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Chapter Twenty-Two
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The nightmare seemed so vivid, so realistic. Sarah really believed she was back in the hospital, but that was insane! She released herself years ago-no thanks to her parents or Jareth. Jareth...hmm...she wondered at his participation in her nightmare. Her subconscious must hold a bit more bitterness towards him for his abandonment than she realized.
She puttered in her kitchen after her rudely interrupted nap. The mundane chores helping her recover her mental equilibrium. Losing track of time, she didn't hear the front door open, and someone's warm hands at her back startled her. Sarah spun with a high-pitched yelp.
"Shit, Sarah! Burst my eardrums why don't you," her husband, Eric, said, backing away sharply while wiggling a finger in each ear.
"Sorry!" she touched his chest, tenderly. "You surprised me. I didn't hear you come home."
Smiling, Eric pulled his wife into a hug. "Sorry, I scared you." He kissed her chastely while rubbing her back. "So..."
"So..." she teased back and slipped her arms around his neck.
"I've missed you, baby," his lips navigated their way down her neck, joined by his tongue and Sarah moaned, two whole weeks without anytime to mess around with her husband.
"Oh, Eric, I hate it when you work so much," she said running her hands down his chest and under the edge of his t-shirt until she felt bare skin. His muscles twitched and he groaned.
"Sarah..." he murmured, pressing her against the countertop. His hands made quick work of unbuttoning her shirt and baring her bra-less chest, his thumbs caressing her nipples to hardened peaks. She arched her pelvis closer to his, rubbing his palpable erection and causing Eric to thrust forward. Sarah shoved his shirt upwards, and with his aid, yanked it over his head and arms tossing it somewhere. Their growing impassioned pants echoed in the small kitchen. He cupped her bottom and lifted, placing her on the countertop; Sarah wrapped her legs around his waist pulling him snugly to her.
'
Sarah.' "What?" she asked Eric between fervent kisses.
"I didn't say anything," he replied breathlessly, tugging down her jean's zipper. His fingers slipping into her intimate, moist warmth making her moan and squirm.
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Sarah.' A memory niggled at the edges of her mind.
-A young Lizzie running to the front door to greet her father.- A bright light flashed in the corner of one eye causing her to jerk backwards and bang her head on the cupboard. "Ow!"
"Sarah, what's wrong? Are you okay?" he held her head as she grimaced.
"Yeah, I just hit my head," she said, rubbing the back of her scalp. "Did you see that light?" Eric squinted and pulled his head back slightly.
"What light?" he asked then added concerned, "How hard did you hit your head?"
"Well, I...it's just," Sarah studied Eric's caring face while his fingers threaded through her hair. Her eyes narrowed as recalled the stray memory. "Eric, where's Lizzie?"
"Lizzie?" he said, startled then shrugged. "Sarah, don't worry. I took care of it."
"Took...care...of...it?" she repeated dully. "What are talking about?" Not liking his tone, Sarah pushed Eric from her and jumped down off the countertop, her clothing still undone. Eric ducked his head trying to kiss her again, his arms moving back towards her.
"Baby, I did just like you told me...for our dreams," his tone wheedling as his hands massaged her arms.
"Oh my God, Eric, what did you do?" Sarah moved away from her husband's reach, but kept her eyes on his expression, waiting for him to deny what her intuition feared to be true. Sensing the passionate mood at a close, Eric reluctantly quit trying to coax Sarah and focused, instead, on her odd behavior.
"Geez, Sarah, I don't see what the big deal is. You're the one who suggested it," he accused, running his hand through his disheveled hair. "Hell, I didn't even believe it would work, but sure enough as soon as I said those words...poof...there he was!"
And then she died, just a bit, at his admission. Lizzie! Her baby girl...wished away to the Goblin King! A visceral current of nausea coupled with sharp pain swelled within her gut, and rose to her chest; impending vomit welled at the back of her throat. It brought an acrid taste to her tongue. Sarah clutched her arms to her stomach for a moment in an effort to physically restrain her illness. Then her palm cracking across Eric's face surprised them both, and he stumbled back, his face aghast.
"How could you!" she shouted.
"You fucking bitch!" he shouted back. "You told me, too!" Eric stormed passed Sarah, yelling over his shoulder, "You know I only ever do what you want, you spoiled brat! I always have!" Her husband's voice and the front door slamming as he left distracted her long enough that she didn't sense
his arrival.
"He's quite accurate, Sarah," a smooth, baritone voice said beside her and she spun with a yelp. "After these long years, the many lessons I tried to impart...
and still you are a spoiled brat."
"Jareth!" she exclaimed, clasping her open shirt ends together, suddenly aware that her jeans remained unzipped and loose. His imperiously dark presence in her living vacuumed the warm atmosphere, and Sarah shivered as his frozen eyes examined her.
"Where's Lizzie? What've you done with her?"
Jareth cocked his head to one side, his lips thinning momentarily before he responded derisively, "You know very well where she is; don't be daft as well as spoiled."
"You can't keep her; bring her back, immediately!" she demanded as she approached him, every inch threatening him violence. A low chuckled slipped from Jareth. Watching her stalk closer amused him—such a powerless Mortal really.
"I
can keep her. Her father, apparently at your behest, gave her to me," he said and smirked at Sarah's choking sound. "Absolutely delicious," he said thoughtfully, running his black gloved hand under his chin, his eyes hooded, "that you, of all people, should choose to wish your only child to me."
Sarah raised wide, pleading eyes to his mismatched ones, "Please, Jareth, I didn't do it. It wasn't me."
"Come, come, what sort of fool do you take me for?"
"Take me instead, me for her," she said, rashly, desperate to save Lizzie.
"And why should I ever agree to such a thing?" he asked, disdainfully.
"You loved me once," she replied, her confidence rising when his eyes swiftly dilated and one of his hands twitched. She stepped closer, her hands clutching her shirt closed as she met his arctic gaze bravely. Soon only a couple of feet separated them, and the scent of musky leather filled her nose making her light-headed.
"You think very highly of yourself," he stated dryly then dropped his gaze from her face to her hands grasping her shirt. Silently, he reached out, pushing her unresisting hands down, and slipped the edges of her shirt open exposing her bare chest. Sarah focused on his fine-textured, platinum hair tickling her face as his cold, gloved hand cupped each breast, rolling and pinching her nipples in turn. An equal mix of revulsion and lust welled up, and she restrained a strange moan caused by his inspection. His touch seemed more clinical than her annual OB-GYN visit, but with a tinge of perversity which heated her blood. His hand slipped lower into her still open jeans and she did not fight him. Sarah closed her eyes as she felt his fingers probe her intimately: the leather smooth upon her sensitive nub and at her entrance. She did moan then, unable to hold back as his finger entered her harshly then quickly withdrew.
"You're quite a bit older than before," he commented as if she were a side of beef aged too long. "Why ever should I accept so
generous an offer? I do so prefer my—
friends— a great deal younger." Her eyes opened and her head snapped up to his sneering expression, but the heat in his gaze spurred her on. She swallowed thickly and thought of Lizzie's freedom. Slipping her shirt off, Sarah stepped forward pressing her body to his.
"I'm better than any child, Jareth. I can bring all your fantasies to life," she answered him, taunting, teasing as she rubbed her body and hands along his torso-making sure to sweep over the prominent bulge in his tights. Without his harsh breathing, she would think Jareth a statue he stood so motionless during her ministrations. "You know you want me. Take me, Jareth...me for Lizzie." She had him, his capitulation merely seconds away. Then quick as a striking rattler, he spun her around and trapped her against his body; one hand grasping her throat, the other arm wrapped around her waist.
"Perhaps you'd like your daughter's opinion?" he whispered into her ear. And there before them appeared Lizzie looking every bit the innocent, eight-year-old child.
"Lizzie!" Sarah exclaimed before Jareth squeezed his hand forcing her to ceasing talking.
"Lizzie, my princess, I have a question for you," Jareth said politely drawing Lizzie's attention to the oddly embraced adults in front of her.
"Jareth! I wondered where you went. We we're still playing," Lizzie replied. Her bright smile for the Goblin King chilled Sarah's heart.
"A small errand, I'm sorry for my delay. Now, Lizzie, your mother," he nodded towards Sarah restrained in his arms, "has demanded your return. Do you wish to return home?" he asked, sweetly. The little girl's mouth gaped and she shook her head vehemently.
Stomping her feet and clenching her fists, she ranted at the Goblin King, "You promised! You said I'd never have to go back to her. I heard her say she never wanted me. She doesn't love me!" Large tears streaked down her face and she hiccuped, "You promised I could live with you forever!"
"No, Lizzie, that wasn't me..." Sarah choked out.
"I don't believe you! You never loved me! I hate you-I hate you!" Lizzie shouted between her hiccups and Sarah cried with her distraught daughter, sobbing in the harsh grip of Jareth who laughed softly behind her.
"That's not true, Lizzie," Sarah mumbled, hanging her head as Jareth loosened his hold on her neck. Lizzie continued to shake her head in denial than ran from the apartment just like her father, the front door slamming behind her. Jareth released his hold on Sarah, and she fell to her hands and knees, sobbing.
"So you see, Sarah, I have no need of your...assets." His sinister laughing stoked her anger, but she restrained her urge to attack.
"There must be something, anything," she pleaded and risked a glance to his face. He paced around her in slow, measured steps. His long fingers tapping the side of his face in thought.
"I do love a good game...as you know," he replied a few minutes later. Sarah tried to wait patiently while he drew out her suspense, and counted herself successful when he spoke before she did. "Yes, I do believe this may work."
"Sarah," he addressed her and she focused on his face several feet above her, "you may exchange places with your daughter—
if you find her in time."
"Let me guess, thirteen hours?" she said, sarcastically.
"Perhaps you're not completely daft afterall. However, you must also convince her to agree to the exchange," he added with a sneer and crossed his arms; Sarah's heart sped up in fear. "I would hurry if I were you. She's gained quite a lead." Jareth nodded to the front door and smirked. Not hesitating to even glare at Jareth, Sarah grabbed her shirt lying nearby, slipped it on, securing a few buttons, and ran out the door. The hallway outside of her apartment stretched and dilated like in those late night horror movies Eric loved to watch. The walls and ceiling liquefied until large drops of sheetrock and brick rained on and around her. Her feet sank into the carpet.
"Jareth, you cheater!" she shouted and heard his silken laugh echo in the gooey hallway. Every step pulled at her bare feet and her hope, but then she spotted a sparkle of color ahead and heard Lizzie's giggle.
"Lizzie! Wait, wait for mommy!" she cried out, determination renewed as she yanked her feet free, forging her way down the hallway faster. Lizzie giggled again, so close! "
Wait!" The floor sucked her feet down passed her ankles; she lost her balance and her hands swooshed into the goop.
"No...No, Lizzie," Sarah sobbed unable to free her hands. Like quicksand, the floor engulfed her arms and legs inexorably pulling her under until with a last shout of her daughter's name then a gasping deep breath, Sarah vanished into the floor. The morass filled her lungs as she sunk, unable to hold her breath—struggling for air, she gagged, sucking more in accidentally. Panic overwhelmed her, her consciousness faded, and Sarah's mind screamed as blackness overcame her.
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"Sarah? Lizzie?" he called and sighed when only silence answered him, again. Having wandered alone for hours, Jareth despaired of ever locating anyone or anything familiar. His last coherent memory consisted of traveling for something...important, but every time he attempted to regain more his head screamed in crippling pain, forcing him to his knees. Eventually he ceased trying to remember and concentrated on searching instead. Not that the desolate landscape offered much hope.
In all directions he saw endless plains of black sand: no trees or flora, no animals of any type, even the sand was perfectly sized grains of iridescent black. The sky reflected a dusky, purple evening glow: monotonous and unchanging. He knew he should be feeling the effects of dehydration and hunger, yet he felt neither. What is this place? Where am I? Why am I alone? His conjuring produced no crystals and a deep emptiness echoed within him, but he couldn't remember why.
"Hello?" he shouted. Even his voice created no echo, the bleak landscape swallowing the sound. "Anyone?" he sighed again then stopped walking, exhausted. Strange how he felt no hunger or thirst, yet fatigue plagued every step. Falling to his knees, he allowed himself a respite to kneel in the coarse black sand, his head hanging limply. After a time he leaned forward to his hands and knees and crawled a few paces. He hated being alone, having no one. It was the worst form of punishment. Well, perhaps not the worst...
His elbows quavered and gave out so that he collapsed upon the black ground. Possessing no desire to continue another inch, Jareth admitted defeat and closed his eyes. Sleep overtook him quickly and he lost himself to its sweet oblivion.
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Crystal shards ripped into Captain Rendor's unprotected face and he screeched. The Council troops leapt to action upon witnessing the attack on their leader, and Lizzie's forces responded immediately. With a prior agreed upon plan of action, Lady Fena and Lizzie joined up: Fena assisting the princess to her feathery back where Lizzie could cast her magic with the full protection of the most powerful Gryphon available. And cast she did with unerring accuracy, if not maximum Fae power.
Lizzie flung crystal shard and glitter-glue bombs at enemy faces as quickly as she could conjure causing temporary blindness, allowing her forces a significant advantage. The goblins attacked first, followed by Scarvy, Alia, and the remaining Gryphons while Ludo and Hoggle stood guard next to Fena defending their princess. However, the Gryphons' enthusiastic participation, more than anything else, weighed the short battle in the Goblin Kingdom's favor.
Keen-edged beaks coupled with two-foot long talons made short work of exposed soft Fae skin causing near fatal injuries to many of the Council loyalists—thanks to Lizzie's interference spells. With blades and teeth, Scarvy, Alia, and the goblins formed a second line of defense for Lizzie and injured their share of Fae. A short time later, amid hissing, blood-stained Gryphons, Captain Render shouted their surrender.
"Your Majesty! I offer you my sword!" Rendor shouted over the rapidly diminishing melee. He clutched the blade hilt first upwards from his kneeling position and blinking repetitively trying to clear the blood flowing from his numerous lacerations. "We surrender...the day is yours." He declared loud enough to stop his shocked, yet relieved residual forces mid-swings or conjuring. Silence settled over the throne room-the scene of so much recent violence-and with an efficacy of motion, Lizzie directed her people to gather the enemies' weapons and place them under guard.
"Captain Rendor, your choice pleases me," Lizzie said, smiling down at the beaten Fae from her regal seat upon Lady Fena. The Gryphon's head feathers twitched up and down; her front paws kneaded the stone floor like a cat, but not in pleasure. Rendor avoided looking the Gryphon in the eyes, choosing to focus on the princess's moderately less threatening visage.
"Your Majesty." He bowed his head, prostrating himself. Reluctantly, his troops, at least those able, followed his example and a chorus of 'your majesty' rang in the large chamber.
"Outstanding, I do hope you'll enjoy being our guest for awhile, Captain," Lizzie replied then looked over her new hostages, "you and your companions." Lizzie turned to Scarvy who now stood near her, her feet nearly at his head. "Captain Scarvy, please escort these...visitors...to the dungeons. Lady Fena, if your Gryphons would be so good as to assist Captain Scarvy?"
"Of course, Your Majesty," Fena eagerly answered, "they would be delighted." Fena chirped a few words to her Gryphons who started herding the prisoners with Scarvy's direction. Hoggle and Ludo gleefully assisted. Lizzie sagged with relief once the throne room cleared. Fena felt the young girl relax and helped her slid off to her own feet.
"You did very well, Lizzie," Fena said, sincerity infusing her voice and supported by her non-ruffled feathers.
"I did, didn't I?" She offered Fena a shaky smile, "Thank you, Fena."
"You are welcome, and I am pleased to have been at your side during this battle." The Gryphon lowered her body into a sphinx-like sitting position. "In my eyes, you are redeemed, princess, and you may call upon me at anytime."
Her eyes tingled and she sniffed at Fena's gruff display of emotion. "Thanks, I...I really appreciate that since I haven't done very well earning your trust. I, well, I'd like to consider you a friend."
"As well you should." Fena cocked her great head to one side and chirped a laugh. "As well you should, little princess."
"Now we just have to figure out what the Council did to my parents," Lizzie said, the vicious glint in her eye bringing a prideful spark to Fena's predator heart.
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The sound of dull thuds awoke him. He raised his face from the black sand to the same austere landscape, but with the added sound. Pushing up to his knees, he craned his head around until he located the direction. There—in the far distance—figures moving! A surge of adrenalin brought him to his feet and he pushed himself into a stumbling run. If only he reached them in time. As he drew closer the mass of figures divided into four distinct persons; they appeared to be struggling with each other.
Raised voices reached his ears, but still no echoing over the land. One person fell to the ground, staying there, unmoving while the other three fought. Jareth sped up, his legs stretching long lengths. Whoever these people were, someone or other needed help and perhaps could help him. But no matter how fast he ran he seemed no closer. His eyes trained on the fighters as he ran, he didn't watch the unvarying ground, and therefore when he tripped over the body his speed sent him flying several feet to head plant into the sand.
"Bloody hell!" he muttered, brushing himself off and turning to see the body in question. Apparently his running gained him some measure of distance as now he only saw the three fighting in the distance. The fourth person now at his feet; lying face down and dressed all in black.
"Hello?" he said, moving closer. It appeared to be a woman. Touching her shoulder, he gently shook her, "madam, are you unwell?" Jareth asked again before slowly rolling her onto her back. A cry strangled in his throat.
"Fiana?" he said, aghast at the gaping hole in her chest still oozing congealing blood. Her wide open eyes stared into the drab sky, stark fright and accusation reflected in their fully dilated pupils. Then he noticed a few feet away lay her heart—charred and crumbling, but otherwise intact. Gods below, she would suffer an eternity!
"Fi, who, why..." he choked on the bile rising. His fault, entirely his fault...Shaking off his grief, he sprang to his feet; he would reach the other three people. One of them must be responsible for this travesty, this abomination to Fae beliefs. Releasing a great cry, Jareth regained his previous speed and chased after the three still fighting in the expanse.
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Labyrinth wished for a physical voice in which to growl out its frustrations. Easily it found Sarah in the Void; their consciousnesses drifting separately while their physical Binding stayed intact. But her deep-seated fears continually drowned her, pulling her farther from its contact, compelling it to use greater amounts of power to find her. How long they might exist in this suspension until even her resistant Fae body succumbed to deprivation—Labyrinth refused to consider—it could be many, many years.
