The fog was so thick, the Louvre was difficult to see. The fog was a sea, so heavy it made the surrounding buildings look like erased pencil on a page. With every breath, we inhaled the cloud, the moisture lining our lungs.
He seemed bigger than last time, the cords in his neck popping because his flesh was so tight around his musculature. He stepped forward, all his focus on me. There was a slight tremor to his body, the kind that made his head shake left and right slightly, like he couldn’t contain this level of rage.
“The agreement has changed. Come on to my property again—and war is declared.”
Bartholomew turned to me, wearing an identical look of rage to Forneus.
I knew if he objected verbally, he would look like he’d lost control of his own men, so it was better to keep his mouth shut and deal with me later.
Forneus started to shake harder, the energy filling his body to full capacity then pouring out when it had nowhere else to go. “She was mine first!” The shout echoed everywhere in the plaza, like a gunshot that split the night and woke up an entire neighborhood. His hands were in tight fists, and his head was dropped forward slightly, like a ram about to charge. He inched closer, like this had just turned into a fighting ring. “Give her ba-ck to-me.” When his tone dropped, it was more sinister than the shout because of how eerie it sounded. “I can’t ascend without my an-gel—”
“Get another one and move on.”
“Get another?” His head cocked slightly, and he came a little closer. Now we were just a few feet apart. “If that’s s-so ea-sy, why don’t you?”
“You risk your entire enterprise for a woman who can easily be replaced. Find another angel. Forget about her—”
“I will never forget her!” He came closer still.
I didn’t need the knife in my pocket or the gun stuffed in the back of my jeans. I could kill him with my bare hands. “Come on to my property again, and I will take away what you have left. You’ve been warned.”
He started to shake again, his face stretched back as the grimace set into all his features.
I turned my back on him—the discussion over.
“Ben-ton.”
I stilled at the way he said my name, like I was truly trapped in a horror story.
“Who will pro-tect Cla-ire when you’re dead?”
I slowly turned back around to face him.
“Now you’ve been warned.”
Bartholomew was stone silent.
Didn’t say a word on the drive.
Didn’t say a word when we entered his apartment.
Didn’t say a word as he poured himself a drink.
He was a time bomb set to go off—but he was the only one who knew exactly when. He brought the short glass to his lips and took a drink as he stared at me over the rim.
“He’s afraid of us, Bartholomew. Use that to your advantage.”
“My advantage?” He set the glass down. “I need no advantage because I have no qualms with these freaks. They’re business associates—good ones. And you’re pissing all over that when you can pay for pussy twice as good as hers.”
“Don’t talk about her like that.”
“Claire’s off-limits, and now so is she—”
“Yes.”
He gave a dramatic roll of his eyes. “Pathetic. Where’s the Benton I used to know? Where’s the man who could carve the eyes out of a guy who cut us off in line? Where’s the man—”
“He’s dead—and he’s not coming back.”
He grabbed the bottle and poured more into his glass.
“Your life hasn’t changed, but mine has. And I’m glad it has.”
He took another drink, his eyes annoyed. “I should kill you for what you did—”
“But you won’t, so shut up about it.” I dropped onto one of the couches, my arms on my knees.
Bartholomew stilled at my words, the rim of the glass in his fingertips. Silence passed, as well as a cloud of anger and lightning storm of rage. He grabbed the bottle by the neck and carried it over before placing it on the coffee table between us. “You should have just given her up. Now your neck is on the line.”
“He can’t kill me.”
“He’s killed lots of people—I’m sure he can.”
“I hope he tries. Would give me the opportunity you’ve denied me.”
He stripped off his jacket and tossed it on the floor before he sat back. One ankle propped on the opposite knee as his arm rested over the back of the couch. He took a lazy scan of his living room as he sat there, the three glasses of scotch already making his eyes sag slightly. “I have a lot of shit on my plate right now, Benton. Don’t have time for this bullshit.”
“Then let me kill him.”
“He’s worthless if he’s dead.”
“Kill him and absorb his business.”
He shook his head. “Too much work. Our current setup is lucrative enough. And I’ve got other plans.”