CHAPTER TWO

Such a Fooled Heart

'Master!' Rum-Pot called excitedly.

'What is it?' Jareth asked absently, his attention on the maps on the table before him. He tapped his riding crop against his boot thoughtfully. If he moved his goblins in that direction and posted a sentry…

'She's calling again!' The little goblin declared happily.

'Who's calling?' The Goblin King asked coldly.

'The girl!' Rum-Pot said deliriously, hopping from foot to foot. 'The girl who solved your labyrinth. She's calling for you.'

'Calling for me?' Jareth repeated. 'Impossible.'

Yet he knew it wasn't. He'd heard her calling over and over again. He'd felt the physical tug of the calls. He was resisting the power he'd given her all those years ago by not going to her, and it was becoming as exhausting as it had been living up to her expectations. He had hoped she'd give up, but he should have known she wouldn't. Hadn't she proven her dogged persistence all those years ago? Damn her precious hide.

'Not impossible.' Rum-Pot tittered. 'She's calling right now.'

Jareth pulled the goblin off the floor by his ears, which didn't hurt the little fellow since goblins had no feeling in their ears, and glared menacingly at him. 'If I hear one more word about that blasted girl and her infernal calling, I'll throw you straight into the bog of the eternal stench for a fortnight. You understand, Rum-Blot?'

'Rum-Pot.' The little goblin corrected.

'Go on!' Jareth ordered, dropping the goblin back onto the floor. 'Get out of here and take those bloody chickens with you.' He aimed his riding crop at a fat hen that had taken roost upon his maps. The chicken squawked and went scurrying away.

'Yes, Master.' Rum-Pot giggled, stuffing the hen beneath his arm and shooing three more out the door.

Jareth sighed as the door banged shut. What a life he lived. Trapped in a castle with goblins and chickens and the occasional pig on a lead. It was enough to make a Goblin King cry. And now Sarah had suddenly decided to get vocal. He'd waited ten years for her to call him, and she chose now of all times to open that beautiful…luscious…kissable mouth of hers.

Damn her! If ear plugs would help, he'd conjure up a case of them, but as it was, her call wasn't just external. It was internal. It was a part of him, echoing through every molecule of his being so that he felt like a drum, vibrating, humming with every syllable she uttered. Oh, why had he given her such power?

With an angry swipe of his arm, he sent the maps flying. He'd get no work done until he answered her infernal caterwauling. But this time he'd not be so generous. This time she'd find out just how cruel he could be. He was finished being her doormat.

Sarah was on the point of despair when the great white owl appeared in the tree outside her bedroom.

They'd brought Toby home a week ago and still there was no change. If anything he was paler and weaker and…happier. His dreams must be very pleasant indeed, and that alarmed Sarah, making her redouble her efforts to summon the Goblin King. Night after night she called but he did not appear. She'd even read The Spellweaver, hoping to find a way to summon Morwenna so she could explain to her that her 'key' was no 'key' at all. The Goblin King had changed the lock.

She was sitting on her bed, head in her hands, when a shadow, a flutter of movement across the floor caught her attention. She looked up and through the panes of her window saw the great owl. Unlike the first time, he did not beat again and again against the glass, demanding entry. Instead he just sat perched in the tree, staring at her. If an owl could be displeased, this one certainly was.

Did he want an invitation, she wondered, getting up and going over to the window. She unlocked the latch and raised the pane. A cool breeze floated inside, bringing with it the smell of decaying leaves. It was late October, nearly Halloween, she remembered as she stood back, waiting to see what the owl would do.

He didn't do anything. He just sat there, looking more like a stone statue than a living, breathing thing. Sarah's temper flared, and she turned away, stalking across the room. Of all the ungenerous…she stopped for a stronger breeze had just blown in, lifting her hair about her face. It didn't smell of dried leaves; it smelled of…magic?

She whirled around and saw him standing just inside the window, looking very large and very menacing in her small room. If he had been generous ten years ago, she could see that he had no intention of being so now. The cruel curl of his lips and the hard glint in his eyes foretold a difficult path ahead. But, she reminded herself, he had come, and that knowledge gave her the courage to speak.

'You came.'

'I had to.' He retorted. 'You were unsettling my goblins. The throne room has been in a bloody uproar for nearly a week now. I couldn't get any work done.'

'I'm sorry.' She took a step forward then stopped, a silly grin breaking across her face. 'So I wasn't imaging you all those years ago. You are real.'

'What do want of me, Sarah?' Jareth demanded, clearly not in the mood for reminiscences. 'I'm a very busy Goblin King, and I haven't got time for silly school girl fairytales.'

That stung, causing her to retort hotly. 'I'm not a school girl any longer.'

He ran his eyes up and down her body. 'Yes, I can see that. Put on a bit of weight, haven't you? In all the right places, of course. Come now. Out with it. Why have you summoned me here? Have you got another baby you want to get rid of? I apologize, but I'm no longer in that line of business. You'll have to call Rumplestiltskin. Shall I give you his number?'

'I haven't got a baby.'

'Such a pity. A husband, then? Some insipid fellow you lead about by the nose?'

'No.'

'Then why have you called me?'

'It's Toby.'

'Ah, yes, the baby brother. I should have known. He was all you could think of ten years ago. Don't tell me you want me to take him away again. I'm afraid I can't do that. I have a no return policy.'

'I don't want you to take him away.' Sarah said between clenched teeth. 'But I do need your help.'

'How amusing.'

'It's not amusing at all.' She retorted hotly. 'I seriously need your help.'

'Why not asked those funny little friends of yours?' He asked offhandedly. 'Higgle and that scruffy fox-like creature. Sir Deadmouse, wasn't it?'

'Sir Didymus. And you forgot Ludo.'

'Ah, yes, the fellow with the rocks. He did quite a number on my goblins with those things.' He looked at her mockingly. 'Well, Sarah? Why not call them? They did an admirable job in my labyrinth.'

Sarah struggled to keep her temper in check. He was being deliberately provoking. He always had been mocking, but now his taunts were even sharper, cutting deep. He seemed to instinctively know that her friends couldn't help her, that only he had sufficient power to solve her dilemma, that she needed him, not Hoggle or Ludo or Sir Didymus, but him. Did he want to hear her say it? Obviously he did. For Toby she'd swallow her pride and told him what he wanted to hear.

'It's you I need, Goblin King.' She said quietly.

She had expected him to smile in that self-satisfied way of his, to preen, to swish his cloak around like a pleased cat swishing its tail after a kill, but he didn't. Instead he scowled fiercely. She took an involuntary step backwards, her old fear of him returning.

'Don't say it unless you mean it.'

His words felt like a slap in the face. She searched for a response. 'I…'

He waved an impatient hand, silencing her. 'What's wrong with this brother of yours?'

'If you'll follow me, I'll show you.'

He looked annoyed at the request, but he followed her out of the room and down the hallway to Toby's room. Fortunately he'd made his appearance on a night when her dad and stepmom were out or she might have had a hard time explaining the mysterious stranger roaming the hallways of their house. Would they have believed a punk rocker boyfriend, she wondered, pushing the door open.

Toby was exactly where she'd left him earlier that evening, lying beneath the covers of his bed, sleeping soundly. His bedside lamp was on low, providing just enough light to see his delicate features. Jareth walked up to the bedside and stared down at the boy, hands on hips.

'It's very simple.' He said, glancing up at Sarah. 'It's a sleeping spell.'

'Can you break it?'

'Only the person who placed the spell can remove it.' He told her. 'I cannot help you, Sarah.'

'Then,' she looked at him with imploring eyes, 'what should I do?'

'Find the person who placed the spell and persuade them to remove it.'

'But I would need to go to the underground to do that.'

His eyes narrowed. 'What makes you think the person responsible for this is a resident of the underground?'

'Because of this.'

She took the red-bound book from the bedside table and held it out to him. He took it, glanced at the title and then flung it aside.

'Why people write this trash is beyond me.' He muttered. 'It gives children very dangerous ideas. I'm surprised at you, Sarah. You ought to know better.'

'I didn't give it to him!'

'But you've given him others. Ah, ah, don't deny it.' He said before she could claim her innocence. 'I've seen you, Sarah. I've seen the books you've given him. I've seen you acting out King Arthur's Court under the oak trees in the park. If your brother has annoyed someone in the underground, you are partly to blame.'

'You've seen me?' Sarah asked, surprised. She had thought he'd forgotten her. 'But the owl…I haven't seen the great white owl for years.'

'Do you think I'm limited to feathers and talons?' He asked as though the thought of such a thing was ludicrous.

'I…I don't know what I thought.' She admitted. 'I guess I thought you'd forgotten me.'

He didn't answer her. Instead he turned and stalked over to the doorway.

'Do you know the Spellweaver?' She asked quickly, hoping to detain him. He couldn't go yet.

'I know several.' He told her, keeping his back to her. 'As a matter of fact, I'm at war with one right now.'

'Who's winning?'

He turned to face her, and for the first time that evening, he smiled. 'You've seen the fighting ability of the goblins. What do you think?'

'The spellweaver.'

'Goblins are very good at eating and drinking and pinging chickens,' Jareth said bitterly, 'but they're terribly inefficient when it comes to battles. I don't know why I put up with the nasty little buggers. For company, I suppose.'

There was so much unspoken loneliness in that last sentence that Sarah's heart squeezed. Was the Goblin King lonely? The idea had never occurred to her. He seemed so impervious, so self-sufficient. He didn't seem the type to need anyone or anything.

'Fortunately,' he continued, 'the survival of the kingdom doesn't depend on goblins.'

'What does it depend on?'

He looked at her, his eyes dark and hooded. 'It depends upon me and only me.' He abruptly turned away again. 'I wish you luck, Sarah.'

'Wait!' She cried, reaching out a hand to touch his arm.

It felt hard and powerful beneath her fingers, and she shivered. She'd never willingly touched the Goblin King before. Yes, she had danced with him, but she'd been so confused, so bemused, so consumed by the look in his eyes that she barely remembered how it had felt to be within the circle of his arms. She quickly removed her hand, putting in behind her back.

'Still frightened of me, Sarah?' He asked softly.

'You asked me to fear you, didn't you?'

'I asked for more than that.'

She licked her lips nervously. His eyes followed the movement. 'If you,' she faltered under the intensity of his gaze and tried again, 'if you help me find Toby's spellweaver, I would find it difficult to deny you any request.'

Her words hung between them, heavy with unspoken promise.

'Then,' he said slowly, softly, his eyeteeth glinting in the light, 'it's a good thing for you that my original offer has expired.'

As she watched, wide-eyed and strangely breathless, he backed into the shadows of the hallway and disappeared. By the time she found the courage to follow him, he was gone. Only the curtains fluttering in her room was any evidence that he'd even been there.

So, she wondered, dropping onto the bed, where did that leave things? Would he help her or not? She had basically given him a blank check, to write his own rules, his own requirements and she'd gladly comply. But he'd left with only a mocking reference to his first offer, saying it had expired. What did that mean? She rubbed her forehead. He was such a bewildering Goblin King.

When she'd called him, she had hoped that he'd be able to remove the spell. She had no desire to carry out Morwenna's devious plan. The thought of deliberately betraying the Goblin King scared the hell out of her. She couldn't even imagine what he'd do when he discovered her perfidy. Drown her in the bog of eternal stench, no doubt. And besides, double crossing someone just wasn't a part of her nature. It was…dishonorable. And if you cared even a little for that person…well, she suddenly knew how Hoggle must have felt when he'd been forced to give her that peach. Simply dreadful.

Jareth sat in the wide, open window of his castle bedroom, his back against the hard stone, arms draped over his raised knees, fingers clenching and unclenching on the riding crop. Rarely, if ever, had he found himself so torn. Decisions had always come easily to him. He was the king, the supreme ruler. He did whatever he pleased. Consequences didn't matter because someone else had always paid them. But that had changed ten years ago when a young girl had solved his labyrinth and turned his world upside down.

He had thought he'd known how to get what he wanted. When you wanted something in the underground, you took it. He had taken the baby because she'd asked him to. Then he'd been generous and given her the opportunity to win it back. Of course, it had always been his intention to give the child back. He'd had no use for a baby. And when she'd failed, he'd be generous again by offering to return the baby in exchange for her staying in its place. It had been a brilliant plan. Unfortunately, it's been contingent on her failing.

When she hadn't failed, he'd had to be honest, as honest as a Goblin King could be that is, and reveal what their little game had really been about. He'd wanted her reverence, her love and her obedience, and he'd been willing to pay for it. She could have had all her dreams. Compared to that, he had asked for so little.

But she had turned him down.

And now, years later, the boot was on the other foot. The roles had been reversed. Now she was offering him all his dreams in exchange for his help. She had basically agreed to anything he wanted. It was exactly the kind of deal a Goblin King would jump at. So why was he so reluctant to accept?

Because he'd be a bloody fool to let Sarah anywhere near him or his labyrinth. Would he like revenge on her? Of course, what Goblin King wouldn't? It was in his nature to strike back when struck, but he knew himself too well. He could not trust himself to carry it through to its bitter end. Sarah had too much power over him.

It had taken him ten years to learn to live without her, and even then, he'd cheated, returning to the aboveground in the form of a raven so as not to arouse her suspicions. In that form, he'd had the questionable privilege of witnessing her first kiss. He'd found nothing pleasant about watching his Sarah rolling around on a couch with a pimple-faced twit. So he'd taken action to break it up. A few minutes of tapping on her parents' bedroom window had awakened her father who had gone downstairs for a glass of milk. Shortly thereafter, the twit had been seen running from the house.

Getting rid of that Music major in college had not been as easy. She'd been living with him. In the end, he'd had to turn one of his goblins into a chesty co-ed with an 'out of this world' singing voice to distract the fellow. Then he had sat outside Sarah's bedroom window, listening to her cry her heart out, telling himself that it'd been for the best. Anyone lured away by a goblin in drag couldn't be the man for Sarah.

Jareth tapped his cheek with the whip. You know, he really must do something about retrieving his goblin. Last time he'd checked, Dreeble was on tour, singing rock ballads in a black leather corset. But first things first. He had to make a decision about Sarah. Pride, hard and unrelenting, told him to deny her request. It was not in his nature to give second chances. But another part of him…

A knock came at the door, and Hoggle walked in carrying a tray.

'What happened to Rum-Bottom?' Jareth demanded, uncurling himself from the window and stalking over to the table where Hoggle had placed a napkin-covered plate.

'He had a little accident this afternoon. I offered to fill in for him, seeing as how I was already in the castle. Came for m'wages, you know.'

'Set himself on fire again, did he?'

'Not this time. Mugwart did it for him. They were juggling firepots. Now, about my wages…'

'Wages?' Jareth said indignantly. 'Wages for what?'

'Faerie control. I sprayed half an acre this week, and at 10 bob a head, that's…' Hoggle made a showing of calculating the amount in his head but then gave up since he'd never been any good at figures, 'quite a lot, I suspect.'

'Mercenary little scab, aren't you?' Jareth sneered. When Hoggle started to protest, he waved his crop impatiently. 'Very well, if all you can think about is money, go see Pinchfingers. He'll pay you.'

But Hoggle didn't leave as he'd expected him to. Instead he had the impertinence to remain standing by the table, tray held behind his back, shuffling from foot to foot. Anger flared inside of the Goblin King and he would have sent the cheeky little toad straight to the bog if he hadn't suddenly remembered something. Hoggle had been a particular friend of Sarah's. Perhaps…well, perhaps…

Clamping down on his anger, Jareth asked. 'What is it, Hogwart?'

Hoggle looked uncomfortable but said. 'There's a rumor in the city, just a rumor, mind you,' he hastily assured when the Goblin King scowled, 'that you might have…' he stopped, losing his nerve.

'Might have what?' Jareth demanded. 'Come now. Out with it.'

'That you might have visited the little lady a couple of nights ago.' Hoggle finished in a rush.

There was a long pause before Jareth answered. His voice held the quiet deadliness of a venomous snake. 'If I did, what concern is that of yours?'

Hoggle shuffled from side to side again, his eyes on the floor. 'I was just wondering how…how she was.'

'Don't you know? I thought you were a particular friend of hers.'

'I was.' Hoggle declared and then hastily corrected himself. 'I mean, I am.'

'When's the last time you saw her, Higgle?' Jareth asked almost casually as he turned and stalked back to the window.

From outside came the sound of deep booms followed by cheers. It was too much to hope for that the goblins were actually engaging the creatures of the Dark Wood in battle. He'd wager all his crystals that they were shooting pumpkins out of cannons again. He didn't know the purpose of it, hadn't even bothered asking, but it seemed to amuse the goblins immensely.

'It's been…' Hoggle tried counting his fingers and gave up on that too. 'She stopped calling for us shortly after she went to something she called a prom.'

Jareth knew exactly when that was. It was during the reign of the pimple-faced twit. 'Have you ever talked to her brother?'

'You mean the baby?' Hoggle exclaimed.

Jareth swung around. 'He's no longer a baby, Hogwart. Humans age much faster than we do. He looks about twelve.'

'You saw him?'

'It would appear that someone's gone and put a sleeping spell on him.'

Hoggle's eyes widened. 'So that's why she called. She needs our help.'

'Not our help. My help.'

Jareth savored that little detail like a man savoring a fine brandy. It was his particular treasure, his delight and he wasn't above rubbing Hoggle's nose in it. How many times had he sat in that bloody tree, watching as she laughed and played with all her friends from the labyrinth? Only he had been excluded.

'You are going to help her, right?

'I haven't decided yet.' Jareth left the window and began stalking about the room, his boots ringing against the stone floor, his long frock coat swishing angrily. Finally, he whirled around, pinning Hoggle with a hard stare. 'Tell me, Hogwart. If you were a king, a very generous king, and you had offered a certain girl all her dearest dreams yet she turned you down, what would you do if years later she came looking for your help?'

'Do I care about this certain girl?'

'What does that have to do with anything?'

'Well,' Hoggle said slowly, 'if I cared about her, I would help her.'

'Why?'

'Because I cared about her.'

Jareth rubbed the bridge of his nose with one gloved hand. 'Hoggle, you make my head hurt, but,' he said as the dwarf opened his mouth to explain himself, 'I'll give her one week.'

'One week isn't much time to find a spellweaver.'

'Anyone who can solve my labyrinth in thirteen hours can find a spellweaver in one hundred and sixty-eight.'

'One hundred and sixty-eight what?'

'Alright, if you going to whine and snivel about it, I'll give her a week and three days.'

'That's very…'

Hoggle was about to say generous when Jareth interrupted again.

'Alright, alright, a week and five days, but that's my final offer.'

'Shall I go tell the little lady?' Hoggle asked eagerly. It'd been a long time since he'd been aboveground or seen Sarah.

'No.' Jareth said with emphasis. 'I will deliver the happy news myself.' He walked over to the table, lifted the napkin covering the plate with his riding crop and scowled. 'Is that all those goblins eat? Chicken gizzards and more chicken gizzards. Take it away, Higgle, take it away.'

Once Hoggle had reloaded the tray and left, Jareth wandered back over to his window. The sun had sunk below the Dark Wood, which bordered his kingdom to the west. Bonfires were flickering among the oaks and hawthorns, reminding him that he was at war and shouldn't be letting anyone into his kingdom, let alone a distraction like Sarah Williams.

Still, he thought as he stepped onto the window ledge, as long as he lived there was no real hope of Morwenna taking over his kingdom. His power was too strong, and she knew it. All she could do was menace his borders and scare the bog out of a few goblins.

As he winged his way toward the moon, which glowed like a giant's big yellow eye, his thoughts drifted back to Hoggle. If I cared about her, I would help her. Is that why he was on his way to retrieve the ungrateful woman, he wondered. Because he cared about her? He'd always known he wanted her and only her, no one else would do, but did he care about her? Such a thing was foreign territory for a Goblin King, but obviously he felt something more than desire. Why else would he be bringing her back to the underground without any strings attached?

Frowning, he dipped toward the ground. Sarah's house was just over that wooded ridge of rolling hills. He had to attach some kind of string otherwise she'd be suspicious. He had to live up to her expectations of him, didn't he? He had to be suitably threatening, suitably frightening. He must demand something in exchange for his help. But what he wanted, he could not demand; she must give it freely. He'd learned that the first time. So what was a Goblin King to do?

He was still mulling this annoying detail over in his head when he landed on Sarah's windowsill. The window was open. How convenient. Was she waiting for him, hoping he'd come? Within seconds, he was standing inside her room as he'd done on many occasions over the years. Silently, he moved over to her bed and stood staring down at her, his eyes holding a longing he was unaware of.

How beautiful she was. More beautiful than she'd been as a girl. As he was told her earlier, age had filled her out in all the right places. She wore a pair of hideous flannel pajamas, but even they couldn't disguise the gentle swell of womanly breasts. They rose and fell with each breath, and he was gratified to see that she preferred sleeping on her back, giving him an unobstructed view. Her hair, a dark cloud around her face, lay across the pillow like an inky stain.

He came closer, blocking out the moonlight that had draped itself across her bed. She murmured as though aware of the sudden shadow.

'Shhh, my precious thing.' He whispered, passing his gloved hand over her eyes. 'Shall I give you a dream, my dove?' He extended his hand. Instantly a crystal globe appeared. He smiled when he saw the scene inside. As adult she could certainly handle stronger stuff than a dark waltz. 'Dream, my Sarah. Dream and when you awake, you'll be where you've always belonged.'

Her breathing became deeper and a smile curved her lips. Sliding his arms under her back and knees, he lifted. She lay against him, not moving, not stirring. She was under his sleeping spell and would sleep until he released her.

Something giggled and he glanced down at the bed.

'Don't do anything she wouldn't do.' He told the pointy-eared goblin sitting among the bed clothes.

With a wave of his hand the goblin became the sleeping form of Sarah. Then he walked over to the window, and they were in the air, soaring toward the yellow eye.