His anger spiked as one form emerged from what had been two: a smallish, round bit of a man who looked nothing like what he truly was—Seraphim—and he was one of the original seven. Humans might call him angel, though in this form he bore no resemblance to the golden creatures popular in lore.
This was no fucking cherub.
“Askelon,” Logan said smoothly, his anger in check, his façade calm.
“Let’s not be so formal, my friend.”
Glittery gold lamé lapels glistened against his gray jacket as the small man moved forward. His pants were ill fitting, a little too snug around his generous belly, and his dress shirt sported gaping holes between the buttons. Something was smeared alongside his mouth—ketchup? And in his hand he held a bag of—Logan sniffed—candy.
Good to see his sweet tooth was still intact. “A little theatrical, even for you, don’t you think?”
Askelon arched a brow and shrugged his shoulders.
“Your bodyguards?” Logan continued dryly.
The small man laughed. “Ah . . . that was nothing. Parlor tricks, really. I somehow doubt this room would have emptied if I stood as myself, and I do so want a private chat. We’ve lots to discuss.”
Logan’s eyes narrowed as he watched him walk to the bar, throw his bag of candy—which Logan could now see was filled to the brim with colorful little bits of sugar—and with a little effort, settle himself onto the bar stool Logan had just vacated.
“Gummies.”
“What?” He frowned, a scowl sweeping across his face as he stared at the little man.
Askelon nodded toward the bag. “They’re called Gummi Bears.”
Arms crossed, Logan’s scowl deepened. “I hope you have one hell of a dental plan. That shit will rot your teeth out.”
Askelon’s pudgy fingers grasped a napkin and wiped away the stains on his face as he turned to Logan. For a second his eyes shimmered—a weird translucent silver color—and Logan saw the power that shifted within their depths.
“Please,” he smiled and nodded, “call me Bill.”
“Bill?” Logan’s eyebrow arched in disbelief.
Bill grinned, shrugged, and proceeded to pour himself a glass of whiskey. “It’s plain, I know, but suited me at the time.” He poured one for Logan and handed it to him, raising his own in a toast.
What the hell do you want with me?
“I’ll explain in a minute but first, let’s drink, shall we? That is why you came here tonight, isn’t it? To drink? Perhaps forget?”
So he was a mind reader now.
The tension that had fled moments earlier was back, pinching his shoulders as Logan reached for the glass and tossed back the tumbler full of booze.
The little round shit was responsible for his banishment as surely as if he’d . . .
“You know that’s not true, Logan.”
Logan’s chest heaved. He gritted his teeth and slammed the glass back onto the counter.
“Stay the fuck out of my head, Seraphim.” Logan moved forward until he was close enough to see the veins in the little shit’s eyes. His nostrils flared and his chest grumbled. Beneath his skin, the beast stirred.
“Your banishment was unfortunate.” Bill sipped the whiskey, his eyes shimmering as they regarded Logan closely. “But you knew there would be consequences when you joined the League.”
Logan snorted. “Yeah, well. Your so-called League can go screw itself.”
Bill set his half-empty glass onto the counter and twirled the liquid slowly with his finger as silence fell between them.
He turned to Logan and though his voice was soft, there was no mistaking the hard glint in his eyes. “That’s not how it works, my friend.”