Chapter Five: Let's Dance
The day crept by, the inexorable march of time drawing Sarah closer and closer to the night's main event. Linda arrived home not long after the end of Jeremy and Sarah's conversation; the two adults immediately took to a discussion of the logistics of their party. The girl wandered off, looking for something else to occupy her. She was unsuccessful. All in all, she decided, the tension was killing her.
Accordingly, their trip to city hall that afternoon was a much anticipated occurrence. Or, rather, more anticipated than it was already; after all, it wasn't every day that your mother got married. To someone you actually liked. Sarah was surprised to discover that she was okay with her mom's remarriage. Maybe Sarah had grown up since Robert married Karen... or maybe Jeremy was just infinitely cooler than Karen.
Probably the latter choice.
All in all, the act itself was pretty anticlimactic. The three of them traveled down to the appropriate place, they obtained the appropriate forms, got the appropriate signatures, said the appropriate things, and voila, Linda and Jeremy were man and wife. Sarah grinned and clapped as they walked out of the building, humming the wedding march until Linda swatted her. A good-natured swat, of course.
So, next stop, party. They didn't go home to dress; instead, Linda's personal assistant met them at the hotel where the reception was going to be held. Pamela had the clothes, the jewelry, the make-up, everything they would need to get ready. Including a suite of rooms with two bathrooms. Sarah marveled at the luxury of renting a nice hotel suite merely to get dressed in. Jeremy called her a country bumpkin, Linda scoffed. They both smiled.
In this manner, the occasion finally arrived. There would be no more stalling, there was no turning back. Sarah Williams was dressed in a silk evening gown and heels about two inches too high. She was about the meet her stepfather's supernatural family, in a room filled to the brim with many strangers and one cryptic Goblin King. She was as ready as she would ever be.
They descended to the ballroom's doors, where the coordinator met them. She took the two adults aside, looked at Sarah, and bit her lip.
"Why don't you slip in ahead of them, honey," she cooed in a gooey voice. "The only other option would be for you to trail after them after they're announced, and that would be awkward. It could ruin the effect, you know."
"Okay," the girl replied, a tinge of disbelief her in voice. "Sure. Here I go."
As directed, she slipped around the corner, past the placard declaring the ballroom off-limits but to invitees, and through the partially-curtained door. A immense space was before her, loud with the murmuring of many people talking quietly. In one corner, round tables were set up; in another, a jazz band played unobtrusively. Sarah paused a moment to take in the sight. Then she entered and strode a few paces along the wall. As the coordinator had hoped, no one noticed her. She was forced to chuckle to herself as she turned to face the door.
A voice spoke into the microphone across the room; the band and the voices fell silent.
"Ladies and gentlemen," declared a woman in blue—that would be Julie, Sarah realized, her mother's agent. "I now have the distinct pleasure to introduce tonight's guests-of-honor: the newlyweds, Mr. Jeremy Dara and Mrs. Linda Carlisle-Dara!"
Applause filled the ballroom, accompanied by a few whistles and one or two unabashed catcalls. Jeremy and Linda were standing hand-in-hand in front of the doorway, Linda's pretty blush matching the deep red of her dress. Sarah smiled ruefully at them and was caught off-guard when a waiter handed her a slender glass of champagne. She took it and looked at it skeptically. All the others were receiving them as well.
"And might I propose the first of many toasts this evening," continued Julie. She raised her own glass to the couple. "To a long, happy, loving marriage."
"Hear, hear," murmured the crowd en masse. Sarah touched the rim of the glass to her lips and took a tentative, self-conscious sip. Her father never let her have champagne at home. It didn't taste as bad as she had expected. She cast her eyes into the crowd and found Jareth almost immediately, reassuringly standing on the other side of the room. He raised his glass slightly, towards her, and took a drink. She looked away quickly. He was back into Mr. Leighton mode: his pale hair had become short and neat, his eyebrows were normal, and his tuxedo was definitely more conservative than his usual dress. She couldn't decide which Jareth was more disturbing.
Fixing her attention on her mother and new stepfather again, Sarah found them enveloped in a mass of well-wishers, shaking hands and air-kissing cheeks as flashbulbs went off around them. They look busy and happy and totally preoccupied... and Sarah was forgotten. The throng of strangers suddenly seemed much more ominous.
Well, wasn't this typical.
The girl leaned against the wall and watched them interact with their guests. She took a ferocious sip of her champagne, followed by another. Maybe it was unfair of her to expect attention on such an important day for them. But was it too much to ask to be introduced to at least one of the trillions of people there?
Deep in reverie, she didn't see the delegation of young people sweep across the marble floor, towards her, until they spoke.
"Judging from your looks, I'd say that you're Sarah."
Sarah jumped a few centimeters in the air and looked around. Four people stood before her, roughly her own age. There was a boy and a girl with black hair, and a boy and a girl with pale red hair. There was no way she could ever mistake them for human. They were too... intense. Colors seemed too bright on them, or too clear. It was nothing she could quite put her finger on, some sort of je ne sais quoi that was by definition impossible to define. So, logically, Sarah presumed that they must be Jeremy's family.
It was a girl who had spoken, one of the redheads, with an accent that certainly sounded British. Was that for verisimilitude, or did the Fair Folk just naturally sound that way? It was to her that Sarah directed her reply.
"I am. And judging from your looks, I'd say that you guys are my new step-cousins."
"Quite right," said the red-haired youth. "I'm Gabriel Arian, the eldest of us. This is my sister, Moira. The other two are Owain and Jessamyn Dara."
"Pleased to meet you all," said Sarah dutifully she shook the hands of each in turn, noticing the hesitancy with which they complied. When she touched Jessamyn's hand, she received a shock that made the hair on her arm stand up; the other girl didn't seem to notice. She wondered if it had anything to do with the glamour that a certain someone had told her about.
"Jess and I have another sibling, named Callista," mentioned Owain.
"Who knows where she's gotten to," added Jessamyn in a frosty voice. "Probably off looking for something to eat."
Moira snickered at this pronouncement; Gabriel rolled his eyes with the tolerant attitude of an older brother.
"There are five of you, then?" asked Sarah, searching for conversation topics. "I'm sorry, Jeremy didn't tell me much about his family."
"Five nieces and nephews, yes. Our parents and grandparents have come as well; Grandmother asked that we find you and bring you to her."
'Bring you to her' sounded unnecessarily ominous. Sarah swallowed.
"Sure." What else was there to say? "I'll just follow you, then."
"Very well," said Gabriel. "Come along." She sighed as the cousins turned and entered the crowd, with her trailing behind. Jeremy's family was ever-so-slightly giving her the creeps. Maybe they just weren't used to talking to humans. Or something. It had to be awkward, having your uncle marry a being of a different, er, species. A possibly inferior species. Maybe they would warm up later.
They followed a circuitous path through the other guests, dodging clumps of people and the occasional waiter. She marveled at the faces that flashed past as they walked: semi-famous actors and artsy directors, drama critics and culture-conscious socialites. They brushed past one moving group in close conversation; Moira narrowly avoided a collision with woman in Versace and Sarah riffled the cloth of a man's jacket as she dodged them. She experienced a minor heart attack when the man turned and she found Jareth's eyes on her... and did he wink? But they were quickly passed and gone.
The cousins halted when they arrived at a peculiarly empty ring of space against one wall. Six people stood at the center and some aura was repelling the other party-goers—they didn't seem to consciously avoid it, they simply walked around. Odd.
"Grandmother," called Jessamyn brightly. Sarah steeled herself.
Her step-grandmother, though, was not quite what she expected.
"My, how charming," breathed a sparrow of a woman as she broke away from the group and approached; her shoulders and collarbone were as delicate as a bird's where they emerged from her gown, and pale, gray-streaked brown hair was swept away from her heart-shaped face. Her pale blue eyes, Jeremy's eyes, looked Sarah up and down. "What a beautiful girl. Dear child, I am delighted to make your acquaintance. I am Angharad Dara, but I hope that you will call me grandmother as the rest of my children's children do."
"No problem." Sarah's voice was weak. She had expected an imperious dowager, not the wraith-like creature before her. "I'd be happy to."
"Excellent. If only my son had been married properly, though, you could have been given a decent introduction to the family. As it is, there's only myself, my husband, my children, and my grandchildren. Why, Jeremy's aunts and uncles and cousins weren't even invited! A disgrace, I say. Here, this—Cal, come here—this is my husband, Callistus."
A man stepped up, slightly on the portly side with blond hair and a beard going to gray. He was considerably taller than his wife.
"Enchanted," he said tersely. "What are you called again, my girl?"
"Sarah," replied Sarah.
"Pretty name, pretty lass. Can see you resemble the mother." He nodded slightly and moved away. Angharad rolled her eyes toward the heavens. The familiar gesture set Sarah more at ease.
"Now, this is Jeremy's brother Tristam and his wife Gwyneth." Tristam was built like his father and colored like his mother. Gwyneth was quite striking, with luminous black hair and warm brown eyes. Owain and Jessamyn were obviously her children. Sarah, without thinking, curtsied slightly. It was an automatic, instinctive reaction; she immediately flushed, but Tristam and Gwyneth seemed to approve.
"Why, she's so nice for a hum—an American girl," pronounced Gwyneth with wide eyes. It was either a truly naïve remark or she was being artfully rude. "We must be careful, or Owain will take a fancy to her." She tittered childishly; trying not to grimace, Sarah decided that she wasn't being facetious.
"We're all family now, Gwyneth," said Angharad in an arid tone. "You can remind your young hooligan of that if you like." The woman steered Sarah away from the pair with a grimace, Sarah sensing tension between the mother and daughter-in-law. They stopped at the last two people in the group: a brown-haired woman and a redheaded man, both tall and slim as models. Gabriel and Moira's parents, then.
"And finally, my daughter Rhoslyn and her husband Maddox. Rhoslyn, Maddox, this is Linda's daughter Sarah."
"How do you do, Sarah?" Rhoslyn's manner was brisk and her gaze almost ferociously assertive. It was intimidating, but somehow preferable to Gwyneth's simpering.
"Very good, thank you for asking. It's wonderful to meet Jeremy's family at last." As a gripping line of conversation, it lacked something, but it was an excellent expression for Sarah to fall back on when she had no idea what to say.
"And vice-versa, I assure you," uttered Maddox quietly. He took a languid sip from the champagne he was nursing. "Jeremy left us quite in the dark, as to what he was marrying into."
"Marrying into?" Sarah repeated, affronted. "He's marrying my mother. We marry people in America, not families. I don't know how things go in... Britain."
The pause before 'Britain' was marked. Sometimes anger led Sarah to act rashly. Too rashly.
The three adults arrayed around Sarah were watching her closely with suddenly impenetrable eyes. Did she see Rhoslyn make a quick gesture with one hand? Maddox muttered something under his breath, and Angharad laid a gentle hand on her arm. Her skin tingled where the woman touched her, and went numb. Sarah jerked back, winced, and remembered the Goblin King's advice the night before. They'd use a spell if they thought she'd blown their cover. It had no effect, beyond the sensation. Sarah wondered, nervously, if that meant he was telling the truth about her having magic of her own.
"Sorry," she said lamely. "You startled me. I think I'm a bit jumpy tonight, I've never been good around large groups of strangers."
"That's quite alright, my dear." Jeremy's mother did not try to touch her again. "Look, I see my son coming towards us now."
There was Jeremy indeed, striding through the crowd purposefully, jaw clenched tight as if he were grinding his teeth. He seemed to be doing a lot of that lately.
"Hello Mother, Rhoslyn, Maddox." He bent and kissed his mother on one pale pink cheek. "We're trying to herd everyone towards their tables now, so we can begin dinner. Name cards have been placed at each table setting, but Mother, and Father, are seated with Linda and me." He placed a hand lightly on Sarah's shoulder. "You don't mind if I borrow Sarah for a moment, do you?"
"Run along, it's alright," replied the older woman. The sister and brother-in-law nodded politely and sauntered away. Jeremy began striding back the way he came, pushing Sarah along in front of him.
"Jeremy, stop it," she snapped. "I hate being pushed. What are you all riled up about?"
"You're sitting with your mum and me too. Linda's agent will be there, as well as my parents."
"So? What's the matter?"
"Just, hell, this is the way it's been laid out since last week, it can't be helped. Just keep on smiling, Sarah. You don't have to talk to him. Lord knows that Julie can dominate the conversation better than any other ten people I know.
Sarah stopped in her tracks.
"Ho, no. You aren't saying what I think you're saying,"
"I am. I'm completely serious. Fine, fine, don't smile. But please don't make a scene, Sarah. Please. I made him promise not to bother you."
"This is a fucking nightmare," she growled under her breath.
"What?"
"Okay. Sure. Peachy keen. I'm going. I am not sitting next to him."
"No, I'm not that cruel. And thanks."
Sarah allowed Jeremy to lead her back to their table, a round affair with a white tablecloth and a voluminous centerpiece. There sat her mother already, with an empty chair on both sides. Sarah sat on her right, Jeremy on her left. The two Daras sat next to their son, and Julie the agent sat next to Sarah. Between Callistus and Julie sat... Jareth. Sarah damned him mentally.
Dinner began.
Item One: Introductions, once again. Sarah was so tired of introductions that she could vomit.
"I don't think that all of you have met," began Linda warmly as the waiters served the first course. "This is Julie Nordquist, my agent and very good friend. Julie, these are Cal and Angie Dara, Jeremy's parents, and Jareth Leighton, an old friend of his. And my daughter Sarah, of course."
They all made the appropriate noises. Sarah picked at her salad.
Item Two: The dreaded smalltalk.
Sarah kept her face down and ate mechanically through this portion of the proceedings, only half listening to the conversing adults. She avoided looking at Jareth at all costs. The first time she heard his smooth voice, she had to make an effort not to flinch. After awhile she got used to it. She could have quite happily spent the entire meal in silence, had it not been for the combined efforts of her mother and stepfather.
"Sarah," started Linda during a lull, "Doesn't your school do a spring play every year?"
"Yes." Sarah looked up hesitantly and was dismayed to find all eyes on her.
"What is it this year?"
"We're doing My Fair Lady."
"A musical," said Jeremy. "Are you trying out?"
"Maybe," she replied, allowing herself to be drawn in. "I love the play, but I can't sing. If we were doing Pygmalion instead... but maybe I'll try for a bit part."
"You are an actress as well, then?" asked Julie, smiling. Sarah shrugged.
"I like to act, but it seems presumptuous to call myself an actress. I'm not really that good."
"Don't say that," began a male voice. "You're quite good, when you can remember your lines."
It wasn't Jeremy or his father speaking. Sarah forced her neck to turn until the culprit came into view. She stared at Jareth dumbly. Was that a jab hidden in those words?
"As for singing," he continued, "That can be learned."
"Maybe I don't want to learn," she pushed through gritted teeth. He raised an eyebrow and his eyes sparkled merrily at her discomfort. She quelled the urge to launch a dinner roll at his smirk.
"Sarah," said Jeremy very quickly, "Did you meet all of my nieces and nephews? They're all about your age, you know."
"All but one, I think." The girl looked grateful as she turned her face toward her step-father. "Ca... I think it was Callista." She took a sip of water.
"My little sweetheart," sighed Angharad. "She was my youngest grandchild, until you. Sarah dear, you must come to visit me sometime. You're part of the family now, so it would only be proper. We're very well connected. I'm sure that there would be plenty of young men willing to make marriage offers, even though you are... American."
Sarah just barely kept herself from spewing out all the water in her mouth.
"Mrs. Dara, er, Grandmother, I don't think I'm quite old enough to think about that yet," she replied in a shocked voice.
"Nonsense, it's never to early for a contract. Callistus, do you think..." Angharad continued to talk about prospective suitors. Jeremy look embarrassed; Linda's mouth had formed a little 'o' of surprise and her eyes had gone wide. Julie's face was frighteningly blank, as if every thought in her head had suddenly been turned off. She certainly didn't look surprised at the topic, when she should have been. Sarah shivered, thinking of magic. And Jareth... Sarah looked over and saw him staring at her. Just staring. She shuddered again, glared, and saw the candle flame in the middle of the table turn blue and leap into the air several inches.
With the others engrossed in the conversation, only the girl and the Goblin King noticed. He raised his eyebrows pointedly. Magic, she thought.
And then, I think that I did that.
"Will you excuse me?" asked Sarah tightly. "I'll be right back." She rose, making a conscious effort not to trip in her tall shoes, and walked stiffly away before anyone could reply. She tried to tell herself that she wasn't running away. It was a lie.
She fled across the room and through the draped entrance, finding herself in a deserted hallway. Sounds of merriment poured out of the ballroom, but the space was otherwise quiet. Refreshing. Sarah found a discreetly-placed sign marked 'Ladies' and went through the door. The richly-decorated bathroom was even quieter. The girl sat down on the brocade couch and breathed deeply, trying to organize her thoughts.
Alright. She'd known for a long time that the Underground existed. But it never intruded on my life before. I was safe once I got home. She was okay with Jeremy being Something-Else. Jeremy was a good guy and she rarely saw him. It was kind of a relief to finally tell someone about the Labyrinth, so that wasn't so bad either. The reappearance of the Goblin King was a little—a lot— more disturbing. Even worse, he was trying to convince her that she had some sort of mystical bond to his kingdom. And now, worst yet, her step-grandmother wanted to marry her off to some random guy from the Underground. But she was safe; the Fair Folk couldn't spirit her away and neither could Jareth, not without her consent.
In short, Sarah felt like she had entered The Twilight Zone. Doo da doo doo, doo da doo doo. All she needed was a few flesh-eating aliens. See, she thought to herself. It's not so bad. No one's tried to eat me yet. Somehow, that wasn't very comforting.
Once she felt a little bit more grounded, Sarah stood up, smoothed her gray silk skirts, and started back towards the ballroom. A voice halted before she had gone a few steps from the restroom door.
"Trying to escape the party?" asked an amused voice. Sarah turned and saw the darker of Jeremy's two nephews. She tried to remember his name—Owain. That was it. He was tall and rangy, as though he hadn't quite grown into his height yet. Typical adolescent, except for the fine features, the grace, and the alabaster skin. Sarah would bet her life that he knew how good he looked.
"Looks like you are too," she replied cautiously. He shrugged.
"It's pretty boring. Nothing worse than going to your parents' parties. Too many old people." He grinned suddenly, cocking his head to one side and looking her up and down with intensely blue eyes. "Want to go find someplace more interesting?"
"I don't know," said Sarah, somewhat taken aback. "I can't just leave. And where would I go in an evening gown?"
"You could take off the evening gown. I could help you with that."
Sarah frowned. "You could go to Hell," she suggested. He laughed loudly, pushing away from the wall he leaned against and taking a step towards her.
"Calm down. I'm sure you look pretty enough under there."
"Don't make me repeat myself."
"And they say that human girls are easy. Damn, wasn't supposed to say that." His voice was sardonic; he obviously didn't care. "Easily fixed, I suppose." He waved a hand toward her languidly; she felt the same weird tingling that she had before, but nothing else. She narrowed her eyes angrily, hands moving to rest on her hips.
"I am tired of this," she spat. "Leave me the fuck alone, fairy-boy. I'm not having a good night."
Perhaps that was unwise, but it was almost worth it to see the look on his face. His pretty features morphed into an expression of pure fury that wasn't quite so attractive. The girl recalled, belatedly, that the Fair Folk, or whatever they were, did not like to be called fairies. No, not wise at all, but it felt wonderful to lash out after containing her turmoil for so long.
"Oops." Her voice dripped sarcasm. "Wasn't supposed to say that, was I? Should I have fallen down at the great lord's feet?"
He snarled something unintelligible and started towards her; Sarah skittered backwards in something close to alarm. She didn't know what would have happened if someone else hadn't intervened at that moment.
"My lord Owain." A man's clear, cold voice cut through the rage in the hallway, stopping both Sarah and the young man short. "What you do in your own home is your own affair. I would ask that you not harass the guests here."
She knew it was Jareth, even before he moved into view. She recognized his tone of voice; it had been directed at her more than once.
"She's just a human bitch," replied Owain crossly, looking away. "She wouldn't even remember."
"She is your cousin now." His voice turned absolutely frigid; he bit off every word carefully. "You will leave her alone. Even if she were not your cousin, you would leave her alone. Is that clear, little one?"
"...yes, sir," he muttered inaudibly.
"Then I think you should be getting back to your parents. Run along, now."
Owain went. He didn't run, but he walked a bit more quickly than natural. Jareth turned to Sarah.
"All right?"
"I don't need you to save me," she said grudgingly. He made a derisive noise.
"Yes, you do. Since you didn't see fit to follow my advice."
"What advice was that?"
"To be careful around them. I heard the end of your conversation."
"I've had a long night. I'm not just going to stand here while he makes passes at me."
"You should have walked back to the table, Sarah. Now he knows that, firstly, you are impervious to glamour, and secondly that you know he's not human." His expression was reproving.
"I don't think it actually registered. Maybe he thinks I just called him gay. Anyways, Grandma Angharad wants me to come visit her. That means she doesn't mind the truth coming out. She wants me to marry one of her people."
Jareth smirked at the venom in her speech. "I wouldn't recommend it. The Fair Folk are an arrogant race. You'd be better off looking elsewhere."
Sarah laughed disbelievingly. "Now that's rich, coming from you. If you'll excuse me, I'm going back to finish my dinner. With any luck at all, I'll go the rest of the night without anyone else hitting on me."
"I wouldn't count on it," he said quietly. "You look absolutely delicious tonight." She turned back, gaping, to see a mocking smile on his face. She couldn't tell if he was serious or just trying to get on her nerves.
"You can go to Hell too," she said tightly. Then she strode back into the ballroom. By the time she returned to the table, Jeremy and Linda had gotten Angharad under control, and the topic had changed to something innocuous. When Jareth joined them a few minutes later, she didn't even turn to glance at him. The rest of the night passed uneventfully.
The next morning, Sarah was on the train back home.
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A/N: Think Jareth isn't quite done with Sarah? Think her powers might start acting up, as said? Think her new family connections are going to stir her life up? Hmmm, quite possible.... so tune in for the next episode of Into the Rose Garden!!! cue melodramatic music. Comments, criticisms, and missed typos? Please tell me! Feedback is a gorgeous thing.