre, I'm sorry..." Jean-Luc's voice trailed off. He didn't know what else to say. "Mattie did everythin' she could."

Pierre, who had collapsed in a chair at the kitchen table when given the news, rested his head in his hands with a quiet sob. "What do I do now, Jean-Luc? How can I tell dat little boy in dere dat his momma's dead? How do I...?"

"De day he was born, you chose to ignore de fact dat he's not your biological son, Pierre. You've been raising him as your own ever since. Why would dat stop now?" Jean-Luc questioned, sitting across from his friend. "He's gon' need you to be strong an' help him. Mercy's here for added support, but you're a key person in Genard's life. You'll figure it out, but I you're gon' have to tell him."

"Mercy...here...?" Pierre demanded quietly. "Dieu...I s'pose dat's a good t'ing. Well, maybe we should go get dis over wit', neh?"

"Oui. De sooner, de better."

Pierre took a deep, shaking breath, and stood up. After composing himself, he led the way to the living room, where Genard and Mercy were laughing over the antics of Alvin, Simon and Theodore. They both looked up when Pierre and Jean-Luc entered the room.

Mercy gave Pierre a sympathetic smile and he nodded back, a silent thanks for her presence. With the unerring intuition of childhood, Genard instantly knew something was wrong, but he didn't know what.

"Papa, what's goin' on?" Genard asked, scrambling out of Mercy's lap and looking up at his father, his big brown eyes filled with a questioning fear. "What happened?"

Pierre sat down on one of the armchairs with a sigh. "Come here, petit."

Genard went over and stood in front of his father. Pierre picked the little boy up and sat him on his lap. "You know why your momma hasn' been here in de past couple of days, right?"

"You an' Tante Mattie tol' me dat she got shot." Genard replied candidly. "When is she comin' home?"

"I don' wan' have to tell you dis, Genard, but Jean-Luc an' Mercy came here today wit' some bad news. Tante Mattie couldn' heal her." Pierre explained.

Genard's face fell and he frowned as he realized what that meant. Tears formed in his eyes and he looked at his father for anything resembling help. "Momma's...dead?" He asked, his lower lip trembling.

Pierre wrapped his arms around the shaking child and held him tightly. "Oui."

They remained that way for what seemed like a very long time. Jean-Luc sat beside Mercy, both of them unable to provide any real source of comfort to them. A short while after the news was broken to Genard, he got up and went upstairs. Mercy saw the grief-stricken look on his young face and sighed, glancing at Jean-Luc, who nodded. Mercy got up and, after giving Pierre a reassuring hug, followed Genard.

Mercy paused at the door to his room, watching him for a brief moment. He was sitting on his bed holding a framed picture in his hands. Seeing the tears rolling silently down his cheeks, Mercy sighed and knocked lightly on the door.

"Can I come in, Genard?"

The small boy nodded his consent and Mercy walked over to him, sitting on the bed beside him. Her initial hunch had been right. The picture he was looking at was of his mother. "Why do dey do t'ings like dis, Mercy?"

Mercy didn't need to ask who he was talking about. "Dey're mean, evil people, Genard. Dey've been tryin' to wipe out everyone in our fam'ly for centuries. Sometimes de easiest way for dem to get to us is by killin' de people we love most in de world. Like your momma an' my papa." She put an arm around his shoulders and gave him a little hug. "I'm sorry, kiddo. I wish I could change t'ings."

"Tante Mattie says it's not right to hate anyone, no matter what dey do to you." Genard commented thoughtfully, resting his head on Mercy's shoulder. "Would you tell on me if I tol' you I hate de assassins?"

"Oh Genard..." Mercy sighed. "I won' tell, but will you promise me somethin'?"

"What?"

"Jus' don' let your feelin's towards dem take over your life, especially when you grow up. It's really not right to let hate rule your actions."

"Okay, I won'..." Genard agreed. He suddenly moved and looked at Mercy with a newfound fear in his dark eyes. "Who's gon' take care of me now? I mean b'sides Papa? I'm jus' a little kid...I can' take care of myself...I don' know how..."

"Tante Mattie will be here for you de way she's been here for everyone else. An' you got me...I'll be here for you if you need me." Mercy told him. "I promise."

"T'anks."

NEW ORLEANS, 1984

"Hey Genard, where you goin'?"

Fifteen-year-old Genard stopped at the safehouse door with a sigh. He had been so close to getting out for the day without having to answer that question. His hand was on the doorknob. He could have easily ignored the question and continued on his way, but he knew it would be more beneficial to just talk to the two small boys behind him and get them out of his hair.

Genard pushed his glasses up on his nose and turned around. He couldn't help but smile at the boys. They were like younger brothers to him and he was grateful to have them around. Eight-year-old Emil and six-year-old Etienne were best friends as well as first cousins. Both were nephews of Jean-Luc and both were, like Genard, being raised by Tante Mattie and their fathers. Or in Etienne's case, older brother.

"I'm goin' out. I'll be gone all day. Why?"

"Can we come?" Emil asked from his position on one of the lower stairs of the grand staircase. Etienne was a step higher. They were bored and wanted something to do that didn't require them helping Tante Mattie do any kind of housework. Going out sounded like a great idea to them.

Genard sighed and went over, sitting on the stairs with them. "I'm sorry guys. I'd love to take you wit' me, an' if it was any other day, I would. But today, I want to be alone. Can you understand dat?"

Red and blond heads nodded silently. Impulsively, the two boys hugged Genard, something which surprised the teenager greatly. He returned the hug, and decided not to ask them why they did it. Instead he said,

"Aww...t'anks you two. Dat was jus' what I needed. How 'bout if tomorrow, I take you to dat miniature golf place you've been buggin' everyone 'bout?"

"Really?" Etienne asked, blue eyes lighting up. He and Emil had been trying to talk soemone to take them mini golfing for weeks, but none of the grown ups ever had time. They had never asked Genard if he'd take them, because they hadn't thought he'd want to take them.

Genard laughed. "Yeah really. Now you guys stay out of Tante Mattie's hair today, okay? I'll be back later."

After leaving the safehouse, Genard walked down the streets of New Orleans lost in his own thoughts. After a brief stop at a flowershop, he ended up right where he wanted to be. He placed the flowers he'd bought on his mother's grave with a sigh. It had been ten years since his mother was killed and not a day went by that he didn't miss her. After speaking to her and wondering, not for the first time, if she even knew he was there, he walked around and looked at the graves of the other long-dead thieves.

For some reason, he paused longer at the side-by-side graves of Mercy's parents, Jacques and Helene. Genard knew that Jacques had died less than a year before his mother, but that was it. He didn't really remember much about the man, just that Mercy got her personality and her hair from him. Helene, on the other hand, had died six months ago, and Genard knew Mercy missed her deeply.

Genard felt his father's presence before Pierre had even spoken a word. "I t'ought you'd be over talkin' to Momma."

Pierre chuckled sadly. "I could say de same 'bout you. What brings you to dis side of de cemetary, Genard?"

"I've already been to talk to Momma." Genard explained. "I jus' kind of felt like visitin' everyone else too. I don' know what made me stay here longer den de others t'ough..."

'I do, but I'm not tellin' you.' Pierre thought. Aloud, he said, "It's prob'ly b'cause you know how much Mercy misses Helene. You an' Mercy have always been close friends, which is incredible, given de difference in your ages."

"Yeah...maybe dat's it." Genard agreed, putting it out of his mind and changing the subject, much to Pierre's unspoken relief. "I'm takin' Emil an' Etienne to dat miniature golf place tomorrow."

"Oh really? Dat'll be fun. Maybe you should see if Claude would like to go too. He doesn' get out away from de rest of us much. It might be good for him to hang out wit' you young people for a day."

Genard thought for a moment and then smiled. "Yeah, it prob'ly would."

"What are you gon' do for de rest of today?" Pierre asked.

"I was t'inkin' of goin' for a nice long walk. You wan' join me, Papa?"

Pierre shook his head. "Non, dat's alright, I jus' wanted to make sure you were okay."

"I'm fine, Papa." Genard confirmed. "Jus' feelin' nostalgic right now."

"Okay. I'll see you back at home den."

Back at the safehouse a few hours later, Mercy was startled by a knock on her bedroom door. She put down the book she was reading and looked up to find Genard standing there.

"What'cha readin', Merce?"

"To Kill a Mockingbird. It used to belong to my mother. I've been t'inkin' about her a lot lately. Have you ever read it?" Mercy asked. "Oh, an' come in. Have a seat."

Genard sat down on the chair at the desk and shook his head. "Non, never read it. Is it good?"

"Yeah. I've read it about ten times an' I still love it. Did you go...?"

Genard nodded. "Yeah. Spent part of de mornin' dere an' den walked around town an' de swamps for de rest of de day. It's been a long day."

"I know. How're you holdin' up?"

"Okay, considerin'. I'd like to take my mind off it, t'ough. I jus' wish I knew how."

As if on cue, before Mercy had time to suggest anything, Claude knocked on the door. "Hey, so dis is where you two've been hidin'! Jean-Luc, Henri, Pierre an' Francois jus' challenged Theoren an' I to a monopoly championship an' we could use some help. You guys wan' join us an' try to kick deir butts, or...?"

Mercy and Genard looked at each other and grinned. Just the distraction they were both looking for. "Lead de way, Claude." Genard said. "Dey won' know what hit 'em."

Tante Mattie, after putting the two young boys to bed upstairs, heard the laughter and banter from the living room and went to see what was going on. She stood in the doorway and watched them play with a light heart. It wasn't often the thieves got a chance to kick back and have some fun, and she encouraged any attempt they made at enjoying themselves. However, when Genard finally lost everything he had to Henri, who gloated like a madman set on ruling the world, Mattie insisted it was time the teenager went to bed.

"Aww, but Tante...can' I stay an' watch for awhile? Please?" Genard begged. He was tired, but he didn't want to leave the fun just yet.

The old woman shook her head and tapped her watch. "It's already well past your bedtime, an' you've had a long day. Dey can tell you what happened tomorrow mornin'. Now, you say goodnight to everyone an' come along."

Less then an hour later, Mattie went in to check on Genard. She was happy to see he was sound asleep, just like he should be. She hovered near his bed for a few minutes and said a silent prayer that both she and Pierre would be dead before he had to find out the truth. Sure, she had promised to give Genard and Mercy that letter before she died, but Mattie was beginning to think it might be best for both of them if they got the news when there was no one alive they could get angry at for keeping the secret in the first place.

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