Finder's Keeper
Author's Note: Just a little plot bunny that has been nibbling at me and wouldn't let me work on my other works-in-progress until I wrote it down. If people like the premise, I may continue it. I've got it plotted out – it is really a matter of finding the time and energy to write more often. This is a 'Labyrinth' themed 'Urban Fantasy' - with a little different relationship for Sarah and Jareth - enjoy :)
Ch. 1 Out of Time and Place
Dense wisps of fog pressed close as the slender figure stepped out of the shadows between two buildings. Glancing out into the packed streets of the DarqueMyst, the man pulled the collar of his long, black wool coat up around his ears, before turning and starting down the sidewalk. The tall man deftly side-stepped a drunk that fell from a nearby entryway, thrown out the door of a bar when he ran out of coin. Crystalline eyes narrowed as a wave of stale alcohol assailed his nose. The withered old drunk clutched at the wool of his coat, gaping up at him with rheumy eyes. "Spare a bit of coin, Sir?"
Twisting sharply, the man in the long black coat pushed past the begging drunk, a low growl rumbling in his chest at the audacity of the old fool. "Go sleep it off!" he ordered, in the cold tone of one who was accustomed to being obeyed – not accosted on a public street. Slender gloved hands twisted the grey cashmere scarf around his neck, before buttoning the coat higher upon his chest, as if doing so would block out the unease that suffused him in this place.
This was not the sort of place an honorable man should travel - this den of iniquity that bordered the human world and 'The Lands Below'. Of course, there were many who would argue that he was anything but honorable. And ordinarily he might agree with them, but tonight he was a man on a quest, and it was that which gave him honour.
Looking upward, he could see the shadows of the skyscrapers and apartment buildings of the human world, shrouded in the steel grey fog of the DarkMyst and for an instant, he wished he were there instead of this forsaken waypost between worlds. In the human world he was a man out of sync with their time and place, but here he was just another being of many traversing the mysts in search of something that can't be found in the human world, or the Lands Below.
Sure steps took him deeper within DarkMyst, the nearly empty street morphing slowly until he was just one of many wayfarers in the realm. All around him towered closely packed buildings, the fog that sheltered this street 'out of time and place' from the human world curling thickly above them, blocking out the last faint outlines of the human city. His lips curled in distain at the sight of the scantily clad woman upon the corner, calling out to the passersby, attempting to hawk her dubious services.
"Hey blondie… you won't find anyone better than me in anywhere in the DM! I do it all, baby."
Nearing the woman on the corner, his blue eyes flickered red as he looked at her, making her shrink back from him. He took his time looking her over, taking in her short leather skirt and the dirty vest that revealed more than it hid. Along the side of her throat he saw a flash of raised reddish-pink flesh, curled in the shape of a wolf. His nostrils flared, breathing deep of the air around her. The scent was heady, a mix of fresh blood and loam – the hallmarks of the Lupine clan.
"Not interested."
"Hey…don't be racist, mate!" she called back as he walked past her without a second look.
Turning down a side alley, he steeled himself for what he must do. The alley was tinged red from the lights outside the entryways of the various 'establishments' that lined each side of the narrow passage, their front windows filled with flyers, faded signs and buzzing neon signs proclaiming everything from "Best Drinks in the Myst" to "Girls! Girls! Hot Girls!" Ignoring the signs and calls of the girls hanging from balconies and windows over the alleyway, he stalked deeper into the myst, finally stopping in front of a blue door, emblazoned with gold lettering that flickered red, like a dying neon light – without the benefit of being neon or a light.
Kintrax, proclaimed the letters, seeming to buzz briefly as they glowed red, then faded to dull gold once more.
This was the place.
The man locked eyes with the hulking, mountain of a bouncer standing next to the door, his thin lips pursing in challenge. Black eyes regarded the man in the long coat silently, nearly lost against the pebbled grey of the bouncer's skin. 'A golem as a bouncer,' the man mused silently. In this land out of time and place, it wasn't unusual to run across creatures both supernatural and preternatural, as well as fantasy. He should not have been surprised to see a golem, but to see one made of what appeared to be cold lava, certainly did surprise him.
Sniffing, the golem glared back, clearly unphased by being treated as a threat. "We don't get many of your kind here."
"Fae?"
"No, we get plenty of those from both sides. I meant the fact that you are unaligned. You're either rogue or one of 'The Three'. And ain't no way one of 'Them' would be caught out here."
The blonde man's lips twisted into a cold sneer. "Then you'd better hope I am rogue and not of 'The Three', since you are holding me back from that which I seek, golem."
A flicker of wary concern shone briefly in the black eyes of the mountainous golem guarding the door. Reaching for the handle, he moved to push it open, admitting the unaligned Fae. "Be warned, Fae. All who enter Kintrax are bound at the command of Mama Khun. No magic can be used within these walls. Violence of any kind, directed at patrons or staff will not be tolerated and will be dealt with swiftly. Enter seeker."
With a surprisingly light touch, the blue door swung inward, revealing a pale purple vortex, swirling in the doorway. The man in the black coat looked at it a moment, torn. He had searched the human world and the Lands Below for that which was lost – to no avail. There was one person who he had been told could help and that person now lay beyond the purple portal. If it were not for his quest, he would never allow his powers to be bound by anyone or anything, but for the first time in his very long life, he had no choice. Taking a deep breath he stepped through the glowing purple vortex. For a brief instant he felt as if the world around him were spinning, an odd sucking sensation flitting against his exposed skin, before it settled into a soothing warmth.
"Say pax and enter, friend," whispered an unseen voice.
Opening his eyes, the man found himself in a purple hallway, the lights overhead flickering dimly. He walked swiftly down the corridor, irritation gnawing at him. He hated the DarkMyst on principle, knowing that anyone who did business with the denizens of this land both within and without was suspect as to their motives – no matter what their alignment. Self-loathing needled him at the fact that he had been reduced to just such a measure.
Music swelled as he neared the curtained doorway at the end of the hall, then stepped into Kintrax. Flipping down the collar of his wool coat, he began to unbutton the coat as he walked toward the bar. For a demon bar, it was better than most. to begin with, there was no slime underfoot and the room didn't reek of spilled blood and gore. He leaned lightly against the bar, looking around. At one end of the room was a stage with a cage at either side and a small 'runway' stretching into the room. A Gryax female wearing a tiny chain bikini wriggled inside one of the cages, the tentacles extending from the back of her neck, sensuously sliding up and down her body. In the other case, a Moon Elf gyrated to the music that thumped deeply through the floor. A purple door on the other side of the main room was guarded by another lava golem, his tree trunk sized arms crossed over his chest as he watched the room.
Around the club sat groups of demons, immortals and other supernatural creatures – some drinking, some eating and still others appearing to be conducting 'business', the nature of which the man was unwilling to consider.
"What can I getcha?"
Caught by surprise, the man growled under his breath as he looked up at the other-worldly visage of the wraith bartender as he floated on the other side of the bar. 'No wonder I didn't hear him approach – bloody wraiths,' he snarled inwardly. He could deal with just about any supernatural, preternatural or fantasy being, but wraiths made him irrationally angry.
"I'm looking for someone."
The bartender laughed and nodded toward the purple door. "Well, if you have the coin Mama Khun's girls are clean and very friendly."
"I'm not looking for a whore," the blonde man snapped, his eyes flickering red as a gloved hand clenched upon the top of the bar.
Shrugging, the bartender wiped a clean glass with a cloth. "Well, if the girls aren't your thing, the local beat is in the old subway entrance to the human world up the street."
"I'm not here to get laid. If wanted mere release, there are enough willing takers in my own realm," snarled the blond man, a faint pulse of bound magic shivering in the air around him, until he winced from the lance of pain that shot through him – much to the amusement of the wraith.
"Mama Khun's portal packs a wallop when you magical types try to use your power."
Swallowing hard, the man in the long black coat counted to ten slowly, waiting for the magical backlash to diminish before speaking. "I was told that I could meet 'The Finder' here."
The bartender arched a phantom eyebrow at him and nodded toward a booth at the back of the club, near the purple door leading to the 'private' rooms. Following his nod, the man in the black coat glanced toward the booth. A pale man whose skin seemed oddly luminescent despite the dim light of the club, sat against the back of the booth, his black button down shirt making the pearlescent sheen of his skin seem that much brighter. Next to him was a cloaked figure petting a small blue dragon sitting on the table. The hood of the cloak was pulled low over the person's face, until the all that could be seen was a hint of stark white hair and a pair of scarlet lips, above a heavy leather collar, from the front of which dangled a sapphire amulet. Attached to the collar was a finely wrought chain extending to the man's hand.
Growling to himself, the blonde man fought the urge to leave. No matter how many times he had ventured into demon strongholds, he never understood their need to keep slaves. His anger cooled at bit, seeing the ruby lips curling into a smile as the small blue dragon revealed itself to be not a dragon, but an ice-fire elemental, when it burst into sapphire flame.
With an irritable tug on his cashmere scarf, the blond man made his way toward the booth, his pale blue eyes flitting around the room, noting the vampyre's playing cards by the wall, and the mountain troll heckling the strippers on the stage, while a group of rowdy drow took bets on how long it would be before a golem unceremoniously removed the troll from the premises.
"I seek the one known as The Finder."
The pale man tilted his head, gazing at the blonde with the penetrating golden gaze of an incubus. "Many do. Why should The Finder bother with you, fairy boy?"
Glaring at the incubus, the blonde clenched his fist at his side, forcing back the pulse of magic that longed to lash out at the insolent demon. Something about the incubus felt off to him, but in a place such as this most beings felt 'off' in some way. "Are you the Finder?"
"That depends, what do you need the Finder for?"
"I suppose the obvious answer is that I need the Finder to find someone for me," the blonde snapped. "Look, I have no time for games. Are you the Finder or not? The task I have been charged with is urgent. If you can't help just say and let me go."
The incubus' golden eyes blinked slowly as he looked at the blonde man. "Have a seat and we can discuss the task and terms of payment."
Pulling out the single chair tucked under the end of the booth, the man in the black wool coat sat down, his eyes hard as he glowered at the incubus. From the corner of his eye he watched the figure next to him, smile once more, a delicate and distinctly female hand stroking the ice-fire elemental, as it blew smoke rings toward the ceiling. "My sister has gone missing from her lodging in the human world."
"You are Fae," the demon stated matter-of-factly. "Can you not find her yourself?"
His lips pulling tight in a frown, the blonde man shook his head, irritation at the invasive question warring with his own fear over the fate of his sister. "No. Through the familial link I should be able to track her, but she is blocked from me…from the whole family."
The incubus steepled his fingers, tapping them lightly against his chin. "The only way to break the familial link of Fae lineage is via marriage or death. What makes you think she didn't run off and marry a mortal?"
Another jolt of pain seared down his spine as his anger fought to burst forth once more. Gasping from the lightning ache, the blonde man growled. "She would never dishonor our family in such a way. And I know she lives because I can feel her heartbeat – it exists, but is too faint for me to track."
As he spoke to the incubus, the blonde man barely noticed the woman pulling her slender hands back within the cloak that hid her. The dragon curled on the table looked up, ignoring him and glaring over his shoulder, before bursting into scarlet flames and flying straight up in the air, a jet of crimson flame shooting across the club. "Jareth, down!" the woman in the cloak ordered, leaping onto the table and throwing the side of the midnight cloak over the startled Fae. Hidden beneath the ebony folds, Jareth was immediately aware of the woman's minimal clothing – dressed in the silks and chains that befitted an incubus's sex slave. Before he could turn his mind fully to how a simple demon sex slave would know his true name, he felt two hard thuds against his back, then heard the clang of heavy metal hitting the floor behind his chair. Looking down, he saw two iron blades laying on the floor – blades which should have easily torn through the thin cloak and killed him.
"Shalya anor riaash!" the woman hissed, launching herself from the table top toward a Drow assassin now standing in the middle of the room, holding another iron blade. Her hood fell back, revealing stark white hair, with two pitch black streaks framing a face that featured a pair of startling purple eyes. Amazed by her ethereal beauty and preternatural speed, he watched in awe as she whirled on the attacker, an obsidian blade in each hand. The Drow grunted, dodging her blade too slow to avoid receiving a ragged gash along the side of his face. Lost in watching her, Jareth nearly missed the moment a second Drow creeping around the stage, pulled a blade from his robes. Black eyes locked on Jareth's. The drow's lips twisted up in a sneer before he let the blade fly - straight toward Jareth's heart. Without thinking, Jareth waved his hand toward the knife, only to feel a horrific bolt of pain slicing through his frontal lobe from the magical backlash, the pain so vicious it dropped him gasping to his knees.
"Rylinish!" the woman roared, flinging her cloak over Jareth, then flipping herself forward to slam the heel of her foot into the first Drow's throat. Grasping the sapphire amulet of her collar, the Drow ripped it free as he fell.
Throwing the cloak from his body, Jareth whirled, crouching in preparation for the next attack. Overhead, the ice-fire elemental blasted the second Drow with a jet of arcane fire, an agonized shriek filling the club as sheets of blue fire roared over the assassin's body. Stumbling toward the door, the assassin threw his last blade. Seeing the movement too late, Jareth steeled himself for the inevitable pain – pain that never came. With a banshee shriek the woman launched herself toward Jareth, landing in front of him with a bone-wrenching thud. In the same motion she waved her hand at the iron blade as it whistled through the air toward its target, encasing it in crystal. Panting, Jareth looked at the blade, shocked to find it hanging motionless in the air, suspended in a shimmering crystal cage.
Through the purple door burst a willowy Moon Elf, her skin a pale blue, which accented the shimmering purple hair that was plaited and wrapped around her head, framing the long, pointed ears that curled back from her head. She pushed her way through the stunned patrons, the silk of her kimono robes rustling with each step. "Assassin! They tried to kill the Crown Prince! Take them to the Netherworld High Court!" she ordered, snapping her fingers, as two more golems appeared from behind the stage, grabbing the wounded assassin's and dragging them toward the doors.
"Crown Prince?" the woman beside him panted, pushing her hair back from her face. Leaning against him, she pushed herself upright, the thin material of her top having shifted during the fight, revealing the rosy edge of a nipple.
Turning to look at the remarkable woman, Jareth blinked, moving to tug her top back up, only to stop and rub his eyes. Her white hair and purple eyes were gone, replaced with brunette tresses and green eyes that had haunted his dreams and nightmares for 8 years. Against all odds, even in a place as odd as this place at the corner of nowhere and everywhere, the face of a dead woman was staring back at him.
"Sarah?" he murmured in disbelief.
Seeing people staring at her, Sarah frowned, snatching up the cloak and throwing it over herself. She pushed up from the floor, before reaching down and grabbing the Goblin King's hand. Jareth flinched when she touched him, expecting the icy touch of a spectre, only to be relieved by the warmth of her hand on his wrist. He allowed himself to be pulled to his feet. Still reeling from seeing his dead Champion at long last, Jareth watched her hook two fingers behind her lower lip and blow a shrill whistle that echoed shrilly in the club. Hissing and popping, the small ice-fire element flew up to the two of them, settling on Sarah's shoulder, once more in the shape of a small blue dragon.
"Come on. We can't stay here any longer," she muttered, dragging him toward the purple door. With her leading the way, the golem on guard didn't show any interest in stopping them.
"Oh, so the incubus is your pimp?" Jareth growled, as she pulled him up the stairs leading to the private rooms on the upper floors. "You work here, then?"
Sarah paused in front of a door on the second floor, her fingers lightly tracing an invisible sigil upon the wood before it opened. "Not anymore," she replied, dumping the cloak on the neatly made bed and picking up a battered leather satchel from a chair in the corner.
While there was no doubt in his mind what these rooms were meant for, the array of weaponry, maps and bits of body armor littering this small room, alongside half-eaten meals and bits of make-up, suggested that Sarah was definitely not the average 'girl' in Mama Khun's stable. Frowning, Jareth turned his attention back to the brunette in the slave silks, puzzled by the way she was grabbing papers and personal items from the desk and dresser, then cramming them carelessly into the leather satchel.
Sarah dropped to her knees, reaching under the desk and feeling around. Biting the tip of her tongue in concentration, she hummed softly, then grinned as a soft 'snick' sound was heard. "I work here…but I don't 'work' here," she said cryptically. Sliding a small wooden panel to the side, she triggered a hidden drawer under the desk. Jareth watched in surprise as she pulled two glittering obsidian 'demon killer' blades from hiding place and deftly strapped them into leather harnesses on her forearms. Bending her wrist sharply, she nodded her approval as one of the wickedly serrated blades neatly deposited itself in her hand. With a grin, she pushed it back into the holster and pushed to her feet, wiggling her fingers at Jareth. "Turn around, I've got to change."
Still trying to process everything he had learned in the last 15 minutes, Jareth turned around without argument. "So if you aren't a whore, why were you leashed to the incubus downstairs? For that matter, why are you dressed like a demon sex slave?"
Catching sight of her reflection in a mirror, he watched as she jerked a fuzzy blue sweater over her head, then unfastened the chainmail and silk top when she was covered, dropping it unceremoniously on the floor with a rattling clank. "The incubus is called 'Frank' and he's an illusion. The damn Drow tore my amulet off and broke my glamour and killed 'Frank'," she grumbled. "Even in the shadow realms, most people wouldn't consider doing business with a woman, even if that woman's business is something they need. So he is my 'partner' so to speak. It's safer for me if people think I'm just a demon sex slave."
Jareth bristled at the thought that anyone could view the Labyrinth Champion in such a way. Running his hand through his hair, Jareth forced himself to put that thought aside. "But why a brothel?" he asked, still watching, fascinated as she snatched up a pale pink bra and pulled it up under the sweater. He couldn't help but marvel at the way she could maneuver the underpinnings on, despite being covered by the sweater.
"When you do a lot of work for other-worldly creatures, you can't exactly open an office on any old street corner," she shrugged, snatching up a pair of pink knickers from the floor and pulling them up her legs. The realization that she had been nude under the slave silks while she had been fighting the Drow assassin's made his blood rush heatedly through his veins.
'She looks like my Sarah – but she has definitely changed,' he mused. When she began to unfasten the skirt of the slave silks, Jareth finally forced his gaze elsewhere – his eyes falling to a linen bound book of faded red laying half spilling out of her leather satchel. The Labyrinth. "So why are you packing?"
Hearing a zip behind him, Jareth peered in the mirror again, only to find Sarah looking at him in the glass. She pursed her lips, then huffed, shaking her head. "You just had two assassin's try to kill you. Surely you aren't that monumentally stupid not to understand a simple thing like self-preservation?" she snarked, snatching up another leather bag and shoving the rest of her personal belongings into it, before flopping onto the bed and pulling on a pair of simple heeled boots. "Thanks to your friends trying to kill you, everyone in the bar now knows there is something 'unusual' about me. Mama Khun will keep a lid on it and she has the power to modify the memories of most of the people down there, but that's no guarantee I am safe here. So… it's best if I use another hub for a bit," she added tugging on a leather duster that curled gently around her ankles when she moved. Sarah threw her satchel strap across her body, then cinched the catches of the backpack tight, before slipping it over her shoulders. Standing by the open window, she looked at him, her hand on her hip. "So, do you still want the Finder to help you?"
"I… I don't know."
Rolling her eyes in exasperation, she grumbled. "Are you going to be a sexist asshat too? Seriously, Jareth? You came into a bar that bound your powers, just to speak to the Finder about your case – and now that you know the Finder is a woman, you have cold feet? If you want my help, come on. If not, go find someone else." Muttering to herself, Sarah swung out the window, her feet hooking easily into the ladder attached to the side of the building.
"You're really going to go out that way?" he asked, peering out the window after her. The illusion of the building itself had him thinking they were only on the second floor, but judging from the distance between the window and the ground below, they were at least on the 8th floor – or higher.
Sarah laughed and started to climb the ladder. "Did you have a better idea for how to get out of here without being seen again? The club may have been dim and dark, but you do stand out, Goblin King. And Mama Khun pretty much made sure everyone would remember you were there tonight. It's probably best for everyone if they think you're spending the evening 'partaking' of the pleasures of the Kintrax brothel. Unless you want people to think you can't get it up…in which case, you're welcome to head out the front door again."
An irritated growl rumbled in his chest at her jibe. "I could transport us."
"With what magic?" Sarah laughed. "It's bound until you are out of the shadow of the building. So is mine – for the most part."
Gingerly stepping out onto the ladder, Jareth looked up at the brunette woman who was, even now, turning his world upside down. "I thought it was a trick of the light when I saw you stop the blade downstairs. How did you do it?"
Smiling, Sarah started to climb upward again. "You can have the story later…for a price. For now we really need to get out of here."
"Hey…you're going the wrong way…the ground is that way," Jareth called, nodding toward the ground.
"Who says I'm going toward the ground?" Sarah replied, continuing her upward climb. "The fastest way out of trouble is to get out of the mysts and the best way to get out of the mysts is to climb up. Don't tell me the mighty goblin king is afraid of heights."
Reaching the room, Jareth looked around, frowning. "Now what?"
Sarah grinned, backing up to the far side of the room. "What's a little leap of fair, huh, Goblin King?" she called out, then took off running toward the opposite side of the roof. As she neared the edge, Jareth felt his magic flare to life in an attempt to save her.
"Sarah no!"
Reaching the edge of the roof, Sarah nimbly leapt across the gap between the buildings, landing with a thump on the other rooftop. "Are you coming, or not?"
With a shake of his head, Jareth leapt across the gap, following her from roof to room for nearly a block, before she stopped, panting from the exercise, but grinning broadly. "We should be out of Mama Khun's bubble by now. If you have the power to transport us out of the mysts and back into New York proper, now is the time."
Crossing his arms over his chest, Jareth glared at the woman, longing to shake her for the risks she was taking, while fighting the urge cup her rosy cheeks and kiss her senseless out of the sheer joy of seeing her alive. His lips pulled into a tight line as he regarded her. "Why should I take you Above? Don't you know better than to accept favors of the Fae?"
Sarah laughed lightly, nudging his arm. "I learned that lesson the first time – thanks for that by the way. But this isn't a favor – this is you paying a retainer for my services. You want help to find your sister don't you?"
Jareth frowned slightly, frustrated by his need of help, and the fact that in all the realms, the one person he had been told would be able to help since all else had failed, was his own Labyrinth Champion. "Yes…I do."
Nodding, Sarah lightly grasped his arm, her expression serious as she looked at him. "I'll help you find her, Jareth. You have my word on that."
"Thank you, Sarah."
Smiling, she squeezed his arm. "Good. Now that that's settled I'm starving. You can take us up to Warner Park in Lower Manhattan. I've got a pizza date and I don't want to be late."
His frown returning, Jareth tensed. "You have a date?"
"Yup… I do," Sarah beamed as the frown lines across Jareth's brows deepened. "With Toby. Now let's go."
As always….please review if you like this or are interested in seeing more. :)