Hook: Exiles of the Realm

by Adrienne Bell

  James thrashed as the guards dragged him through the Great Hall door, but it was no use. The fae soldiers weren’t just a good foot taller than him. They were twice as strong as well. He was outmatched in every possible way. And with his arms pinned against his side he couldn’t reach a single one of his remaining relics.

  For the first time in James Hook’s life, he was defenseless, and he hated it.

  Of course, that didn’t keep him from trying to escape. He struggled and kicked along the twisting hallway that led from the north end of the palace to the south. When that didn’t work he tried another tack.

  “What did the king offer you, Flint?” James shouted, his voice echoing off the walls.

  Flint didn’t stop. He didn’t even bother glancing back over his shoulder. “More than you could possibly imagine.”

  “Whatever Oberon offered you, I’ll double it.”

  “No, you won’t.” Flint laughed. “You may have stolen a lot of treasure in your time, Hook, but not even you are as wealthy as the king.”

  James let out a long breath. Well, it was worth a shot.

  They rounded another corner, and James was forced to swallow his panic as arched double doors came into view—the doors that led to the Royal Courtyard. He only had time for one last desperate bid.

  If greed hadn’t moved the bastard, maybe sentiment would.

  “How can you do this?” James asked. “I thought we were friends.”

  For a moment, he held out hope that the ploy might actually work. Flint stopped. He swiveled on his heel. But all of James’ hopes faded the moment he saw the sneer curling Flint’s top lip.

  “You don’t have friends,” Flint said. A glint of pure derision shone bright in his eyes. “You don’t care about anyone but yourself. All you do is use people. Use them and then toss them aside.”

  James narrowed his gaze. “And how are you any different?”

  “I never said I was. I just needed you to know I’m better at it than you.”

  “You’ll never be better than me.”

  Flint’s cruel smile returned. “Then tell me why I’m standing here in full royal regalia while your pathetic ass is about to be tossed into purgatory.”

  James’ jaw tightened as he let his head fall forward. He desperately struggled to control his emotions. It didn’t matter how much he’d love to crack Flint’s jaw, or how much he feared what was waiting for him on the other side of those doors. He needed to keep his mind clear and his wits strong. It was his only hope.

  Flint motioned to his men, and a moment later the sound of metal hinges groaning filled the hallway. Blinding sunlight poured into the dark hallway as the massive doors swung open. James pulled his shoulders back and lifted his chin, determined to face the crowd with his head held high.

  And, damn, if it wasn’t one hell of a crowd. The courtyard was packed with every type of citizen—from fae to beast. A line of royal guards kept the masses back from the small stone circle in the center.

  The Gate.

  James shivered at the sight.

  The guards holding his arms curled their fingers tighter as they pulled him out into the light. A gasp rose up from the crowd as he was trotted out. James craned his head around to see the king and queen seated on a raised dais near the glimmering palace wall. Flint strode over to them and delivered the fake Key into Oberon’s hand. He held his breath, waiting to see if the king accepted the phony, but before he could read the expression cut into the deep lines on Oberon’s face, the guards tossed him into the last empty spot around the Gate.

  James grimaced as his knees collided with the hard stone. He ground his back teeth as the shock of pain bolted up his legs, but he quickly recovered and stole a glance at the other prisoners. He recognized every one. Who in the Realm wouldn’t?

  There was Bron Douglas, the royal huntsman and rumored lover of Queen Titania. Shay Madrid, the jinn whispered to be responsible for Oberon’s rise to power. Fenrir the Wolf, the creature prophesied to defeat Oberon and seize his throne. And Geoffrey Merlin, the magician who had crafted that prophecy.

  These were the most notorious men in the entire Realm. Under any other circumstance, James would have been honored to be included among their ranks.

  “James Hook.” A voice boomed his name out across the courtyard. James shifted far enough around to catch sight of the king. There was no doubt he was a striking figure. Dark leather covered most of his imposing form. The rest—his shoulders and legs—were capped with interlocking scales of shining fae steel. His dark glower turned even heavier as he met James’ eyes. “You have been tried by the Crown and found guilty.”

  “Of what?” James asked.

  A murmur ran through the crowd. Apparently, no one had ever asked the question before.

  The angry silver sparks that glimmered in Oberon’s eyes confirmed his suspicions.

  “Of crimes against the Crown.” Titania stepped close to Oberon’s side. Unlike her rugged husband, Titania was an ethereal beauty. Her golden dress glimmered in the sunlight, almost distracting him from the captivating darkness of her pure black eyes.

  “Any one in particular?” James asked with a wink. “Or were you bundling all my crimes together?”

  Titania blinked, a mix of open confusion and anger showing on her face. “Stealing the Key of Janus, of course.”

  “Yes, but is it really stealing if I didn’t even make it out of the Great Hall?”

  Oberon raised a single finger and the butt of a guard’s staff came down hard against James’ back. James arched his spine as he collapsed to the ground, his arms sprawled out at his side.

  Apparently, it did count.

  “Treason.” Oberon let the word hang in the air as he started down the steps toward the prisoners, his armor clinking with every step. “Ladies and gentlemen, the assembled prisoners have been found guilty of treason, and are cursed to spend the last of their days on Earth.”

  Earth.

  The word turned James’ blood to ice. This couldn’t be how his story ended. He refused to accept it. He was James Hook, renowned schemer and thief. There was no puzzle he couldn’t solve. No trap that could snare him. But, dammit, he was running out of time.

  James pushed to his knees and dusted off his hands as a guard dragged the metal grate from the top of the Gate.

  His gaze flickered from side to side, but none of the other prisoners were looking his way. Their eyes were fixed on the gaping pit in front of them, their expressions running the gamut from outright rage to resignation.

  Apparently it was up to him to come up with an escape plan. But there were far too many guards to try a simple getaway. He’d be brought down before he’d even made it to his feet.

  No, he was stuck playing the long game…no matter how terrifying the thought might be.

  James cleared his throat, and the king’s imposing glare snapped toward him.

  “Unless…” James said.

  “Unless what?” Oberon asked, his voice as sharp as fae steel.

  “If our exile is a curse, then there has to be a way to break it,” James answered. “So, what are the terms?”

  Oberon snarled down at him. “You want terms?”

  “No, I want to be back at my local tavern with a tankard in my hand,” James said. “But these are the laws of magic. Every curse and blessing comes with terms. So what are yours?”

  “Here are your terms, you insolent cur.” Sparks flew in Oberon’s eyes. He reached James in three long strides. In a flash of speed and strength, he wrapped the long fingers of his hand around James’ throat, hauling him off the ground. James kicked as he dangled from the end of Oberon’s arm, but the tips of his boots barely scraped against the stones. The king leaned forward so that James was fully suspended above the pit.

  “You and the other four traitors are hereby cursed to exile in the purgatory world of Earth, where you will wither and rot with the ravages of time,” the king boomed. “And the Gate will remain locked until Hades breaks the
m open and sets every last one of you free.”

  James bit hard into his lower lip to keep from smiling. A difficult task, sure, but hardly an impossible one with the Key still safely stowed inside his shirt. He really was lucky to be getting off so easy.

  “Anything you’d like to add, my queen?” Oberon called out over his shoulder.

  James glanced over and found Titania’s cold gaze fixed solidly on Bron Douglas’ handsome face.

  “And until all of their hearts are thoroughly cleansed by the burning fires of love,” she said.

  Oberon’s lip curled back. “Satisfied?”

  James opened his mouth to answer, but found all his breath cut off by the fae’s merciless grip. He nodded instead.

  “Good.” The king uncurled his fingers, dropping him down into the pit.

  Free the Lord of the Underworld. Find love. James ticked off the items in his head as the swirling darkness swallowed him whole.

  No problem. He could do that. If his luck held, he’d be home before the week was out.

  Chapter One

  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, jinn?” 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.