Toby was hyper as only a six-year-old on a sugar high can be.
He'd begun his day by throwing a truly spectacular temper tantrum; screaming, crying, kicking, and beating his hands on the ground had been involved. It was Oscar-worthy. By the time he was growing hoarse, his mom and dad were fed-up enough to do just as he'd hoped: they'd gone down to breakfast without him, leaving him alone in the hotel room. Sarah would have been horrified, but then she could hardly have expected better from a couple who would leave their crying infant with a sulky teenager.
As soon as the door had clicked shut behind them, Toby had put the next phase of his plan into action. Working quickly, he had loaded his backpack with needed supplies: his favorite teddy bear, clean underwear, and the entire package of candy canes that his mom had hidden in her carry-on. He slipped on his lucky Spider-Man sneakers, pulled the Velcro tight, and looked around the room for his favorite baseball cap. Where was it?
His heart was pounding in his ears as he searched high and low for the wayward cap. He was sure that at any minute his parents would change there minds and come through the door. If that happened, his plan would fail. He'd be doomed to a Christmas with no Sarah, no goblins... and no Goblin King.
Faster. He had to move faster!
Finally he spied his beloved Yankees cap, snagged on the dusty ruffle beneath the bed. In a flash, it was on his head and he was slipping through the heavy door. The long corridor outside was dimly lit and smelled of floor polish and soap. It was a big place, but Toby had studied the layout in the picture on the back of their door- asking his dad questions when he didn't understand something - under the guise of fire-safety. Toby knew all about fire safety from school, where a cranky, fat fireman with sweaty armpits had shown them a filmstrip and then passed out lame, plastic fire chief hats as though they were still in preschool. Sheesh.
He kept his ears sharp, alert for any grown-up calling or in any way taking notice of him, but he needn't have worried. Other than an elderly man leaning heavily on a thick, wooden cane, Toby saw no one. He scurried to the end of the corridor, pushed through the fire door to the stairs, and scampered down to the main level with no adults the wiser. Once through the lower fire door, it was a simple matter to sneak across the lobby, duck down the vending hall and out the back door to the covered parking lot. The little brown sedan with the Mexican plates was right where his Dad had parked it yesterday afternoon. Now his plans hinged on one final thing...
His mom and dad disagreed about locks. His mom favored them, and had been known to lock his dad out accidentally on more than one occasion. His mom always locked the car doors, and carried her keys (and three duplicates) on little pink-and-lavender ribbons tucked inside her enormous purse. Far from home, in a strange country? His mom would never leave the car unlocked. Never. But...
...it was a rental car. Her duplicates were useless, and Toby had observed that there was only one set of keys given to his dad when they picked up the little car at the dingy rental desk outside the airport. His dad was the only one who had driven since their arrival yesterday, and his dad never locked his car. Or his house, or anything else. Toby was banking that the rental car would be unlocked. He had stashed something important in the backseat, wedged deeply between the ugly plaid cushions where a gap revealed their ill-fitting nature. If only his mom hadn't come back and locked-up the now-empty rental...
Toby couldn't help but hold his breath as he reached for the door handle, lifted it, and - pulled. Phew. It opened! He breathed out his relief into the musty interior of the car. His hand plunged down between the cushions, bypassing crumbs, a gum wrapper, and finally closing around the item he sought - its hard, round shape protected by one of his dad's old socks. Toby squeezed it once for luck before dumping it out into his hands.
In his sweaty hands, the crystal sphere was smooth and cool. He stroked it lightly, afraid it might not work.
He'd knew Sarah used the spheres to call on King Jareth and the goblins, but could he? There was only one way to find out. He took a deep breath, and looked hard into the sphere's depths.
"Hello? Is this thing working? Can anybody hear me?"
Silence, yawning wide in the fading light. His own heartbeat was the loudest sound, save for some distant chattering in Spanish from the stairwell across the lot. Toby felt a stab of fear. What if it didn't work?
"Please." He rubbed the crystal, leaning forward and fogging it with his breath; rubbing again. "Please, I want to go to the castle. I wish..." His eyes caught a spark, swirling lazily in the crystal's core. It was hazy-bright, like sunshine as seen through the window of a dark room. His voice grew firm. "I wish to go to the castle. I wish to visit the Labyrinth."
The spark flared, and Toby squeezed his eyes shut, careful not to drop the crystal. There was a rush of air and a sort of tug, right below his belly button. Something tickled his nose, and he sneezed. The air had changed, becoming cooler, more fragrant. He smelled straw and spice and something that could only be...
"Goblins!" Toby opened his eyes, smiling wide. Surrounding him, goblins of various sizes returned his grin.
Sarah moaned. The sheets of her (woefully single) bed twisted around her flailing limbs like morning glory around a fence-post ... or mistletoe. Sweat glued her to the mattress, and turned her hair into a mass of little garden snakes, writhing about her head. Her hands clutched at the pillow, at the bedding, at nothing at all.
She was lost in a desert where the too-white sand scalded her eyes even as the ground burned her bare feet. It didn't matter. Her thoughts were consumed by thirst. Somewhere, she knew, somewhere there was water. If she could only find it.
She wandered, lost, directionless, no purpose outside of the consuming need to slake her thirst. The sun made her vision swim with bright spots, the heat worming its way beneath her skin. Desperate for relief, she shed shirt, jeans...even underwear as she wandered, keeping only her socks.
On the top of a hill of shifting sand, a spot of green caught her eye just ahead. Oasis? It must be! She quickened her pace, but her dust-dry throat seemed intent on choking her. Sand clogged the corners of her eyes, and plugged her nostrils. The lack of oxygen made her vision swim, finally driving her to her knees...
"Sarah?" The voice was cool and smooth, like ice. Something shook her. Hard. "Wake up Sarah!"
Her eyes fluttered open, but the image they projected to her woozy brain made no sense. The King of the Goblins was bending over her, mismatched eyes dark with...anger? Or maybe passion? She giggled and attempted to sit. The room spun crazily and forced her back down. Whoa.
The king's face leaned closer. Amusement flickered across his lean face, but the expression he settled into was stern. "What have we here, precious thing?" He lay a hand across her forehead like a parent checking for a temperature, and frowned.
Sarah giggled again. Her head felt like it might float away if he removed his hand. She arched her back, pressing into him. Drunk, Sarah. You're drunk. Except that wasn't possible, not on two sips of warm beer. She let her gaze linger on his face, trying again to make out his expression. Passion, she finally decided, definitely passion. She pressed harder, and was rewarded by his other hand arriving on her hip, pushing her back down onto the bed. She grinned. This was more like it! She twisted a bit and snaked one leg up and around his waist. "Jareth..."
The Goblin King's eyes widened, and for a moment it seemed as though he agreed with her assessment of the situation. His hand on her hip tightened its grip, fingers kneading her flesh through the thin material of her lounge pants. His other hand moved from her forehead to her cheek, tenderly stroking. The tip of his little finger approached her parted lips and traced little circles at their corners. Sarah moaned.
Finally... The tip of her tongue flicked out, licking his finger like a cat. Come to think of it, she felt like a cat; like a relaxed cat. Languorous. She let her hands wrap around the back of his head, her fingers teasing their way through his hair. "Jareth," she purred, rolling the "r" in a way that would have caused her sober self to retch. Gods, but she wanted him. How could she ever have thought that there could be anyone else but him? She tugged at his neck, willing him to go lower, pulling at him...
With a groan, the Goblin King wrenched himself away, breaking her grasp and pushing her away from him. He staggered backward off the bed, face ragged. "No, Sarah. Not like this."
Sarah felt the pain of his withdrawal like the blade of a knife drawn sharply across unprotected skin. There were no words. She blinked up at him, wincing as though stung. He doesn't want me...
"Sarah..." His voice shook, just a little. "It's the Vine." His eyes studied her face, reading the hurt and confusion written there. He gave a bitter laugh. "I'm afraid it's gone to your head." He shook his own sadly, a soft smile ghosting his lips. "It's the magic you want. Not me." He reached one hand out to cover her mouth when she would have protested, though the contact seemed to cause him pain. "As it turns out, there is someone who wants you - very badly. In fact it is in acting to fulfill his wish that I am here; a happy coincidence, as it turns out."
Sarah struggled to grasp the meaning of his words, but she felt as though she were hearing them from underwater, and they didn't make sense.
Jareth sighed. "Once again, you will make me -"
Gi and Hoggle burst into the room and stopped dead at the sight of the Goblin King.
Gi's mouth dropped open, but her eyes were twinkling.
Hoggle's face was thunderous amidst its clouds of white hair. "Ha!" he cried, jabbing a fat forefinger at the Goblin King. "I knew ye were responsible for this! What have ye done to her?"
Jareth's face took on a bemused expression. He sank down gracefully to a sitting position on the edge of Sarah's bed, carefully not looking at its owner. "I'm sorry, my good fellow, but I fear we have not been introduced." He reached into the depths of his patchwork leather cloak and withdrew a trio of crystal spheres, letting them swim through his fingertips like fish through coral. "I'd take care of that little chore now," he said lazily, "but I'm afraid I must remove Sarah at once."
Sarah's vision had grown dim, and she lay staring at the ceiling as though it were the sky on a starry night.
"What's wrong with her?" asked Gi, placing one hand on Hoggle's shoulder when the little man looked as though he wanted to launch himself at the tall king.
Jareth smiled at her, and then launched the crystals into the air where they floated like soap bubbles, colors swirling within. "Nothing I can't fix, given a bit of time." He leaned forward and blew one crystal-bubble so that it swooped over Hoggle's head. "And once she's gone from here, Mr. Vine should have no trouble at all with his gardening." He turned abruptly, sweeping up Sarah in his arms and springing to his feet in one smooth motion.
Hot damn, thought Gi, where can I get me one of those?
"Now wait just a bog-blamed minute..." began Hoggle, but it was too late. He groaned. When it came to the King of the Goblins, he was always too late.
Gi squeezed his arm. "That's a neat trick. Where'd he take her? The Labyrinth?" She caught sight of Hoggle's expression and stopped. "What's the matter? Isn't this a good thing?"
Hoggle tried to ignore the warm feeling in his arm, tried to resist leaning into its source. This was no time to go soft in the head. He pulled himself away with a grimace. "Believe me, missy, that kind o' help we don't need." He sighed and left the room, playing a hunch. At the front door he paused, just briefly, before yanking it open.
Sure enough, the vines were already crumbling; green leaves going brown and brittle.
"Well I guess he was right," said Gi, coming up behind him. She poked a vine and it fell away at her touch. "Cleaning up this stuff should be no problem."
But Hoggle had a feeling that his problems were just beginning.