As much as Jake wanted to hear Kai's explanation of magic, Alex apparently thought things would go smoother without the three of them in the room. He tried to argue, but Alex just pulled him toward his bedroom until Jake walked under his own power. He kicked aside his pile of yesterday's clothes while Eliot squeezed between the mattress and the bed, straining to hear what was happening in the other room.

"You two have a sleepover?" Eliot asked, a half grin touching his lips.

"Guess you never got the invitation," Alex muttered.

"I was out watching Flores," Eliot said. "He went from holding Kai at gunpoint to attacking me in my hotel room twenty minutes later. I wasn't about to let him near... anyone else."

Near us, Jake realized. He didn't want Flores to come after us.

Eliot had always been the protector. When they were kids and Alex dragged Jake into trouble, Eliot was the one who got them out. When the older cousins picked on Jake for wanting to read instead of playing football at family reunions, Eliot grabbed a book and sat with him. He'd even learned Spanish and Choctaw so Jake would have someone to practice with.

And he'd read Jake's papers. Somehow, he and Alex had figured out that Jake was the one behind half a dozen aliases and went out of their way to read more. How many unrelated papers did they have to wade through before finding his work? How many years had they spent connecting with him while he went on believing the worst of them?

He really didn't know his brothers at all.

Jake cleared his throat, hoping to clear the awkward silence with it. "So... what do we need to know to fake being you?"

Eliot picked a small notebook off Alex's desk and paged through it distractedly. "What's this, your diary?"

"Hypertension journal," Alex said, snatching it out of his hands. "Answer the question."

Sighing, Eliot kicked out the chair in front of the desk and sat, leaning back and folding his arms. "Flores doesn't seem to know specifics. Just my reputation."

"Which is?" Jake prompted.

"Dangerous."

The word caught Jake by surprise. It was such a cliché thing to say—his voice all gravely, his eyes so serious—but there was nothing funny about it. It wasn't a boast or a bluff. Just a statement.

Worse... an understatement.

"Okay," Alex said slowly, pulling on his jeans. "What are we talking? Mob muscle? Hitman?"

"Both," Eliot said. "And more. But not anymore, not in a long time. I told the truth before. I help people now."

Jake started folding the shirt he'd worn the day before to give his hands something to do, his unvoiced questions tumbling over each other in his head. He wanted to ask them, wanted to fill in the gaps between the 18 year old he'd last known and the man who sat on the chair before him, but there was a part of him that warned him not to speak. Part of him that said it was better not to know.

"You can probably pull it off," Eliot said, looking at Alex. "You've been undercover with those kinds of people, so you know what they're like. Just say you don't talk about the past with new clients. But Jake..."

"I can say the same," Jake said.

"It's not just that." Eliot's eyes found him again, and Jake felt his stomach clench. Was he afraid? After everything he'd faced, after all the monsters and evil and apocalyptic battles—was he afraid to pretend to be his brother?

Or was he afraid of his brother?

"You'll have to act like you've traveled before," Eliot said.

"I have traveled before."

"Well, you have to look like it."

"What the hell does that mean?"

"It means not staring at everything like it's the first time you've been outside," Alex said. "And not getting excited about every random building you pass because it was designed by some Spanish architect no one's heard of."

"I don't do that."

"Jake, you told me that exact story last night."

Jake threw his shirt on the mattress and picked up his pants. "Excuse me for being interested in the local culture."

"There's nothing wrong with it," Eliot said. His voice was gentle, almost... fond, and it hit Jake harder than any of his punches had.

"Fine," Jake said, a little too gruffly. "No fun facts while I'm pretending to be an ex-hitman. Got it."

Eliot rubbed absently at his palm and looked away. "One more thing... we need a ring. If all three of us are going in, Flores will see if we don't have it."

"Where are we going to get a ring?" Jake asked.

A heavy sigh made him look to Alex, who was busy playing with the sleeves of his shirt. "A plain gold band?" he muttered.

Eliot nodded. With careful movements, Alex leaned over the bed and picked a wooden box off the shelf over his desk. He dug through a tangle of leather cuffs, string bracelets, guitar picks, and a pocket knife before finally holding up a ring. He tossed it to Eliot, who caught it in one hand and then lifted it up to the light.

"This looks like a wedding band," he said.

Alex grunted and walked around the bed. "It ain't anymore."

"Hang on," Eliot said, propelling himself up off the chair to follow Alex into the gift shop. "Were you married?"

"Later, Eliot."

"He's got a kid too," Jake said. "Her name's Evelyn."

Eliot slipped the ring onto his forefinger, pausing his inspection to give Jake an incredulous look. "He's got a kid?"

"Yep. We've got a lot of Christmas presents to catch up on."

"Later," Alex repeated.

They filed back into the shop, and Jake's attention immediately went to where Ernesto sat in one of Alex's beach chairs, sipping his coffee thoughtfully while Kai summarized their plan. He looked up as they entered, eyes flashing between the three of them. "That's going to take getting used to," he said. "Which one of you is Jake?"

Jake raised his hand, and Ernesto twisted in his chair to face him. "So you're a wizard?"

"No," Jake said. "I just collect artifacts so they don't fall into the wrong hands. I don't use magic."

Ernesto nodded, but Jake couldn't tell if his even expression was because he believed what Kai had said or if he was just humoring them. "Okay," he said. "What now?"

"Now you hand out some more of your earbuds," Eliot said. "I assume you're not going to let us go in unsupervised."

"You assume right," Kai said. She crossed the room and stooped behind the counter, coming up a moment later with a small container.

"What is that?" Alex sputtered. "Why are you keeping stuff in my shop?"

"Just in case." She opened the container and pulled out an earbud, placing it carefully in Alex's ear. "You lose these so often I thought I'd keep some backups nearby."

"I don't lose them," Alex said. "That many. I don't lose that many."

Kai handed out earbuds to Jake, Eliot, and Ernesto before putting one in her own ear. "Okay. Then we'd better get going if we don't want to be late."

After a brief argument in which Eliot, Jake, and Alex refused to squeeze into the backseat of a single car, they decided that Eliot would go with Ernesto and that Alex and Jake would ride with Kai. Jake managed to get to the front seat before his brother, and so was able to enjoy both the comfort of sitting up front and the satisfaction of hearing Alex complain as he climbed into the car behind him.

"We have some time," Kai said, pulling onto the street and glancing at Jake. "Ernesto says you like art. We don't have time to stop at a museum, but there's a monument on the way to the hotel that you might like."

"Really?" Jake said.

She sent him another sidelong look. "If you want to."

Jake smiled. "Yeah, that'd be great. I just... I got the impression you didn't want to waste time."

"We have forty minutes until the meeting, and it's on the way. But we can go sit at the hotel if you prefer."

"Does the hotel have breakfast?" Alex mumbled.

Kai rolled her eyes. "Why didn't you eat anything at home?"

"Because somebody threatened to break down my door if I didn't let her in. At 6 'o clock in the freaking morning. You know what time retired people are supposed to get up?"

"You're not retired, Alex. You run a gift shop."

"As a hobby, Kai. I set my own hours, which don't start at 6 AM."

"I'd already been up for two hours before I called you."

Alex made a mocking echo of her words, but Kai ignored him and turned her attention back to Jake. "So what kind of art do you like?"

Jake shrugged. "Most of it. Romanesque, Renaissance, Baroque, Impressionist—architecture, pottery, sculptures... it's hard to pick a favorite."

"And you study it? You publish papers about it?"

"Not recently," Alex put in. "The last one I found was published a few years ago. I was starting to get worried."

Jake glanced at him in the rearview mirror. "I've been busy," he said. "A few near misses with the end of the world kinda takes your mind off writing, you know?"

"You published a few as yourself," Alex said. He waited until Jake met his eyes again, his expression somber. "That's how I knew for sure it was you. I mean, I had my suspicions before, but I didn't really know. But then one day there it was: 'Huguenots in the Hudson Valley' by Dr. Jacob Stone. I couldn't believe it. I kept looking for more after that, but there wasn't much. You went back to writing as Oliver Thompson and those guys. How come?"

A snort of laughter broke through Jake's lips. "Don't look so serious. It was just because my other names already had their reputations, and it was easier to keep using them than try to convince academia that five of the world's leading experts in art history were one guy from Oklahoma. They didn't appreciate the suggestion, let me tell you."

Alex smiled and leaned back in his seat. "Wish I coulda seen that meeting."

The conversation turned back to art, and Jake found that he enjoyed talking with Kai as much as he had with Ernesto. She wasn't as interested in the philosophy of the art, but she knew about the pieces Jake mentioned and made insightful connections to others. Alex interjected more this time, sometimes quoting material from Jake's papers, sometimes just throwing out semi-related comments. When they found the monument, Kai gave a brief description of its history and told Jake about other sculptures made by the same artist, which were on display in various locations around the island.

"You can make a whole tour of it when this is over," she said. "Maybe teach Alex something."

She'd clearly meant it as a joke, but when Jake looked over his shoulder he found Alex nodding eagerly. Was that what they were now? A family that went on art tours together?

Could they be?

"Alright," Kai said, ushering them back toward the car. "Time's up. You two have a meeting to get to."

Ten minutes later, Alex and Jake stood in the lobby of Flores's hotel, listening to Kai's third explanation of what they needed to do over their earbuds. "This ain't my first time doing this," Alex snapped finally. "This ain't even my first time doing this with you."

"But it is Jake's," Kai said. "Just remember, if anything goes wrong the codeword is avocado."

"Kai, he knows like 20 languages. He can remember the codeword."

There was a short static crackle, and then Eliot's voice came over the earbud. "You guys inside already?"

"Waiting on you," Alex answered.

"We just got here. Stopped for breakfast first."

"Dammit," Alex muttered. "I knew I should have gone with Ernesto."

"I'll check out the back," Ernesto said. "Kai, where are you?"

"Security room. I've got eyes on the lobby."

"Okay, let me know when—"

"Ah, Mr. Spencer."

Jake turned to watch a man he could only assume was Flores exit an elevator and saunter into the lobby. "And Mr. Spencer," he added, nodding to Alex. "Have you only made one double?"

Alex blinked. "Uh—"

"I'm coming," Eliot said, making his way casually through the front door. "I only see one of you, Flores."

Flores laughed. "Oh, I never let all of myselves together in public. The other two are upstairs."

"Then lead the way."

"Actually," Flores said. "I thought we'd begin our work now."

"I haven't agreed to work with you," Eliot growled.

"Easy," Kai said in their ears. "Does this one have the ring?"

Jake glanced at the man's hand and gave a small shake of his head, hoping she'd see it on the cameras.

Apparently she did. "Then keep him talking. Get him to take you back to the one that does."

"Let's call this a trial run," Flores said, unperturbed by Eliot's tone. "One of you will come with me on a short errand, and the others will go upstairs for the rest of meeting."

"Do it," Ernesto said. "I'll follow for backup."

Jake tilted up his chin, narrowing his eyes and lowering his voice. "Lead the way, Flores."

"Marvelous." Flores waved toward the door, smiling. "My driver is waiting."

Jake looked at his brothers. Alex's lips were pressed into a thin line, his eyes wide—as if he were trying to make his thoughts materialize in Jake's head. He could guess what they were easily enough: as far as Alex and Eliot knew, Jake was the least experienced of them and therefore the least qualified to leave with Flores. He flashed them a smile, hoping to reassure them. He could take care of himself. They'd be surprised at the kinds of things he'd fought over the years. One unarmed man didn't scare him.

"Be back in an hour," Eliot said, sending a glare after Flores.

"Of course, Mr. Spencer. Come along, Mr. Spencer!"

Jake went, getting into the black SUV Flores met in the parking lot while trying to tune out the sudden torrent of unsolicited advice from his brothers.

"Are the windows tinted? Make sure you—"

"Tell Kai the plate number, she can run it if anything—"

"—depending on how many people are in the car. How many are there in the car?"

"—especially since it's close-quarters fighting—"

"Shut up," Jake hissed as Flores spoke to the driver. "I know what I'm doing."

"I've got the car," Ernesto put in. "Got the plate number. I'm right behind them."

The other two fell silent, and Jake returned his attention to Flores. "What's this errand of yours?" he asked.

"Oh, we just need to pick something up from storage," Flores said.

"This have anything to do with your cargo?"

"How very astute!" Flores exclaimed. "In fact it does. Since we're going to do business together, I don't mind showing you my little collection. After all, you can't supply me with buyers if you don't know what to sell them."

"Right," Jake said. Finding out what Flores wanted to sell would certainly be helpful, and if he wanted to lead Jake (and Ernesto) directly to his cargo, who was he to argue? He endured Flores's chatter as they drove through the city, keeping his own responses short and vague as Eliot had directed, until at last the SUV pulled into what looked like a giant parking lot. Jake looked out the window to find himself surrounded by storage containers, most of them unmarked. "How many of these are yours?"

"Just the one," Flores answered. "For now. With your help, I hope to expand my services."

Flores got out of the car and led the way toward a large white container. Jake followed, glancing around for Ernesto, but he saw nothing. Of course he wouldn't get close enough to be seen, Jake reasoned. But even though he didn't think he had anything to fear from Flores, he had to admit that he felt better knowing Ernesto was nearby.

With a grin, Flores unlocked the storage container and pulled on the door. "I recently inherited this collection from a... shall we say unwilling benefactor. The ring was a part of it, but there are so many more wonderful trinkets. Take a look."

Jake peered inside, his stomach sinking. One magical artifact could cause plenty of trouble on its own, but a dozen? A score? Depending on how many Flores had, Jake's job was about to get a lot more difficult.

The light hit a stack of boxes within, and Jake felt his breath catch in his throat. Crates and tubs were piled almost to the ceiling, each labeled with the name of the object or objects within: the Armor of Achilles, Ariadne's Diadem, the Shield of Evalach, the Gem of Kukulkan... things that definitely should not be in the hands of an international smuggler.

"What is it, Jake?" Ernesto asked over the earbud. "Drugs? Weapons?"

"This is, uh..." Jake said. "This is just the kind of thing I deal with."

"I thought so," Flores smiled.

"Are you saying it's more magical items?" Ernesto asked incredulously.

Jake swallowed. "Yep."

Ernesto swore.