Dear Readers,
I would like to thank you all for your patience and for continuing to read my stories… I am sorry that it took so long to get this chapter out and I have little excuse for the long pause in the story. I hope that you can forgive me and that you will enjoy the chapter and that it will be worth your wait. I am at this moment working on the next chapter…
Please enjoy the story…
___________________________________________________________________________
Jennifer glanced up from her desk as the door opened. Pulling the headphones from her ears, the fast paced and rich voice of Shania Twain whispering from her neck now as she flashed a grin at her roommates entry. The slightly chewed pencil fell from her fingers as she turned towards them, her essay on the development of politics in the Sixteenth Century forgotten almost happily while she greeted her friends.
"So?!" her voice soft, curiosity and excitement flowing through her southern tones. "Come on, tell me. How did the casting go?"
"It went." Sara answered noncommittally.
"How's the essay coming?" Phedrea countered, knowing it was a sore spot.
Riling Jennifer was one of her favorite pastimes. Not that it was that hard. Sara repressed a grin as Jennifer pushed away from the desk, bottom lip pouting slightly as she tried to glare at Phedrea.
"Don't change the subject." Sara flinched inwardly at Jennifer's tone. Definitely a sore spot. "I have had to listen to you two and Liam reciting line after line until *I* could repeat the damn thing from memory. Now how did you do?"
"Don't act like it was such a hardship, Jen," Phedrea grinned, "you enjoyed having Liam here all the time~*~*~
Sara walked forward and let herself fall face first onto her bed, her arms reaching out, grabbing a pillow and covering her head with it. She really didn't want to think about it. The walk back to the dorm had pushed the thoughts far from her mind and Jennifer's conversation was slowly bringing them back with full force.
"Always one for dramatics." Jennifer sighed heavily. "Was it that bad?" she asked turning to Phedrea.
"No, not really. I think Sara is still shell shocked with it all."
"Shell shocked?" Sara could tell from her concern that Jennifer was looking at her.
"I got the leading roll." Sara mumbled into the bedspread, the pillow covering her head making the statement unintelligible.
"Sara?"
Sara sat up, turning around to sit cross-legged on the bed, the pillow in her lap. Turning to Jennifer she forced a thin smile, "I got the leading roll." Thinking for a minute she added, "Well, co-lea dinging roll, I suppose."
Jennifer's mouth gaped, "Sara!" her mouth curving slowly into an ecstatic grin, "Congratulations! Oh, Sara, I am so glad! You deserve it."
Phedrea simply watched, leaning against the wall.
Sara thanked her, but something in her voice had Jennifer looking lost.
"What? Aren't you excited?" she asked, slightly dumbfounded at her friends lack of enthusiasm. "You worked so hard, isn't the leading role something you always wanted?"
Sara couldn't help but smile, this time genuinely. Jennifer loved the spotlight and her southern belle background and personality had her cast in it more often than not. Rich brown hair and startling blue eyes had made her the center of attention for the male population, but underneath her soft features was a sharp wit and Sara couldn't help but like her.
"Yes, I wanted the part. Do want the part." Sara corrected. "I just didn't actually expect to get the part."
"Why not?"
"I… uh… " Sara floundered under the onslaught of questions.
Phedrea came to her rescue.
"Just let her be, Jen."
Sara could almost kiss her, she was so relieved at the thought of ending the interrogation.
"Between landing the lead roll *and* the obvious interest of our new exchange student, I would say Sara has had was hell of a day."
The ground seemed to fall away and Sara sat paralyzed under the glint that sparked in Jennifer's blue eyes. There would be no end to the torment now. No end to the questions. No hope for sleep anytime soon.
Sara glared at Phedrea.
She smiled innocently before her lips transformed into playful smirk.
There would be no rescue.
_____________________________________________________________________________
It was like any other dorm room a student might reside in at any other time, at least it was underneath. It was a single with one bed, a simple desk, a few shelves, just the basics of existence, but what the furniture lacked in taste and style, the objects that decked them more than made up for it in themselves. The bed, simple in form, was covered with a silken comforter, the deep, rich fabric of the ancient Celtic design shimmered in the candlelight, the colors of rubies, sapphires, ambers, and emeralds dazzling like the very stones they echoed. The pillows were black with silver trim, an occasional symbol here and their in their intricate weave. The spread gave the bed the pseudo-appearance of size, almost ridiculous…. Almost.
Beside the bed, a night table graced its left side, two pillar candles upon holders of twisting metal, a worn book, and a half-full glass of amber liquid, decking its surface. The candles, blood red and soft gray, towered as sentinels above the other two objects. The book was faded black leather, the gold lettering blazing the title against the dark surface. Its corners were beginning to wear thin and the pages showed signs of excessive use. Plain and unadorned it stood out in its surroundings, a sliver of moonlight cutting across it from the window above the bed.
Along the left wall of the room, next to the bathroom door, stood a book case and above it, running halfway along that wall and the frontal one, was a shelf. Objects stood out in jumbled confusion in any space that was not taken up with books. The books were a puzzle in themselves, ranging in genre from science to fantasy, and make from simple binding to ornately decorated leather. Many were written in different languages, some appearing to be nothing more than jumbles of hastily scribbled swirls and dot. They lined the shelves in an order only known to the room's resident, and their lack of organization contrasted strongly with that of the desk.
The desk located below the shelf in the right corner echoed order and efficiency. It was a contrast in time periods; on one side reigned the time of scholars and kings, the other lay conquered by sleek technology. Somewhere in the middle they merged. Parchment met paper, pen vied with quill, and the computer coexisted with all four. Parchment documents filled two stacked trays, one marked 'do', the other 'done'. Two lamps occupied the right corner, one electric and plain, a slight layer of dust beginning to cover it, and the other an oil lamp formed of smoky colored glass. An ashtray clung precariously at the side of the desk, ignorant, or simply unconcerned, with the no smoking regulation it was violating. It was rather uniform and functionary, the objects and neat order giving subtle testimony to it's absent occupant. Besides the choice of materials, three objects provided a more personal tint into the owners life: a crystal figurine and two framed photographs. The figurine was a delicate affair of pale color with an echo of brilliant green burning from the center, mingling together in the miniature form of a dancing woman. The larger of the photos was framed in soft array of gold and silver that accentuated the proud beauty of the woman locked in the metal. Youthful and smiling, her face beamed from behind the glass, a pair of pale green eyes laughing from beneath the curls of vibrant red hair even as they betrayed the years she had witnessed. Next to it shone a pair of contrasting green eyes, as brilliant as the other's were pale. Set in a simple frame of pewter, a girl of 15 gazed out beneath strands of deep brown, her hair decorated with ribbons and fake flowers as she stood against the backdrop of trimmed grass and trees, a book cradled lovingly in her hands. Small as it was the title was plain against the deep red of the cover and even if you couldn't read it from the picture you could from the copy that lay upon the nightstand…
LABYRINTH
___________________
The doorknob twitched, its gold surface shifting as it rattled slightly before rotating. The latch receded with a final click and the door began to open.
Light trickled in in small degrees until it flooded the silent room, bringing the laughter and noise from the hallway beyond with it. A shadow stepped from the side, its form stretching across the carpet with a dominance and luxury that was trademark to the room's owner. The shadow wavered as it moved forward, the soft tread of boots against carpet moving with it as the shadow's owner raised and arm and gracefully flicked its wrist.
Flames burst into life on the candle wicks, and the shadows disappeared. The secure click of the latch and the metallic turn of the lock, and the room and its occupant was once more separated from the moving world outside.
_____________________
Taryn sighed and ran a hand through his hair, brushing the constrictive band from his hair, before shrugging out of his leather jacket and tossing it over the chair. Walking forward he lifted a hand, removing the sunglasses from his face and set them on the nightstand. Tenderly his eyes and fingers skimmed the cover of the book, halting, and then his fingers moved on to grasp the liquid filled glass.
"Why does it haunt me so?", he asked amber liquid as he delicately swirled it within the glass. "I started it all. When did I lose control of the situation?"
Sighing he gave in, sitting down on the Celtic design comforter. Leaning against the headboard and the wall he tipped back his head and knocking back the last of the liquid. The wonderful searing taste of alcohol had him closing his eyes against the familiar warmth pooling in his stomach. Pulling his knees up, Taryn leaned forward balancing his weight on his arms, letting the empty glass dangle from his fingers.
Watching the reflecting lights spark off the glass he grinned lightly, "It isn't time yet. Just a little longer."
It had been more painful than he cared to admit. Watching her. Sitting so close to her. Speaking to her. The way her eyes had watched him; remembering but never realizing. It had been unnerving.
It had been so fucking wonderful!
He had never felt so good than those few hours he had spent near her.
Alive. He had felt alive. Over the past few years he had been just a shell of his former self. Something empty. He had accomplished his goal… half of it anyway, but when she had left she had taken part of him with her.
He had never counted on that. Never thought that he would have been at risk.
He had lived years. Years! as only half a person. Years without life…
Without her…
Not this time! This time it would be different… this time everything would end as it was suppose to… this time his only agenda was her…
He would fulfill both their dreams. Reality would not have her twice…
Unfolding from the bed, he stood, determination and purpose straightening his form as he walked toward the bookcase. Reaching up, his fingers came into contact with the smooth surface of the mahogany case. Warmth seeped from the case, into his hands, and up through his arms as he grasped it and brought it lovingly to his chest. His arms enfolding it, cradling it as he turned back toward the bed.
The box had been in his family for years, passed on through generations. Father to son it had found its way to him. It was his heritage and his pride, inside it was his legacy.
Sweeping his arm before him, light sparkled from his fingertips.
In a haze of silver the bed vanished. The deep brown carpet wavered and faded, replaced with smooth black stone. A perfect silver circle seemed to pour from nowhere shinning like a river of moonlight against the dark surface.
Smiling softly, Taryn stepped forward into the circle. Here the air was purer, denser as it pulsed around it. Here the air was alive with voices and music, the melody of the past, present, and future mingling is a harmony that was both sad and joyful. Voices, instruments, and the sounds of nature caressed over him. This was everything. Here he was everything. This was his heart, the heart of all things.
This was Magick…
Even as candles appeared around him; one North, one South, one East, one West, and two slightly off center, he could feel the Magick surround him, fill him.
As the candles flickered to life he could feel his hair stir with the air, whipping into wild disarray and cascades. Opening his eyes he didn't need a mirror to know that they shimmered in the darkness that had encroached on the room. Looking down his clothes had changed as well; a loose white cotton string shirt tucked snuggly into the hem of a pair of black leather pants. With his human clothes he had shed his human identity. He was himself once more.
He was Jareth, the Goblin King and Heir to the Fae throne.
And he had an appointment to keep…
She was waiting…
____________________________________________________________________________
TBC
Leave a review…
What will happen next? What is Taryn/Jareth planning? The next chapter will be out as soon as I can put it together. Be patient…. please
Again thank you so much…
