Jinxed

Chapter twenty: prison riot

Chapter twenty: Prison Riot
I don't own fablehaven

Bracken would have glared at those around him. And he might've too. But what stood in front of him made his blood boil. Bracken normally wasn't an aggressive person; he tended to take things with a cool head. But that Jinn. All of this—the madness, Kendra's problems, the searching, the parrions, the border shut down, everything—came from him. He was the cause. Bracken shrugged his jacket on a little tighter as best he could. He had taken to wearing it everywhere.

The Jinn looked Bracken over, as if determining his value on a fish scale. The kept his head tilted slightly up and had a regal air about him. It was false. Value empty. An excuse to make up for the absolutely patheticness. This was the kind of being who didn't care about anything but himself. He'd trample anything underfoot to achieve his goals. Bracken didn't know what those might be. It infuriated him. His promises. From that day on Shoreless Isle, he had promised to keep the Sorenson's, and anyone associated with them, protected. Even just earlier he had promised to end things and fix them.

"So this is the famed son of the Fairy Queen I've heard so much about." Bracken pursed his lips. The information must have come from Seth, at least he hoped. Another crisis and he'd go as mad as the diseased.

The Jinn let out a small laugh. "Why the whole dungeon must know about it at this point." The Jinn put a hand to his mouth. "Oh dear, I wonder how that must have happened." He tapped his chin. "Free information. A poor mark of the trade."

"Why?" Bracken demanded. "Why this? Why now? Why?"

"You're a lot smarter than you look. I have to admit the silver hair is a tad bit ridiculous. I've already said too much. If you'd like more information, you could always enter into a wish."

Heat rushed to Bracken's face. His distant curled. He didn't bother to glance at Seth or Warren. "No deal."

The Jinn gave a curt nod. His strange eyes fixed to a point over Bracken's shoulder. Bracken craned his head to look as well, his arms still pinned. From the shadows around the corner, a figure appeared. It was the Minotaur he had talked to a short while before. The unnamed prisoner gave him no heed. His gruff steps brought him to stand between the Jinn and Warren.

But others soon joined them. A minor witch, an imp, and very many other beings he couldn't identify from their spots. They were prisoners, all of them. It seemed as if most of the prison had gathered.

Bracken heard some other noises. People talking? It got closer and he could make our words.

"Jorgo, what'd I tell you to do when I'm fishing for political supremacy? What's I tell ya?" the first asked.

"Quiet. Statue. Shut up," another voice responded.

"Exactly, Jorgo. And what are you not doing?"
"We ain't there yet—"

"Should'uh let Slaggo and Voorsh stay in the business. Then we'd be back in Rio. Ain't that right, Jorgo?"

"Yeah."

"You see, Jorgo, one has to be at the top of the chain. That mean one kisses up to the source of power. Since we aren't with the big shots in Rio, we gotta settle for these munchkins."

"Forvon, we should—" the first, Forvon, let out a laugh.

"Tags the thing 'bout you, Jorgo. Say every word that comes into your head. Ever think someone else wants a chance to speak? Huh, did you, Jorgo?"

What...? Rio? Who were these guys? Bracken of course knew what was in Brazil but—"

The pair walked around the corner, still blubbering words. Both were goblins and had a retched stench. One was taller and lankier than the other.