Chapter 3

The sensation of traveling to the Underground was not a pleasant one, for all that it was brief. It reminded Sarah of that sickening lurch she felt whenever she woke up from a doze too quickly. "Falling awake" they called it. That moment when your bearings aren't just lost, but gone completely, and your body is pitched backwards into empty space, sheer panic jolting you into consciousness a second later.

Most people shook off the unpleasant experience with little fuss. It happened so rarely, and it wasn't like they were in any real danger. They weren't really falling. They weren't really lost. But Sarah remembered when that crystal had shattered and she'd been catapulted down. She'd lost sight of Jareth, and then she'd lost sight of everything else. The return to her world had felt interminable. At that moment, she would have welcomed even the Goblin King's hand if it would have guided her back to safety—even the relative safety of the Underground.

This time, at least, she was ready for it, but that didn't make it any less terrifying. Her stomach dropped at the sudden sensation of plummeting—though she would swear she wasn't moving—and she squeezed her eyes shut until the feeling passed. When she opened them again, she was standing in the middle of a lavish study. There was a walk-in fireplace with a fire as large and wild as a dancing firey in the grate, and a mahogany desk as big as her bed. Bookshelves filled with books and small knick-knacks—miniature busts of people she didn't recognize, some metal spindly thing that revolved in a slow, constant circle—filled the walls around her. It looked like a room she'd find in some rich lord's house during the Regency period, not an ancient Fae's.

"This… isn't the Underground," said Sarah. "Is it?"

From behind her, Rasson said, "Of course it is. Why, what did you think the Underground looked like?"

"It should be more medieval. Goblin City looked like something the poor lived in during the dark ages. And the castle was, well, a castle." She surveyed the room again, noticing one conspicuous absence—that of the Goblin King. Sarah didn't see so much as a stray owl feather or a sparkle of glitter. Huh.

"So you've been to here before. Interesting." Rasson let go of her shoulders and slid his gloved hands down her arms in a gentle caress. It gave Sarah chills and she jerked away. He frowned at her.

"Of course I've been here. Didn't the Goblin King tell you that before he sent you to get me?"

"What makes you think he sent me?"

Time seemed to pause at his words, though by the steady ticking of the mantle clock Sarah knew it hadn't. She stared at the Fae. "Didn't he?"

"No, he didn't."

There was no denying the lifting feeling Rasson's answered stirred in her. It wasn't quite relief, but it was strong enough and contrary enough to be unsettling, and she pushed it aside quickly. So the Goblin King hadn't been responsible. Really, that only made her situation worse. At least if it had been Jareth she would've known where she stood. Now she was at a loss.

"Dare I assume you've met his majesty?" Rasson asked. "Clearly you know about him and you've been to the dirty pile of stones he calls home."

"I…" Sarah stood there, unsure how to answer or if she even should. She still didn't know this Fae's intentions. Admitting to anything was a risk.

Rasson suddenly laughed. It was so musical that if not for its lower pitch, she would have thought it feminine. "I'm sorry. Where are my manners?" He held out his hand to her. "Why don't we go down to the dining room where you'll be more comfortable? We can discuss this over a late lunch."

Like Sarah was dumb enough to eat anything he gave her. She took a couple steps away from his outstretched hand. "Why don't you just tell me what you want now so I can tell you no and go home?" she said instead.

His frown came back. Rasson dropped his hand and huffed at her. "Really, what is wrong with you? Most women would be honored to have a private meal with me, and yet you're acting most… disagreeable."

"Disagreeable?" Sarah gaped at him. "You kidnapped me!"

"Normally that wouldn't matter." He held out his hand again. His gaze grew hot, just like it had back at the coffee shop. Sarah knew from being around Jareth that the Fae were naturally seductive, but was it possible they had literal powers of seduction? Rasson certainly seemed to think he did.

It worked well enough on Vera, she reminded herself. Not to mention every other woman in the coffee shop, and a few of the men too.

"Come eat with me, Sarah," Rasson said. "Come talk to me."

The sensual pleading in his voice freaked her out. She smacked his hand away before she could think better of it, yelling, "Don't touch me!"

He rushed her. Sarah stumbled backwards into the desk. Before she could move around it, Rasson was there, pinning her between his arms. "Fascinating," he said, peering down at her with way too much curiosity for Sarah's peace of mind. "You resist the attraction so well."

"There's no attraction to resist," she snapped, hoping that stayed true. "Now back off!"

Rasson ignored her, moving in so close Sarah was bowing backwards over the desk in her effort to escape him. "Is this why he's so obsessed with you?" he wondered aloud. "Is it your immunity to our glamour? But why would that be so appealing? Is there a limit to it? Does it only last so long, or will a certain amount of intimacy nullify it?" He crowded even closer into her personal space. Sarah wanted to shove him back, but if she let go of the desk while bent as she was she would fall, and the last thing she wanted was to be trapped beneath him.

"I don't know what you're talking about," she told him. "But if you're thinking I'm going to suddenly throw myself at you and beg you to take me, it's not gonna happen. So if that's why I'm here you might as well let me go."

"That would have been ideal," Rasson admitted, looking not at all shamed. "But even still, I'm not going to release you."

"Why?" asked Sarah, honestly confused and, yes, starting to feel a bit desperate. "Why keep someone who wants nothing to do with you?"

At that, Rasson's face darkened with his first true signs of temper. "Because he wants you," the Fae spat. "And I will not let… He deserves… Show him who's the—"

"Who are you talking about?" But Sarah thought she already knew.

"Jareth." Rasson hissed the name. His hands balled into fists against the desk. So the Goblin King was involved, even if only indirectly. Figured.

"Jareth doesn't want me," Sarah disagreed. "I don't know how much you know about what… happened between the two of us, but I guarantee you he has no interest—"

"You lie!" Rasson's hand came up and fisted in Sarah's hair. She gritted her teeth against the pain as he dragged her up. "You lie," he said again. "His majesty wants you, and now that you are mine, he will see… He will know how it feels…"

Rasson shook her. Several strands of hair parted ways with her scalp and Sarah yelped and grabbed at his wrist, trying to pull him off and mentally cursing Jareth. Was it not enough to wreak havoc on mortals? Now he had to go and piss off the Fae as well? And now she was being used as some… what? A human trophy to brag over?

Rasson noticed her struggling and seemed to come back to himself. In a carefully controlled voice he said, "I'm done with you for today. We will try this again tomorrow."

"Like hell we—" His fingers left her hair and he pushed her. Sarah fell back what should have been a single step but felt more like ten. Her arms pin-wheeled. When she caught her balance, she was standing in a sparsely furnished bedroom. Alone.

Damn it!

The room had several doors. Sarah tried them all, without success. The first door dead-ended in a bathroom that was modern enough in its plumbing to be jarring with the antiquated furnishings. The second door was locked, and the third was a French set that led out onto a balcony. Here her had hopes lifted—until she stepped outside and saw that she was on the fourth floor, with a stone patio that looked only too happy to break her fall (and her legs) should she try to jump down. The walls to her left and right were sheer, without so much as a sprig of ivy to climb. Hills that eventually gave way to thick woods surrounded the property. No one to hear her scream, or cry, or bitch loudly and at length—the last being the most likely.

Sarah sighed and went back in. There was a mirrored vanity next to the bed and she dropped down into the chair in front of it. She touched the glassy surface, ignoring the too-pale young woman who stared back at her with despairing eyes.

"Hoggle," she whispered, "I need you."

Nothing.

"Sir Didymus, are you there? Ludo?"

Still nothing. Well, she hadn't really expected—but still, she'd learned that it was better to try than to just assume…

Like Rasson had assumed.

She didn't know where he had gotten his information from, but he was going to get a rude shock if he paraded her around in front of the Goblin King and expected to make the royal Fae jealous.

Sarah's stomach clenched as she thought about what Jareth's reaction would be to that. Not so much what he would say to Rasson, for she could imagine that well enough. He would probably laugh, give the Fae his blessing and wish him better luck than he had. No, what made her feel sick was what Jareth would say to her. Would he sneer? Mock her? Tell her she deserved it for what she'd done to him?

You're more worried about what Jareth will say than what Rasson will do to you when he realizes that you're not going to give in to him? Priorities, Sarah!

Right. She looked around the room for another possible way out, but failed to find one. Doesn't matter, she told herself. Tomorrow, Rasson would come for her again. She would find a way to escape then. If she could beat the Labyrinth and the Goblin King, surely she could beat one bitter Fae in his out-of-date mansion.

The next morning, Rasson brought her breakfast in bed. Well, it was more like breakfast at the vanity, since Sarah hadn't dared to so much as sit on the bed's well-cushioned mattress the previous night. Rasson made no comment on her unusual choice of sleeping area—in which there had been very little sleeping—and handed her the silver platter with a wink and a whispered, "Good morning, Sarah," that made her stiffen and glare at him.

At her less-than-encouraging response, he sighed and said, "Still nothing, then?"

"And it's going to stay that way," she told him, though she had secretly been worried about the same thing he'd been hoping for—that her immunity would wear off overnight.

The silver platter was heavy with eggs, biscuits, sausage and bacon, plus something that looked like the Underground version of pancakes. There was even a slim vase with a single red rose in it. Sarah rolled her eyes and pushed it all away, though her stomach complained audibly.

"You're going to have to eat sometime," Rasson said, his tone reproachful.

She snorted. "You forget, I've been here before. I know the tricks when it comes to drugging food. I won't fall for it."

"Drugging food?" Rasson pondered that a moment. "I would never have thought to… but, yes, I suppose that might work as a plan B…"

Sarah rolled her eyes. Did he have no shame at all? Or intelligence? She was right there. And she was the one who said it. How stupid did he think she was? It seemed having absolute control over mortals for so long, he'd forgotten when to watch his tongue around them. Maybe that would work in her favor—if she could learn to control her own.

Note to self, she thought. Don't give him any more ideas about how to get to me. Because, apparently, he would take them!

"Did the Goblin King do that to you?"

Her response was automatic. "Do what?"

"Use food to drug you?"

She'd all but said that already, which was probably why he nodded even when she didn't answer, saying, "So you were resistant to him as well. That's something, at least."

Not as resistant as I wanted to be.

"You obviously aren't fond of him," the Fae went on. "You should be using this opportunity to get back at his majesty. You stand to gain from this too, you realize."

Sarah shot him a warning look. "Nice try, but I don't want to get back at him; I just want to go home. Besides, you're just as bad as he is, if not worse. I would never team up with someone like you."

Rasson looked shocked. And then insulted. "You dare to compare me to him? I am nothing—"

"No?" She raised her eyebrows at the Fae. "You use your power to scramble women's hormones and seduce them." Even Jareth hadn't done that. He'd played on her fantasies to delay her, true, but even at his most merciless, he had never tried to force her to do anything intimate, had never taken the advantage he could have. Did that necessarily make it better? Sarah had wondered that for years and still wasn't sure.

"They're perfectly willing—" Rasson started to say. Sarah's patience snapped.

"You drug women so they have no control over their reactions to you! We have a word for that where I come from!"

"I ready their minds, bodies, and hearts!" Rasson defended. "Men from your world are lucky to manage even one of those!"

"But the effort is their own."

"Well I'm certainly putting in the effort now, am I not?" he said hotly. "Come!"

He grabbed her by the hand and hauled her up. It seemed to take twice as long it should have to be pulled upright. She made it to her feet and found them standing in a modest garden.

"What—"

His face a mask of false cheer, Rasson tucked Sarah's hand into the crook of his elbow, holding it there when she tried to pull away. "We are going to spend the day together, my dear Sarah. See if a little time in each other's company does anything to sweeten that disposition of yours towards me."

"Ten bucks says it gets worse."

"What a rude thing to say." Rasson led her down a well-worn trail between some rose bushes that were more thorns than flowers. "And impractical anyways. Deer can't survive in the Underground. Too many predators."

Sarah rolled her eyes but didn't bother to correct him.

She spent the entire day in Rasson's company, just as he said they would. And Sarah's mood did not improve, just as she said it wouldn't. After they finished wandering the garden—"The one outside the labyrinth is more impressive," Sarah said, just to irritate him—Rasson led her to the patio she'd spotted below her balcony for lunch. Though the bread was fresh baked and the soup smelled heavenly, Sarah sat in stubborn silence while Rasson ate, refusing to try even a bite. Rasson lingered over the food on purpose—payback, perhaps, for her earlier comment—and then took her to a small library where he pulled out a book of Fae poetry and read to Sarah for the rest of the afternoon, one arm slung around her shoulders to keep her from leaving the small couch he'd forced her onto. Every so often he would pause to look over at her—was she feeling drawn to him yet?—and Sarah almost laughed at his put-upon frown when he caught her once in the middle of a yawn.

By dinner, Sarah was both famished and exhausted, but she managed to stay awake enough to snub every plate of food that was set before her. It was her first time seeing any of the servants, but when she tried to catch their eye in a silent plea for help, they all turned away, as if they hadn't seen or didn't care.

"Did you use magic to make them this loyal?" she asked when yet another servant carrying dessert ignored her.

Rasson smirked. "I did not. But you seem to be under a misapprehension, Sarah. Bringing mortals to the Underground is not illegal. Rare, perhaps, but nothing more. Now—" He leaned in close. In a sultry whisper he said, "Why don't we retire somewhere more private?"

Sarah wasn't sure what made her do it. Frustration perhaps. Nerves. Anger for sure. It was stupid, and she knew even as her fist came up that she would regret it, but as she felt his nose crack under her knuckles she still took a vicious satisfaction in being able—if only for a moment—to get the upper hand.

Rasson howled and fell back in his seat. Sarah jumped to her feet and made a break for the door. She half-expected it to slam shut on her, but it didn't, and neither did any of the others she ran through in her escape from the house.

Outside, evening was setting fast. The sun had all but vanished beyond the tree line. Sarah ran towards it. There were no roads, but they would have been too obvious to take anyway. She had no idea how to escape the Underground, but for now she would settle with just escaping Rasson.

Lack of sleep and food had her energy running out quicker than she would've liked. Soon she slowed to a walk, but even when her legs started wobbling and night had made her all but blind, she kept going. She didn't see any creatures, helpful or otherwise, though all around her insects chirped and buzzed. They didn't sound anything like the peaceful crickets and cicadas from Aboveground. The noises they made were too… sharp, too threatening, though Sarah didn't feel any particular fear toward them. If she'd been another bug, however…

Eventually even walking became too much. Sarah tripped over an exposed tree root and once on her knees couldn't make herself get up again. She had barely started to wonder if she was far enough away to safely rest for the night when a voice above her said, "Done running yet?"

Her heart sunk. She looked up. Rasson stood on a tree branch above her, his Fae skin giving off a soft, phosphorescent glow. Sarah mentally cursed. Couldn't he have at least pretended to have trouble catching her?

He jumped out of the tree and landed with silent grace in font of her. His nose, she noticed, looked as perfect as ever. Only the bloodstain on his shirtfront and the ache in her hand revealed otherwise. His gaze was flinty. "Well?"

Knowing it wasn't what he was referring to, Sarah replied, "You look like a freaky night-light."

Rasson straightened a bit. "I'd ask you if you found it attractive, but I think I think at this point—" He touched his nose gently, "—that would be a foolish question."

"Glad you finally realized that," said Sarah. Rasson's gaze narrowed.

"These woods go on for miles," he said. "You will never make it through them without provisions, directions, and protection. None of which, I might point out, you have."

"I thought you just said you got this?" said Sarah in exasperation. "I don't care what I have to do, or how impossible it is! If it means getting away from you, I'll do anything." She jabbed finger at him. "And you should know, if you insist on keeping me, I'll make your life a living hell. You think I've been a pain in the ass to deal with so far? I'll be ten times worse if you keep me here."

Rasson was suddenly in front of her, close enough to make her own skin glow. "You're not the only one who can make things difficult, Sarah," he said. "Perhaps there is nothing I can do to make you give in to me, but I will have my revenge on the Goblin King, and I will use you to do it, with or without your willing participation." He backed up a step, spreading his arms wide. A mean little smile curved his lips. "So strike out at me as much as you want, run whenever you feel like running, but the end result will always be the same." He reached up and, before she could react, flicked her right in the forehead. Sarah blinked and she was back in her room. Alone. His meaning could not be any clearer.

Suspicious and worried, Sarah went to her door and found it unlocked. She opened it and looked out into the hallway. It was empty. No one to stop her. She shut the door and leaned her head against it, closing her eyes against the sudden urge to cry. She could run again, and when she stopped Rasson would just come and collect her, or she could stay here and… not give up, but… what else?

Sarah let out a yell of frustration and pounded the door with her fists, sending new bolts of pain up her already injured hand.

Two choices, both wrong.

So which one should she pick?