Chapter 15: Literary Mistakes

Jareth hadn't glanced back at Rielle's house until he'd made it to the edge of Tearmann Bhaile. When he did, he exhaled; Sarah hadn't followed. He wouldn't have been able to keep his concern masked for much longer. Based on the latest, however, he knew he'd have to explain… something to her soon. The boy was in Ardbinse. Or, had been in Ardbinse. He couldn't be sure now.

But one thing was certain: the High Court was responsible.

Jareth clenched his jaw again. He remained confident that they hadn't learned of Tearmann Bhaile, but that only eliminated one of their possible grievances. He supposed there was the slim possibility that they'd decided to reclaim the one human who'd left the Labyrinth. But the High Court wasn't known for their patience or spontaneity; if they'd merely been angered by Sarah's victory, why wait twenty years to initiate a plot against her? No, this was more likely instigated by recent events. And that, unfortunately, narrowed it down to his visits Above. If Rielle had been suspicious about the decline in Wished Aways, they undoubtedly had as well. There were only so many reasons why wishes would slim to near nothing; either humanity had lost its impulsive and angry tendencies, or they'd lost the source of the wish. The High Court would never believe the former—which in this one unfortunate instance, made them right.

He hadn't touched them, at first. He hadn't even considered it, despite Tearmann Bhaile. The task seemed unthinkable. Impossible. The books had been a means to an end. Rielle had known he'd been using them to seek her out; to make amends and start anew. Even in her youth, she'd been captivating. He'd never encountered a Wisher with a stronger will or fiercer heart. He'd known she'd regretted her actions immediately, but once the words were spoken, they were cogs in a wheel that couldn't stop until one hurtled off the edge. And he despised it. He despised that he couldn't shake his part until the game was played. And then, he despised the magic that he discovered followed her.

It was that magic, he mused, which damned him. He had been frustrated and impulsive. Thoughts of never seeing her again rendered him senseless. When he'd flown away from her window, he'd never expected he'd be unable to return. How was he to know that after someone defeated the Labyrinth, he'd be unable to sense them again? That he'd be unable to place where she lived? No one had ever won before. His role as Goblin King heightened his senses to the books, but after twelve years of following their pull to every corner of her world, he'd lost hope that'd she'd kept the book and it'd seemed the only good to be gained from the situation. At least some additional human lives would be spared by collecting the books and averting some wishes. And some smart part of him, he knew, would never be able to forget about her. To give up. And so, he searched. And his collection ballooned into a library of regret.

A mistake, he now realized. Because the one human life that mattered most to him was imperiled. As was her brother.

Jareth swore, bringing a gloved hand to rub at his eyes. There were no substitutes to create when there was no one to substitute. He should have realized that the High Court would notice that their steady stream of human slaves had dwindled to near nothing; he should have known they'd realize he'd played a part. They'd known as Goblin King, he could sense the books. He should have known they'd retaliate against those he couldn't - wouldn't - lose. Not after he'd finally found her again. He could wait for Rielle to contact her source for more information on the High Court's movements, but it wouldn't change his predicament. Grog would be fine. They'd likely taken one of his goblins to get his attention - thinking he'd barter for his release - but they clearly weren't aware his goblins had been escaping Ardbinse for decades. The boy was another matter. He couldn't risk waiting for a ransom demand if he couldn't monitor the boy's health. If the High Court did something to Sarah's brother, she would never forgive him. Damn.

He'd have to contact them. Immediately. He'd return the damn books to the Above if that's what it took to end this ploy. But first, he needed to get Sarah somewhere safe. And while it would have been his first choice, he suspected she wouldn't take well to being sequestered in his castle. Fortunately, they didn't appear to have tracked her to her apartment—he knew they would have taken her instead of one of his goblins, if so. It would have to do. He wouldn't be away long.

Rielle was sipping tea when he reentered her home. Sarah too had a cup before her, but instead of drinking, she seemed to be attempting an impersonation of a fish. And was she blushing? Despite his predicament, his lips twitched. He knew Rielle was bold but he'd not expected she'd render Sarah speechless in the mere minutes he'd been gone.

"Rielle. A word." He mirrored the curled finger she'd shown him earlier and after a brief hike of a brow, she pushed back her chair with a screech. Sarah, fortunately, still seemed too startled to do the same.

"You're a fool," she said quietly once she'd reached him at the door.

Jareth scowled. Too bold, oftentimes. "Noted. But you no longer need to contact your source; I'll speak to them myself."

Rielle stumbled slightly. Jareth despised the High Court. She couldn't think of the last time he'd sought their attention. "About what?" she hissed.

"The books," he bit out after Rielle grabbed him by the arm. "I suspect they're the root of this problem. I've been... collecting them," he whispered, flicking his eyes quickly to Sarah then back to Rielle.

Rielle released him as her eyes widened. "Collecting them? How many?" No wonder she'd seen so few Wished Aways as of late.

"Enough for them to notice, obviously," he snapped.

Her pause was heavy. "You need to tell her, Jareth. About everything-"

"-not until she and the boy are safe." Sarah's ignorance on this was a necessary deception. Her esponse to his actions was still too difficult to predict, especially if her brother remained in the High Court's possession. The timing was key. "If it's the books they desire, I will return them."

Rielle said nothing as Jareth moved from the doorway to lean against the wall by Sarah's he'd formerly occupied. In a flash, he'd pasted over his frustration with his practiced calm. He reached out an arm. "It's time to leave, Sarah. I know who has your brother."

"The High Court," Sarah confirmed without question. They were the only ones who'd been mentioned before he'd fled; the ones he'd seemed most concerned of.

"Yes. But I know what they seek, and it's not Grog or your brother. They sought my attention; I can get what they desire."

Sarah was now familiar with his usual brand of vague. Like blinking or breathing, his deception was a reflex. So innate that it felt instinctual. Just as her persistence. "Which is what? The Wished Aways?" It seemed inevitable with all his scheming that he'd be found out. She'd seen Grog; it was hard to imagine the rest of his goblins were better suited for deception.

"Not... directly," he sidestepped. She'd learned enough about the High Court to ask the right questions. He should have known she'd demand answers now. Determination was one of her strongest qualities. For all else, he relished it.

"Jareth."

But, she was in too deep now. Too involved to accept his half-truths or usual offhand ease. "Please, Sarah," he said as he allowed a sliver of impassively to fall. "Let me fix this first." Then, he would tell her. And when the lines of her face softened, and she reached for his arm, he prayed with every part of his being that he could. The High Court had been without a new toy for some time, and the boy knew nothing about their proclivities. Still, Jareth took some small relief in the fact that they wouldn't need to travel on foot to exit the enchantments. The boy wouldn't be missing for long. Though the enchantment was complex, he and Rielle still felt the benefits of a prompt escape outweighed the potential dangers. When Sarah's arm was tucked securely under his own, he nodded at Rielle, called a crystal, and drew Sarah tight against his side.

The tug at Sarah's stomach came without a whisper from Jareth, and as she clenched her eyes shut again, she instinctively held on tighter. He'd said the visit would only take a day at most; after how long it'd taken to get to Tearmann Bhaile, she should have known that getting out didn't have the same limitations. A drawn-out mewling greeted her when the pressure eased. Jasper. She'd left him plenty of food and water; he wasn't the one in need.

Pulling slightly away, she frowned at him with crossed arms. "Why'd you bring us here? You said the High Court had Toby." That's why she'd accepted his arm. If he thought he was just going to leave her here - completely in the dark about why they'd sought his 'attention' - he was insane. The bastards had taken multiple people. They'd tried to pin the blame on her for a damn political kidnapping. Like hell would she tolerate getting left behind and left in the dark.

Her indignation momentarily caught him off-guard. "You know I can't bring you there."

"Why the hell not? You said they want something from you; not me."

Oh, she was a stubbornly persistent thing. Jareth exhaled softly, knowing he need say something to end her insistence. "Yes, but you are a temptation I doubt they could refuse."

At that, her brow furrowed slightly. He'd been clear that the court was quick to stake their claim on humans, but still... "A temptation? They've already gotten your attention. I'm just one person." She dropped her arms as she shifted her weight, watching the corners of his lips pinch as he looked everywhere but her eyes. Even after all they'd done, he still refused to explain what was going on; what he'd done, why she was even involved. She could take it, whatever it was. Her hand caught his chin. Changing tactics, she asked softly, "what is it you aren't telling me?"

She was close enough to see the whites of his eyes expand slightly, but that was the only immediate tell that'd he heard her question. Perhaps, she was out of place to touch him like this, but he'd had no qualms about doing the same to her. She had his attention. Up this close, he always had hers. Still, he only stared, so she whispered again, voice surprisingly steady, "what do they want from you? And why did the High Court involve me?"

He didn't speak, though his answer banished the first question far from her mind. The move was just as sudden as his unspoken question in the hallway, but this time, with her hand on his chin and her relative confidence in his attraction, she was somewhat prepared for his lips on hers. She felt one of his arms close around her back, the other hand at her cheek, and her pulse hitched as he pulled her tight again. Still, that didn't ease the press of thin lips, the demand of tongue. It was undeniable: he was attracted to her. Tempted by her? Distracted? Something warm curled in her gut at the thought, and she allowed it to take root. The whole premise continued to blip on the edge of reality, but as he moved his hand from her cheek to tangle in the hair at the back of her neck, and she responded with her own demand, the guttural sound in his throat was more powerful than words. Want. Need.

She was just as distracted as he was; as she thought he was. His lips were a comforting promise. His hand in her hair steeled confidence. They would rescue Toby. They would solve any mystery thrown their way. They would settle debts and bargains owed. She still didn't understand everything - still found it somewhat incomprehensible - but there was no other explanation for an answer such as his. He'd bargained his way into her life even before he knew the court had involved her.

The High Court wanted his attention; he wanted hers.

The arm pulling her tight slipped unexpectedly, and she felt the air crackle. His other hand receded from her hair to find hers on his hip, lifting. Something round and cool - one of his crystals, she realized absently - was pressed into it. All the while, lips still on hers, telling her without words that he was would be back to continue this conversation. That she could contact him if necessary. He was promising he would fix what he'd done.

It was enough for now.

Master.

Even the thought of the word ravaged Toby like poison. This man (fae?) was likely Dough's goddamn master. The urge to knock him unconscious was as overwhelming as that moment he'd discovered that fantasy creatures and magic were real. Every nerve ending felt like it was being constricted, but as he clenched his fists, Toby fought through the pressure and stood to consider the asshole who'd stopped him.

For someone who called himself 'Master', he looked relatively... unremarkable. For a magical creature, that is. Like the Goblin King, his eyebrows arched upwards in grave angles and there was a strange silvery shadow above his blue eyes, but beyond that, Toby believed he would blend into a crowd. His short, jet-black hair was greased back from his forehead but hung loosely around the rest of his face. He was dressed in all black—undoubtedly, as intimidation. But there was nothing about his appearance that suggested he held any sort of authority. No staff or crown. No amulet, like the Goblin King's. He offered no crystal and his hands were settled casually into pockets. Pockets. As if he wasn't at all threatened by Toby's presence. Or at all repentant for kidnapping and incarcerating him and Grog. And Dough.

Toby snapped. "You're a bastard for leaving Dough down there."

But his captor just smiled in return; the same vicious smile that curdled blood and carved deep into bone. "Humans are such predictable creatures." He lifted his hands from his pockets and hitched a finger at Toby. "Come. We have need of you."

"No fucking way I'm going anywhere with you. Send me and Grog home."

When the man tilted back his head and chortled, Toby flinched. Without warning, that invisible pressure curled in deeper, yanking the center of Toby's gut forward as if magnetized. With a wayward flick, one of the doors at the side of the hall opened and Toby was unceremoniously chucked through it, landing hard onto marble. It was only the subtle rumble of laughter that cut off the series of expletives balanced on his tongue. Because in here, unlike the hallway, there were multiple assholes. He didn't care to see them, but when he felt himself thrust upwards, he couldn't help but look.

Three crooked smiles greeted him from a large, circular table draped with black and gold. The three men - likewise garbed in all black - carried the same easy arrogance that he'd seen in the hallway. Inhuman—all of them. As Toby stood glaring, the man who called himself 'Master' brushed past him to sit in a highbacked chair with a distinctive 'M' burned into its wooden back. Two chairs were empty, though only one of them matched the gratuitous size and style of the chair with the 'M'. Someone was missing. Someone important. Toby tucked the 'A' into memory as he was thrust forward into the small, rickety chair at the near-end of the table.

M - Toby refused now to even think of him as Master - settled back into his chair before crossing one knee. His smile tilted as he asked sardonically, "are you truly a member of the mortal law enforcement?"

Toby held his glare, but resisted the urge to leap across the table—he knew he wouldn't get more than a few inches before one of the men threw him backward. His tongue, however, wasn't as restrained. Curiosity was a dangerous vice of the Williams clan. "Did someone quit your twisted little club?"

The subtle laughter wasn't as subtle the second time around. With a raised brow, M side-eyed the empty chair to his left before retraining his focus on Toby. "A is currently engaged elsewhere. But as I asked, it's unsurprising you didn't realize as much." And again, the three unnamed men chuckled.

"Engaged... elsewhere?" Damn the asshole; Toby thought himself a decent enough cop for a trainee. He could get answers when he really needed them. He found himself a goblin. Something in the laughter warned him that he should already know this answer, though. Which seemed impossible. Did he know A? "Where?"

"Above, obviously," M answered with an offhand wave. "But he's done what he needed to do and more." Sharp white canines flashed, then: another warning. "You're here. Now," - and he waved his other hand across the table, calling five plates and goblets from nowhere, "we have things to discuss. Namely, your sister: Sarah Williams."

Curiosity struck again, though dread crept up right behind it. Everything about this plot always seemed to come back to his sister. He leaned in. "What about Sarah?"

M picked up his fork and knife, ignoring Toby's cautious stare as he sliced into the leg of meat on his plate, though his lips twitched. "Of course you wouldn't know what she means to the Goblin King." A bite of meat followed easily.

"What she means?" Toby questioned. The connection was ridiculous. "She beat his Labyrinth. What the hell does that have to do with your kidnappings?" When M's cohorts only chuckled again, new concern struck. Kidnappings were not amusing; someone was still missing. "What'd you do with Dylan?"

"Dylan?" More laughter, unwavering. "How quaint; you actually care for him. You'll be pleased to learn that he is as he was, unharmed."

"Then give. him. back," Toby bit out.

"Watch yourself, boy," M snarled, dropping his cutlery with a clatter. "We'll be making the demands. In any case, we did not take Dylan." Toby stilled at M's admission, though he should have expected it. The shadow in the alley - eerily familiar - had called it a ruse. Dylan was unharmed. ...Dylan had never been taken? But he wasn't able to process what that meant before M took a long drink from his goblet, and swallowed in pleasure. "Now, Mr. Williams, about your sister."

Agent Collier had been loaned a small office at the westmost corner of the station, and Murdock exhaled in relief when he found him there, hunched over the book at his desk. At his knock on the open door, Collier's head perked up.

"Yes?"

"Evening," Murdock greeted. "I... ugh... Chief Danon asked me to look at something in the book. A possible lead. Unless you've figured out who A.H.C. is?"

Collier closed the book with a frown. "No." He offered it to Murdock. "You're welcome to have a look."

He would be looking for himself in a bit, but with one of the subjects so close, Murdock couldn't resist asking the question. "Chief mentioned that you'd known him a while. That this wasn't the first... uh... incident."

"You mean the ninety-eight explosion."

Murdock hesitated; though he remained expressionless, Collier's words had dropped like lead. The gravity echoed. It was plainly not a matter he deigned to discuss, though at this point, the dam had been broken. "...Yes."

Collier stood, tucking the front of his shirt in his pants before he picked up several of the files on his desk. He too hesitated, but then offered them in turn to Murdock. "Start with these. If anyone asks, you never saw them. I'll be right back."

Murdock clasped the file neatly as he watched Collier leave. And when he opened the one at the very top, he realized immediately Collier's desire for secrecy: this otherwordly investigation went far beyond the kidnapping of Olson's son.

Beyond, and above.

A/N: Much love to all! Y'all are amazing for following this crazy mystery-romance along.

So there you have it: the big mystery of what Jareth has been doing Above. There are more, but I think these are the biggest hints I dropped: Grog revealing to Toby that Jareth had been Above a lot but there hadn't been a ton of Wished Aways recently; Jareth's conversation about him being a 'collector' when the agents showed him the book; Jareth's surprise while eating his sandwich that Sarah kept her copy; the expanse of red and gold (copies of the book) in that room Sarah fell into in chapter 11. The not being able to sense Sarah bit was definitely trickier to riddle out - I tried to have Rielle leave more obvious hints in her comments in the last chapter - but I try to drop breadcrumbs about all the mysteries as I go. (And I'm sure it's not perfect as I don't speak Irish, but 'Ardbinse' roughly translates to 'High Tribunal', and 'Tearmann Bhaile' is 'Sanctuary Town'.)

Some musings on Jareth: I see him as someone who tightly holds his cards (or emotions/answers) until he knows he'll succeed at getting what he wants-hence him bargaining his way first into lodging, then, testing his suspicions about Sarah's attraction. He's a crafty fae, has already been burned once, and it took him twenty years to find her again; he's going to try his damndest to not screw it up again. That doesn't mean he goes about it the best way, obviously...