Fatefall - 5

Chapter 5 - Jett 

And so the question arose: how does one kill a Fate? 

Even though he only had nine fingers, Jett was still the best thief in the whole city. 

He was quick, he was nimble, and he could shed disguises as though simply taking off a coat. Amazing skills for a thief, really. He’d practically been born for it. 

The walk from his shared apartment to the prison should have taken less than twenty minutes at a leisurely stroll, but it had been an hour since he’d left and Jett still hadn’t reached his destination. To be fair, the market was far busier than normal. 

All the more pockets for picking, Jett thought smugly. 

His efforts had been fruitful from the afternoon alone. The golden watch, several coin purses, and even a diamond necklace proved that much. 

A new target suddenly caught his eye. 

Jett slipped through the crowd, squeezing between two elderly women and managing to snatch a gold mark off of one of them in the process. His next victim didn’t seem to be in any danger of leaving, so Jett allowed his Grace to wash over him. 

The Grace of Deceit hadn’t seemed useful until Jett had arrived in Xegalla. Now his ability to shift faces was the only thing keeping him alive. 

He ducked behind the shadow of a rather large man, allowing his Grace to contort his body. Jett morphed into the form of a smaller boy, one with innocent eyes and protruding ribs that always gained him sympathetic glances and occasionally extra money. 

Jett shot another glance at his target. 

Blonde curls and boyish features, with round glasses perched on the bridge of his nose. He fidgeted with his finely tailored clothing, but Jett’s gaze locked on the bulge in the front pocket of the jacket. A coin purse for sure, and bound to be loaded judging on the boy’s garb and his twitching fingers. This boy was completely naive. 

Jett sidled up to the line, keeping his gaze down and kicking stones as he’d seen another young boy doing just moments earlier. 

No one spared him a second glance as he pushed between the boy and the woman behind him. Faster than a serpent, his hand darted into the boy’s coat pocket and out again, the coin purse safely retrieved. This would cover his rent for the rest of the month at the very least. 

Satisfied with his snatch, Jett strolled away casually and made his way into a back alleyway, where he’d be safe from the prying eyes of the market patrol members. 

Until a hand came to rest on his shoulder and his whole body froze at the touch. Jett reluctantly turned to find the blonde boy glaring down at him. He looked even younger up close, though his height told Jett that he was probably about Jett’s real age. 

“I believe you have something of mine,” the blonde boy stated, his words short and clipped. Definitely a product of careful tutelage. Jett suppressed a snort. Schooling only went so far, and they never taught the important lessons like who not to steal from. 

Jett feigned confusion. “Oh?” He made a show of patting down his pockets, which bulged at the seams with other stolen goods. “Perhaps you have simply misplaced whatever it is you’re looking for-”

“I felt you take it from my pockets,” the blonde boy said, voice emotionless. 

Jett cursed under his breath and shifted back into his normal form - or at least the face he pretended was his original one. The blonde boy still towered over him, but at least now Jett wasn’t impersonating a ten year old. “Look, I’ll give you your money plus some if you keep quiet-”

“I don’t want your money.” The boy wrinkled his nose, as if the very thought of it offended him. Only someone rich could have that kind of attitude. “I should turn you in,” he mumbled, as if the thought was only now occurring to him. 

Fear froze Jett in place. “How about you don’t do that, actually-”

“I won’t,” the blonde boy assured him quickly. “If you do me a favor, though.” His words were hesitant, as if he wasn’t entirely sure what he was saying himself. 

Jett slid his hands into his pocket. “All right, what kind of favor are we talking about?” 

He’d done “favors” before, though most ended up as high-risk endeavors with payouts that were never quite big enough. Paintings, jewelry, and even books - Jett had stolen them all. Surely this boy’s offer would be worth it. 

“I saw you shift forms,” the blonde boy noted, his gaze dropping to the ground. “You’re amazing at it.”

Jett laughed and the boy’s eyes widened with shock. “You think I’m talented?” he scoffed. “Anyone with the Grace of Deceit can do what I just did. I’m not special, though I appreciate the attempts at flattery.”

Blush rose to the other boy’s cheeks. “How many other Graced can shift so effortlessly?”

Jett shrugged. He hadn’t spoken to many other Graced of Deceit since he’d arrived in Xegalla, and the ones he had held conversations with weren’t exactly keen on discussing their Graces. He had no one to compare himself with. 

“Exactly,” the blonde boy said, misinterpreting the silence as a confirmation. “I’m signing up to compete in the Tournament of Fates, and I’d, uh, I think you should too. We could be on a team together and-”

Jett held up a hand, cutting the boy off. “Sorry, deal’s off. I would prefer not to die, thank you very much.”

The blonde boy frowned. “You’re not going to die, necessarily. It’s a competition.”

“Yeah, a competition full of bloodthirsty, glory-seeking killers,” Jett snorted. “You’re a fool if you think you’re going to survive.”

“Then I guess I’ll just have to turn you in,” the boy said, crossing his arms. 

Jett thought of some names he really wanted to call this boy, but thought better of it. “Fine. I’ll consider your offer.” Yeah, right. His decision was already final on the matter. The Tournament of Fates was off limits. 

The boy narrowed his eyes. “How do I know you’ll follow through on it?” 

Fates curse him, he was too clever for his own good. Jett pondered his options for a moment before sighing. “Why don’t we meet back here at sunset? Then I can at least have some time to decide whether or not I want to throw my life away.”

“And how do I know you’ll actually meet me here?”

Jett shot the boy a glare and handed over a pocketful of stolen goods, though he kept some of his hidden stash in case he decided not to show up later. “If I don’t come back, I don’t get to keep all of my goods. Is that good enough for you?”

The boy tucked Jett’s stolen goods away. “Deal.”

“Great,” Jett said. “Now if you don’t mind, I have some life choices to contemplate.” 

Most of the prison guards were familiar with Jett. After you saw someone once a week for several years, you became acquainted with them. 

Rex was on duty when Jett arrived at the prison, which loosened some of the tension in Jett’s shoulders. Rex grinned widely as Jett approached. “Jett! It’s nice to see you!”
“And you as well,” Jett replied, forcing a smile to his own face. The encounter with the blonde boy had shaken him more than he cared to admit. He was still debating whether or not it was worth it to return for his stolen loot. Maybe the blonde boy would be caught with it and arrested, and all of Jett’s problems would solve themselves.  

“Warden Aurelio wants to see you,” Rex continued, patting Jett down to check for hidden weapons. As if Jett would be stupid enough to allow his weapons to be found. The Grace of Deceit could provide more than a change of face, though admittedly the only weapon currently hiding on Jett’s body was a tiny knife. “He said you should see him before you visit your parents, if that’s okay with you.”

Jett sighed. It was an order, not a request. 

“He’s in his office,” Rex told him, voice thick with pity. “You know how to get there?”
Jett nodded and set off on his way. 

The prison was shaped like an hourglass, with two triangular walls meeting at a single choke point in the center. One side was used for the offices and holding cells for the less serious cases. Jett had spent a single night in one of the cells after being caught snooping around a nobleman’s house in the dead of night. It was not an experience he wished to repeat. A single stone archway cut a hole through the walls and led to the second triangle. That side of the prison held the permanent residents, as well as a gallows and a handful of other secretive rooms that Rex always refused to reveal the purpose of, no matter how many times Jett asked.

The security itself was impressive. When his parents had first been arrested, Jett had foolishly attempted to break in. Even with only one guard posted at the entrance (and it was generally someone who could easily be overpowered), the grounds were monitored by dogs and well-trained soldiers. Watchtowers sat at every corner, with spotlights that drifted lazily across the crabgrass. Additionally, there were Graced fighters stationed at random points throughout the corridors. Escape was impossible. 

Warden Aurelio’s office was located at the bottom right corner of the hourglass. The windowless room gave Jett the creeps, and goosebumps prickled his arms as he took a seat across from the warden. 

“Jett,” Warden Aurelio acknowledged. “How are you today?”

“I’m doing well, sir. And you?” Always better to be polite and hope the warden was in a good mood. He could be downright horrible and bitter when he was upset. 

Warden Aurelio chuckled to himself. “The upcoming Tournament has occupied most of my time, if I’m being honest. It’s supposed to be the best one yet.”

“So I’ve heard,” Jett mumbled. The people in the streets wouldn’t shut up about it. 

Another chuckle. The warden seemed to be relatively calm today, which was good news because dread tugged at Jett’s gut. Something was wrong. 

“Anyway, we both know I didn’t bring you here to discuss the Tournament,” Warden Aurelio began, folding his hands together on the desk. “We’re anticipating an influx of prisoners over the next few months, for reasons I’m not allowed to disclose. Whatever the case, we need room, which means … getting rid, for lack of better words, of some of the inmates further along in their sentences.”

“My parents have only been here for four years,” Jett interjected. They’d fled Aecheral just over four years ago, along with a handful of other refugees - mostly children, the youngest of which had been Jett and another little red-haired girl. 

“And they still have six years left, in theory,” Warden Aurelio noted. “As you know, the penalty for illegal immigration is quite high.”

‘Trust me, I know,” Jett grumbled. “But you have to understand, sometimes it’s either serving a sentence in prison or ending up dead with your head paraded around the city on a pike.” His mind would never forget the gruesome images from the streets of Aecheral.

Warden Aurelio winced. “Yes, of course. My heart goes out to you and your family, Jett. However, the king has ordered me to make space in the prison. Unfortunately, your parents are on the list of potential candidates.”

Fates. Bile rose in Jett’s throat and his fingers clenched on the armrests of the chair. 

“You’ve paid a fair bit of their bail, Jett,” the warden continued. “And His Majesty does not want to see that go to waste. So he’s made an offer to all of the inmates: if they can finish paying their bail in three months, he’ll pardon them entirely. Otherwise…” 

Warden Aurelio didn’t need to finish for Jett to get the message. 

Three months to raise thousands of marks, or his parents would die - whether fair or not. His heart fluttered erratically in his chest. Fates. Fates. Fates. 

“I’m sorry, Jett,” the warden sighed. “I wish you didn’t have to find out this way.” 

“I want to see my parents now,” Jett decided, his voice wavering. “Please, sir. And not just your typical fifteen minutes. I want to actually speak to them.” 

A large request, but the warden was in a generous mood. “Of course, Jett. It’s the least I can do.”

It was funny, truly, that Warden Aurelio was so kind to Jett. Did the warden know that Jett was actually a thief, or did he think that Jett was a hard-working boy who spent every waking hour working for his parents’ release? Regardless of Warden Aurelio’s obliviousness, Jett was glad for his kindness. 

Jett knew the prison well enough to navigate it on his own, and - whether stupid or not - Warden Aurelio trusted him enough to allow him to wander around on his own.

After all, what could a teenage boy with an aptitude for changing faces possibly do that would ruin the security of the most secure prison in the world? 

His parents shared a cell under the assumption that a married couple wouldn’t murder each other. Even if one of them did end up dead, none of the guards would bat an eyelash. Just one less mouth to feed. 

The cells in the prison were designed so that the inmates could communicate with the outside world without leaving their cells and thus violating the integrity of the security. Each cell had the main room with a small bathroom off to the side. Between the hallway and the cell itself was a tiny alcove that separated the cells from the outside world with a wall of reinforced glass. It muffled voices, but it was relatively easy to speak through. 

Jett’s regular visits had earned him the privilege of a permanent stool, so he knocked on the window and took a seat. 

His parents appeared a moment later, both looking more haggard than they had the last time he’d spoken to them. Jett could barely see the resemblance between himself and his parents anymore. They shared dark hair and eyes, but his parents were paler and much skinnier. He wondered how long it had been since they’d last seen sunlight?

“Jett,” his mother breathed, pressing her shaking fingers to the glass. Jett laid his own hand against hers, wishing he could feel her warmth. “What’s the weather today?”

“It's a clear day,” Jett described, closing his eyes and picturing the sky. “There aren’t many clouds, but the few that are there are the big fluffy ones - your favorite. It’s a bit chilly out too, but that’s expected since it’s the middle of winter.  I don’t think we’re going to get any snow this year.” 

“And the streets?” inquired his father. 

Jett offered an indifferent shrug despite all of the emotions warring inside of him. “It’s prime season for people like us. There are so many crowds because of the Tournament of Fates. A bit too crowded, if you ask me.”

This had been their little tradition since his parents were first arrested. Jett would tell them about the outside world, and then they’d fall into a casual conversation and pretend like everything was normal. Jett suspected it was his parents' only way of staying sane when they were forced to stare at the same walls every hour of every day. 

“Are you and that girl a couple yet?” his mother continued, a sly grin appearing on her face. 

Jett rolled his eyes. “You mean Evangeline? Just because we share an apartment does not mean we’re together.”

His parents shared a look that made him wish he’d stayed on the streets instead of coming to visit them. Then he reminded himself what Warden Aurelio had told him just minutes before. His parents noticed the shift in his mood and identical frowns appeared on their faces.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” his mother asked, her brow creasing.

Jett swallowed his fear. “The Warden gave me some, uh, news. He said that the prison is due to see a lot more inmates in the next few months, and so he has to clear out some space.” 

His mother and father shared another look, this one filled with understanding. 

“I assume you don’t mean that everyone will be released early,” his mother mumbled, reaching for her husband’s hand. 

Jett dropped his gaze, afraid to see his parents’ disappointment. “Unless I can manage to pay off your bail in the next three months…” His voice cracked, and he found that words evaded him. 

If Jett didn’t pay thousands of marks worth of bail, Oren and Joyce would be executed.

Saying it out loud made it real, and the weight of the situation came crashing down on him at once. Jett pulled his legs to his chest, tears blurring his vision. 

“Jett, honey? Are you okay?”

“How can you be so calm?” he bit out. “How are you not freaking out? I just told you that you’re going to die.”

“We’re not dead yet,” his father argued, his voice simultaneously shaky and strong. “You still have three months, Jett.”

“Three months to do what? I can barely nick enough crap to pay for half an apartment. If you do get out - which is unlikely - where are we going to live?” He’d lived on the streets for a year before he’d met Evangeline, and he didn’t exactly want to do it again. Aecheral was completely out of the picture unless they wanted to be burned at the stake or drowned in a river. But that wasn’t his parents’ fault, and shame immediately overwhelmed him. “Sorry. I’m sorry. You have enough to deal with right now without me being a pain.” 

“Oh, sweetie,” his mother sighed. “None of this is your fault.”

“I could’ve worked harder. I could’ve visited you more often. I could’ve protected you,” he sobbed, the words and tears pouring out of him in an ugly mixture. 

“We’re going to be okay,” his father promised. “We’ll figure this out together.”

“How? How are we going to raise what’s left of your bail?” Jett asked, wiping at his eyes in a futile attempt to stop the tears. His chest felt as though it was on fire and his breath seized in his lungs. Oh, Fates. If his parents ended up dead, would Warden Aurelio have Jett arrested next? Would he spend the rest of his life behind sheets of glass? 

“Jett, sweetie, calm down,” his mother murmured. “We’ll figure something out. We escaped Aecheral, and we’ll escape this place too.” 

“Why don’t you head back to the apartment and try to relax. You can raise as much money as you can next week, and then when you come back to meet us we can brainstorm some more,” his father suggested. “There’s no use in crying over something that hasn’t happened yet.” He didn’t add that it was extremely likely that he would die, which Jett appreciated greatly. 

His breathing calmed and he bit down on his panic, forcing it to the back of his mind. His parents were right - he needed to approach this logically. Pessimism would accomplish nothing. 

“Okay,” he conceded at last. “Okay.” Jett glanced up at his parents, ignoring the concern etched across their features. “I’m going to find a way to get you guys out. I promise.” 

Something cracked in his mother and she leaned into her husband, tears creeping into the corners of her eyes. “Don’t worry about us too much, Jett. We’ll make it through this. We always do.” 

The prison visit almost made Jett forget about his meeting with the rich, blonde boy from earlier. Almost. 

Jett was half tempted to let the boy get away with the stolen goods. Was it worth the risk of him getting tossed in jail for stealing in the first place? But money was money and…

The Tournament! The streets were mostly empty by now, giving Jett free reign to snatch a poster advertising the Tournament off of a nearby building. His eyes scanned the tiny writing quickly, searching for one thing. And there it was. 250,000 marks. Per team, of course, but that left Jett with 50,000 marks at the least - which was more than twice what remained on his parents’ bail. His heart leapt into his throat. 

“I see you’re considering my proposition after all,” came a voice from behind him. 

Jett recognized the voice as the blonde boy’s and spun slowly, poster still clutched in his shaking fists. The boy raised an eyebrow, questioning. “So?” 

“So what?” 

The boy glared at him. “Have you made a decision regarding the Tournament yet?” 

This fool was really set on having Jett on his team, wasn’t he? Jett heaved a sigh. At least he would have one alliance going into the Games. “I have, actually.”

“And?”

“And I’ve decided to compete,” Jett replied. “But you, my lovely new friend, have no idea what you’re getting yourself into. By the end of this Tournament, you’re either going to want to kiss me or kill me.”

The blonde boy frowned, his brows crinkling in confusion or disgust. Jett couldn’t tell, and the thought amused him. Perhaps he hadn’t given the Graced Games enough credit. 

This was going to be enjoyable.

Author's Note

I was trying to go for a certain relationship dynamic between Jett and his parents (I wanted them to be a very close-knit family and I want his parents to be good people despite the fact that they're in prison). Please let me know if I accomplished that, or if it comes across as something else.