Jareth

1

The apartment complex was a quiet bustle of activity. A few lights had been turned on and out of the three floors there was noticeable movement in only two windows. A police car was parked on the curb, engine running, doors ajar. On the stoop one officer stood guarding the entrance; another had entered earlier with at least two other people. The neighborhood its self was quiet and dark, most occupants completely unaware of the situation inside the apartment.

From the roof top of a nearby complex two figures stood and watched. In daylight they would have been glaringly out of place in their garments: one wore a blue cape that haphazardly draped his shoulders and trailed the ground; the other a frock coat with an elaborate gold fleur de lis pattern. In the dark of the night they were unnoticed. They both stared down at the scene. The one in the cape repeatedly switched his weight from foot to foot, one moment leaning forward in concentration, the next pulling back with a huff. His companion alternated twisting each side of his mouth in puzzlement. The latter finally turned and addressed the one in the cape. "Again," he said. "How is this possible Jareth?"

Jareth Choblyn grabbed the hem of his cape and twitched. "It shouldn't be possible," was his curt reply. He raised his chin, straining to see what was going on below. He could very well have shifted to owl form, flown down for a closer look, but he was far too agitated, too likely to make a mistake.

"This makes, what, the fourth interrupted summons over the course of the last six months?"

"Yes Stephen."

Stephen pulled his mouth once more to the side. "Again," he said.

As the two men watched another police car arrived. Three individuals, a woman and two men, exited the vehicle and were allowed inside.

"It certainly is peculiar."

Another twitch of the cape. "Yes," agreed Jareth.

"I suppose one could be grateful." Stephen Nightwalker paused, sensing Jareth's gaze shift to him. "It would stand to reason that these children are being looked after now, instead of being tossed aside."

Jareth swallowed. That very assumption was part of his agitation. His job was to be there for children who were no longer wanted, who had been wished away. There were four now that he had no clue, on any plane above or below, if they were being cared for. Or even if they were alive.

Then there was the actual interruption. Something or someone was getting to these children before him, halting the wish, and blocking him. That sort of power was beyond him.

Below three of the men had come out to the stoop. They stood communing. Jareth rolled onto the balls of his feet as if a slight lean would allow him to hear anything. Again he thought about shifting. But then Stephen would want to accompany him no doubt, and heaven knew what sort of trouble a young apprentice could get themselves into so near humans. The woman came out, holding a child and carried him to a vehicle.

Jareth flung his cape away from him. With a resolute nod, he turned. "Come Stephen. There is nothing more we can do."

In five paces the two men had stepped into the air and vanished.

Stepping from the human plane back into the realm of the fae altered all the senses. Everything to the eye became sharper, shadows were less deep; the nose, no more assaulted by noxious exhaust fumes, could breathe deeply, distinguish better between garbage (no doubt something his goblins had left out) verses the comforting scents of his library. Jareth even figured that his skin felt healthier, more his own and less out of place.

Such changes would normally have relaxed him and he would have thrown his body onto his favorite chaise lounge exhausted, ready for dinner and off to bed. But not this time. He almost wanted a goblin to kick. Even a stray chicken from the hen house would have sufficed. He wanted so very badly to vent his frustration.

Jareth looked at Stephen Nightwalker. The fae had come to him two years ago to learn the art of Jareth's trade: the retrieval and care of wished away children. The High Court had very nearly ordered him to. A grown fae man who no longer dallied with females, ignored rules, and in general failed to engage in any sort of social gossiping, backstabbing, mingling, or other such activities generally viewed as fun and normal, must be in need of some occupation. "It is the High King's opinion that you are in need of an apprentice", translated loosely, "We want to know how you are spending your days, here is an individual you will have to confide in and in turn will report back to us, as discreetly as possible, but we know that you know. Have a nice day."

He rolled his eyes.

And here he was with four botched wishes- oh, the courtiers were going to feast on this. The great Goblin King is loosing his touch, he is becoming inept. Once bested by a mortal it is hard to regain one's footing, even if he has five years to regroup.

Jareth gave himself a little shake. There was no point in going down memory lane. The present was enough of a mess. For starters he needed to get Stephen out his way for the rest of the night.

Rounding his large desk, Jareth said, "There will be plenty to tend to tomorrow. Your familiar enchantment still needs work." Stephen opened his mouth. Jareth hurried on in the most dismissive tone, "Goodnight."

Despite being an absolute nark, Stephen understood his rank. He might not be his king, but Jareth was a high ranking fae and his master. He inclined his head, briefly wished him a goodnight, and was gone.

Unclasping his cape, Jareth leaned on his desk and rubbed his face. Who was messing with his job? He cast his eyes around his study. Floor to ceiling shelves held information on his ilk, the realm of the fae; engravings that depicted powerful creatures. There was even a section on humans, the care of infants. He had read them all throughout the centuries. Thought, surely, there couldn't be much more to learn. Yet here was a problem that went far beyond any of the knowledge he had acquired.

How does one go about catching an individual who can stop a wish? There wasn't a pattern. There wasn't a type of child preferred. A time of day.

He rolled his hand in the air and pulled out a crystal orb. "Okay," he said. "What do I know?" He hefted the orb once, twice. "All four of the children were wished away."

Pulling back his arm he threw the orb. As it arched through air it morphed into a dart and hit the back of his study door. The impaling crack was satisfying. He hefted a second orb. The other times: one was during the day, another in the evening; these last two had been at night.

"Within moments of arriving the wish is interrupted. And I am barred from the child." He let it fly. Crack.

The third orb he rolled around, moving it from his palm to the backside of his hand. "Law enforcement is always involved."

Jareth raised his arm and then slowly lowered it. Not just law enforcement. There was one particular mortal involved in each one. He threw the orb. The splintering of wood followed. "A woman."

There were millions upon millions of women on the mortal plane, the Aboveground. In the city alone there were thousands. Yet as he sat there staring at the last dart he had to caution himself not to jump to any conclusions. The universe was a quirky, wibbly, wobbly, willful minx at times, but surely it wouldn't deal him the same card twice. Not after what happened last time.

Jareth shook himself again. Memory lane was no place to go right now. No.

He very well couldn't even say for certain what this particular woman had looked like. For all he knew she was a brunette with brown eyes and a horrid beauty mark. Possibly with bad high lights.

He sat up straighter at his desk. "Fash, Dink to me," he ordered.

In the middle of the room two bright lights momentarily flashed and out of the space fell two goblins. One adjusted a dainty pair of spectacles on his nose, the other pushed blue hair out of his eyes.

"Greetings sire," bowed Fash. He pushed his glasses back into place.

Dink bowed as well.

"I need you to perform surveillance for me. I'm sending you Aboveground,"

Dink clapped excitedly.

"You are to take some others with you and seek out police stations. Find out which ones employ private consultants, particularly women."

Fash asked a question, "Do you want the women followed?"

"No. Just find out who and if you're able how often they are employed. Report back to me and me alone. Go."