Waking Gods
By Telcontarian
Author's note: Look what the Cat dragged in! Wait, sorry, that's just ViciouslyWitty trying to wrestle me back into my cage. My bad.
I know, I know. I know what you're thinking: "Who the fuck are you? And how the fuck did you escape from your cage?"
If you find out, let me know.
I've been on fanfic hiatus for almost two years. I started writing my own novel back in November 2021 for NaNoWriMo. Since then, I'm 60k words down but have changed my mind on the plot at least three times. And haven't been able to finish it because the last two years were extremely shite, and real life got in the way.
This fic was wholly inspired by the magnificent Lixxle's debut novel, Between, which was released as the most amazing audiobook earlier this year. Seriously, please go and check it out, as this fic will probably not make much sense if you haven't read Between. Somewhere in the thirty-two hours of listening to Steve West whispering sweet nothings in my ear as Lorn, I started dreaming of a crossover Labyrinth/Between fic where Jareth was, sadly, a bit of a cunt.
The title, Waking Gods, is from Sylvain Neuvel's novel of the same name.
This fic is unbetaed, and any mistake that you find should be taken outside and shot for the glory of the Sontaran Empire.
Full summary: When Sarah Williams' beloved cousin Sasha goes missing, she sets off on a journey to the whimsical and charming little village of Old Middleton, not realising that she is about to be plunged headfirst into a world of fairytale fuckery once more.
As the mortal realm, Otherworld and the Underground begin to collide, Sarah must work closely with Sasha's best friend, Lyla, and the Witches of Old Middleton, and risk reawakening events from her past that ought to have been better left forgotten.
Chapter One: The One Where Sarah Williams Wonders What the Fuck She's Done to Deserve This.
December 1st
Sarah cursed, her foot slamming down sharply on the brake and bringing her car almost to a complete stop. A thick mist had rolled in from seemingly nowhere, reducing her visibility to a handful of mere feet, and—most concerning—caused her phone's navigation system to stop working entirely.
"Fuck." Despite being the only car on the road at this ungodly hour, she signalled to pull over, tapping the now useless phone screen and thumping her head against the steering wheel in sheer frustration when she realised the network signal had also vanished. Taking a deep breath, Sarah pushed her hair away from her eyes and raised a fist towards the storm looming menacingly overhead. "I swear to god, you egotistical megalomaniac if you have anything to do with this…"
A clap of thunder caused her to jump, followed almost immediately by a fork of lightning that illuminated the dark sky. "That's not at all ominous," she mumbled to herself, voice slightly hoarse from having gone unused for so long. "Calm down, Sarah, you've not seen hide nor hair of He Who Must Not Be Named in over ten years. Your cousin mysteriously vanishing without a trace after accepting a substitute teaching job in the middle of Buttfuck Nowhere couldn't possibly have anything to do with that pompous asshole."
Muttering darkly, Sarah pulled back out onto the road, swallowing back her rising panic. She was certain that Sasha was alright; after all, Lyla had made the journey with her and would move heaven and earth to ensure her best friend's safety. But a small part of her—the part who had bested a fairytale king at his own game when she was just fifteen years old—was convinced there was something far more sinister at play. She had to be certain that the peach-drugging prick was not behind Sasha's disappearance.
Sarah rubbed her eyes tiredly, not for the first time regretting that she hadn't stopped at the creepy ass motel. She had seen far too many horror movies to even consider entertaining that shit, opting to instead slog her way through the last eight hours of her journey fuelled by little more than Red Bull and a vague sense of vengeance.
After another tense hour on the road, Sarah breathed a sigh of relief when a sign appeared out of the blanketing fog as if by magic—which it probably was, knowing her shit luck—directing her towards Old Middleton. Her dreams of a warm bed and anything but fucking gas station food were cut woefully short, however, by the dense canopy of trees that loomed menacingly in the near distance, and she was sorely tempted to turn the car around and take her chances in the murder motel.
"I swear Sasha, if I've driven all this way for nothing…"
Sighing, Sarah pressed on just as the heavens opened overhead to unleash a torrential downpour, accompanied by the storm picking up in atmospheric solidarity. If this wasn't a sign that shit was about to hit the fan big time, well…she would take her chances. Besides, if she ran into a little trouble, her triumph over a certain king who got all his fashion inspiration from watching way too much Twilight had left her with a little gift.
She tugged the sleeve of her sweater further down over her wrist, grim determination steeling her features as she mentally prepared herself to face whatever horrors awaited her on the other side of the forest.
The sleepy village of Old Middleton seemed quaint and charming—the last place on earth one would expect to find themselves deep in the heart of fairytale fuckery. Again, in Sarah's case.
The empty street beyond the large wooden sign—welcoming her to the village in a decidedly non-threatening manner—lay quiet in the dappled moonlight and although it was long past the witching hour, Sarah could just about make out the welcoming flicker of light in the distance. "Shouldn't be too difficult to find her," she muttered, peering hopefully towards the distant buildings in the vague hope that Sasha would jump out and save her the effort of tracking her cousin down.
No, not empty.
A large stone archway—gateway, a shit-stirring little voice piped up from deep within the forgotten recesses of her mind—stood sentinel over Old Middleton. Though seemingly innocent, the structure was vast and ancient, awash with starlight and the faintest glimmer of magic.
The Mark on her left wrist burned and Sarah gritted her teeth against the bright flare of pain. Her neck prickled with the uncomfortable sensation that she was now being watched. Swallowing back the rising certainty that shit was about to get well and truly fucking weird, she absentmindedly rubbed the little white maze that had been unceremoniously branded into her skin after besting the Labyrinth.
'And declared yourself equal to a certain monarch with a fondness for tight trousers that undoubtedly cut off the circulation to certain parts of the male anatomy,' her mind supplied slyly. Sarah told the little voice to fuck off in no uncertainty and drove cautiously down Main Street.
Oh, Sasha, what have you gotten yourself into?
The feeling of unease nestled deep within her bones only seemed to get stronger as Sarah drove deeper into the heart of Old Middleton. She longed for nothing more than a hot shower and a soft pillow on which to lay her weary head before resuming her search for Sasha in the morning.
Unfortunately for Sarah, while she considered herself lucky to have come through dangers untold and hardships unnumbered, she also knew when she was shit out of luck. She sighed, stepping out of her car. It looked as though her uninterrupted night's sleep would have to wait for the time being.
Had it always been this cold?
The warm interior of her car had lured her into a false sense of security, and she mentally cursed herself for not having the sense to have packed a warm coat. Wisconsin was fucking freezing.
In hindsight, Sarah would have preferred to face her grim-faced welcoming party without her teeth chattering and her lips turning blue, but beggars can't be choosers. Her eyes narrowed as several women started to pour out of a large, Queen Anne-style manor house, palms raised upwards as they fanned out over the top step. Her eyes flickered from one face to another, jaw set in grim determination. She wondered how long it had taken the women to perfect that without tripping over the hem of the strange robes draped over their bodies.
The women parted, and a figure whom Sarah could only surmise was their leader stepped out of their midst, both palms raised in the newcomer's direction. Although her own Mark felt as though it was on fire, Sarah stood her ground, almost wishing that she had never left New York.
Wisconsin was fucking weird.
"Who are you?" the leader's voice rang out clearly in the stillness of the late autumn night. "State your intentions."
"My name is Sarah Williams." She swallowed back a trickle of fear, hands fisted by her sides, nails biting into her palms. "I mean you no harm. I'm looking for my cousin who hasn't contacted any family members for weeks, and seems to have vanished from the face of the earth."
The leader of the group did not lower her palms, seemingly still suspicious. She opened her mouth to reply but was interrupted by a frantic, "STOP!" and a shorter figure unceremoniously ducked under the older woman's outstretched arm to reveal a familiar head of blonde hair.
"Lyla," Sarah breathed, taking a small step towards her friend. The women immediately formed a tight circle around Lyla and attempted to pull her back into their midst. And while she was almost certain that it was a trick of the light and nothing more, Sarah could have sworn that flames crackled in the palm of the oldest woman forming the rather sinister-looking welcoming party.
She watched silently as Lyla forced her way to the front, much to the dismay of the gathered crowd, and terror seized her heart when her tired brain finally pieced together what was wrong with the scene before her. And just who was missing from Lyla's side. "Where's Sasha?"
The leader turned to Lyla, fingers wrapped securely around the shorter woman's arm as if in warning, but not before Sarah saw the worry etched deeply onto her friend's face. Icy fingers closed around her heart, squeezing tightly, and her blood ran cold. "Just what the hell is going on here?"
The older woman frowned, eyes narrowed at the newcomer in distrust, before turning back to Lyla. "You know this person?"
Lyla nodded quickly, finally able to free herself, and greeted her friend with an enthusiastic hug. "Sarah is Sasha's cousin. I warned you that her disappearance would not go unnoticed." She paused. "Surprised it took so long, really."
"Be that as it may, Sasha neglected to tell us that her cousin"—Sarah bristled. It was obvious from the woman's tone that she still doubted their relation—"is Marked."
"It wasn't Sasha's story to tell," said Lyla quietly, and Sarah felt a warm rush of gratitude towards her friend. Her Ordeal had been painstakingly extracted—and psychoanalysed by Lyla—one long, memorable night during college when the alcohol had been flowing and Sarah's tongue extremely loose. The girls had taken a solemn vow of Secrecy and promised never to say the Goblin King's name aloud or make unnecessary wishes.
"Show me your wrists." The leader lowered her hands but maintained a wary distance when Sarah pushed the sleeve of her sweater up past her elbow and extended her arm, palm up, for her inspection. "Your Mark. I do not recognise it. Who are you?"
"My name is Sarah Williams," she repeated. "When I was fifteen, I foolishly wished my infant brother away to the Goblin King…" She trailed off, her eyes clouded in memory. "A mistake I regretted instantly. I defeated his Labyrinth in less than thirteen hours and reclaimed Toby. When I returned home, I found myself branded. Whether a parting gift from the Goblin King or the land itself, I do not know. I promise that I mean you no harm; I only want to find out what happened to Sasha."
"Perhaps this conversation would be better held inside," said a woman at the leader's shoulder, stepping forward into the faint streetlight that barely brushed the front steps of the mansion. She held herself primly, Sarah noted, dressed smartly in a white blouse that had been starched to within an inch of its life and a long woollen skirt that peeked out from under her robes.
The other woman gave her a once over and sniffed haughtily. Sarah didn't blame her but tried not to bristle. She was travel-weary, hair a mess from running frustrated fingers through it, and undoubtedly covered in Dorito crumbs and fuck knows what else from her long-ass journey.
"Would you be willing to submit yourself for further questioning under a Truth Elixir?"
Sarah blinked. "A-a what? Are you trying to drug me?"
"Not at all," replied the leader, firmly.
"Absolutely," said Lyla at the same time.
The older woman glared at Lyla before continuing, "While we trust Lyla's judgement—"
"You do?" asked Lyla incredulously.
"—We must make certain that you are telling the truth, and that you mean no harm to Old Middleton, or its inhabitants. Our priority is to protect the village at all costs."
Sarah sighed. "And if I do, you'll tell me what happened to my cousin?" 'And hopefully, let me fucking sleep,' she added silently.
'You have my word."
"Deal."
The woman nodded, offering the newcomer a thin smile, and she stood aside, as Lyla led Sarah into the warm building, duffle bag hauled over her shoulder. The women parted around them, arms by their sides, but their gazes remained suspicious. As they passed through the door, Sarah glanced at the sign overhead and snorted. "'Miss Adeline's Boarding House for Genteel Young Women of Unimpeachable Reputation,'" she read aloud. "You? Genteel?"
Lyla shrugged unapologetically. "It's a work in progress." She turned her head closer towards Sarah and whispered conspiratorially, "Come on, let's see if Sasha and I left you any alcohol."
"Well," the leader of the strange women said at last with a weary sigh, taking a long draught of her tea. "Sarah is telling the truth."
"Like there was ever any doubt?" Lyla muttered under her breath.
"I can't believe I told you all that," Sarah wailed, burying her face in her hands.
Beside her, Lyla ran a soothing hand over her friend's back. "It wasn't all that bad," she said reassuringly. "Sasha's recounting of her sex charades was worse. Much worse. That poor baker. Yours were PG-13, at best."
"But I told you all about his crotch!"
The eyes of one of the women behind the leader—Esther, Sarah remembered belatedly, too busy wallowing in her misery—were wide and calculating in the flickering candlelight. "My, it certainly sounds like this Goblin King of yours is quite the royal package."
"He is not my anything!"
"Hands off the goods, Felicia, I saw him first." Mrs. Landshome—the oldest of the gathered women—sat back in her chair, assessing the other woman shrewdly, and if Sarah did not know any better, she would say that Gussie was more than ready to fight Felicia for the coveted position of Goblin Queen.
Miss Adeline, however, a woman of truly genteel upbringing, remained motionless in her seat, eyes closed and hand over her heart.
"Oh, come off it Addy," said Martha abruptly, rolling her eyes. "This is nothing compared to some of the stories I heard in the war. Those soldier boys—"
"Be that as it may," Miss Adeline interrupted sharply, "I think I've heard more than enough tonight about male genitalia." She shuddered and sipped her tea to hide the splash of crimson colouring her pale face.
The Headmistress remained silent, for the most part, during the interrogation, but Sarah could have sworn that a small flicker of a smile was smothered behind the older woman's hand. "I must say, after tonight's excitement, I was rather hoping for a peaceful night of undisturbed sleep. I daresay there are bound to be some colourful dreams."
"Care to try one of my dream pillows?" asked Rosa slyly.
"Who are you kidding, Penelope?" said Mrs. Landshome, reaching under her skirt to pour a generous helping of the contents of her hip flask into her tea. "This is the most fun I've had in years!"
"Hey! If you're all quite finished discussing the Goblin King's crotch at great length—"
Lyla snickered at the unfortunate word choice.
"—I believe you said you'd tell me where Sasha is?" Sarah finished, glaring at her friend.
To her surprise, Esther patted Sarah's hand, previous tension and suspicion all but forgotten. "I promise that we will tell you as much as we can. But not tonight." The leader held up a hand to silence the younger woman's protests. "It's late," she continued, not unkindly. "And you'll be exhausted from your long drive. I suggest that we try and get some sleep, and we will continue our conversation tomorrow. Lyla, could you show Sarah to your room? It is still protected, and will be the safest place for you."
"Protected?" spluttered Sarah, "From what?"
But the women simply pushed their chairs back, choosing to ignore the newcomer's words, and bid each other goodnight as they all went their separate ways. "You wouldn't happen to be a teacher, would you?" asked the Headmistress eagerly, leaning closer to Sarah before she too departed for her bed. "We seem to be a little short these days."
Sarah shook her head with a self-deprecating laugh. "Afraid not. Bad habit of wishing away children. I'm actually in medical school studying to be a doctor."
"Such a pity," Headmistress Dean replied, patting the younger woman on the arm, and Sarah froze, breath catching in her throat, remembering the same words spoken to her by a fairytale king. Perhaps it was just because she had been forced to recount the entirety of her run through the Labyrinth for the first time in years, but she had the most peculiar sensation of déjà vu. She swallowed thickly and smiled, saying her goodbyes at the door. Some ghosts were better left in the past.
Despite her exhaustion, Sarah found sleep difficult to come by that night. Even surrounded by the comfort and familiarity of her cousin's possessions, something in this strange little village was very much amiss. As soon as they were alone, Lyla wasted little time filling her friend in about everything that had happened since Sasha and herself stepped foot inside Old Middleton over a month prior. Or, almost everything. Although it was very much evident that Sasha was no longer here, every time Lyla skirted closer to what Sarah suspected was the truth about what happened to her cousin, the less the other woman seemed to be able to say.
"Dash it!" Lyla wailed, throwing herself back against her pillow with a sigh. "I promise I'm not trying to be deliberately obtuse. Certain…" Lyla paused, suddenly tight-lipped and straining to get the words out, "...agreements were made with the Old Middleton Women's Historical Society when Sasha and I got a little too involved in the strange goings on around here."
"Old Middleton Women's Historical Society?" Sarah repeated, pulling back the soft comforter with a yawn, eyebrow quirked and a smile tugging at her lips.
"That's what they call themselves," Lyla shrugged.
"So, let me get this straight," Sarah began slowly, a slight headache starting to form at her temple from what little information Lyla had seemed able to tell her. "Sasha went on a vacation without you about a week after she started her teaching post—"
"And she was only supposed to be gone a week," added Lyla, helpfully.
"—And hasn't been in touch since? At all?"
Lyla shook her head sadly. "No. And we're beginning to get very worried. It's completely out of character for her. More so because we can't get in touch with Hill Man either."
"Hill Man? This is the first time you've mentioned him."
"I didn't think that I could say his name!" gasped Lyla excitedly.
"Who is he exactly?"
But it was no good. What little headway Lyla had managed to glean was lost behind her suddenly sealed lips.
"Okay," said Sarah shrewdly, narrowing her eyes at Lyla. "So, you can't say his true name but there are obviously ways around it…" A triumphant flash glistened in her eyes. "You and Sasha had to swear yourselves to secrecy."
Lyla shot her friend a weary grin and mimed taking a bow.
Sarah swallowed thickly. "You…took a Vow." Her Mark itched, and she resisted the urge to rake her fingernails over the brand. "And the Old Middleton Women's Historical Society is somehow involved." She lay back against her pillow while she mulled over this information, staring at the ceiling, unseeing. "Can't we call them something that rolls off the tongue a little easier?"
From across the room, Lyla snorted. "Oh, there's a word, alright. But the Vow prevents me from saying it, and I'm all out of Truth Elixir. After Sasha and I drugged the Old Middleton Women's Historical Society, Rosa refused to sell us anymore."
"You drugged the Old Middleton Women's Historical Society?"
Lyla waved an airy hand. "They drugged Sasha first. It was very much a trust-building exercise. Anyway, we're getting off-topic. Unfortunately, Sasha and I were sworn to secrecy, and the Vow we made is just too strong…" She trailed off and her smile was truly diabolical. "But I know someone who can help. We can start first thing in the morning but for now, let's get some shut-eye. Goodnight, Sarah."
"Night," Sarah replied around a yawn, eyelashes fluttering shut when she finally gave in and stopped fighting sleep.
Unfortunately for Sarah, the strange threads of fate that led her to the odd but charming little village of Old Middleton had already started winding themselves tightly around her limbs. Had she known that certain events—already set in motion over ten years ago—were about to bite her in the ass and plunge her head first into a war that she was neither prepared for nor could ever hope to win, she would have refused to stay even one night.
There was no baby to save this time, nor was she fighting against the clock—or her greatest rival—to retrieve Toby and right her wrongs. But neither could she just walk away; not when something strange and possibly sinister had befallen her cousin. If she wasn't so determined to rescue Sasha, Sarah really ought to have about-turned and driven back to New York. And rue the day that she ever laid eyes on Old Middleton.
December 2nd
"Lyla, are you sure this is a good idea?"
She patted Sarah's arm cheerily. "Of course it's not. But that's what makes it fun."
"Your idea and my idea of fun tend to differ greatly, particularly with varying degrees of bloodshed and screaming involved," replied Sarah darkly, smothering a yawn behind her hand. Her mood was darker than usual despite three cups of the strongest coffee known to man that had been brewed by Martha.
"This will put some hair on your chest," the older woman had exclaimed with a slightly manic grin that belied a night of well-rested sleep. "Young people nowadays are too quick to doctor their coffee with cream and sugar—"Lyla had quickly hidden the jug of cream beneath the table—"they don't realise that coffee is supposed to be made the only way the good Lord intended. In a sock, dash it."
"Don't ask," Lyla had muttered, adding another spoonful of sugar to her cup when Martha wasn't looking. "Martha takes her coffee seriously. Way too seriously."
"I still can't believe that Sasha willingly left you her car." Just as her hand reached for the door handle, Sarah's fingers chose instead to trace one of the many dents that now littered the car, and she frowned. "Uh, Lyla? What happened?"
Lyla snorted, refusing to hand over the car keys when Sarah opened her hand to receive them. "Trust me, even if I was able to tell you the truth, I doubt very much that you would believe me. Let's just say they were caused by a drunk Tractor. As for her car, where Sasha went, she did not need it." She paused, head tilted to one side. "Huh. At least, I don't think she would have needed her car. I never did ask how they get around."
"A drunk—? Yeah, you're right. I don't think I've had enough coffee for this." And Sarah knew better than to ask just who "they" were. She doubted Lyla would be able to tell her anyway. For once, she didn't argue while her friend got herself settled behind the steering wheel, adjusting her seat and cursing Sasha's long legs. She was simply too exhausted.
After spending what seemed like the entire night tossing and turning, the vague snatches of dreams that she could remember were little more than curling tendrils of smoke and shadow that carried with them a vague sense of foreboding she could only put down to one too many energy drinks.
Surprisingly, Lyla's driving was a hell of a lot more careful than Sarah remembered. But then again, Old Middleton consisted mostly of one long, very straight road. How much damage could she wreak? Nevertheless, Sarah never once relinquished her firm grasp on the grab handle of the car door.
"We're here!" said Lyla cheerily, humming what sounded suspiciously like Mission Impossible under her breath, and tapping out a jaunty rhythm against the steering wheel with her fingertips.
Sarah peered out of the car window at the decidedly school-like building they had come to a stop in front of and frowned. "Lyla? I thought you said last night that you had a plan. Why have you brought us to Old Middleton Elementary? Given my track record of wishing away children, I don't think this is the best idea." Sarah paused as both women exited the car. "Unless, of course, there was a particular little shit Sasha couldn't stand, then I might be willing to make an exception."
Lyla snorted, pushing open the school gate. The children were currently at recess, and Sarah wondered why there appeared to be so few running around. Surely there were more children born to Old Middleton villagers than this surprisingly small number. "You know Sasha," replied Lyla fondly, and the soft look in her eye made Sarah's breath catch as the gaping wound her cousin's disappearance had left in her chest cracked open and bled anew. "There was never a child that she couldn't love. Even the ones who took great delight in trying to knock a few years from her life expectancy." She appeared to be looking for someone, scanning each child's face intently, before grabbing Sarah's hand and dragging her none-too-gently to meet a small boy leading a great expedition to defeat some imaginary monster.
The child stopped in his deadly battle, head tilted suspiciously to one side while his three friends scarpered at the newcomers' approach. "Who are you?" Eyes narrowed, he wiped his nose on his sleeve and clutched his stick tighter in case he needed to valiantly defend himself. "You don't look like dragons."
Sarah gave a surprised bark of laughter. Lyla looked mildly affronted but pressed gamely on. "Mason Barnes, I presume?"
"Depends who's asking," he replied. "Mom says I shouldn't talk to strangers." He eyed them shrewdly, and Sarah was met with the most peculiar feeling that there was something almost Otherworldly to this little boy. "Do you have candy? Free puppies?" His eyebrows waggled and he gasped theatrically. "Maybe even—a van?"
"No, no and no. We do have alcohol, but you can't have any of that until you're older." Lyla paused, and she seemed to be critically appraising Mason. "Much older. Besides, we're not strangers. We're friends of your teacher, Ms. Pierce."
"You mean ex-teacher," replied Mason, matter of factly. "Ms. Carter said that Ms. Pierce had something Very Important to do. Mrs. Landshome has been looking after us." He wrinkled his nose. "She smells funny." He turned to Sarah and gave her a long, searching look while she tried not to fidget under his scrutiny. "Are you our new substitute teacher? You don't look like a witch."
Sarah blinked. Whatever she expected Mason to say to her, it was certainly not to call her a warty old crone with a large nose and a black cat who fended off would-be suitors with a broomstick and a well-placed spell or two. "A-a witch?"
The small boy nodded seriously. "All of our teachers have been witches." Mason paused. "Well, most of them. I don't think Ms. Pierce was a witch, but she did have a magician friend. He pulled a dragon out of a hat."
Lyla nodded. "All true. All of it," she said meaningfully.
Sarah's mind reeled and in the cold light of the late autumn sun, she felt herself dragged unceremoniously back into a world of magic and secrets and fairytale fuckery that she had fought hard for so long to get away from. "Can you-can you tell me more about the magician friend?"
"He was so cool!"
Sarah nodded encouragingly. "Go on."
"And really tall!"
Sarah frowned. "Okay…what else?"
Mason paused, thinking very hard. "He made so many different creatures appear. By magic! And Ms. Pierce fought them all off with a baseball bat."
"That does sound like Sasha," Sarah replied fondly.
"And then Ms. Pierce said she was gonna marry him." Mason pulled a face, showing his clear distaste for grown-ups and all the disgusting things that marriage entailed.
"She—what?" Sarah's mind was reeling, wondering just how on earth that had escalated so quickly. "But Sasha doesn't want to get married."
"Sasha didn't exactly get a choice in the matter," said Lyla quietly, her face a perfect map of loss and regret and everything that she couldn't do to prevent her friend from pursuing a very different path from her own.
"And the—" Sarah glanced at Mason who was absorbing their words like a sponge. Sarah was once again met with the curious feeling that the small boy was too intelligent for his own good, and saw things that other people couldn't. "—The Old Middleton Women's Historical Society just let it happen?"
Lyla shook her head sadly and Sarah's heart clenched at the realisation that the other woman had not only lost her best friend, but also her family. "We tried everything to stop it, but it was—" She gritted her teeth, the weight of the Vow lying heavy on her tongue. "—Complicated. Dash it. Sasha chose to leave and get married. Willingly. I'm still working on an escape plan."
Sarah jumped slightly as the bell to signal the end of recess trilled out over the bustling playground. Oblivious to her quarter-life crisis Mason scampered off, but before he could disappear entirely from their sight he turned to call his farewell over his shoulder. "Oh, and if you see Bunyan, tell him I said 'hi.'"
"What's a Bunyan?" asked Lyla, and it was only when Sarah failed to answer that she realised her friend had been staring blankly after Mason Barnes' swiftly retreating figure. "Hey, are you okay?"
Sarah gave herself a mental shake and smiled apologetically. "Sorry, I'm just trying to figure out just how the hell I got caught up in this supernatural bullshit again." She laughed, more than a touch hysterically, and passed a shaking hand through her hair as unwanted thoughts of Goblin Kings, drugged peaches and the sinking feeling that she would never be free of the Labyrinth all attempted to sink their claws into her and drag her down into the pill shaking depths of padded cell hysteria. "They're all witches?"
Lyla nodded, smiling at two stern figures standing at one of the many windows of the ancient school and giving them a friendly wave. Sarah froze when she realised that Esther and the Headmistress were glaring at the two women disapprovingly. "Sure are!" She sounded far too cheerful for what was turning pretty quickly into one of the worst Ordeals of Sarah's life.
"And Sasha has somehow managed to get herself caught up in whatever super secretive shit is going on here? Just where is she, Lyla?"
Pulling Sarah back towards the car, Lyla opened her mouth in reply, only for the words to get caught in her throat in a strangled groan. "Are you kidding me?" She sighed, leaving Old Middleton Elementary and two seething witches very much behind in the rearview mirror. "I thought for sure once you found out about the—" Her mouth opened and shut soundlessly and she swore under her breath, throwing her hands up in exasperation. "—Old Middleton Women's Historical Society, it would be enough to find a way around the Vow. Dash it." She drummed her fingers restlessly on the steering wheel, unfocused eyes staring unseeingly ahead while she wracked her brain for a solution.
Sarah helpfully readjusted the wheel every time Lyla veered off course.
Lyla snapped her fingers suddenly and despite the fact she was driving, turned fully in her seat to face Sarah, who screeched and jerked the car back into the middle of the lane. "How do you feel about a visit to Stardust and Brimstone? Can't make that long trip back to New York without a little souvenir Truth Elixir."
"They're not going to fall for the same trick twice," replied Sarah, and it was a testament to their long-standing friendship that she remembered her story from the previous night and realised Lyla's attempt to drug the witches. Again.
"Maybe not from me," Lyla agreed, humming a cheerful tune under her breath. "But I'm hoping they won't be averse to being drugged by you."
"This is never going to work."
Thirty minutes later, Sarah waved goodbye to an amused Rosa, clutching a small bag of goods to her chest, her gaze slightly unfocused. "I can't believe that worked."
"Way to go, you!" Lyla cheered, starting the car. "Did Rosa buy your souvenir story?"
Sarah shook her head and snorted. "Not a chance. Saw right through it. She gave me the elixir anyway, along with a few other things that she thought we might need." She rummaged in the paper bag, her fingers closing around a small, purple pillow flecked with gold specks—and was that glitter?—her lip curling in disgust. She threw the pillow back into the brown paper bag, making a mental note to throw it into the nearest waste bin. "The last thing I need is for someone else to offer me my dreams."
"I get the feeling that Rosa secretly enjoys revelling in the chaos. We should invite her for drinks one night; I think she would be hilarious. Should we stop somewhere for dinner before the mass drugging begins?"
"I really don't think this is a good idea," Sarah muttered from out of the corner of her mouth, dutifully taking a sip of her own Truth Elixir-laced relaxation tea when Esther eyed the two co-conspirators critically. Gathered in the rose drawing room, Sarah and Lyla had tried their best to remain impassive as they served tea to the Old Middleton Women's Historical Society, who had so graciously agreed to gather and tell Sarah all that they could about Sasha's disappearance. 'There's no way we're going to pull this off. They're already far too suspicious.' From across the table, Rosa slipped her a huge, not-so-subtle wink.
"Of course it's not," Lyla smiled, raising her cup in a toast and downed the near-scorching liquid in an attempt to lure the coven into a false sense of security. "They already know both our dirty little secrets anyway." All eyes in the room seemed to be on Esther who hesitated only a moment longer, Sarah's heart hammering in her breast all the while, before taking a tentative sip of her tea. One by one the witches followed suit—that is, all except Rosa, who sat back languidly in her chair and prepared to watch the world burn.
Sarah thought she might just have a girl crush on her.
"What do you think of Old Middleton, Sarah?" replied Esther at length, the suspicion not quite leaving her eyes. "I see that both Lyla and yourself were getting quite intimately acquainted with the Elementary school in particular. Please tell me that you were merely there to satisfy your curiosity. Although, by the way you were speaking to Mason Barnes, I would hazard a guess that you were not."
The two younger women glanced at each other and gulped their tea, putting on a guilty air to prevent a reply and hoping that the witches would do the same. To Sarah's relief they did, and it was only then that she allowed herself to shrug carelessly. "I enjoyed Lyla showing me the sights, especially where Sasha worked before she seemed to disappear from the face of the earth entirely," she replied cheerfully, watching Esther closely for any sign of weakness or subterfuge.
To her dismay, the coven leader's poker face was excellent. "It is only natural that you would be curious. However, I would rather you had waited until we agreed to discuss such things before taking matters into your own hands."
"Things that you wouldn't be able to tell Sarah about anyway?" questioned Lyla shrewdly, hiding a devilish smile behind another large gulp of tea.
A look of horror dawned on Esther's face, and she glanced down at her laced cup. "Tell me you didn't?" When Lyla chose to keep her cards close to her chest the leader sighed and placed her cup gently back into its saucer lest Miss Adeline rain down on her with all the fury of a genteel woman scorned. "Dash it! Not again." She sighed, rubbing her temple, and Sarah almost sympathised with the older woman when she thought of the undoubtedly furious headache that was steadily forming. Esther turned to Lyla, a frown twisting her lips. "Did you have to resort to dragging the entire coven? There are ways in which its leader may circumvent the Vow."
"Could have fooled me," Lyla muttered behind another gulp of tea.
"And you!" Esther rounded on Rosa, eyes falling to her undrunk tea. "You were clearly in on this debacle. Did I not tell you to water down the potency of the elixir? Or to remind you to be careful who you sell your wares to? Do you even remember Fitchburg High?" By the end of her rebuke, the coven leader's voice had risen several decibels.
"What happened in Fitchburg High?" Sarah muttered out of the corner of her mouth.
"I'll fill you in later," replied Lyla from behind her hand.
Rosa smiled innocently. "Who am I to deprive a paying customer of a little souvenir to take back home?"
Esther shook her head, fingers tangling in her pearls, and let out a long-suffering sigh. "Very well. What would you like to know first, Sarah?"
Casting a glance at Lyla who patted her arm reassuringly, Sarah took a deep breath. "What exactly has happened to Sasha? For Lyla not to be at her side, I know that it can't have been anything good. Mason Barnes said today that you're all witches and that you just let Sasha wander off with some strange man who lured her away with nothing more than a few paltry party tricks. I thought she had sworn off men after what happened with what's-his-face."
"Fucking Todd."
"Language, Lyla!"
"Sorry, Miss Adeline."
Esther steepled her fingers together and gave Sarah a long, searching look. "Yes, we are witches. Sworn to guard the Portal against malevolent entities that may find their way to Old Middleton in an attempt to bring harm upon our world."
"You mean there are more worlds out there than just this one and the Underground?" asked Sarah, horrorstruck.
"Many, in fact," sighed Miss Adeline. "Martha, I believe more tea may be required for this conversation. The non-drugged kind, if you please."
"Truthfully, we do not know how many other worlds exist," began Daisy, glancing at her twin sister from out of the corner of her eye.
"Sasha found herself attracting the attention of the Shadow King of Between, one of the many kingdoms belonging to Otherworld," Violet finished. A pregnant pause filled the room as Martha returned with tea and cakes, broken only by soft murmurs of thanks, the gentle clink of fine china and Sarah's self-deprecating laugh echoing throughout the otherwise silent drawing room.
"We truly are destined to attract the unwanted attention of fairytale kings, aren't we?" she said sadly. "Sasha, the girl who had her dreams taken from her and me, the girl who was offered her dreams by the Goblin King."
Lyla reached her arm around her friend's shoulders and gave her a quick squeeze.
"She didn't mean to attract Hill Man's attention," said Lyla quietly. "Things were…simply set in motion that could not be undone. Not long after we came to Old Middleton, Sasha started to dream again." She paused, eyes slightly unfocused. "No, not dream. Sasha began to have nightmares. Whenever she closed her eyes, she was transported to Between and chased by—in the literal sense of the world—Nightmares. It was awful. She would wake up every morning exhausted as though she really had been chased for miles by these little demons. And then, when she asked for my advice, I told her to run towards her problems, instead of away from them."
"That's terrible advice," said Sarah, reaching for another pastry.
"I know," moaned Lyla, wringing her hands, "because when she ran towards her problems, she ended up crowned the True Queen of Between."
Sarah choked on her baked good, eyes watering, and Lyla reached helpfully out to thump her on the back. "She—what?"
Esther nodded grimly. "We Summoned the Shadow King in an attempt to find a way out of Sasha's predicament but sadly, it was no use. Every time Sasha dreamed thereafter, she would hold open the Portal linking our world to Otherworld, and creatures started to pour through. It was only a matter of time before the High King turned his eye to our world."
"Which he eventually did," admitted Rosa, her cup of non-drugged tea lying empty before her. Around the women, the candle wax had almost been reduced to mere stubs in their holders and the shadows had begun to lengthen, casting ghostly fingers on the walls that reached menacingly for them. As Miss Adeline and Martha bustled around the room replacing the candles, Mrs. Landshome spoke up from where she had begun to doze off in her chair.
"Started sending Death Cultists through the Portal to kidnap Sasha. The Portal which should have only opened on the Luna Crossing, and definitely not by the High King. Tried to take us by surprise, too," she added, reaching under her skirt to add a healthy measure of alcohol to her tea as a nightcap from the covert hip flask attached to her thigh. "Luckily, we were more than ready for whatever the High King threw at us, and sent them packing back through to Otherworld."
Although Sarah was horrified with the skirt juice, she sincerely hoped she would be as feisty as Mrs. Landshome in her golden years.
"Unfortunately for Sasha," sniffed Felicia, speaking for the first time that night, "the Portal started opening even when she wasn't asleep, and creatures poured through in the dozens. The only way to prevent this from happening was for Sasha to return permanently to Between and take up the role of its Queen."
"And presumably marry its King?" Sarah ran a shaky hand through her hair. This was so much worse than she could have ever imagined.
"Bingo," replied Rosa, stifling a yawn behind her hand. "But the Shadow King agreed to a week's trial run, after which Sasha would be returned to her own world, without harm."
"By that time, I had hoped to conduct a little more research to try and find Sasha a way out of this mess. Had almost cracked it too, despite the books putting up a good fight. All we had to do was wait for the Portal to open again after seven days."
"Unfortunately for Sasha," said Esther gravely, "once her week was over, she never returned."
"At first we just thought that she had finally found someone who could keep up with her insatiable sexual prowess," Lyla mused, ignoring the sharp look that Miss Adeline cast in her direction. "But as the days passed, we grew worried."
"We have been unable to contact Sasha or the Shadow King, either through Summoning them or through the use of a mirror that had been enchanted to keep in touch with Sasha during her brief stay in Between."
"And it isn't like Sasha not to stay in touch. Or to leave behind her best friend without a word." Sarah chewed her bottom lip worriedly.
Esther shook her head. "From what we have already gleaned from Lyla, Sasha is loyal to a fault. Don't worry, Sarah," she smiled, although it did not quite reach her eyes. "We are doing all that we can to reestablish contact. For now, I suggest that we each get a good night's sleep, and look on this matter in the morning with fresh eyes."
One by one, the coven rose from their seats, the scrape of their chairs against the floor making Sarah wince. "Do you get the feeling that Esther isn't being entirely truthful?" Sarah muttered from out of the corner of her mouth after their goodbyes had been said and the girls trudged wearily up to their rooms.
Lyla hummed non-committally. "I suppose that the Truth Elixir may have worn off before Esther revealed all that she could, but I don't think that she is intentionally keeping anything from us. She is worried, yes, but I sincerely doubt that she would risk Sasha's safety."
Lyla paused, wincing as her bare toes came into contact with the freezing bedsheets that she tucked herself under. "Dash it, that's cold. If the High King is truly behind Sasha's disappearance, hell mend him if Esther gets her hands on him."
They murmured their goodnights, and Sarah frowned as she turned onto her side, her fingers closing around a small, soft object. Squinting in the darkness, she could just about discern the outline of the blasted dream pillow that Rosa had slipped into the paper bag before she left the shop earlier that day. Although she did not remember tossing it onto the bed—or even bringing it up to the bedroom, really—Lyla, or even Martha must have discovered it and made sure that it found its way in amongst Sarah's possessions. "I'll deal with you tomorrow," she promised the innocent little object with a scowl, and she could only blame the sudden tiredness that weighed her down when she did not throw the dream pillow from her bed just before her eyes drifted closed.
"Dash it," she muttered sleepily. "I forgot to ask Lyla about Fitchburg High."
The first thing Sarah noticed when she awoke with a start, eyeing her surroundings blearily, was that the dream pillow was still clutched firmly in her grasp.
"Mother f—"
The second thing she noticed, was that she was not in Kansas anymore.
The blood ran chill in her veins, and Sarah desperately pinched her arm, willing herself to wake up. She was back in the Labyrinth and in the Castle Beyond the Goblin City, no less, where the Goblin King was currently trying to hold court. And, to make matters worse, dressed only in her pyjamas while the goblins hooted and shrieked around her, and chickens flew through the air with indignant, feather-ruffled squawks.
"It's just a dream," she muttered, screwing her eyes shut. "Any minute now, you'll wake up back in Old Middleton. All this talk of dreaming and Otherworlds has finally made you go round the twist." But no matter how hard her fingernails cut into the palms of her hands, leaving behind angry little red crescents, when she opened her eyes once more Sarah remained firmly in the Underground.
Thankfully, neither the King nor his goblins appear to have noticed the Labyrinth's Champion who had appeared in their midst, as if by magic, almost a decade after destroying their city. Sarah held her breath before waving a hand in front of the nearest goblin's eyes—a rather hairy fellow who appeared to be wearing a colander as a helmet—who did not even blink. She breathed a sigh of relief; they could not see her! It was a dream, nothing more.
'But if you turn it this way…' whispered a sly little voice inside her head, which Sarah promptly ignored, too preoccupied with finding a way to wake herself up and escape this hellish dreamscape.
Picking her way carefully through the crowd, she stepped over stray chickens and dodged flying objects. At the same time the Goblin King, entirely oblivious to the chaos around him, spoke in hushed tones to a meticulously dressed goblin standing dutifully beside the throne.
Though Sarah tried not to even glance in his direction, her eyes swept over the lean figure of the Goblin King draped insolently over his carved throne. He did not appear to have aged a day since they had last come face-to-face: indeed, everything from the same arrogant smirk to the menacing glimmer in his mismatched eyes remained the same. He ran a finger over his bottom lip, tongue catching on the sharp point of his teeth as he listened intently to all his advisor had to say, but gave no indication whatsoever that the only mortal to have ever bested him had returned to turn his world upside down.
But she was no longer fifteen years old and nor did she fear him.
Sarah swallowed nervously, eyes darting around the throne room, searching for a means to escape this nightmare. She stood on tiptoe, peering over the heads of the crowd and groaned when she realised that the nearest door appeared to be situated directly behind the throne itself, high up on the dais. The longer she remained in this room, the less likely she would be to emerge with her sanity intact.
"Come on feet," she whispered, willing herself to approach the Goblin King, her body recoiling with a cold shudder as the goblins seemed to pass through her, as though she was invisible. "For my will is as strong," she murmured, her feet carrying her up the steps of the dais, the stone bitingly cold against the soles of her bare feet, "and my kingdom as great."
She held her breath as she approached the throne, kicking aside rotting scraps of food and small fragments of bone that she tried very hard not to think about where they came from.
Her gaze fixed firmly on the door, Sarah failed to notice the long fingers that closed firmly around her wrist and she shrieked in terror, trying to tug her arm away, but the grip was just too tight.
A shard of ice settled deep in the pit of her stomach and Sarah glanced up into the mismatched eyes of the Goblin King who held her fast and was looking directly at her.
"Hello, Sarah."