Chapter 4.

Sarah's mouth gaped, "What did you just say?" she could not believe her own ears.

"I didn't say a thing," Toby's hand trailed on the rail in a rather unworldly manner. "Not a thing." He chuckled again before pausing and turning to look down at her. "Want to play a game?" he invited with a wave.

Sarah blinked, "A game?" she repeated rather dumbly.

Haughtily he looked down at her, "Yes, Sarah, a game."

"What kind of game?" she asked feeling a bit like a fly in a spider web.

"Oh one that's a lot like truth or dare," he mused before turning and heading up toward the landing and the stairs to the attic. "Come on," he challenged. "It'll be fun, and it will help us pass the time."

Sarah looked at the front door, still wide open from Elliot's hasty departure. "I have to lock the front door," she said moving toward the offending entryway. Her hands were shaking as she turned the lock and made sure the door was secure. Taking a step away from the door she heard the first rumble of thunder. She looked over her shoulder, a storm was coming.

"Toby, there's a storm coming," she moved toward the stairs and looked up. "I don't think we should be in the attic when it hits…."

"Scardie Cat," he teased, but he didn't make a move to come down, instead he climbed up more stairs. "Come on Sarah, show some balls." He was picking up his pace.

"Balls," she grumbled. "I'll show you balls…" she moved up the stairs and past the landing that their rooms were off of. She could have sworn she heard snickers, but decided it was the rumble of thunder over head. "Toby, really now," she called up to him. "There's a storm…"

"There's a storm alright," he snickered. "Come on Sarah!"

The higher they went on the stairs the more Sarah worried. "Toby, if there's a lot of lightening; being in the attic is not the smartest thing…"

She was nearly behind him now and his hand reached out to open the door that was kept closed up tight. "Come on, Sarah, it's just an attic." He pushed the door open and walked into the room. "It's not like it's dangerous up here, you know." Reaching for the switch he flipped it and the lights that dangled on wires above their head lit up. "See, just an attic." Looking back at her he could see there was trepidation and she was hanging back.

Sarah shivered, "This is more than just an attic," she whispered, as if she were fearful of someone hearing. "My mother use to call this… the gateway."

"Gateway?" Toby looked at her with lazy calm. "To what?" When she didn't answer, he repeated it as the first question in his game. "Truth or dare," he pulled her into the room and shut the door. "A gate way to what," he insisted on hearing the answer.

"This is silly," Sarah didn't like feeling cornered and she felt very cornered in this attic space with her brother. "It's nothing." She felt as if she'd suddenly fallen several feet, about fifty to be exact, into a black hole.

"Truth or dare," he repeated in a singsong mimic.

"What's the dare?" She questioned as thunder sounded closer.

"I don't know," Toby thought about it for a moment. "Run naked around the outside of the house." He suggested boldly. "That might prove very entertaining especially if your caller is still hanging about."

"Truth," she sighed before telling the reason she avoided the attic. "My mother used to say this room up here was a gateway to a mystical world. That old mirror came from a Magician's house;" when Toby scoffed at her she snapped. "She was always very dramatic and she wanted to keep me out of here for my own safety….and I think she hid Christmas gifts up here."

"Did she?" Toby looked at one of the three large cedar closets that were built into the space. "In one of these? Do you think anything was left behind," he moved to one and opened it. It contained some old costumes, men's and women's. "Looks like she had dad playing dress up with her at one time. I had no idea the old man could be so kinky," he pulled a raw linen tunic in out and looked at it. "Nice stuff," he growled suggestively. "I'll bet this would fit me!"

"They met doing a play in college," Sarah recalled, her voice filled with sad emotions as it did every time she thought of her mother. "It was a poor man's theater she said, they made their own sets, and costumes…" She watched as he rifled through the hidden memories without much care for what it represented. "It wasn't kinky, daddy joined the group to learn how to project… he wanted to be the best litigator…"

"What play were they doing, do you know?" Toby asked now shucking his own shirt off and shrugging into the linen which fit as if it had been made for him.

"It was a production of 'Much ado about nothing'," Sarah smiled watching her brother as he pulled a belt and a cape from the wardrobe. "There's a hat in there too…" she mused. "Daddy played Benedict."

Toby looked at her, "I see it." He reached into the closet and pulled out a wrap around long skirt and tossed it to her. "Try this on," he suggested. He reached down for the doeskin boots that were lying on their side. Kicking off his shoes he pulled the boots up his slender legs.

"Toby," she looked at the dark skirt, a riding skirt her mother had worn only once on stage. "I don't think this is a good idea, we should go down stairs and wait the storm out."

"Come on Sarah, let's play dress up… like we used to, remember. You used to dress up and take me to the park…and we'd play there for hours. Try it on," he insisted. He watched as she wrapped the skirt about her waist and fastened it. He held out his hand to her and pulled her toward the old full length mirror that was also stored up there. "Come see how we look," he pointed to their reflections. Sarah gave a pensive smile as she looked in the mirror. "Your turn," he growled into her ear.

Sarah backed up slightly; she didn't like the threat that was unspoken in his manner. "Truth or dare," she whispered to him.

"Truth," he decided.

Turning so she could look at him she questioned. "Why are you mad at me?"

"I should have chosen the dare," he lamented. "It's too soon to give you that answer," he replied angrily. "It would end our game if I did, and I'm having too much fun to end this so soon. Ask something else." He walked away from her and sat down on an old settee that was being stored.

"Alright, here's one for you," she tapped her chin. "Would you have gone through with it if you'd been with them today?"

"Yes," he answered completely candidly.

Disappointed and more upset than she could explain to herself Sarah moved forward and demanded another answer. "Why?"

"Why not," he countered frostily.

Her mouth dropped open and she stared at him. "You've got to be kidding me," she gasped. "You would have just used those girls… to…"

"Used, is a relative term," he chuckled. "It's not like they would be hurt… they're already sluts you know."

"You don't know that!" she accused. "Not all the girls who get tricked into going to the cove are sluts, Toby!"

He leaned forward, a look of enlightenment on his face. "Did someone trick you into going to the cove?"

"No," She turned her back on him.

"Truth or dare," he pressed on. "Did you go to the cove?"

"No," she answered refusing to look at him.

"Then how do you know not all the girls are sluts?" He pressed her again.

"Because my best friend was not a slut Toby," she growled. "She thought she was going to the beach at Brighton, and her steady took her to the cove."

Surprised at her answer, and her anger, Toby sighed. "Who?"

"Joanie," she answered. "Joanie Taft."

"I don't remember her," he said honestly. "So her boyfriend took her to the cove…" he was ready to dismiss it. "And they had sex, it's no big deal… I had no idea you were such a prude, sis."

"They got her drunk," Sarah said in misery. "They didn't even give her a fair chance…" She looked at him. "Not every girl who is taken there is a slut…" She looked at him. "And sex isn't something to be so caviler about."

"Speaking from personal experience?" he asked.

"No," thunder caused her to shudder and jump. The lights flickered and Sarah groaned. "Toby, let's go down…" She moved toward the door.

"So you've got no experience?" he pressed on, making no move to leave. He laughed, "How old are you?"

The lights flickered again and Sarah jumped back. "It's not safe up here if the lights go out," she warned. As she finished the sentence the lights flickered their last and shut down. "Great," she muttered.

"So you're telling me that you're a virgin." Toby pressed on amused by this disclosure. He looked at her with scorn. "At thirty?" he scoffed.

"So what?" came her answer in a gruff huff. "So I'm a virgin, big deal."

"I guess it's true," he teased nastily. "Those who can do, those who can't~ teach."

Thunder sounded over head, and Sarah saw him outlined by the flash of lightening. How foreign he seemed. "What's the matter with you," she demanded. "What's wrong with me having morals?"

"That's a laugh," he scoffed; "You having morals…"

"Truth or dare," she called out, getting his attention.

"Truth," he answered instantly as if by instinct.

Sarah licked her dry lips then ventured into the quire that was on her mind. "Do you know who made that mess in my room?"

Haughtily he replied, "Maybe."

"But it wasn't you directly," she whispered.

"No, it wasn't me directly." He answered swiftly; "Truth or dare."

"Truth," she swallowed.

"Have you ever stolen anything?" his voice challenged.

"No," she shook her head, then paused and lifted a hand. "I barrowed something… to make someone help me once, but that's not exactly stealing. I mean I gave it back…"

"Did you?" Toby narrowed his eyes, not trusting her words.

"Truth or dare," she turned the tables once more on him.

"Truth," he crooned.

Unprepared she pulled a question out of the air. "Have you been in my room?"

Toby slyly smiled. "Many times," he answered.

Sarah shook her head, "There's nothing in there, you said it yourself… you call my belongings…" she hesitated and whispered. "junk." Green eyes widened and she began to put pieces together. "No, it can't be…" she muttered.

"What can't be, Sarah?" Toby asked trying to sound innocent as he stood up and started to inch his way toward her.

Lightning flashed and thunder hammered the air, somewhere a dog howled. Sarah's eyes widened and she felt as if the air had been sucked from her lungs. A memory of another storm filled her with dread.

The storm raged on over the house. The clouds boiled. Rain lashed the leaves on the trees. Thunder was followed by lightning. Sarah was listening. What she was listening to was an unnatural silence within the room. Toby had stopped crying, so suddenly it scared her. She looked back inside the nursery. The bedside light was out. "Toby?" she called. He did not respond.

"Toby," she murmured and looked at him. "I can explain…"

"Explain," he mocked her as he watched her back up. He could see the mirror fogging over and the faces peering out. "Explain what, Sarah?"

Lightening flashed, and thunder crashed over head, the windows rattled and Sarah turned at the sound, startled. "No, this isn't happening." She expected to see white wings beating furiously at the window. "Toby, I can explain!" She was becoming frantic now as the storm was reaching a zenith.

"Sure you can," he moved forward taking hold of her shoulders violently. "Only I don't want to hear it," he said sadistically as he shoved her toward the mirror and cried out. " I wish the goblins would take you away, right now!"

"No," she screamed as the hands reached out of the mirror and dragged her in.

A moment later she was gone, and a face in the mirror smiled at the boy. "Go find the book, and you will be rewarded."

"He'll be proud of me, yes?" Toby asked almost meekly. "The book, yes… I'm sure it's in her room…." He raced for the door and down the stairs. Lightening lit her room up as if it were daylight. Toby knew that Sarah had a secret place. One that no one else had seen, but he remembered from when he was very little.

A hidden panel in the vanity, where she kept very secret things. He'd been in the room when she'd placed her secret treasures in there. And he was sure it was where the book was. He knelt down, undisturbed by the rattling windows and the storm that was still ragging. He didn't see the winged creature. A white owl was flapping insistently on the glass. It's great, round, dark eyes, watching him. The whiteness of its plumage was illuminated by a series of lightning flashes that seemed continuous. Behind him, a goblin briefly raised his head, and ducked down again. Another did likewise. He didn't seem them; he was too busy finding the latch.

"Hurry," a voice from the vanity mirror urged. "There's no time."

"I'm going as fast as I can," Toby muttered working the latch and shaking the door front so it would pop open.

Lightning crackled and flashed again, behind him, something snickered. The storm wind rose to a pitch. Lightning made daylight in the room, and scared faces suddenly began to vanish into cupboards, drawers, or down the cracks between floorboards. As the thunder boomed and the wind shook the curtains, a blast of air blew the window open. Between the fluttering curtains the white owl entered.

"I've got it," Toby cried joyously at the same moment that the window opened.

A prolonged crackling of lightning was throwing a giant shadow on the wall facing the window. It was the shadow of a human figure. Toby spun around. Silhouetted against the stormy sky was a man. He wore a cloak, which swirled in the wind. Toby could see that his hair was shoulder-length and blond. Something glinted about his neck. More than that he could not see in the dim light.

Lightning traced the veins of the sky and lit up his face. He was not smiling, as one might smile on greeting a stranger, nor was his expression fierce. His eyes were fixed upon Sarah's with an intensity she found compelling. When he took a step toward her, into the light shining from the doorway, she did not retreat. If his eyes had not hypnotized her, the golden chain around his neck might have. A sickle-shaped ornament hung from it, upon his chest. His shirt was cream-colored, open at the front, loose-sleeved, with silken cuffs at the wrist. Over it he wore a tight, black waistcoat. He was shod in black boots, over gray tights, and on his hands were black gloves. Toby stared at him and the stranger smiled at his hesitancy.

Shakily the boy in the play cape and caviler cap stood up and looked at the stranger who had transformed from owl to man with eyes full of wonder. "You're him, aren't you… you're the Goblin King…" his voice was shaking.

"I am," Jareth placed hands to his hips expecting to see the manifestations of fear that always followed the realization of his identity.

The boy looking at him didn't panic, didn't cry out, and didn't bellow. He let the hat fall away as he flung himself at the started Goblin King. "Oh they said you would come… and you're here… oh father, you're here!"

Jareth looked down with astonishment at the head buried in his chest. Hair that was a soft shade of blond and as light and free as his own. He looked about the room, hearing hisses and startled cries and the scurrying of goblin feet. The room was familiar, too familiar, and this human child was calling him 'father'. Jareth put a hand under the boy's chin and turned the face up to his own only to be met with eyes like his own weeping happy tears. "Toby," he said softly, uncertainly at first and then more strongly. "Toby."

"Yes, Father!" Toby looked at the King and swallowed back the rest of his sobs. "I've vanquished your enemy, and now I'm free." He handed the object in his hands to the Goblin King. "Your book, Sire… it can no longer be used against you, or keep us apart."

Jareth looked down at the book that had been handed to him. It was a pocket book, fine white velum with gilt edges and a hand tooled red leather binding. Gold letters on its cover proclaimed the title and Jareth read them. "Labyrinth," he whispered and pulled the boy to his heart. "Oh Toby, what have you done?"