Page 38 of Xavier

Lissette shot a quick glance at Xavier and then followed her grandmother into her kitchen.

They gathered a large basket full of items, each marked with the name of the person to whom it should be delivered. If the item was a poultice or holistic remedy, Madame Gautier included instructions, indicating whether the person or Lissette should apply it.

Some packages included prepared meals, fresh bread or canned vegetables that would keep.

Having gone with her grandmother on several recent occasions, she remembered where most of the people lived in the bayou. She compared the names on the packages with the list of tombs that had been robbed. She put an X on those packages to remind her to tell them about their reliquaries and to be extra vigilant in the face of bad juju.

Armed with Madame Gautier’s basket of what she hoped would represent peace offerings, Lissette headed for the dock.

“Take my skiff,” her grandmother called out from the porch. “It’s bigger, and the gas tank is full.”

Xavier held the basket as Lissette stepped down into her grandmother’s skiff. After she placed the basket on the floor, she waited for Xavier to settle on the seat in front of her.

“Ready?” she asked.

“Ready,” Xavier responded.

Lissette prayed the people she visited would let her come close enough to deliver her grandmother’s goods so she could inform them of the thefts of their reliquaries and the incoming storm.

If they refused to listen because she was the one delivering, at least she’d have tried.

Though the bad juju had, as yet, not claimed a life, Lissette was positive it was only a matter of time before things got worse.

The people of Bayou Mambaloa might hate Lissette Gautier. They had rightly blamed her for much of the trouble in the past, but sadly, she was stuck with them, and they were stuck with her. Though she hadn’t instigated this latest trouble, she’d find a way to make it right. She’d fix it.

Or die trying.

Her gaze soaked up the broad shoulders of the man seated in front of her.

She hoped Xavier Xander wouldn’t get caught in the crossfire and go down with her.

He didn’t deserve to. The man was one of the good guys—one more reason he shouldn’t have insisted on protecting her. She was bad news, tainted from birth and unredeemable.

Surely, he’d see it soon enough and run the other way.

He needed to tuck his tail and run before she let herself get used to having him around. He was making it too easy to rely on him. And what had she learned when she was only ten?

“The only person you can rely on is yourself,” she recited. “And don’t ever forget that.”

Xavier glanced over his shoulder. “Did you say something?”

Heat rushed to her cheeks as she realized she must have spoken her mantra aloud. Rather than lie and say she hadn’t spoken, she said, “The first person on our route is just around the bend.” Forcing a smile she feared was more of a grimace, she warned him, “Don’t be surprised if he slams the door in my face.”

Chapter 7

As she had predicted, the man at her first stop, Grady Martin, opened the door of his ramshackle cabin, took one look at Lissette and slammed the door in her face. “Go away. I don’t let murderers in my house.”

“Mr. Martin,” Xavier stepped forward, “I’m Xavier Xander with the Bayou Brotherhood Protectors. Madame Gautier sprained her ankle and can’t make her usual house calls. She sent us with the salve you need for the sore on your leg.”

“How do I know that witch didn’t put poison in it?” Martin demanded. “She might want to murder me as well.”

“I don’t want to murder you, Mr. Martin,” Lissette said to the wooden door. “I won’t come in, but at least take the salve. I didn’t put poison in it. My grandmother made it. I haven’t even opened it. She said for you to apply it twice a day.”

“Get off my property before I call the sheriff,” was Martin’s response.

“I’ll go,” Lissette said softly, “but I’ll leave the salve on the porch. If you don’t use it, at least go see the doctor in Thibodaux. You don’t want the infection to get worse and potentially lose your leg.”

“Don’t need no stinkin’ doctor,” Martin grumbled. “I’m dialin’ 911.”