TW: Violence and gore, horror elements
Glimpse of Us: [Sarah] Make A Killing
"The Beginning," Sarah repeated, though it wasn't a question. As much as she hoped for clarification, she didn't want to face Jareth's evasion.
"The source of life Underground," he explained, catching her off guard.
"Thats…" she trailed off, her breath lodging somewhere between her lungs and throat at the enormity of it. "Unimaginable."
There was a strange expression on Jareth's face as he studied her. A slight upturn at the corner of his mouth that made her feel like he was content in watching her marvel.
He continued. "The living things residing past this point have been here a very long time, unable to develop beyond their primeval forms."
"They can't evolve?" Sarah asked, her scientific interest piqued.
Jareth considered her. "It isn't quite that. A shroud of dark magic keeps things"—he searched for the word—"static."
Her eyes widened. "Its creatures are trapped in a different timeline?"
"In a way." His head tilted thoughtfully. "But not exactly. More like a concept of a moment in time. The construct of an age."
"Couldn't we get trapped, too?" she asked, more curious than afraid—though she held a breath until he answered.
"No," he told her. "And before you ask, I know because I've been here before."
"You're the Goblin King," Sarah reminded him patiently. "I'm very much not."
He gave her a mock once over before corroborating her observation. "In every way, not."
They shared a nearly imperceptible smirk. Jareth's eyes warmed, taught lines softening, and Sarah knew that when her heart neglected to beat for a moment, it wasn't entirely due to the looming threat ahead of them.
"Of all the ways you could come to harm, that is not one of them," he told her.
She huffed. "Reassuring." And it was, somehow. Easier to believe him than to fret over the possibility.
Sarah's gaze slid from his, and she faced the stretch of unknown before her. "I'm ready."
She moved to step forward, but Jareth's hand stretched out and snagged her shoulder.
His expression was suddenly severe when she met his eyes—they begged for her to listen. "You will not find friends here, Sarah," he told her sternly. "No empathy, altruism, or allies."
Sarah held his stare for a moment, jarred by his abrupt shift in mood. "Friends can be found in unexpected places," she said without thinking, as if by rote. It was something she'd experienced firsthand, and she believed it with all of her heart.
"True as that may be," Jareth said, "trust no one and nothing."
Her eyebrow arched, and she scanned his face for anything that looked like deceit. "No one but you, you mean."
The hand on her shoulder squeezed as a commiserative smile curved his lips. "No one but me."
That smile both chilled and warmed her, and a shudder she couldn't hide rattled her body. Sarah broke from his stare when his lips spread into a grin. "Come on, then," she told him as she stepped into another world.
Her gorge rose at the uneasy sensation that crept through her, settling in her belly like a spinning spool of dread. The jungle was so different from the grassland they'd left behind. Though her vision was clear, everything felt dark. Oppressive, like a heavy film pressing everything in its place.
The air was dense and damp, and the hungry buzz of insects contrasted sharply with the happy chirps and songs she'd heard only moments before. Thick, twisted, tropical trees seemed to whisper rumors beyond her comprehension—hissing and spitting hexes upon the trespassers within them. Their roots plunged in and out of the earth, reaching for one another. Embracing their sisters.
Fungi sprouted everywhere, splashes of color that dragged her eyes from mushroom to mushroom. She had to stop herself from examining each one, tripping several times as she gaped.
Sarah could feel Jareth's attention on her, a prickling awareness she decided wasn't at all unpleasant. There was a secret warmth in the way he was watching her, something wistful. A moment meant only for him.
She almost felt like she was intruding as she sent him a small smile.
The smile he returned warmed his cool blue eyes. "What are you thinking about?" he asked with what sounded like genuine interest in his voice.
Sarah laughed. "So many things," she admitted, her smile widening when he chuckled. "But at the moment you asked, I was thinking about how trees can talk to each other over incredible distances."
He arched a brow, his eyes dancing with hers—encouraging her to continue.
Sarah pointed at a cluster of fungi bursting from the dense leaf litter. "Through the mushrooms. Well, through the mycelium, really. You can't see it, but it's everywhere beneath our feet. Beneath everything. It connects tree root systems and allows communication."
Jareth looked thoughtful. "That's rather beautiful," he told her.
His reply surprised her. The sensitivity of it—something vulnerable she wanted to hold close and tend and keep.
Her heart plummeted at the sudden thought, so unbidden and all-consuming. Guilt quickly replaced it. Jareth was beyond burdened. She could see he was hurting.
The flame I carry for him has no place here.
"It is," Sarah agreed with a bright smile, though she wanted to sit and process and maybe sulk.
Their progress became increasingly hindered the further they pressed on. Every step was precarious, and Sarah felt the eerie sensation of eyes on her as they navigated the vines that laced their path, coils that seemed to grasp and tangle just enough to get a sense of them before letting them pass.
The trees began to spread out by early afternoon, the vines thinning before them. Filtered light beamed ahead, spotlighting a clearing.
Jareth perched on an immense tree root that curved out of the ground like a convenient bench for two. "We'll stop and rest here," he told her, patting the spot beside him.
Sarah grinned at the pastry he offered her and joined him, grateful for a break. They ate in silence for a time, and she was relieved to let her mind wander, free from the concentration it had taken to traverse through the jungle for the past several hours.
"Who is doing this?" she asked, gesturing broadly. The abruptness of her own question startled her.
Jareth's eyes widened before a veil fell over them. He appraised her for a moment and said, "A sorceress." The word hissed hatefully from between his teeth. "One greedy for magic to wield as a weapon. She was perhaps once a fae, but that cannot be confirmed. Her existence extends beyond our written histories."
Sarah swallowed. She didn't like the sound of any of that, nor the bitter look on Jareth's face. "Is she…our opponent?" she asked. The word felt strange, not quite right. And her voice sounded reedy to her own ears, though she had pushed all of her confidence into it.
"I believe so," he said after a pensive beat. "Though she no longer occupies a physical form."
Her eyebrows shot up. "Is that good or bad?"
"It leaves me unsure of how to defeat her," he confided. "Considering my magic is inert within her realm."
Sarah nodded slowly as she mulled over this new knowledge. Her voice was gentle when she asked, "Did she take your child?"
Jareth inclined his head in confirmation. "Strix," he offered quietly. "Her name."
"I'm sorry," she told him, meaning it with every cell in her body. The look on his face was pure devastation, so much ache in the way he'd spoken the name. "I want to help."
"I know." He breathed the words on a shaky exhale. "You shouldn't have to."
Sarah's fingers reached for his before she pulled them away in an awkward redirect. She wanted to comfort him, maybe even needed some comfort herself, but she didn't want to overstep.
She glanced down as Jareth's hand joined hers between them. Her heart skipped a beat when he squeezed her fingers, just a single pulse, and she felt inexorably driven to meet his gaze.
His eyes were intent on hers when he told her, "I made a deal."
Sarah blinked at him. "A deal?"
"Perhaps the wrong deal." There was anguish in his eyes as his words began to pour out in a sorrowful rush like it hurt more to keep them unspoken. "Though I can't think of what else I could have done. I'll spend my life agonizing over an alternative. A smarter trade."
She stared at him while a cold dread that contrasted with the balmy air chilled her spine. Her mouth opened, but she closed it before what she was about to ask could come out.
You made a deal involving your own child? A trade?
Jareth's hold on her hand slackened. He must have seen the question in her expression. Or felt it in the way she tensed. Or both. He always seemed so attuned to her, so perceptive to her slightest shift.
"I didn't think—" he stopped and seemed to try and collect himself. "I shouldn't say more. It wouldn't be fair."
Sarah's voice was small when she asked, "Fair to whom?"
"To anyone." He sounded resolute, his tone calm but ringing with the decision that he would share nothing more.
Their fingers were still laced, but neither gripped tightly. Sarah didn't know how to feel, and her hand felt awkward and clammy in his loose hold.
"We should press on," Jareth told her, his fingers slipping from hers as he rose to his feet.
They'd only walked a few paces before Jareth stilled and held up a hand.
Sarah stopped abruptly, noticing his signal after she'd already begun a new step. She stumbled, and he caught her by the shoulder—bracing her.
They stood like that for what felt like minutes as Jareth scanned the area, his head on a slow swivel. Sarah thought he looked very much like an owl—an owl who found himself in the territory of a deadlier predator.
Sarah could suddenly detect a dull thrumming, something she felt but couldn't quite hear. And then, the awareness bled into her auditory range, a thudding that came from many sources, erratic and yet pounding in a unified rhythm.
And they all seemed to be getting louder.
"Drums," Sarah breathed. "Jareth—"
"Don't panic." His voice was a whispered plea she hardly recognized.
The expression on his face was chilling. Alert and wild-eyed. Dread washed over her like an icy tide at the sight of it. At the steady and yet somehow musical percussion drawing nearer.
Jareth's fingers tightened on her shoulder, and he pulled her forward. "We must leave—"
"I need new eyes," said a needling voice from Sarah's left. She spun to see a grizzled creature clutching its decapitated head by the hair. It held out the head to Sarah, and she watched in grotesque awe as something pale slithered out of an empty socket and into the other.
"I don't need anything," whined another voice from above, sounding quite pouty to be missing out. Sarah looked up to see the speaker swinging from a branch with one long arm.
Sarah ducked just in time to dodge the leg it hurtled at her face. It smacked against the tree behind her with a sickening thud. She gasped, and her heart pounded at the realization of how much that would have hurt had it hit her.
"Oh, but now I do need a leg!" the assailant rejoiced.
The laughter that rang through the trees was somehow both delighted and joyless. More of them appeared like they had been there all along. Some carried drums made of what looked like tightly stretched skin. Most of them kept rhythm with bones in various states of decay—some still had bits of flesh clinging to them, another splintered upon a particularly rigorous impact. The creature holding the crumbling old bone screeched in rage before tearing off the arm of its neighbor to use instead.
Sarah was too alarmed to let her eyes stray from the creatures to glance at Jareth, but she heard his sword sing as he unsheathed it from its scabbard. "Stay calm," he whispered.
The drumming slowed and faded in volume as the creatures crowded Sarah and Jareth from all sides. They swayed to its steady rhythm as if the consistency of the beat kept them alive.
But none of them danced.
Sarah had always wondered if the Fireys from her Labyrinth run would have truly harmed her. Their intentions felt ambiguous after she'd had years to reflect on the episode. They'd been more impish than truly menacing, and Sarah had decided their fun had come from frightening her more than causing actual harm. They'd seemed perfectly content to play with their own limbs and sing songs, happy to have an audience.
These were wrong.
Their smiles weren't playful but predatory. Hungry, with the elongated canines of a carnivore. Their fur wasn't the bright reddish-orange she knew, but a mottled mess of moldy greens and browns.
She felt Jareth's back press up against hers, and she instinctively leaned into him, taking comfort in his presence at her back.
"Your dagger, Sarah." Jareth's voice was so quiet she barely heard him.
"Right," she whispered, slipping the dagger from its sheath and positioning it in her hand as he had shown her.
Though she tried desperately, she couldn't keep her eye on all of them. Her head turned this way and that as they skittered and rolled quicker than she could track. And there were still more she couldn't see, judging by the faint but steady thrum from behind the treeline.
"I bet she will make pretty sounds when we take her apart," a creature mused from closer than the last time Sarah had spotted it. Viscous saliva dripped from its open, smiling jaws. "Crunches and cries."
Sarah's legs were suddenly swept out from beneath her, her breath violently expelled from her lungs as her shoulder hit the ground. She scrambled to sit up as another creature charged head-on, and she almost didn't hear Jareth shouting "Stab it!" from somewhere behind her through the cacophony of cheers and cackles.
By the time she registered the command, she was already plunging the blade into the creature's middle as it lunged for her. It shrieked. A horrible, wet sound, its claws gripping her injured shoulder. Sarah braced her hand against its chest with all of her strength. Her arm shook with the strain of it, but she refused to let it take her fully to the ground.
Sarah took a gasping breath and twisted the dagger as hard as she could. Searing pain sliced across her collarbone as claws sank deeper into her flesh. She struggled to pull the blade out—it wasn't as easy as she had hoped. Spittle flew as the creature's jaws snapped inches from her face.
Its breath smelled like decay.
Like death.
She finally managed to wiggle the blade free and shoved it back in, twisting immediately and more aggressively this time. The creature hissed in pain, eyes widening as it looked at Sarah in bewilderment. It still smiled absurdly as blood slipped from the corners of its mouth and mixed with frothy drool.
"I just wanted a spine," it told her. Its free hand reached for her throat. "Could snap your neck and pull it right out."
Sarah wrenched the dagger free again and stabbed the creature two more times in rapid succession before it finally collapsed. She fell back, its sudden dead weight too much for her.
The hilt of the dagger in her fist punched painfully into her diaphragm, knocking the wind from her once more. Its claws were still embedded into her shoulder, and she screamed as she pried them out of her flesh before managing to roll the thing—this not-Firey—off.
She sat up and saw Jareth spin, cutting two approaching creatures down with his sword. There were so many body parts and entrails around him that it was hard for Sarah to guess exactly, but it looked like he had managed to take out half a dozen creatures during her fight.
He moved to her and pulled her to her feet, spinning her around to press his back to hers again. "Gut them," he growled so only she could hear. "Internal organs are harder to reassemble."
Sarah's mind buzzed with adrenaline. Her grip on her dagger felt slippery, and she glanced down at her hand to see it covered in thick, dark blood. Her eyes tracked over to the corpse of her defeated opponent, and something inside her cracked.
She'd killed something. Someone? A being.
"Keep your eyes up, Sarah. Don't hesitate," Jareth hissed as if he could detect her lapse in attention. "Or it will be your head presented to the next stranger unfortunate enough to come across them."
That image snapped her out of her remorseful trance just in time for her to react to a not-Firey that charged from her front. Sarah dropped to a knee as it rushed forward. Its eyes widened with hungry glee at the sight of her jugular, so much closer now to its teeth.
Its expression slipped as it collided with her.
The force of the creature knocked Sarah back only slightly. She was prepared for the impact as the dagger slid into the creature's belly. It drove itself forward onto the blade, and Sarah jerked it upwards, slicing up its abdomen.
She winced at the sloshing sound that spilled out between them as the creature dropped. She was numbly aware that the drumming had come to an abrupt end, but she didn't have enough time to fully register it.
Another not-Firey rushed her from the side just as she rolled the corpse of her last attacker off. Her foot kicked out on instinct, tripping the creature, before she realized it had not been running at her at all. It scrambled to its feet and took off in the direction it had been heading, glancing back to a point in the trees with a look of sheer horror on its face.
Puzzled, she turned to see what it had been so spooked by, but all she could see in the trees were not-Fireys urgently tearing out of their hiding places and following the one she had tripped.
They flew by her, suddenly completely disinterested in her various parts.
Sarah scanned the trees again, trying to pick out anything distinct in the shifting shadows. The clearing became disconcertingly still as the last of the creatures made their escape. She squinted and then gasped as her eyes tried to make sense of what she was seeing.
She shuffled backward in the leaf litter until her back hit something behind her. She gasped again, her overwrought nerves buzzing with hypervigilance. Her head jerked up to see Jareth looking down at her, and to her absolute shock, there was a poorly concealed smirk on his face.
"Did you see it?" Sarah asked as she stared at him in panic. She didn't know if she had the words to describe it to him if he hadn't—they felt stuck in her throat.
He was unnervingly calm. "Don't worry about it," he said, kneeling down to meet her at eye level.
"So dark," Sarah found herself babbling. "The absence of anything, but solid. It was too tall, Jareth. Just looming there. And it's ears…" She motioned with her hands, miming elongated, pointed ears on top of her head. "Too long."
Jareth looked unphased by her alarm. "Lay back," he told her.
Sarah shook her head. "Jareth, you're not listening to me." She had to make him understand. "This thing was huge. We need to get out of here."
"Agreed. But we need to tend to your wounds first," he said. "This is as safe a place as any."
"Did you hear me?" she whisper-screamed at him, not daring to drag her eyes away from where she had seen the form of something so monstrous.
Fingertips pressed into her jaw, gently forcing her face away from the trees. "Look at me." He dropped his hand once her eyes reluctantly met his. "We need to get out of the forest and into the tunnels—"
"Tunnels? Jareth, what—" Claustrophobia squeezed at her throat and she squirmed away from him.
"It is vital that we reach them before the sun sets entirely," he continued as if she hadn't interrupted. "Your wounds will begin to hurt immensely once the adrenaline leaves your system. It is better to disinfect and numb them as best we can now, rather than have you collapse in pain on the way."
Sarah blinked at him, then turned back to scan the trees. Jareth didn't force her to look at him again, but she felt the pressure of his hand on the back of her neck urging her to lay back. She complied without resistance, exhausted, but her eyes did not leave the trees as her cheek landed softly on the grimy ground.
"If it wanted to harm us, it would have by now," Jareth said calmly as he pulled the collar of her tunic down to reveal some of her injuries. They both hissed; Sarah from the pain of the material separating from her wounds, and Jareth from the sight of them.
He tugged her collar as far as it would go, peering beneath it.
Sarah huffed impatiently and peeled off her ruined tunic, tossing it aside, before settling back down. She braced herself, eyeing Jareth out of the corner of her eye. "Do your worst."
Jareth grimaced and stood before walking to where their packs lay discarded. Sarah heard him rummage in his bag before returning to her side. He handed her a wineskin. "Take two swallows," he demanded. "No more."
She squinted at it dubiously and brought it to her nose.
"Don't smell it," Jareth added quickly. "Trust me. Just drink it."
Sarah sighed and plugged her nose—old college party instincts kicking in—and gulped two swallows. She didn't know what she expected, but the typical warmth of liquor was not what followed.
Ice. It felt like slushy ice sliding down her throat and spreading through her chest and extremities. She collapsed onto her back, her equilibrium blown.
She didn't feel drunk, exactly. She didn't feel numb, either. But it was something.
Bare fingers brushed the hair off her shoulder and Sarah squeezed her eyes shut tighter. She thought about his hands—always a point of fixation for her. She'd have to find out what they looked like ungloved at a later point in time that didn't involve them both covered in her blood.
She was violently pulled from her thoughts as frigid fire licked her wounds. It took her a second to realize he had poured whatever was in the wineskin over them.
"Fuuuuuuuuuuck," she howled, but her eyes remained screwed shut.
"I'm sure," Jareth concurred, not without sympathy. He dabbed at her wounds with something, cleaning out clothing fibers and bits of forest grit.
Sarah winced but didn't comment further.
"I am going to rinse it out once more," Jareth warned before the burning cold liquid doused her again.
She was relieved to find that she was somewhat desensitized from the first round. The second time was half as painful. That small win was enough to allow her to surrender a little. She felt herself relax in spite of the lurking danger as she focused on her breathing instead of what Jareth was doing.
As her mind and body calmed, her thoughts drifted, and started to recount the events that led to this moment. Her chest compressed with a sudden weight that felt alien to her.
"I killed two of them," Sarah whispered.
Jareth hummed, distracted, looking decidedly unimpressed. "I stopped keeping track after my ninth."
"We're not Legolas and Gimli, Jareth," she pointed out with a sigh.
To her surprise, Jareth laughed. "A truly formidable literary reference. How could I ever compete?"
Sarah was too spent to worry about how he knew of Tolkien. She opened her eyes and met his. "You're the only one competing." Her voice sounded much smaller than she had intended it to. "I don't want a kill count."
Jareth didn't respond immediately with something snarky like she expected him to. His expression softened around his eyes as they regarded each other.
"I don't kill because I want to, Sarah." He cupped the back of her neck with one hand and supported the small of her back with the other before guiding her to sit up.
"Sure." She cast an accusatory eye his way. "Says the guy with his own torture swamp."
"Oh, please." he scoffed. "No one has died in the bog."
Sarah raised a disbelieving brow.
"Death comes much later. Slowly, over time from the recurring smell." His eyes glittered with mischief. "That is hardly my fault."
She couldn't help but smirk at his tales. "Shut up," Sarah told him and moved to elbow him lightly but winced at the strain on her injuries.
Instead of heeding her request, Jareth commanded, "Hold this here." He placed a square of gauzy bandage loosely over her wounds.
Sarah obeyed, carefully pressing her hand to it while he wrapped a long strip of bandage under her armpit and over her shoulder. He repeated the loop several times before tucking the end securely.
He sat back and assessed his handiwork. He sounded unsatisfied when he said, "That will have to do for now."
Sarah leveled him with a half-hearted glare. "Has anyone ever complimented you on your bedside manner?"
"No," Jareth admitted. A self-satisfied grin stretched across his face.
She smirked. "Don't expect them to anytime soon."
"I walked right into that one, I suppose," he said, before carefully hauling her to her feet.
"Headfirst," Sarah corroborated. "Thank you, regardless."
Jareth wasn't paying attention to her—he'd already started gathering up their things. He was smiling when he turned to her, both packs looped over his shoulders.
"Now. As for the abomination in the trees." He handed her a shirt and asked innocently, "Where did you see it?"
Sarah frowned as she pulled the shirt over her head, suspicious of the sudden interest he was showing in what he'd previously ignored.
But mostly, of his unsettling smile.
Jareth waited patiently for her answer, an eyebrow arched in question.
Reluctantly, Sarah lifted a hand and pointed to the space where she had seen the figure she couldn't have conjured in her worst nightmare.
"That's the way we go, then," he told her confidently.
Sarah heaved a shaky exhale. "You've got to be joking."
Jareth gave a minute shake of his head. "Come along."
I could follow you and search the rubble
Or stay right here and save myself some trouble
Or try to keep myself from seeing double
Or I could make a killing
'You Could Make a Killing' by Aimee Mann
Geliot99 beta read this chapter. Thank you!
Credits: The Legolas and Gimili reference is from The Lord of the Rings trilogy by JRR Tolkien.
And we are OFF! I hope you liked this chapter. This adventure has taken a turn and I suspect it wasn't exactly what Sarah had been anticipating.
Please let me know what you think!