Jake was going to die. Alex had seen the angle of the gun when it went off—it would be a miracle if the bullet didn't hit at least two organs on its way through. Doctors could only do so much, and Jake was running out of time. There was no guarantee that he'd make it to a hospital before...

But Flores had more magical items. Maybe even one that could save Jake.

Alex was pretty sure that the Flores with the fire cane was the real one, so when the two Floreses still on their feet scattered after the gun went off, Alex went after the original. Jake had knocked his earbud out when the other Flores started playing his harp—Orpheus's Lyre, Jake called it—so he couldn't ask for an update or tell the others his plan. He just ran, trying not to hear the echo of the gun in his ears or see blood when he closed his eyes.

He could see Flores up ahead, desperately weaving between cars in the hotel parking lot. Fire engines and police cars already filled the street in front of the hotel, clogging traffic as guests and staff pooled around the entrance, demanding answers of anyone within earshot.

It was all just one giant mess, and Alex was going to make sure Flores cleaned it up.

There were only a few yards between them now. Flores half-turned and brandished his cane, but no fire came out—of course not, because there were too many witnesses. It was a mistake that gave away Flores's hand and Alex wasn't about to wait for a second opportunity. He threw himself forward, diving and catching Flores as he tried to dodge away. They crashed to the pavement, and Alex clapped his hand over Flores's mouth before he could yell for help.

"Say anything and I'll snap your neck right here," Alex hissed. With his free hand, he ripped the cane from Flores's grip and tossed it away. "Now. You're going to bring me to your secret stash of magic items, got it?"

Flores sputtered for a moment, but when Alex tightened his grip over his jaw, he nodded. "Not a word," Alex said, slowly withdrawing his hand.

Flores stayed silent, eyeing Alex's fists, and pushed uncertainly to his feet. Alex got up as well, grabbing the fire stick and shoving Flores past a car. "Hurry up," he said. "We ain't got all day."

"My driver should still be here," Flores stuttered. "I can message him to—"

"Call," Alex said.

Trembling, Flores reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, holding it out so Alex could see the screen. He tapped a name, and Alex reached over to hit the speaker button. "Pick me up in the parking lot," Flores said as soon as his driver answered. "Me and Mr.—Mr. Spencer."

"There are firetrucks every—"

"Now. That will be all."

Flores hung up, sweating. "If I—" he started, and paused to swallow. "If I take you to the items, if I give them to you, you have to let me go."

"Let you go?" Alex repeated. "You'd better pray I don't let you go in the middle of the ocean, Flores, because if my brother dies, that's exactly what I'm doing. Jail sounds like a pretty good alternative, doesn't it?"

Flores only cowered silently at that. Without his fire stick, he didn't seem inclined to fight back or challenge Alex's threats. His driver came around to the parking lot and picked them up, and Flores didn't argue when Alex directed him to drive faster. It was hard not to look at the time, to keep himself from counting the minutes. From measuring how much life Jake had left.

"Can't you go any faster?" Alex growled for the fourth time.

Beside him, Flores fidgeted in his seat. "We're nearly there. Only a few more minutes."

Those few minutes felt like an eternity, but finally the driver pulled into a lot filled with storage containers. When they screeched to a stop, Alex all but threw Flores from his door and waited impatiently while the shaking man unlocked a container.

"Now," he said, yanking open a door. "Get me something that will heal my brother."

"I—I—" Flores stumbled forward, lifting his hands before him. "I don't have anything—"

"Find something," Alex said. His voice was low, lower than when he'd tried to imitate Eliot, and misleadingly soft.

Flores took the top of a crate, shuffled through the contents, and looked back helplessly. "Most of these are weapons," he said. "Please, I swear I don't know of anything that can heal. Just let me go to jail. Please. She'll find me if I try to leave anyway."

"Who?"

"The Curator," Flores said miserably. "This was all hers, and I—I stole it."

"You stole it?" Alex frowned.

"Well, I hired someone to steal it. And now if she finds me, she'll kill me. She'll worse than kill me."

Alex wanted to ask how you could "worse than kill" someone, but if magic was involved, he wasn't sure he wanted to know the answer. It didn't matter anyway. He had a job to do. There had to be something here that could help Jake.

"Tell me what everything does," he said.

"But... that will take—"

Alex grabbed a crown and thrust it in Flores's face. "What's this? What does it do?"

"It's—it's the Radiate Crown. It gives off light like—"

"And this?"

"The Sword of Peleus. It grants victory in battle."

"This?"

"Maui's Fishhook, which can call islands out of the sea."

They went on like that until Alex had torn apart the neat rows and stacks of artifacts, but Flores seemed to be telling the truth—there was nothing there that could heal Jake. All that time Alex had managed a semblance of calm, but now that it was looking more and more like he was going to fail, the panic started to creep in. This wasn't how things were supposed to go. Jake wasn't supposed to just show up out of the blue, reconnect, and then die. Alex should be able to save him. He should have more time.

But then... he'd had time. He'd had years, and what did he do with them? There had always been an excuse not to call, some of them even valid. But what about the last year? What had stopped him from picking up the phone, from buying a ticket home? What was his excuse for that?

His doctor warned him not to blame others for the things that had happened to him, but he did. If he was being honest with himself, he did it a lot. His temper was his father's fault, his inability to be himself was because of Uncle Danny, his mistrust was because of his former partner Todd. But how much should others be blaming on him? Evelyn blamed him, he knew, and when Kai told him what Evelyn had said about thinking he'd always wanted a son... well, it was hard to blame anyone else for that. He should have been clearer about his intentions. He should have explained that he only wanted to keep her safe. How much damage had he done in her life because he couldn't be honest? No, not because he couldn't—because he didn't.

And it was all happening again. He should have called his brothers, he should have apologized to them, and he should have accepted their unexplained presence as the blessing it was and made the most of their time together.

Now he was out of time.

"Put this on," Alex barked, tossing length of chain to Flores. Prometheus's chains, apparently, which were inescapable according to the description on the crate they'd been in. He pulled out his phone, pounded on Kai's name, and held it to his ear.

"Alex," Kai answered.

"Tell me he's at the hospital," Alex said. His blood pressure monitor chirped a warning, but he ignored it and pushed on. "I'm at Flores's storage container."

"He's here," Kai said.

"Someone's treating him, right? I tried to find a magic item that would heal him, but Flores—I—I can't find anything, and—"

"Alex, listen!"

"Please just tell me someone's treating him. Please, Kai, just—"

"Alex, he's fine. His necklace is charmed. It healed him."

His brain took a second to process her words, as if they were coming to him from a long way away. "What?"

"He's fine. Do you want to talk to him?"

The relief that crashed over him was so intense that it was almost painful. Yes, he wanted to talk to him—but not like this. Not on the phone. The things he had to say needed to be said face to face, and he wasn't going to avoid that anymore. "No, I... I'll talk to him when this is over. Is he really okay?"

"The wound is completely gone. I'm looking at it now. He's fine."

"Okay. I've got Flores here at his storage container—the real Flores."

"Does he have the ring?"

Ah, hell—he'd forgotten all about that in his rush to save Jake. Alex glanced over at Flores and nodded. "Yeah. I haven't taken it off yet."

"Good. I want to do it. We'll meet you there."

Alex ended the call, glancing over his shoulder at Flores. "Hear that? Detective Mendoza's on her way. And she really wants to talk to you."

Flores cowered, and Alex let him.