Being a father didn’t fit her image of him at all.
“Elisabeta,” Eddie said softly. “She was sick. I can’t remember with what. Something that put her in a wheelchair. Max had already been ostracized from the Guild in Romania for trying black magic to cure her.”
The words came to Claire through a long tunnel.
Something that put her in a wheelchair.
She saw the little girl at the party in her dream, her long dark braids trailing down the back of a wheelchair, Maximilian’s face clenched with silent rage as Claire’s father took the picture.
“Ah,” Eddie said softly. “You’ve seen her.”
Xander glanced sharply at her. When she didn’t say anything, Eddie continued.
“Anyway, Max was petitioning New Orleans for permission to use black magic to save Elisabeta. They wouldn’t agree, of course. The Guild never bends their rules, even to save a life.”
“So what happened?” Xander asked.
“Well, the Guild was in an uproar while Max was here. He was . . . volatile. Enraged by the Guild’s refusal to let him try the magic.”
“Why didn’t he try it on his own?” Claire asked, feeling unexpected sympathy for the man who was trying to save his daughter.
“Couldn’t get the supplies, I expect,” Eddie said simply. “You know how it is. The Guild’s got a lock on anything even remotely exotic, and there are always exotic ingredients in black magic.”
She thought about the vial of panther blood in the valise and wondered how Maximilian had gotten ahold of it.
“Max finally left,” Eddie continued, “presumably to try and save Elisabeta through the help of an underground branch or with ingredients he found on the black market. But he made a promise on his way out.”
“What kind of promise?” Claire whispered.
“Max swore that if Elisabeta died, the Guild would pay.”
“And did she?” Claire asked.
“That’s what I heard,” said Eddie.
“What did all this have to do with you?” Xander asked.
“Let’s just say the Guild and I had differing views on its objectives.”
“Can you be more specific?” Claire asked.
Eddie regarded her solemnly before speaking again. “I thought Max was a wake-up call.”
Xander raised his eyebrows in question. “A wake-up call?”
“We all knew there were people in the community practicing black magic,” he explained. “Always have been. Always will be. It’s harder for them without the Guild supply houses. But where there’s a will there’s a way. I believed the Guild should be more aggressive, more . . . proactive about addressing those kinds of threats.”
“Threats like Max,” Claire said.
Eddie nodded. “But the Guild didn’t see it that way. They’ve been sitting in their big houses too long, holding so-called rituals in air-conditioned rooms, taking shortcuts in their potions and spells when it suits them.” He leveled his gaze at Claire and Xander. “Neglecting to properly train and arm the next generation.”
Claire felt the hot flush of guilt touch her cheeks.
“So what happened?” Xander asked.
“The way I saw it, we only had two choices: use the craft to bring Max under control or look over our shoulders forever.”
Claire shook her head. “But what if you were wrong? What if Max never got the ingredients he needed? What if he changed his mind? Why renounce the Guild for something that may never even happen?”
Eddie didn’t say anything for a minute, just rubbed at the condensation dripping down his glass.
“You ever been around a Houngan priest?” he finally asked. “And I mean the real deal, not these fakes you see online now.”
Claire remembered the strange vibration she felt around Max, the air so full of darkness it felt heavy, laden with dangerous, evil things.
She shrugged.
“She doesn’t believe,” Xander explained.
Eddie let out a laugh that sounded more like a cackle. “That’s ironic.”
“What do you mean?” Claire asked him.
He lowered his voice. “You’re Marie’s kin. You’re more powerful than any of them. You just haven’t figured it out yet.”
The words seemed to echo through the tiny kitchen. Claire hurried to change the subject.
“You were asking us if we’d even been around a Houngan?”
Eddie nodded. “Max was the real deal. A genuine Houngan with the power to summon the most powerful loas—dark, light, all of them.”
Claire should have been surprised. Calling on the assistance of the loas—the spirit beings said to aid practitioners of voodoo in their spells, potions, and ceremonies—was something she’d never believed in. Sure, everyone in the Guild did it, from the leadership right down to everyday people who purchased supplies.
But Claire had always thought of it as a meaningless ritual. Like saying amen after a prayer or asking God to help you, when the truth was, there was no way to be sure anyone was even listening.
Yet somehow, she wasn’t at all surprised to hear that Max could summon the loas, wasn’t even surprised that she believed he could. Max seemed bigger than all of them, and Eddie suddenly seemed like a more reliable witness than anyone in the Guild.
“And that was unusual?” Xander asked. “That kind of power?”
Eddie nodded. “Still is, my man. Still is.”
“What does all of this have to do with your decision to leave the Guild?” Claire asked.
“Max’s need to save Elisabeta was toxic. It polluted the air around him until you could feel it, like a thundercloud that followed him wherever he went. Petitioning the Guild for permission to use black magic was just a way to gain access to the ingredients he needed. But everyone knew it was a formality. He was already trying to work the spells on his own. Those of us with a sensitivity to the dark side of our craft could feel it on him.” He paused.
“Max was the only Houngan who ever truly scared me, and my family’s been in voodoo for almost two hundred years. When Max said he’d get his revenge on the Guild families, I didn’t doubt it, and without the Guild’s permission to use black magic to bring him under control, there was nothing to stop him. The way I saw it, Max was just the beginning. If the Guild wasn’t prepared to address a threat like him, who’s to say there wouldn’t be bigger and badder threats later on?” He shook his head. “There was no upside to staying with the Guild and a whole lot of downside, so I left. The craft’s a part of my life. I can take or leave the Guild. One is not dependent on the other.”
Claire wondered if she would be as nonchalant as Eddie if the Guild ceased to be a part of her life. Of course, Xander and Sasha would always be her friends. Her parents would always love her. But what about everyone else?
“So why do they . . .” Claire paused, not sure how to pose her question.
He laughed. “Why do they call me Crazy Eddie?”
She smiled, nodding.
“The easiest way to make sure no one follows my example is to cast me as a nutcase. I’ll bet a few high-ranking people called me crazy a couple of times and the Guild gossip mill took it and ran with it.” He laughed again. “Damn! I’m probably a legend now, am I right?”
Claire smiled again. “Kind of.”
Eddie nodded, his voice growing serious. “Max has to be dealt with. You do know that, right?”
He was right, but they couldn’t exactly fight Max, using the craft or anything else, if they didn’t know what he had in mind, and it’s not like they could call the police and demand they arrest him for maybe casting evil spells.
Even if they caught him in the act, voodoo wasn’t a crime.