“What Guild you say?” The woman’s question was sly, but Claire wasn’t playing.
Miss Thelma knew exactly what Guild, and Claire looked at her without flinching until she spoke again.
“He’s inside.” She tipped her head to the door. “You go on in, but don’t be giving my Eddie any trouble now, ya hear?”
Claire nodded, stepping onto the porch. “Thank you.”
Xander followed her up the steps, stopping when Miss Thelma reached out, lightning fast, and grabbed his arm.
She tipped her head at Claire. “You best be watching her now.”
Xander nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”
Claire reached for the screen and glanced back at Miss Thelma, wondering if they were supposed to knock or ask permission. But the old woman was back to her rocking, and Claire pulled open the door. The squeaky springs would announce their presence to whoever was inside anyway.
They stepped into a hallway, the light minimal, barely leaking from the rooms on either side. Hesitating, Claire listened for something that would tell them where Crazy Eddie might be. A television, a radio, anything.
But it was deathly still.
Xander stepped in front of her. She recognized it as one of his many protective maneuvers. Letting Claire take the lead with an old woman was one thing. Letting her lead the way through a house in Treme when they had no idea who was inside?
There was no way Xander would let that fly.
He reached back for her hand. They passed a narrow, decrepit staircase and looked into the first two rooms to the left of the hallway. They were tiny, one a living room and the other a bedroom. Both were empty.
Continuing down the hall, they passed what looked like a closet and headed for the back of the house. Light streamed from the room at the end of the hallway. They headed toward it, Claire sending a silent prayer to whoever was listening for Crazy Eddie to be there. She was definitely not up for exploring the second level. Her heart was already beating too fast.
They reached the door to the back room. Xander hesitated, looking back at her before shrugging and pulling her into the room with him.
A man sat at an old Formica table, a book in his hand and a glass of what looked to be sweet tea at his elbow. He was so engrossed in what he was reading that he didn’t seem to notice them enter the room.
Xander cleared his throat. “Excuse me.” The man didn’t move a muscle or give any indication that he was startled. Xander continued. “Are you Eddie Clement?”
The man didn’t look up. Just held up a finger, gesturing for them to wait, as he continued reading. They stood in silence as he read, finally turning the page and bending the corner to save his place.
He closed the book and looked up at them. “You’re here about the Guild.”
TWENTY-ONE
Claire watched Eddie move around the tiny but immaculate kitchen as he poured them sweet tea.
He wasn’t anything like what she’d expected.
For one thing, he didn’t look crazy. In fact, he looked decidedly uncrazy, his eyes clear behind glasses with round black frames. His jeans were immaculate, topped with a loose tunic-type shirt adorned with an African print. Before he’d gotten up to get the tea, Claire caught a glimpse of the book he was reading; Moby-Dick.
Not exactly light reading.
“How did you know we were from the Guild?” Xander asked.
“I’ve been seeing you,” Eddie said, his back to them as he poured.
“Seeing us?” Xander repeated.
Eddie brought the glasses to the table and set them in front of Claire and Xander.
He tapped the side of his head. “Up here. Mostly when I sleep.” He sat down, the chair’s chrome legs squeaking against the chipped linoleum floor. “Not exactly what I was looking for with the insight brew.”
Claire almost choked on her tea. “The insight brew?”
“Sage, verbena . . . you know.” He waved a hand in the air. “Standard stuff. I use it all the time. Always sleep with it under my pillow. You never know when insight will strike or which direction it’ll come from.” He shook his head. “But I have to say, I wasn’t real happy to see you and old Max show up in my nightmares.”
Claire’s felt a chill enter the room with the man’s name. “Max?”
“Maximilian Constantin.” His eyes grew wise as he surveyed them. “You know who I’m talking about.”
“Just to clarify,” Xander said. “Who, exactly, have you been seeing with the insight spell? Claire?”
Eddie took another drink of his tea. “Not just her. You, too.”
“Me?”
Eddie nodded.
“Would you mind telling me what you see?”
“Would you mind telling me what you’re looking for?” Eddie asked coolly.
Claire glanced at Xander before answering. She thought about the best way to present everything to Eddie. “Someone placed an order for panther plasma last week.”
“I take it Max is this someone?” Eddie asked.
“We think so. I mean, he didn’t actually place the order,” Claire explained. “But we think he’s the one who requisitioned it.”
Eddie nodded calmly.
“You don’t seem surprised,” Xander observed.
“I’m not.”
Claire wanted to ask him why, but she doubted he would answer.
“The timing’s weird because some of the Guild houses have been broken into recently,” she continued.
“And by the houses,” Eddie said, “I take it you mean the residences, not the stores.”
Claire nodded. “How did you know?”
He shrugged.
“Anyway,” Claire continued, “we don’t know anything about Maximilian. No one talks about him, not even to make jokes like they do with—” She stopped herself.
Eddie raised one eyebrow, a twinkle of humor in his eyes. “With me?”
At first, Claire didn’t say anything. Then, because he seemed to know anyway, she nodded reluctantly.
A thread of bitterness ran through his chuckle. “I’m not surprised.”
“What do you mean?” Xander asked.
Eddie leaned forward, lacing his hands together, his eyes bright and intense. “Leaving the Guild is a big deal, young man. You must know it more than anyone.”
Xander stiffened. “Why would I know it better than anyone?”
Eddie leaned back. “Come on. I know you. You’re Estelle and Bernard’s son. The Guild is who you are. You know how it is. No one leaves. Not on their own. It’s like . . . Well, it’s like turning your back on your own blood. Believe me, I know.”
“But you didn’t leave on your own,” Claire said softly. “They . . . Well, they kicked you out.” She was embarrassed to say it out loud.
He looked into her eyes. “That what they tell you?”
“It’s true, isn’t it?” Claire asked.
He regarded her quietly, his eyes solemn.
“You’re saying you left voluntarily?” Xander asked. “Why would you do that?”
“Same reason you’re here,” Eddie said. “Maximilian Constantin.”
Xander sat up straighter. “You knew him.”
“Everyone in the Guild knew him. Until he left. Then everyone pretended not to.”
“Would you mind telling us what happened?” Claire asked.
Eddie thought about it. “It’s not a pretty story. And it’s not over yet.”
“That’s okay,” Claire said. “We just need to know so we can . . . I don’t know, try to protect ourselves.”
It took Eddie a minute to start talking. When he did, his voice was slower, like it was moving through a thick haze of memory.
“Max wasn’t always part of the New Orleans Guild. He showed up sometime in the nineteen nineties with his daughter.”
“His daughter?” Claire couldn’t have been more surprised. Maximilian had grown to fairy-tale proportions in her mind. A nefarious villain, complete with a black cape and sinister laugh.