Vengeful Nightmares
Chapter 7
"Dinah, the book's still here!"
"Wh—what?" Dinah turned from the act of leaving the room, and looked hopefully at her husband. Peter was holding the blue book in the air and waving it like it was a golden ticket, looking like he was getting ready to jump up and down. Dinah put Toby in his high chair, where he began to comfort himself with his teething ring, and snatched the book from Peter's hands. She opened to the title page, and tried what Sarah had done two hours ago; it didn't work. The picture was just that; a picture. "Oh, Peter!" She covered her mouth and turned away.
"Now, wait a minute. He said the pages would be open to her if…Maybe…" He took the book and turned to the next page. There was no text; there were two more pictures, one of Sarah sitting beside Hoggle and crying, and one of Jareth standing with his back to a door, his face troubled. Good…
Peter tried to turn to the last page, but dropped the book with a yell and began to wring his hand; the book had given him a burn.
"No fair peeking at the end!" Jareth's voice chided him.
"Sonofabitch, where are you!" He shouted.
"That doesn't matter."
"Well, come on, let's have this out face to face!"
Peter could feel a small, electric jolt seem to go through the foundations of the house, and he could hear the fae laughing at him. "Oh, to be sure, I shall! But not right away. I shall arrive tonight, just in time for supper. Does seven sound all right?"
"You—what?" Peter caught himself when he realized what he had done.
"You've invited me in, silly boy! I shall bring the food. How does Chinese sound? You like shrimp fried rice? I've always been partial to seafood." More laughing. "Or, maybe, some oysters; the perfect aphrodisiac! No, I think Chinese will be best. See you at seven!" The voice faded out again, and Peter crossed his arms stubbornly.
"I hate Chinese food!"
* * *
Jareth chuckled quietly; now he knew who had given Sarah her stubbornness. She had gotten her temper from her actress mother, Linda, but the stubbornness was all Peter's.
He also remembered watching Hoggle when he was just a small, dwarf boy; his stubbornness had often gotten him in trouble with his father's temper. Hoggle now looked nothing like he had back then; more often than not he had sported a black eye or a split lip. Other than that, he was rather cute, as dwarf children went. His hair had been light brown, and his face had been almost as smooth as Sarah's was now.
Dwarves lived a long time, but that time was nothing to a fae. Jareth had watched Hoggle grow up into an angry sort of man, who had become hard in order to protect himself. He was the perfect candidate for a servant; his father had destroyed his resolve, and Jareth had found it easy to sway him. Hoggle felt anything but safe, but at least he actually had someone to…not look up to, but serve. This was a familiar routine, and at least Jareth hadn't hit him! But Sarah had given him back his resolve, turning him against Jareth, and, in some strange way, causing the dwarf to depend on her.
Jareth snorted. Hoggle had not served his purpose. Jareth didn't know why, but Hoggle just disgusted him. Even before Hoggle had betrayed him, he just could not stand him. Perhaps this was why Sarah was refusing to obey him; she had witnessed Jareth's cruelty to him.
All right, no more cruelty. He could do it.
Jareth checked on Sarah and Hoggle's rooms, found them ready, and sent a goblin to fetch them. They would be allowed to visit each other's rooms only under close supervision. Jareth didn't like to do that, but he couldn't have them conspiring to escape.
Ah, here they come. What the…
"No, no, no, no, no!" Jareth shouted at the goblin, who was prodding them with his spear, and who had tied their hands behind their backs. "What are you doing? I told you, they must not be treated roughly!"
"But—but the dwarven scum here knocked me down!" the goblin protested as it dodged Jareth's kick.
"He hit Sarah!" the dwarf snarled, twisting as he tried to shake off his bonds.
Jareth's face turned murderous.
"She deserved it!" the goblin protested, "You should have heard what she called you!"
Jareth turned to Sarah, and he saw the coin-sized bruise blossoming on her right cheekbone. She lifted her head, and stared at him defiantly. Jareth looked her in the eye, and said, "I don't care what she called me. You were not to touch her, and you disobeyed me." He turned to the trembling goblin, and said in a low, ominous tone, "I will deal with you later. Get out."
The goblin quickly complied, fearfully anticipating a dip in the Bog. Jareth touched Sarah's bruise, and she made no move. He examined it closely, his jaw muscles clenching in anger. "Sarah, I must apologize. I had no way of anticipating this."
She turned her head away, looking fixedly at the grimy wall. "Will you please untie us?" she asked in a monotone. Jareth blinked, and waved his hand. Sarah's bonds fell away, but Hoggle's remained fast. Jareth frowned, waved his hand again. Nothing. He sighed, and got down on one knee to untie him. Hoggle stood still, though he looked like he really wanted to let Jareth have it.
"Well, your rooms are this way." Jareth stood, and headed down another hallway. "Food will be brought, if you ask for it. You may visit each other, but not alone. I will be gone for most of the evening."
Jareth opened two doors, each on opposite sides of the hall, and told them who belonged to which. Then, he left them to their own devices. An old female goblin took her post by Sarah's door, while a nondescript male took his post by Hoggle's.
Of course, they didn't stay put once Jareth had left. Hoggle went into Sarah's room, the goblins in tow, and they sat down by the fireplace. The goblins were surprisingly polite, and kept to a quiet corner of the room while the two friends talked.
"Does it hurt?" Hoggle asked anxiously, referring, of course, to her bruise.
"Just a little. I would have ducked, but I didn't think he'd actually do it."
"Never assume with a goblin, Sarah," Hoggle admonished, getting into a better position to examine her face. "Them's crazy; ya never knows what they'll do. You can't tell me that don't hurt; I've had 'em like that enough to know what it's like. I'm surprised the skin ain't broke." His brow beetled, and he looked about the room as if searching for something to throw. He saw the goblins watching them, and balled his hands into fists. "What?" he demanded loudly, "Can't ya leaves us in peace?"
The male shook his head almost kindly, and said, "Orders is orders. We don't like it any better than you do."
The female nodded, and said, "Don't worry, whatever you say here won't go beyond these walls unless yer plottin' an es-cape."
"Huh!" Hoggle bit down on his temper, and sighed, "Do me a favor, an' go get some ice for Sarah."
The male left, and another one came in to take his place. Hoggle sat back down, shaking his head and muttering to himself. "Can't tell me he din't know it would happen."
In truth, Hoggle looked more upset about Sarah's bruise than she herself was. He sat cross-legged, with his tightly clenched fists plastered firmly on his knees. His muscles were so tight that he was shaking, and he kept muttering over and over, "Can't tell me, can't tell me" Sarah put her hand on his shoulder, and he remembered where he was. He put a hand up to his face, wiping at the sweat and breathing hard. Sarah had read about something called 'flashbacks', and she realized that he had just had one. "What—what was I saying?"
"Nothing, Hoggle. You all right?"
"Y—yeah…" he gave his head a brief shake, like he had swimmer's ear, and sighed.
The ice came, and Hoggle told Sarah to hold it up to her face and not take it off. It was wrapped up in a reasonably clean dishtowel, so that the cold wouldn't burn her skin, or so the goblin had said.
Hoggle stared into the glowing coals of the fire, and shivered. It was cold in that room.
* * *
The doorbell rang at precisely seven o'clock, and Peter Williams looked through the peephole. He saw no one. He looked out the window, and saw an owl sitting on the doormat like a cat that wanted in. He cautiously opened the door, and the owl set its talons into a paper bag that Peter had not noticed before, and flew right on into the kitchen. Dinah screamed and grabbed a broom, but Peter stopped her just in time. The owl lowered the bag onto the table, and perched onto the back of one of the chairs.
Peter edged forward, and the owl hooted in what sounded like a greeting. "Jareth?"
The owl dismounted, and dropped to the floor. Then, in a swirl of bright, white feathers and tiny motes of light, the owl became a tall man with a mane of shaggy blond hair and oddly upswept eyebrows. His eyes, one brown and one blue, glinted with tame amusement. "In the flesh."
