Chapter 14. Luring a Dragon
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Author's note and warning
Due to violence and sexual content.
This chapter contains both sex and violence. It also
Contains a blood sacrifice.
Be warned!
Read at your own risk
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Sarah stood quietly before the mirror, thinking how far she'd traveled since that night long ago when she'd spoken words she'd no idea held such power. She had never really wanted to be rid of Toby, not really. It still pained her that she'd sent the poor child into the grasp of that demon, the Goblin King. She prayed that the child now a precocious five year old, would not remember his stay in the keeping of the Goblins except as little more than a dream. She had only turned fifteen a few weeks before; she knew so little of life back then. She had been a dreamer… not just in her sleeping hours but also in her waking ones. Still looking for castles in clouds and knights in shiny armor, and enchanted prince's to come and sweep her off her feet. A girl in a poet's shirt and jeans running a Labyrinth in thirteen hours had changed all that.
She looked in the mirror, gone was the innocence, and the hope for love. No one could touch her; no one could share passion with her, thanks to what the Goblin had taken from her. He may as well have taken her virginity as well; it was of no use to her as she was; dreamless and hopeless. There had been no dates, no parties, no prom…no hot sweaty bodies in the back seat of a car. No exploration of bodies… no sex… except what she'd been able to have with the help of a battery operated device and little satisfaction that brought. After the first few tries she'd given up on that as well. She looked at the nightstand and the pills she'd not taken for days now. She wanted to be on edge, to be filled with rage. Rage was one thing she was sure that Goblin would understand, and she wanted to direct it all towards him; for he'd robbed her of much more than just the ability to dream.
She'd planed for months on just what to wear when they chanted and preformed the spell that would bring Jareth to her. At first she was going to wear the robes they wore for Sabbaths, but that seemed wrong and almost sacrilegious. This was vengeance and judgment, and as she had with Daniels she wanted it to be something the King would remember. She'd looked at the chaps with the red leather thong bikini bottom tied at her hips, and the bolero jacket with its red leather flames. Under which she wore only the gold nipple jewelry. On her feet were spiky red heels, gone were the flat loafers she'd run the Labyrinth with. She was no sweet innocent little girl, and the King would know it. Pulling her long hair up she fashioned a genie ponytail to come out of the back of the mask that fit her face snugly without causing harm to skin or hair. She carried a riding crop in her hand tightly, giving her feeling of if not power, authority. She was not surprised to find most of the bikers had left the compound. It was the middle of the week and most of the boys would be attending hot and wild parties elsewhere. Only Bear and Snake had opted to stay on the grounds in case they were needed. The girls had not shared with them what exactly was planned, but Bear had an idea, and thought it was a matter of prudential judgment for him to stay close.
Bryn was lighting the smudging stick when Sarah arrived, she was also dressed in leathers. Her form fitting leather skirt laced up the back and was cut with a slit up to her upper thigh; she also had a bolero jacket that showed the chains dangling off her erect nipples. Her long red curls made a strange mane for the wolf masks, yet seemed just right. Her hands shook a little as she smudged Sarah and was in turn smudged herself.
Lilith entered the chamber last; her wicked leather harness left nothing to the imagination. Baring her breasts, her rings and chains dangling enticingly as she strutted in thigh high boots with a heel that looked impossible to stand on let alone walk in. The tiger mask covering her eyes and nose seemed to just make her look more feral and dangerous. "I'm here, and the party can start." She quipped prancing across the floor.
"You're not the guest of honor," Sarah reminded her sharply, suspiring both Lilith and Bryn with its biting tone. "Bryn smudge her, and let's get to work." Sarah looked in the book she'd been studying from once more. Her manner and body language told everyone concerned she had no patience for Lilith right now.
Bryn passed the smudging stick over the third member of the little circle. "What's that book Sarah's reading from, I don't remember that book," she whispered to Lilith, filled with an urgent need to know.
"Oh just some book of darker spells I came across," Lilith made light of the question and of the answer; "Nothing for you to worry your pretty little red head about."
The Welsh girl doubted that and told Lilith what was on her mind without reservation. There was no ritual here asking how she was coming into the circle, and she knew it was time to let the chips fall where they may. "Look you idiot, if you've done something, given Sarah information I need to know what it is."
Tauntingly Lilith looked at the girl she now thought of as her nemeses. "I gave her a book that will help her, that's all…"
"What book?" Bryn demanded. "What book?"
"Oh it's just a bunch of spells that were translated from an old Anglo-Roman scroll…" Lilith said with exasperation. "I don't even know what it was called…"
Bryn's mind began to reel about, and she swallowed hard. "Tell me you didn't give her a copy of the La Tène scrolls."
Lilith's eyes went cold as ice and hard as flint. "La Tène, yes, I do believe that's what the book was called. What's the worry Bryn? Don't you want Sarah to get her dreams back? Or are you worried that she'll see that I'm the one who loves her?"
"Those scrolls are full of dark spells that none of us are ready to use. I've got to stop her." She turned away, looking for Sarah, but Lilith grabbed her.
"It's too late," Lilith gloated. "I've given the High Priestess the words of power…A gift you will never be able to surpass. When Sarah has her dreams back, she will look at me with favor and you'll be out of luck."
"Out of luck? You idiot! This has nothing to do with helping Sarah; it's just you wanting your way." Bryn shoved Lilith back. "I want Sarah to get her dreams back, maybe even more than you do. But giving her that translation was not the way to do it! That language goes back to the time of the Tuatha Dé Danann, The children of Danu. Most Ban Drui stay as far from those scrolls as we can get for a reason and you go and hand them to a girl whose very balance is in question!"
"Feeling the change?" Lilith taunted. "Soon Sarah won't need you."
"You are the biggest fool," Bryn balled her fists. "What makes you think she's going to need you?"
The face of gloating on the Greek girl fell, all her bravado crumpled and she was left with her naked soul showing. "She has to…. I love her… I'd do anything for her… I gave her the books and the words… I showed her how to use the power…"
Bryn exhaled in exasperation, "Lilith, the power was already part of Sarah, and all you've done is opened Pandora's box all over again!"
Sarah had put space between herself and the other two bickering witches. Even with the energies of the ley lines she felt like her skin was too tight on her. She looked out the window, "Bryn, Lil, the sun is going down; we have to light the candles now, make the sacrifice and say this chant." Her voice was urgent as she moved toward the chamber.
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Sitting with the other honored guests at the Samhain festival, Jareth mused at how far his régime had come in the past thirteen moons. While there were still those who scoffed at and scorn the Goblin Realm, they were fewer in numbers and had a much quieter voice. No longer were there raiding parties on his boarders, the Harpies had seen to that. His Kingdom's forces were growing stronger, and gaining back some of the long lost respect that he felt they deserved. His trade accords were building up the revenues of his coffers and he had begun a rebuilding schedule. The High Court could find no fault with him; he was making sure to attend what functions he could. However he drew the line at things that would interfere in his being about to carry out his duties.
He looked at his cousin seated at his side; Devon had recovered from the humiliation supplied by Della who once in a while would rub salt into his wound. Devon for his part, still jested with both Della and Daisy, but never betting more than a few coins on some wager the guards were haggling over. He had not spoken to Della directly for months after the incident, and things had remained awkward until Devon let it go.
Jareth had begun to include the presence of Lady Rosalind in his parties more and more. At first she'd been a good foil against any female who had her sights set on either the King or his Baron. Or at least she seemed to be. When he had attended the Solstice celebration at Oberon's palace Rosalind had been on his arm, and there seemed to be more than one whisper of her elevated status. Jareth had thought that would be it, and there'd be no more unwanted advance from young Fae women or their hopeful mothers. However he had been mistaken, for when Candlemas arrived he was surprised to find Tanya lying in wait for him outside the King's chapel at Avalon. She'd made a great show of having a special candle for him to use during the ceremony. She'd been a little too welcoming as well, and even Oberon seemed embarrassed by the lengths the girl was willing to go to. Ostera had come and Jareth had not attended court as he was needed in his own Kingdom. When Beltane arrived he had pointedly brought Rosalind on his arm to the great Morrison Dance and the Maypole ceremony. In spite of that the little minx Tanya had boldly invited the King to be her partner for one of the dances about the Maypole. He'd give her credit for being bold and persistent and perhaps a bit more tenacious than he'd thought she'd be. When the High King's court arrived at the Goblin Palace for Midsummer, Jareth had doubled his guards to put the girl off. He'd failed. Occasion after occasion had come and gone, and still she persisted in chasing the unwilling King. Now it was Samhain once again, and this time he was not on his kingdom's soil. He was once more on Avalon's lovely shores, and once more being pursued by Tanya and her crown hungry parents.
Their arrival foreshadowed the direction this visit was going to be traveling. Oberon looked a bit tense when the younger King's party arrived. He was almost stiff in his greeting and that in and of itself had given warning to both Jareth and Devon. Word had it that there had been several complaints lodged with the High Court against the Goblin Realm. This reception and the coolness he was received with by other Fae told the young king that the rumors must be true.
They had kept the assembled group going to Avalon to a small number, and had refused accommodations for remaining on Avalon. Jareth had wanted to get away from the Fae court nearly as soon as they had arrived. He'd never seen so many hungry female faces. "My God and Goddess are they all in heat?" he had quipped to Devon who'd not only agreed but had snickered cruelly.
Now seated at the festival dinner he was feeling more and more like a piece of meat on display. He was not certain but he had a feeling pressure was being applied to the High King to push marriage contracts on both the young eligible royals. He looked with stormy eyes at the Fae women in the court that were the most likely candidates being offered up. Tanya of course, for she was perhaps the most visible, and on of the higher ranking ladies in question. Then there was the daughter of the High King's advisor, Lord Bartle, whose daughter Lilia was afraid of her own shadow. Jareth could just image what she'd be like after but one hour in the Goblin Castle. There was the niece of the War Minister, a brassy thing called Talia, whose voice could bring you to tears. A widow named Mina, a barely out of the cradle creature called Coral, and a few others whose names the young king could not recall; slim pickings at best. Lastly the one female in the entire Fae population whom was the least likely being Jareth would ever deem to even look upon, Cerci the daughter of Morriagin of Talagon Jareth's sworn enemy. Devon would occasionally place a hand to his cousin's sleeve and whispered to him something to keep them both amused.
Long before the bale fires were ignited and the merry songs were being played by the mistrials Jareth had his fill of this feasts merriment. His skin felt too tight, and he could not enjoy some thing as simple as a goblet of mulled wine. Every voice at this banquet seemed to irritate him to no end. He watched as young men and women partnered up for reels and roundels, and other dance that would be preformed this evening. Both he and Devon had made refusals to be partnered up, and were standing off to the side hoping against hope not to attract too much attention. Devon was worried, Jareth seemed more stressed out and anxious than he'd seen him since the first days of the new movement in the kingdom.
Tanya moved like a ghost, stealthy and bold. She was at the side of the Goblin King before he could even perceive she'd arrived. "Won't you dance with me?" she placed a hand on the King's sleeve; he pulled back from her with a swift movement. Her eyes opened wide as he shuddered at her touch.
"Miss Winderspire," Jareth growled at her. "When will you leave me alone?"
Not to be put off, the girl smiled softly, thinking she would charm him. "Not until you've a Queen at your side." She looked at the other free young women at the gathering. "From what I see, I'm the best choice you could make."
Jareth was astounded by her boldness, "Tanya, you try my patience." His voice was hard as flint as he spoke to the girl. "I am not interested in taking a Queen at this time. I've enough on my shoulders just trying to undo the damages that Fae Kings have inflicted on the lands of the Labyrinth with out complicating things by taking a wife."
"A wife could help you," she countered not willing to give up the fight. "A good wife could help make your kingdom a paradise."
Shuddering in anger the young Fae King was held back by his Lord Baron. "I'm not interested in a paradise you silly twit!" he spat at her. "I'm interested in rebuilding a kingdom filled with the things that nightmares are made of. Things that go bump in the night and frighten the hell out of the bravest of men."
Devon had placed himself between the King and the girl, "Tanya, leave…now," he ordered, addressing the girl by her given name instead of her last name which would have been protocol. He held Jareth back from physically attacking his antagonist. Once the girl had moved back, Devon released his cousin from his grip. "What is the matter with you? She was just being a silly little girl; you didn't have to come down on her like that. So you don't want a Queen… fine…"
Jareth looked pale and shaken, "I'm not sure…" He said taking deep breaths. "I've never experienced anything like this before; could I be having what the mortals call an anxiety attack?"
Devon placed a hand to his cousin's shoulder, "The main part of the feast is nearly over, and we can leave soon. Until then why don't you go for a walk, I'll keep that child off your scent and any other silly female who is fool enough to try and follow you."
Nodding the King agreed, but paused before motioning his guards to accompany him for a short stroll. "Dev, you recall that old mind trick we used to play?" When his cousin said he did, the King whispered insistently. "Keep your mind open to me, should I have need of you."
"Of course," Devon said opening the thread that linked him to his cousin, before sending the young King off down a path that was unoccupied.
Della felt her wings twitch and itch, and Daisy sensed danger from some where she was not sure of. Della placed a hand over to the shoulder of her companion and fellow guard. "Keep a sharp eye, runt."
"You too, bird brain," countered the Goblin woman. "I feel it too."
Lost in his own thoughts the King had not heard the words his guards spoke. He was experiencing some very strange sensations, and was not sure what to make of them. The one comfort was his cousins link.
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Black candles were lit, one at each point of the pentagram. A little cage held a large gray dove. Bryn watched as Sarah took it from the confines of the cage. "No, Sarah don't!" Bryn warned as the girl drove a little dagger into the breast of the bird. "Sarah, no…." she watched in horror as the girl sprinkled the blood spurting from the still beating heart about the circle. "What are you doing, you can't be serious."
"It's a blood sacrifice that's needed Bryn." Sarah said trying not to be horrified by her own actions. The bird quivered in her hands as its blood drained while she walked about the circle.
"We've always used our own blood," Bryn argued following Sarah about the circle. "What happened to harm none?"
"This spell is not in the Wicca rituals, Bryn… you know that… it's older magic we need to bring my prey to me." Reaching the end of the circle Sarah was shaking as she felt the beautiful creature in her hands give its last heart beat. "I thank you for your gift," she kissed the bird before placing the remains in the center of the altar. "Let the Goddess Morrigan be pleased with our offering." She said fighting tears that stung the corner of her eyes.
"Morrigan?" Bryn backed away from the altar and shook her head. "No, don't evoke her! You've no idea of what you're doing. She's a blood thirsty flesh eater!"
"Yes Bryn, I do." Sarah faced her. "Now be so kind as to take your place, so I can read this chant."
"Are you after justice or vengeance?" the girl demanded before she'd move.
"Right now, they seem pretty much the same." Sarah motioned her to the circle where Lilith already stood. "We don't have a lot of time, Bryn. The window of opportunity is narrow…I have to do this now…or die…in trying… I can't go on this way… I'm not even finding peace here…near the ley lines. Now go, get in place so I can get started." Shaking her head, the other girl moved to her assigned position. Sarah opened the book that she'd placed on the ground beside the circle that now had blood sprinkled on it; the book too had been spattered with the dove's blood. Her voice filled the chamber as she began to read the invocation of the Goddess Morrigan, and the chant that was echoed by her companions. Over and over they repeated the words of enchantment, slowly the circle, the pentagram and the symbols it held began to glow softly.
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Oberon found Devon barring a pathway, and keeping the young Miss Winderspire from following after Jareth. A small group of Fae had gathered to watch, among them was Talagon and his daughter. "What is this commotion?" he demanded looking at the young woman.
"This oaf won't let me pass," the girl complained not thinking of the family connection between the King and the Baron.
"Jareth is acting like he does just before a summons comes," Devon informed the High King. "The last thing he needs is this pest underfoot, disturbing his preparations."
"How dare you call me a pest, my father is a Duke," she snapped.
"My mother is the High King's sister," Devon snapped back shoving her back from the path. "Go back to the festivities, and leave the Goblin King in peace you foolish girl."
"Do as you are told," Oberon commanded and found the girl staring at him in disbelieve; "Tanya do you even know what the duties of the Goblin King are? Perhaps you should find out before you go any farther with this pursuit you seem hell bent on." The girl grabbed her gown up so she would not trip on it as she turned to go back the way she'd come. Oberon shook his head, grimacing. "That one is going to be trouble." He looked seriously at Devon. "Should a summons come…"
"Jareth will answer it," he assured the High King. "However, I think it would be prudent for me to go find the Goblin King and keep him company. I had wanted him to cool down, that twit of a girl invades his space every chance she gets."
"Go find my son, and tell him I will understand if he takes his leave early and does not even bother with a fare-thee-well." Bowing the Baron swiftly took his leave of the King and moved down the path. Oberon frowned, feeling a presence that was not familiar. Stormy clouds overhead heralded trouble brewing, Oberon wondered from whom. Looking at the crowd, he didn't like the expression on the face of Talagon. Oberon was sure he was up to something, and it would not bode well for Jareth. Cerci, on the other hand; was watching Tanya make her way back to the feasting area. Something about Father and Daughter disturbed the High King.
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The three witches continued to chant, now the soft glow of the circle was becoming brighter and the color of the circle had changed from the dark lines to a bright red. There was a roaring rush of wind and the sound of a barrier being breached. It sounded like the gates of hell were opening; still they held their places and continued to chant.
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Unaware of how far he'd walked down the path, Jareth found himself in a clearing that was surrounded by stones in the shape of a circle. Had he been paying attention he'd have diverted his steps and never come this far. He was now entering what had been called Morrigan's Dance. It had once been where Fae who were faithful to the Goddess Morrigan had worshiped, and still held disturbing energies. The moment he'd entered the circle he was aware he'd made a mistake. Faintly he could hear his guards and Devon's voice over the roar of wind and a sound he'd not heard in his life time. He half turned, looking over his shoulder toward the cousin whose face held the look of alarm, as the Goblin King vanished.
Della rushed forward, but had felt held back by something very powerful. She fell to the ground just after the King vanished with Daisy falling over her. Devon went down as well, even though he was a bit behind the pair of guards. "Della, are you alright, Daisy?"
Della growled, "What the hell was that? And where is the King?" She demanded pulling herself and the Goblin guard up off the ground. She looked at the strange circle questioningly.
"Someone opened a temporal portal from the mortal realm," Devon said assertively with certainty. "I've heard about such things, but this is the first I've witnessed it happening. I was not aware there was a mortal still capable of. It takes a lot of power and control… and the use of energies from nature…." He had risen as well and was brushing himself off. "Seeing that it happened here in this circle, I'd say who ever did this used the La Tène."
Daisy's head snapped as she turned to him. "Is that possible?"
"Mortals have been uncovering a great many scrolls for generations now. They must have unearthed that scroll and translated it," Devon looked behind them to be sure they were still alone. "Alright, we need to follow our beloved King…" he pointed back down the path. "Before someone sounds an alert!"
"Follow the King," Della mocked. "Just how do you suggest we do that?"
"By opening a portal," Devon pointed to the circle. "We can follow and transport ourselves to where we will be near the King. I am a Fae you know," he reminded the Harpy. "Contrary to popular conjecture, I did pay attention to the tutors… and I know the portal spells nearly as well as Jareth."
"How will you know where to go?" Della asked still not certain.
"He's connected to the King with a mind link," Daisy said confidently. "He and the King have been life long companions."
Devon nodded; "Quickly ladies," he motioned them to follow him into the center of Morrigan's Dance. "Hang on, and remember keep silent when we arrive. WE need to see what we are up against before we go in with swords burnished." He began to speak a chant in a very old tongue, the circle roared with power and the trio vanished.
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Jareth felt the tingling begin to dissipate and recognized the feel of the mortal plane as he materialized in the center of a pentagram. To his utter shock and horror, he found himself unable to move for a moment.
"Release the net!" a voice ordered.
He was able to move his eyes and could make out the shape of a very feminine form clad in beautifully crafted leather. The female speaking wore a mask, red and black and with the features of a demon that covered her upper face revealing only a very beautiful and shapely mouth that was painted in blood red lipstick. In the dim lighting of this chamber he could not see her eyes clearly. However he could smell her scent and found himself becoming instantly aroused by the musky feminine womanly fragrance wafting off her. Before he could offer her a haughty and cocky smile he felt the netting that was dropped from above him. There was pain he should not feel with just the simple hemp knotting, he noticed the little iron beads laced in much too late. Agonized he let out a gasp.
"He does not look so dangerous;" a second female voice said arrogantly and much too overconfidently. "I'd wager I could take him down alone."
"Silence," ordered the first female before snapping her fingers. The other two, for now the King could see the third leather clad female, came to the sides of the one in the demon mask. She looked down at the King with pursed lips before nodding. "Welcome to Hell," the one in the center said invitingly. She wore the mask of a demon fashioned in red and black leather and now as his vision cleared he could see she was clad in leathers that were in the same shades of red and black. The Bolero jacket barely covered her full and beautifully rounded breasts; there was a chain with charms dangling under the open jacket. Her chaps hugged her hips suggestively. Standing on the ley lines, her body was feeing on the energies and her aura was strong and powerful making her look even more enticing to anyone who was familiar with magical energies. However, in spite of her alluring beauty, it was her scent that was arresting him. So familiar yet so mysteriously foreign.
"The hour of retribution has arrived," the one on the right stated firmly, wearing a wolf's image over her face. Her garments were as revealing in a different manner from the demon woman. She too wore an open Bolero styled jacket, but she had a long skirt that was slit up her hip, and had a crowning glory of reddish gold hair that was cascading behind her mask. Her aura was nearly as strong as the girl in the Demon mask, and also feeding directly from the ley lines.
"Any last words," asked the one on the left, this young woman wore the mask of a tiger crouching down and taunting the fallen Fae. She was in what would be a slave's harness in his kingdom, and she was clearly not in her right mind, nor was her spirit feeding off the energies. She appeared to be parasitical, and what little power fed her aura was coming from fallout of the two other witches.
"Ladies," he said breathily. "I assure you, a net is not necessary. I'll be only too happy to spend some time in your company."
"Time in our company?" The tiger faced one laughed tauntingly. "Fool!" Standing she raise her foot to kick the fallen man, but the one in the center growled at her and the foot went down again.
The one in the center moved forward. "We are your judges."
"Your crimes are many," said the wolf.
"Your victims are countless scores of innocents," the tiger growled darkly.
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Devon's link to the King was strong, and he was able to find him with ease. He landed them close but not on top of the location. They were in an antechamber, and Devon motioned the female guards to keep silent so he could assess just what the dangers were. Della glared at him and flexed her talon, but Daisy nodded in understanding and motioned to the Harpy to calm down. Devon looked in to the dimly lit chamber that had a bizarre glowing design on the floor. He could see Jareth clearly from where he was, he could also see the three who held him captive. He could also see that Jareth was not yet aware he was there, and he decided to keep it that way.
"Three little mortal witches, very young and untried it would seem…" He mused quietly to the guards; "Interesting."
"Interesting my ass," Della's voice was quiet but terse. "I'll teach them to go pulling Fae Kings out of the Fairylands."
Devon prevented her from moving forward. "There's no hurry, Jareth knows we're near by," he whispered lying to them. "I want to know what they wanted with Jareth… they must have spoken a specific spell to get him…now be quite so I can hear them." The female in the demon mask was clearly the leader of this little circle of witchlings, Devon mused to himself. It was obvious that she had a grudge against the handsome Goblin King. He heard her order the other two to move him to the unforgiving looking chair that was just outside the circle and within a strange symbol of its own. All the symbols were connected and glowed with the energy of the earth itself. The chair was wooden and had straps and metal bands on the legs and arms. With the King in the net it was easy to move him as he was weakened by the little leather beads. Devon heard Della growl behind him and had to give her a warning glance to warn her not to give them away. He watched as the Red Wolf and insane Tiger pushed the King into the chair, securing him and then removing the net.
Jareth pulled at the bands and frowned, the leather protected his limbs but he could feel the iron in the bands weaken his powers. "Ladies, I assure you this is not necessary." He tired to reason with them again.
"But we think it is," The Tiger purred as she moved closer and licked her lips invitingly. Lilith breathed in his scent and purred like a great cat. "Now be a good boy…" She grabbed his face and laughed.
The Demon cleared her throat and the Tiger backed off reluctantly. "How do you plea?"
Jareth leaned back; he looked at the Demon with interest. She was the only one of the three who had not made any physical contact with him. That intrigued him, giving him pause. "Of what am I accused?" The Goblin King smiled cunningly, he breathed in the scent again. Familiar and yet so out of the ordinary, he could not place it. Yet there was something about this bizarre young mortal woman that was so damned familiar to him. He wished she'd look directly into his eyes; he wanted to see what he could read off her soul. "Oh come now, Ladies… Three fine young witches and a very healthy Fae King could spend this Samhain night far more pleasurably than this… Be good little girls, release me and I shall be most happy to… show you."
The Tiger giggled, looking down at the manly bulge in the King's pants. "I'll bet aroused he's hung like a prized Bruma bull." She quipped. Both the other witches shot her a look that put her back in her place, but not before she blew a pouting kiss to the King.
Devon in his hiding place snickered into his glove imaging what his cousin was thinking.
"Do you deny that you take children?" The Demon questioned.
"No," Jareth rested his head on the back of the chair, totally unrepentant of what he didn't see as a crime. "It has been the duty of the Goblin King since the first Goblin was created by the One."
The Demon woman ignored his pious response, and moved a red bead, that was with many red beads on a pipe. "Guilty." She said.
"Do deny that you bargain with children the fate of other children?" The Wolf asked quietly.
Annoyed, Jareth wondered who had supplied these little witches with information that was not known outside the Goblin Kingdom. "I would not put it that way exactly." His words came out terser than he'd have liked. He wanted to keep thing benign with these witches while his cousin scoped out the situation. He wondered why he could not feel Devon near, and knew he'd wait until he showed up. He wondered how he was going to keep the three little witches occupied until then.
The she Red Wolf frowned darkly clearly unhappy with his response. "How would you put it?"
He didn't recognize the scent that the she wolf gave off, and dismissed her as being a minion, just as he was dismissing the she tiger. However he could see the red she wolf was more important in this game than the aggressive tiger was. Still, it was the silent and angry demon that interested him. He refused to say more.
The Demon seemed to know what his game was. "We know who you are, Goblin King," she said getting his full attention while keeping her eyes averted from his. "We know what you do… and how you trick children." Her voice dipped lower, becoming a growl.
"You three are not children," he said trying to draw the Demon out. "I've no quarrel with you, why make one with me?"
"No, a child is not your… equal." She agreed. "However we are and it falls to us to punish you for your crimes." She placed her hand on another red bead and moved it across. "One for each of the hours you force helpless children to wander the Labyrinth."
Jareth no longer sat relaxed, he had shot up to an upright position. "How do you know of the Labyrinth? Even those who have run it have it wiped from memory once they return…"
The Demon made sure not to make eye contact, fearful of discovery. "You abuse your power as a Fae, and as a King." She moved another bead. "You break the Laws of Eschaeat in your dealings." Another bead was moved. "You lie," another bead; "You cheat, and you steal." More beads until there were thirteen in all. "For each bead, there will be an hour of reprisal." She waved a hand at the bar. "Thirteen in all… the same amount of time you give to those who accept your challenges."
Jareth pulled at the metal binding, but it held. He found he could not use his magic, and he began to wonder just what this angry witch had in mind as retribution and reprisal. He also wondered if the metal was interfering with the mind link, as he could not get a clear bead on his cousin's location. "Go no further with this," he warned. "I can forgive the interruption of my life, and I can forgive the intrusion into my Samhain night if you release me now. Take this any farther and I will be forced to retaliate. You won't find that amusing, Ladies." He softened. "Release me, we will let bygones be bygones, and I will fulfill what ever wicked little fantasy pleases you."
Tiger leaned to his ear and whispered something that caused the King to look at her with alarm.
Devon had never seen this kind of alarm on Jareth's features; he wondered what the Tiger had said for Jareth had something on him that blocked the exact words. All Devon knew was it was a threat, and Jareth was taking it seriously. Della looked at him and motioned that she wanted to go save the King. Devon shook his head and waved her back. There was still much he had not figured out about the trio. He saw that the King was in no immediate danger, and wondered to himself how Jareth liked being kept waiting for rescue.
Demon snapped her fingers and the Tiger moved back looking unhappy at being chastised again. "It's true I can not give you the same treatment that you give to runners," she stated coldly. "I have no maze for you to run, no traps for you to fall into, no blockades to bar your way, I can however give you thirteen hours of exquisite torture, in repayment for what you've given." She was now moving about him in a circle. "If you've noticed, that chair you're seated in is hinged…. It was made for a very special purpose… This place was once where they housed the mentally imbalanced and insane… That chair was used in the treatment of the insane."
Jareth looked down at the chair, she had not lied, the bloody thing was hinged. "And what do you intend to do with this arcane thing?"
The Demon pulled a leaver, the back of the chair went down and the area that had been at the King's legs rose up. Soon he was laying back on a make shift table, with his limbs bound. "Hour one has begun," she said locking the table ridged. "Let his punishment begin."
Devon held Della back, his eyes warned her not to give them away. "So far they've done little more than talk… he can take that." He whispered.
Della frowned, "I hope you are not paying him back for letting you sit in that tower."
"Della," he cooed. "I'm wounded." He looked back at Jareth and vowed quietly to himself he'd not let it go too far…should the king be in any real danger he'd end this little party even if Jareth didn't want it ended by that point.
Jareth sighed, "I'd like to know what you intend to do."
Tiger moved forward, in her hand was a long feathery covered article. "This is called a French Feather Tickler," she said making suggestive movements in the air with the wispy thing. "In the right hands it can give such decadent pleasure." Swiftly she whipped it down across the King's chest, letting it land with some force. "Then again, it can be just as painful as it was pleasurable." She looked at the Wolf, "I need his jacket open, would you mind?"
Jareth watched the change in the aura of the she wolf; it went from green and gold to a muddy red. It was evident to him that the she wolf didn't care for the tiger, nor did the tiger care too much for the wolf. He looked past the bickering if wordless pair to the pacing demon. "Can't punish me yourself?" he taunted haughtily, "I see you have to have minions do it for you."
Without turning to look at his she replied coldly. "We all have minions, do we not, your Majesty?"
Eyeing the girl with the tickler in her hand, Jareth wondered if he would be able to reason with this trio before he had to call in his reserves. He smiled cunningly at the tiger. "Do your worst," he teased.
Dark eyes filled with angry flames as she changed the way she held the implement, she looked at the Demon to be sure she was not observing her. Once sure she was in the clear she brought the long shank down swiftly. It left a red welt, and the King grimaced. Looking over her shoulder she knew she could not get away with too many such strokes. She moved her hand up the shaft of the implement and began to use the feathers to stroke the sensitive skin of the Fae. "Enjoy it while you can," she murmured in his ear. She moved the feathers down his chest, over the outer thigh and slowly she began to stroke the inner thigh until she let the stick reach his manhood. For the better part of an hour the young woman fiendishly toyed with his senses. She showed no signs of intending on stopping. When she mounted the table and straddled the man, the Demon began to growl. As if not hearing her, the Tiger masked girl began to lower herself down as if to mount the King.
"Enough," the Demon snapped her fingers.
"I'm not done," the Tiger growled.
"Yes, you are." Demon didn't even raise her voice, but the words and tone were one of authority.
Jareth took a deep breath, resenting the fact that he had been aroused and also denied. He readjusted his thoughts, trying to make his connection with Devon. He could see a showdown coming between the Demon and the Tiger and his bets were on the Demon.
Once the tiger backed away, the leader, moving around the reclining chair in a circle spoke again. "That was not too hard, was it? No, just as the first hours with in your Labyrinth were not too hard…" She shuddered, but kept walking. "Simple things that get taken for granted."
Jareth watched her with feral eyes, the eyes of a bird of prey. She was on edge, and suffering, the pain and anguish were dripping off of her. He could smell not fear, but anxiety. "Let me make this easy for you," he offered in an almost croon. "Release me now and I shall forgive and forget."
"Go to hell," she said over her shoulder, again refusing to make eye contact. She motioned the she Wolf.
The red She Wolf moved forward with a rolling tray. On the top surface of the stand was a bowl of molded ice on sticks. Reaching into the bowl, the young woman chose a stick; she gently applied the cool wet ice to the throat of the King. The ice was cold, stinging the skin as it made first contact Jareth gasped lightly and winced.
Devon in his hiding place, amused by the ploy kept an eye on Jareth's reactions. So far the Goblin King seemed more amused than bemused. He motioned to Della to stay ready and keep an eye on the perimeter in case the witches had reinforcements. He winked down at Daisy with whom he had no argument. The little Goblin woman rolled her eyes and leaned on the wall.
Slowly the She Wolf began to make little circles, first in the hollow of the King's throat, moving ever so slightly making sure she was in constant contact with the King's skin. She soon migrated the long piece of ice up to the chin, then over the King's lips without allowing him to really enjoy it. She then moved down his throat again until she began to make slow lazy circles down his open shirt over his chest. Keeping her eyes clear of emotions, she watched as he began to clench his hands in an effort to keep control. When her hour had finished, he was barely holding on. Without the hesitation or vindictiveness of the Tiger, the She Wolf tossed the remains of her ice into the bowl and rolled the tray back away from the reclining chair.
Setting his jaw, fishing for the mental link, Jareth let his eyes focus on the Demon who still refused eye contact. "I would think," he taunted cockily; "That taking on one of my ilk you'd wish to gloat."
"In time, perhaps," she murmured. "But this is just the first hours…and we've eleven more to go." She snapped her gloved fingers, and the Tiger came forward with a rolling tray that held a bowl of warm water and a natural sponge. She followed the same trail as the She Wolf had, but with less caution and attention to details. Still it had the desired affect on the King.
"Comfy?" she whispered in the King's ear as she moved to behind his head. "Don't be…" she warned. "You're not getting out of this alive, if I have any say."
Jareth heard the click of his jaw hinge as he set it. 'Devon, where are you?' his mind demanded.
Devon, for his part stood in the antechamber watching, so far he saw little danger even if the Tiger thing was intimating there was.
Hour three passed and then four and five, at the end of the fifth hour the Demon moved to the table, but stood so the man could not see her eyes, not directly. He was tense as she raised a hand, in which was a cruel looking collar. Something about the collar sent shockwaves through him. Wordlessly she placed it about his neck and tightened it. "Feeling a bit of pain?" she asked watching him writhing. "Good!"
"I order you to release me now," he growled angrily.
"Yeah yeah, order away," she placed her hand on the table. "For what little good it will do you."
Hour six passed, and he was showing signs of being this side of fury. They had used feathers, ice, warm water, fur pelts, hot wax and the collar. He pulled at the restraints but could not free himself. "Damn you three to hell!" he snapped at the end of hour seven and the use of a prickly rubber ball rolled over his now ultra sensitive skin.
Hour eight brought a new wickedness to the forefront, as the two minions fastened shakes to his wrists before releasing the iron bands that held him to the chair. The Demon used a remote control that raised his arms hulling him out of the chair that was pushed out of the way. Inch by inch he was pulled upward. The Demon took a full hour to stretch him upright.
Della nudged Devon and made a face, he motioned her to be still.
Hour nine the three produced silken whips and began to apply them to the King. Not hard enough to do any permanent damages, but firmly enough to cause him to wince once or twice. He glared at the Demon who still resisted eye contact. Hour ten he was shoved into the cage where he went to his knees gasping for air. Devon suddenly understood, the cage was iron. He signaled the two guards to prepare. The Demon woman also went to her knees to taunt the King up close.
"In pain? Suffering? Feeling lost and alone?" She shuddered with pain herself. "Good, I want you to feel everything… all the pain… all the isolation!"
The ground beneath the King's hands was filled with energy; he drew from it as he raised his face up and came face to face, eye to eye with his tormentor. The hot lava that flowed in them could not disguise the incredible pale jewels that watched him. Perhaps because of the hours of pain and deprivation, he had no real recognition of the eyes, beyond finding them oddly familiar. He snorted and breathed deeply glaring with abhorrence at the creature he now found insufferable. "This is your last chance, bitch…." He growled. "Free me…"
"Or what?" she taunted in a matching growl. "What can you possibly offer me?" She began to laugh cruelly. "Perhaps my dreams?"
Not truly hearing what she'd said, only knowing she was off her guard with the taunting and the need to be hurtful, he thrust his hand though the bars before she could react. His hand clamped on her throat, pulling her into the bars and dazing her.
"Now!" Devon ordered as the two other witches moved to rescue their leader. He cast a spell to immobilize the two where they were. He and the guards moved forward as the king held the struggling dazed and choking leader in a near death grip. "Open that thing and get him out!" he ordered Della and Daisy as he stood back at a safe distance. "Get that collar off him, It's iron, and it's killing him."
"Not nearly as quickly as this one thought it would." Jareth snarled, still holding his hand about the Demon's throat. "Devon hold this bitch," he shoved her back as Della and Daisy helped him to his feet. They pulled him out of the cage, and carefully Daisy removed the collar. Della moved toward the Demon masked creature, her talons fully extended ready to slash. "NO!" the King ordered. "Not yet…" He leaned on Daisy for support. "String the bitches up here in their circle… let's get a look at them." Della and Daisy shackled the wrists of all three in turn, and hulled their arms above there heads. Jareth looked at Devon, miffed but understanding the reason his cousin had allowed this to go on. "Even," he whispered to a smiling Devon who muttered back something that had the King amused. Once the three witches were secured, Devon released the spell that had immobilized the minions. Jareth had blood on his lips where he'd bitten down several times. He glared at the trio, and moved to the red haired girl. He pulled off her mask. "I don't know you," he tossed the mask aside. Grabbing the tiger mask roughly he pulled it off as well. "I don't know you either, but you obviously have some quarrel with me…looks like you don't get to end my life…this time… kornga," he let the spray of the blood from his lips spatter on her. Now he turned his attention to the Demon who was struggling with her bindings and writhing like a fish on a hook. "So it all comes down to you… Just who are you?" He viscously took hold of the mask and ripped off her face. What he saw froze his heart, and burned into his mind. She was older, more womanly, but there was no mistaking that face, nor those eyes… 'Your eyes can be so cruel.' He dropped the mask to his feet; slowly he ground it under one heel. "Sarah," his anger registered as the name didn't come out like a caress, but like a curse. "We meet again."