Seven months.

Seven months and nearly fourteen days he’d been working for this very moment. He’d schemed and planned, bargained and stole just to make sure all the pieces fell together just right. Hell, he’d done everything short of selling his very soul only to watch all his hard work go down the drain.

It wasn’t supposed to be this way.

He’d done everything right.

He’d started planning his way back home the moment he’d arrived in this forsaken world. Luckily, it didn’t take long to realize that his quick wits and fast fingers were just as useful on Earth as they had been back home. Of course, he hadn’t wasted all his time lining his own pockets. Sure, he’d been quick to fill his coffers and buy a respectable hideout—apparently here they called such a place a penthouse apartment—but those things were necessities. After all, breaking Oberon’s curse wasn’t going to be cheap…or easy.

Once he’d been tossed through the Gate, James had landed in a place called San Francisco—a little, hilly city by the sea—but, after a few days of searching, he’d realized he’d arrived here alone. And James was willing to wager that if he was on his own, then the other exiles were as well. Scattered across this vast, mundane world with little hope of finding each other.

Well, maybe the others didn’t have much hope. James, on the other hand, knew exactly what to do.

He gathered funds. He talked to people, charming his way into alliances with powerful individuals whose skills and resources complemented his own. They were the ones who had shown him this city…this world, really—its riches, its strengths and weaknesses. It’s laughable security. They’d even unknowingly helped him discover a small handful of relics left behind by previous exiles.

But most importantly, they’d helped him locate, transport, and secure lodging and funds for the most important pieces of his plan—the rest of the exiles.

Now, after seven months of planning, he finally had them all in one spot, sharing an Italian meal outside a crowded bistro on Columbus Avenue.

Everything should have been perfect. He should have been listening to them sing his praises, and thank him for all the work he’d done. Instead, James feared he was a few seconds away from watching them rip each other’s throats out.

“I don’t give a damn why you brought us here, thief,” Bron Douglas, the long-haired blond man sitting next to him, snarled. “But I would rather die alone on this forsaken rock than spend another second across from this monstrous cur.”

“That can be arranged, hunter,” Fenrir shot back with a vicious grin.

“Gentlemen,” James broke in with the tone that usually calmed everyone down.

The pair mowed right over him.

“You’ve never succeeded before,” Bron taunted the wolf with a smug grin.

“That was back on our world.”

“The Realm. Earth. The Underworld,” Bron said. “It doesn’t matter where we are.”

“Please tell me I’m not expected to sit here and listen to these two bicker for the next hour,” the man across the table from James said. Of course, calling Shay Madrid a man wasn’t exactly right. Sure, his form was human enough, but all the magic and power swirling inside his dark eyes was anything but.

“You think yourself better than us, jinni?” Fenrir scoffed. “At least this assassin has the courage to fight me out in the open. I wouldn’t turn my back on you for a moment.”

“Gentlemen,” James tried again.

“I don’t see why. I’ve always kept my deals,” Shay said, his voice dangerously low. His tousled black hair framed his face as he turned toward Geoffrey Merlin. “Unlike some.”

Geoffrey’s spine stiffened. “Strong words, seeing as none of us would be in this mess if it wasn’t for you.”

“Gentle—”

“And you’re blameless?” Shay leaned forward in his seat. “This mess with Oberon would have been over centuries ago if it wasn’t for your selfishness.”

“My selfishness? Take a look around this table and tell me one other person who has attempted anything for the greater good.”

“The greater good?” Shay scoffed. “Is that what you call the slaughter of innocents?”

“Enough!”

James brought his fist down hard on the bistro table. Plates and silverware clattered against the faux mosaic top. His wine glass teetered on the edge for a long second before finally tipping over. A loud crack sounded as glass exploded into hundreds of shards on the dirty San Francisco sidewalk.

James drew in a deep breath as dozens of heads turned his way—the diners at the neighboring tables, the people behind the glass wall of the restaurant, even the pedestrians passing by. But James didn’t care about bystanders. He was only interested in the four people that were seated directly across from him…the ones whose attention he finally had.

James took a beat to drag his fingers through his hair and settle his features into his usual unflappable mask. Slowly, the people around them turned back to their own tables, the pedestrians started walking again, and when James opened his mouth his voice was calm and clear.

“That’s enough,” he repeated. “I didn’t scour this world to find you just to listen to you bicker like crows.”

“Then why did you bring us here?” Bron cocked a questioning brow.

“Didn’t you listen to the terms Oberon gave us?” James asked. “The Gate will remain locked until Hades breaks them open and sets every last one of you free. Every last one. That means we need to work together if there’s any chance of us getting back home.”

A heavy silence fell over the table. It didn’t last long. A second later, a dark laugh broke out. James snapped his head toward the source. Fenrir.

“You really think you can break the curse?”

It was the question he’d been waiting for. The whole reason he’d arranged this meeting. He was ready to tell the rest of the exiles his plans.

Well, the parts he wanted them to know. He wasn’t about to give up all his secrets. That wasn’t exactly his style.

Besides, there would be plenty of time for full disclosure later…once he was certain he could trust them. After all, these guys didn’t become the most notorious criminals in the Realm for nothing.

“Of course.” He started the speech he’d rehearsed hundreds of times in his mind. “Any curse can be broken. Sure, some might be more difficult than others, but none are impossible. That’s why for the past seven months, I have spent every waking hour focused on one goal. How to get back—”

“Sorry,” a woman’s voice said. “Excuse me, gentlemen.”

Their waitress stood by the table with a broom in hand. At least, James assumed it was their waitress. The staff at this restaurant was practically interchangeable with their uniforms of black pants and white button-up shirts. The thick, dark ponytail bobbing behind her as she tilted her head to the side was vaguely familiar, but, honestly, James hadn’t paid all that much attention to the person scribbling down his order. He’d had other things on his mind.

Just like he did now.

“Excuse me,” she muttered again as she angled her body into the small space between his chair and the table and started sweeping up glass shards. He tried not to focus on the way her hip brushed against his arm as she worked.

“You don’t need to do that,” James said.

“Yes, I do, sir.”

“No, you don’t,” he glanced at the white name tag pinned to the top of her shirt pocket, “Mercedes.”

“Can’t have shattered glass on the sidewalk,” she said with a sigh, and continued sweeping. “Someone might cut themselves.”

James reached out and wrapped his fingers around hers, stilling the broom. Her head whipped toward him.

“Take your hands off me,” she snapped.

“I’m sorry.” He slid his hand off hers, but didn’t let go of the broom handle. Instead, he tried shooting her his best smile. “But we’re in the middle of something important.”

She didn’t look impressed. Her wide, deep brown eyes practically burned as she stared down at him. Fine, tense lines crinkled the corners of her lips.

“Well, sir, since whatever you’re in the middle of included punching our dishes, I now have to clean up your mess.”

With one quick tug, she yanked the broom out of James’ grasp and turned her attention to the broken glass.

“And there’s no way you could do that later?” he asked.

“Nope. But if you stop talking to me, I could probably finish it faster.”

James couldn’t help but smile at her undisguised annoyance. He hadn’t met many people here who had such an unpleasant reaction to him. Well, not many women, anyway.

Her ponytail swung around her shoulders as she finished sweeping up the last of the shards. She gave a quick glance around the table, before her deep brown gaze finally landed back on James.

“Do you gentlemen need anything else?”

“No, but thank you, Mercedes,” he said, letting his tongue linger on her name.

She cocked her brow up just a fraction of an inch, giving her a decidedly defiant—not to mention adorable—look, before pulling a thick, folded check holder from her apron pocket and letting it land with a thunk on the table.

“Great,” she said. “Then here’s your bill. You can pay inside.”

James smiled at her. She scowled at him. Then a second later, she turned and walked away.

Strangely, he couldn’t help watching her as she went, her spine ramrod straight, hips gently swaying side to side. There was something about the woman that held his attention…something he couldn’t quite put his finger on.

After all, there was nothing outwardly spectacular about her. Her form was nice enough. Her eyes lively. She obviously had a spark to her, but he’d seen fires that burned brighter.

And yet…

“You were saying, thief?” Fenrir teased him just as the waitress rounded the corner of the restaurant and disappeared from view.

James snapped his attention back to the men at the table.

“Something about his only waking thought,” Bron said, crossing his meaty arms in front of his chest as he leaned back in his chair. Open amusement shone in his forest green eyes.

“And a plan to get back to the Realm,” Geoffrey said. There was no laughter in his voice, just suspicion.

“Indeed.” James shook his head, trying to clear it. He needed to refocus. “It’s a simple plan.”

Geoffrey leaned forward. His gray eyes swirled and stormed like thunderclouds in the sunlight, giving the magician a distinctly powerful appearance in this mundane world.

“Somehow, I get the sense that when it comes to you, James Hook, nothing is ever as simple as it seems.”

James’ lips tightened as he weighed what to say next. It was impossible to tell just how much Geoffrey Merlin saw with that otherworldly stare of his. Even here in purgatory, without a source of magic to manipulate, it would be dangerous to underestimate the man.

“You don’t trust me,” James said. It wasn’t a question.

“Does that surprise you?” Geoffrey asked. “Do you trust me? Do you trust any of us?”

No, no, and no.

“I don’t see why that matters,” James said. “The important thing is that we need each other.”

“To break the final part of the curse?”

“Exactly.”

“So you did manage to smuggle out the Key?”

What? James straightened up in his chair. He wasn’t willing to show all his cards just yet. Not when he wasn’t sure what the exiles might do with the relic. Hell, the way they were snarling they might tear each other apart just to get their hands on its power. Better to keep his secret just a little longer.

“I never said that,” James said.

“You didn’t have to,” Bron said. “Why else would you go to the trouble of finding us all?”

“I already told you,” James said. “We all need to be together to satisfy the final condition of Oberon’s curse.”

Fenrir leaned forward. An emotion far more dangerous than simple disappointment shone in his eyes. “But what’s the point unless you have a way to unlock the Threshold of the Underworld?”

“Without the Key we’re as powerless as we were before,” Geoffrey said.

“Not exactly,” James said carefully as the magician’s gaze sharpened on him. “We may not be able to open the Threshold yet, but that doesn’t mean I haven’t figured out a way to communicate through it.”

All caution left Geoffrey’s face in a flash. “But that would take—”

“Dragon magic,” Shay Madrid finished for him, looking every bit as interested as the magician.

“You’ve found dragon relics?” Geoffrey asked. “Here on Earth?”

“I have,” James said with a pleased smile. This was the kind of reaction he’d been waiting for. “Wyvern scales to be precise.”

Geoffrey’s mouth screwed to the side as his gaze slipped to the pavement. “Wyvern relics are powerful, but far more unpredictable than simple dragon magic. They can be dangerous.”

“Maybe in the hands of a simple man like me,” James said, letting the concern roll off his shoulders. “But not if their magic is manipulated by the greatest magician of all three worlds.”

Geoffrey lifted his chin just high enough for James to see his glare. “Your flattery won’t work on me, thief.”

“I don’t see why not,” James said. “It works on everyone else.”

“Not the waitress,” Fenrir baited him with a laugh.

James merely shrugged.

“Forget the braggart,” Bron said to Geoffrey. “Can you do it?”

The magician narrowed his eyes in thought. “Perhaps. Wyvern magic is complex. It requires a vessel whose blood is filled with righteous passion.”

“And what could be more righteous than our mission to defy a tyrannical king?” James asked.

Shay slowly shook his head. “But even if Geoffrey can control the magic, where does that put us?”

“One step closer to getting home,” James answered. “Once I have the wyvern scales—”

“Once?” Fenrir demanded, his voice loud enough to rattle the remaining glasses on the table. “You mean you don’t have this one either?”

“I have a plan to steal them next Sunday,” James answered.

“Another plan?” Fenrir growled. “That’s not very reassuring.”

“Have a little faith, wolf,” James said, shooting the overgrown creature a glare. “I’m not some corner pickpocket. I’m the best thief this world, or any other, has ever seen.”

“Is that how you see yourself?” Shay Madrid asked with a dark laugh. “Because from what I’ve heard, the legend of Captain Hook brought to this world by previous exiles wasn’t half as flattering.”

“It seems to me that all of our stories got a little mixed along the way,” James responded, his charming smile faltering a touch as he met the jinni’s gaze. “Or should I switch out the apartment I found you for a lamp?”

“How many relics have you actually acquired since landing here?” Geoffrey asked.

“A few.”

The magician narrowed his gaze. “How many?”

“Twenty-seven.”

Geoffrey’s eyes sparkled. “So many? We should divide them up. It isn’t safe having such an arsenal in one place.”

“Isn’t safe for who?” James’ jaw tightened. “I assure you everything in the collection is well warded and secure right where it is. Nothing is going to happen. But if it makes you feel any better, I promise to bring you the wyvern scales as soon as I have them in my hand.”

“I’d appreciate that,” Geoffrey said with a guarded smile. “It might take me some time to figure out how to safely harness their raw magic.”

“And then what?” Bron asked. “Even if you do manage to communicate through the Threshold with Hades, how can we believe a word the bastard says? Oberon may be bad, but Hades is evil. Have you not heard the stories of the havoc he caused during the war?”

“Some of us didn’t have to hear secondhand tales, hunter,” Shay said, glancing over at Geoffrey. “We were there.”

“Then you should know better,” Bron said. “Some opponents can’t be controlled or defeated. They can only be safely locked away. I can only imagine the widespread destruction Hades would unleash on the Realm if he had the chance.”

“If there were any other way to get back home, trust me, I’d take it,” James said.

“That was never in doubt, Hook,” Geoffrey said, before turning to the hunter. “Bron, the stories you grew up on were nothing more than Crown propaganda. Hades isn’t any worse than Oberon.”

“Or any better,” Shay added. “The Lord of the Underworld is no different than anyone else I’ve ever met, a creature looking out for his own self interests.”

“Which makes our job all the easier,” James said, leaning forward in his seat. “Since all Geoffrey will have to do is convince him that it’s in his best interest to help us.”

“And how am I supposed to do that?” Geoffrey asked with a sneer.

“Easy,” James said with a smile. “Play to his emotions, same as anyone. That shouldn’t be hard. All you have to do is ask yourself, what would an imprisoned king want most?”

“Redemption,” Geoffrey answered.

“Freedom,” Bron said next.

“Revenge,” Fenrir growled.

“Exactly,” James said, his smile growing wider by the second. “Fortunately, those happen to be the very things we can offer him.”

“Not exactly,” Shay said, stopping him cold. “You can’t offer him anything beyond talk. Even if you managed to find every relic that had ever been smuggled into this forsaken world you still wouldn’t have the power needed to unlock the Threshold. Only the Key can do that.”

Geoffrey’s gaze sharpened. “Yes, it does seem odd that you let the biggest prize in all three worlds slip from your fingers.”

James shrugged. “I came closer than anyone else.”

“And here I thought close wouldn’t be good enough for the Realm’s greatest thief,” Geoffrey said.

James didn’t flinch. “Well, let’s just say that my time here on Earth has taught me to live with disappointment.”

“And how exactly are you planning to break through the Threshold if you don’t have the Key?” Fenrir asked.

“The five of us together, we have the sharpest minds, the strongest wills, the most powerful magic this world has ever seen—we’ll come up with something. We’ll find a way.”

“That’s your plan?” the jinni said with a groan. “Somehow, I don’t believe you dragged us halfway around this world for we’ll find a way.”

“You’re right. I also brought you here for the magnificent wine.” He drained the last drops out of his glass. “I can’t get enough of the stuff.”

The jinni didn’t seem to share his amusement…or his love for a fine Napa cabernet.

“All right,” Bron said, leaning forward and resting his elbows on the table. “Let’s say you’re right, that through some strange stroke of luck we manage to find a way to free Hades. That’s still only half the curse.”

Fenrir let out a low groan. “As much as I hate to admit it, the hunter is right. We haven’t even spoken about Titania’s clause yet.”

Now, James laughed in earnest.

“You mean the bit where we all have to find someone to fall in love with us?” James let out a laugh. “I wouldn’t lose too much sleep over that one, boys. If there’s one thing I’ve noticed about the women of this world it’s that they fall in love at the slightest provocation.”

Geoffrey shook his head. “Her exact words were that our hearts needed to be thoroughly cleansed by the burning fires of love.”

“And what do you think that means?” James asked.

“I’m not sure,” Geoffrey admitted.

“Of course you’re not,” James said, stretching his arms out as he relaxed back in his seat. “No one is. Look at this world. They’re obsessed with the concept of love. They sing songs about it. Write stories. But ask any one of them to objectively define the emotion, and they falter. That’s because love is intangible. It’s whatever we say it is.”

“Such a convenient way of thinking,” Geoffrey said.

“It’s never steered me wrong before.”

“Is that right?” Geoffrey said. “You really think you can make someone fall in love with you?”

“Of course,” James answered. “Like I said, it’s the easiest thing in this world.”

Geoffrey’s brows arched skeptically. “Is that so.”

“You don’t believe me?” James said. “Fine. I’ll prove it. Go ahead, pick any woman, and I guarantee to have her swooning at my feet before the week is out.”

“Any woman?” A slow smile spread across Geoffrey’s face.

“Why not?” James said. “Whatever it takes to convince you that our situation isn’t as hopeless as you fear.”

“All right.” Without looking, Geoffrey pointed his finger toward the door of the restaurant. “I pick her.”

James turned his head to see the woman with the thick brown ponytail and the shapely rear standing at a table at the far end of the sidewalk. She turned to head back inside, and for a moment their gazes met. She quickly ducked her chin down, and hurried her step through the door.

“The waitress?” James asked.

“Mercedes,” Geoffrey said, drawing out the syllables of her name just like he had done.

James cleared the sudden block in his throat. “She’s your choice?”

“That’s not going to be a problem, is it?”

“Of course not.” James snatched the check-fold as he sprung up from his chair. “It’s just for a second I thought you might make this a challenge.”