Looking off into the sky, she saw a storm rolling in, heavy grey clouds that promised rain in torrents, heavy Chicago winds and which explained the uncommon cold she felt. Ever still it was June and this was not typical weather, even in the strangest seasons. “Best I stay in bed,” she told the rapidly approaching darkness. When she spun round, she found Laney sprawled over the middle of her bed, the same bed which during the final days of her marriage seemed large enough to sail a boat across, dwarfed by a tiny body, arms and legs crocked like a pinwheel to cover maximum acreage. “It would seem I’m no more wanted there,” Sarah sighed.
From behind her she heard something plink against the glass. Rotating toward the source, she found nothing of consequence. “Probably hail,” she muttered. “Probably hail.” Her long fingers raked her hair, catching in the knots a night of tossing and turning had skillfully created. No sooner had she turned away had she heard the sound again, twice in quick succession. Curiosity spun her back toward the window in time for her to see fluttering wings crash against her window. She blinked in an effort to wish away the image. It couldn’t have been what her eyes were trying to tell her it was.
Closer she stepped toward the window, prepared to look out, but not prepared for what she would see. There in the center of the city, a snowy white barn owl, eye level with the penthouse window’s diving and soaring, crashing against the glass while lightning streaked an otherwise plum colored sky that had succeeded in making night out of morning in less than ten minutes. Sarah watched the glass shake as the angry bird of prey continued attacking the glass.
As she had once before in a dream, Sarah drew her hands before her face to protect them only seconds before the window shattered out sending an array of shards in every direction. She felt the strong winds come from his beating wings as the force of the blast knocked her to the floor. Sarah lie there waiting for her vision to return from the last mighty lightning crash and wondering how it were Laney was able to sleep so soundly through all of this. Kicking her heels, she backed towards the bed to check on her friend.
“She’s fine,” a deep and even voice told her. Sarah shook from the inside out, a tiny flutter much like the twitch of an eye, barely visible to those who didn’t know to look for it, but to her great dismay, the intruder at her feet knew all too well. “Come now Sarah, you didn’t think I’d hurt an innocent in all of this did you?”
There had been many a man gifted with a voice like song, but he was different from them all. Different in that words seemed to turn to music as they kissed his lips goodbye, not completing the metamorphosis until they mixed with the air and were heard. Hearing him say her name, after all these years shocked the mortal to her very soul, even a mature woman in her mid-thirties, she was no less susceptible to the strange melodic draw he pulled through her moniker.
“Obviously you did,” he said sinking to her level a crude sneer on his perfect lips. “There’s much you have to learn about me, dove. I have changed ever so since last you faced me.”
“I..I..I..” Sarah could only stutter, pressed against an end table hypnotized by his mere presence.
“You..you..you..” he mimicked back.
Gulping, she hoped to dislodge the lump which seemed to have taken siege of her voice box for the time being. “I called you,” she said plainly, apologetically almost. “You never came until now?” She was growing defiant, daring to question the Goblin King.
“And did you think I would rush to your window when you called upon me?” Sarah shook her head stupidly, like a child confronted about the reality of Santa Claus. “Not so I’m afraid.” He stood slowly as the mortal took him in, the full scope of him, his towering height, his diminishing stare, his fascinating confidence. “You see Sarah,” he explained as he paced before her, “I once offered you power and control, but no longer. I wasn’t about to bend to your demands. I was waiting.” He offered his hand to her and she took it. His gloves felt slick and warm to the touch. Effortlessly he brought her to her feet and with an extra tug, she was tight in his embrace. “Waiting for you to ripen,” Jareth smiled down at her wickedly.
With minimal effort she twisted in his grasp evoking only chuckles from the king. “Come love,” he said touching the side of her face softly with his gloved fingers. “Haven’t you and I played enough games in our short time together or perhaps you fancy a different sort of game now Sarah?” His lips loomed ever closer as she felt the hand at her back slide lower to the gentle swell of her hips until it rest softly on her backside.
Sarah could smell the honey sweetness of his breath. She wanted him to kiss her, anticipated it, leaned back her head and waited for it like a fool. Hadn’t she heard what he’d told her earlier?
The king moved his fingers over her lips feeling her head give way to his most tender touch. Jareth leaned his cheek close to hers, as close as he could without making contact. The heat of their bodies mingled in the space between tiny electric impulses the only thing to break the barrier. “I just don’t have the same game in mind,” he spat coldly into her ear before shoving her roughly back to the floor. “How dare you? He asked. “How dare you think you could control me again?”
“I..I didn’t.”
“Really Sarah? And why should I believe you?”
“I..don’t..know,” she admitted sheepishly.
Jareth brought out his riding crop from somewhere beneath his cape and split the air between them with it, “And that is exactly my problem,” he declared. “You never seem to know, what to say, what you’re doing, what you’ve done. I’ll come to you, but it will be on my terms, not yours. Never yours again. And the games we play will have stakes higher than some infant child. Keep me in mind,” he warned. “Think of me often, otherwise I would have to have this conversation with you again.” Jareth walked slowly toward the window, his stare stuck on the mortal on the floor, “And Sarah, I do so hate to repeat myself.” He fell out of the window like a top heavy child only to sail through the sky with grace as his wings unfolded. Sarah made it to the fully intact sill in time to see him, an inky shadow against the praline moon.
***** ***** *****
“Sarah, shut the window for Christ’s sake. The sun’s coming up and we’ve barely had three hours sleep. Pull the blind and come back to bed you maniac.”
“Huh?” Sarah looked around. It was only half passed five. She must have been sleep walking, acting out the figments of her imagination that had come to life in subconscious while she was dreaming. “Oh yeah, yeah. Sorry Lane.” Closing the window and drawing the blinds, Sarah slipped out to her desk, the one where she kept her copy of the Labyrinth. For a long while she only sat and looked at the damned thing. Why had she kept it all these years. ‘My will is as strong as yours, my kingdom as great. You have no power over me,’ she reminded herself as she flipped the pages.
Surveying the near empty apartment, Sarah closed her eyes and attempted for the first time in some time to summon the king. “I need you Jareth,” she said aloud more sincerely than she might have liked. Nothing happened. Slamming the damned book shut, she shoved it back into the drawer and caught her falling head with her now free hands. What Jareth had left in her all those years ago she quested for even now, thirsted for it. That fire he’d left low in her belly, that surge she felt in her nether region, all of which she had foolishly mistaken for fear, had been something else entirely.