The Harrowed and the Haunted by BowieQueen
Summary: A house hidden by magic is stumbled upon by a mortal child and her babysitters one Halloween night. But magic isn't the only secret this house hides. Jareth soon forgets about the only mortal to have ever entered the house in Harrows Lane when the only mortal to ever beat his Labyrinth dramatically exits his life.
Author Note: Please note, this chapter is set in the 70s so includes some 70s slang and sayings.
Prologue:
Not a window was broken.
And the paint wasn't peeling.
Not a porch step sagged
Yet there was a feeling.
That beyond the door and into the hall.
This was a house of no one at all.
(Vic Crume, 1970).
October 31, 1974
"Oh, for fuck's sake." Travis threw his skateboard down heavily, watching and smirking as it clattered across the wooden floor, hitting the baseboards with a sharp thud.
Jake cringed as the skateboard came to a rest, revealing the freshly painted baseboard that was now dented. Dark scuff marks now marred either side and some of the white paint had started to chip off in flakes. His mother was going to kill him.
Travis hit the doorframe with the side of his fist. "It's Halloween, man. Let's go!"
"Trav, I have the Williams' kid with me." He indicated over his shoulder with his thumb. She was sitting in the lounge behind him, probably reading or drawing. "I can't leave her here all by herself."
"Then bring her with us," he snapped. "I dunno why you keep offering to look after the brat anyway."
"Because it pays and cigarettes aren't free," Jake muttered under his breath. "Especially as you keep bumming smokes off me."
"You owe me," Travis responded with a sneer as he shook his long, dark greasy hair over his shoulder. "Call this a debt repayment and let's go. Shonda is putting out at the party tonight and I ain't gonna miss that sweet, sweet pussy for your twerpy baby."
"She's not a baby, Trav. She's four."
"A baby, Jake, probably still wears diapers." He tucked his hair behind his ear and admired his reflection in the mirror.
"She doesn't." Jake sighed and collected his charge's jacket off the coat rack and his own backpack. His gut twisted because he knew he was responsible for Sarah Williams and he didn't want to lose this job. She was such an easy child to watch; just read a few stories with her and she would spend most of their time together drawing and playing. She had a wicked imagination on her, and he would quite often get lost in her make-believe himself. But Travis was guilting him into going out—and he kind of wanted to as well.
Jake had been foolish to accept this job on Halloween but being too old for trick or treating, he hadn't considered the house parties that were happening all over town. Shonda's party was gearing up to be the most popular one because she'd promised certain people blowjobs and hand jobs to come to her's instead of going to Lacey Stewarton's house. Travis was determined that he was going to lose his virginity to her tonight and Jake hadn't expected the other boy to turn up at his house because of it.
Yet, here he was. Jake wished he could say no to him but before he knew it, he had bundled his charge into her jacket and out the door. They weren't dressing up, so that was at least one thing that wouldn't incriminate him when he returned home—no costume lying around as evidence he'd left his house with a four-year-old who he was meant to be looking after.
Sullenly, the three of them walked the streets towards Shonda's house. The two boys were wearing their backpacks and carrying their skateboards under their arms, and the slight, dark-haired child followed silently behind—a wraith on All Hallow's Eve. She had barely put up any resistance, making the worm of guilt in his gut that much more violent. It would have been easier if she had put up a fight, as adrenaline would have masked his anxiety.
The streets were busy but they slipped by unnoticed. Each step Jake took was rather grudging, but he knew he could stop this at any point, go home and still keep his job. He'd risk Travis getting grumpy at him, but it was unclear whether or not the other boy would snap and that prevented him from retreating. An image of a child a few grades below them surfaced in his mind: a scrawny boy, beaten to a pulp because he had stared at Travis for a few seconds too long. His face was bruised and bleeding and he even lost two teeth. Jake's guts swirled and tightened again but he lowered his head and kept moving, wishing he'd dared to say no.
"Let's head down Harrows Lane," Travis instructed.
Harrows Lane was a shortcut and Jake's stomach roiled with a spike of anguish. This road was dark and unlit, unlike the surrounding roads. People avoided it at night—especially during Halloween. For what seemed like no particular reason. Some of the wealthiest people lived down Harrows Lane but it was somewhat unwelcoming nonetheless.
They headed down the hedge-lined cul-de-sac with Sarah following meekly behind. He kept checking on her, guilt riddled and worried. The inside of his mouth bled from the way he chewed it. He should have said no to Travis. The coppery tang served as a reminder of his foolishness to give in to peer pressure. He rummaged in his pockets and Sarah drew out his smokes.
"Yep, I'll have one too," Travis said, noticing Jake lighting up.
Jake grumbled and passed him a cigarette. He took a long drag of his own and exhaled, watching the cloud of smoke disappear into the darkness. He wouldn't have started smoking if it wasn't for his friendship with Travis; peer pressure compelled him, but he could stop at any time. He was at least calmer when he was smoking than if he tried to be in Travis' company without any buffers. He took a deeper drag, releasing his tension with the nicotine hit.
"Have you ever seen that house before?" Travis asked, stopping suddenly. Jake turned and faced a large derelict house on the corner just beside the path that cut through the park leading towards Shonda's road. Standing side by side, they both smoked as they took in the large, ornate but clearly run-down mansion. "Looks haunted. Perfect for Halloween. We should go look around."
"I thought you wanted to go see Shonda," Jake pointed out.
"She'll keep."
Jake didn't point out that she would probably be very tired after all the freebies she was giving away and probably wouldn't keep. Sighing and regretting all his life choices, he trudged reluctantly after his friend.
The houses on either side were lit up, but the one in question remained shrouded in darkness.
"I've seen it before," Sarah said from behind them. "A pretty lady lives there."
The two teenagers turned to stare at her. Travis muttered about nosey babies and Jake nervously prodded the inside of his wounded cheek with his tongue.
"We're going in!" Travis pushed up his sleeves and threw his skateboard into a nearby bush to hide it. "Leave the kid out here if you're scared."
"I'm not scared." Jake threw his board into the bush to prove it. "But if someone lives here—"
"Then they live a shitty life with a mouldy old house. Let's go in."
Jake noted Sarah's puzzled frown as she looked the house up and down. However, he hid his own agitation and followed Travis up the mossy, cracked path to the front door. He absently noticed Sarah trailing behind.
"Aren't you going to knock first?" Sarah asked as Travis turned the doorknob. "Mommy says it is more polite to knock than barging in."
"No one lives here, little crybaby," Travis said mockingly as he shoved the door open without a second thought. He pulled a torch out of his backpack as they crossed the threshold, seeing that there were no signs of life on the other side. The front hall had missing floorboards and no furniture. A broken mirror was hung on one side and a ripped oil painting on the other. A once-grand staircase was directly ahead but it was missing steps and the bannister was fractured and completely missing in sections. The paint on the walls had flaked, peeled and rotted, revealing the history of the house through different layers of paint underneath.
Weeds grew up through the floor and the ceiling—once covered in a mosaic—was now missing large chunks of tiling and the chandelier was rusted and dilapidated. Sarah remained standing in the doorway, staring around in awe.
That was until Travis spun around and yelled, "Psych," into her face. The wee girl flinched but held her ground, looking at Travis with a preschooler's disdain: a curled lip and a scrunched up nose. Jake was sure he heard her mutter about him being a nasty boy. Travis headed straight for the stairs, taking them two at a time, laughing uproariously at his own joke all the while.
Jake followed Travis at a slower, more cautious pace, carefully dodging the missing stairs. They hadn't gotten very far when the stairs suddenly folded and created a slide. Both of them lost their footing and slid all the way down the stairs, landing in the rotting entranceway again. Jake rolled over and climbed to his feet, dusting off the leaves and debris; Travis followed suit, cursing and rubbing his knee.
"You fucking idiot," Travis bellowed. "You obviously set off some lever or something. That's why I was taking two steps at a time—you set off a trick step."
Jake was about to retort but a chill ran down his spine and it wasn't at the sight of Travis raising his fist. They were not alone.
And it made it all the more abundantly clear they had company when the lights flickered on.
"Who are you and why are you in this house?" came a deep, cultured voice. The two boys spun around to face—Jake gasped—a man towering over them with a wicked glint in his eyes. He wore dark leather armour and had a head full of wild blonde hair that seemed jagged, yet not. Jake reminded himself that it was Halloween; it was just a costume.
"He must be the pretty lady that crybaby was going on about," Travis sniggered, lowering his fist but somehow wielding a knife in his hand instead—which was pointed at the man. Jake expected some reaction from the stranger, but he remained coolly indifferent to the weapon pointed at his chest. He wished Sarah wasn't witnessing this.
With that thought, Jake's heart clenched. Sarah was not anywhere to be seen. "Where is she?" he hissed out of the corner of his mouth.
Travis just shrugged, rubbing his elbow, dispassionately. "Probably ran off wailing like the crybaby she is."
"Pretty lady?" the man said, his head cocked to one side as he regarded them both, humming slightly. "I thank you for the compliment, but no, I am not a lady."
"Are these your digs?" Travis asked, his brow arching.
"What are you doing here?" the man repeated, cool as a cucumber.
"Up your nose with a rubber hose," Travis snapped, crossing his arms like he was Sarah's age and not a sixteen-year-old.
"I don't have the good fortune of understanding you." The man frowned, making Jake notice the freaky eyebrows he had. They arched upwards towards his hairline like bird wings. He was momentarily mesmerised by his uneven pupils: one was dark and the other was light, and it made Jake's skin crawl to behold them.
"It means 'mind your own beeswax,'" Travis snapped with all the attitude of having to explain something to the older generation.
"Beeswax?" The man let out a large laugh. "I have a beekeeper for that job."
"You're bananas!" Travis turned to leave but suddenly found himself rooted to the spot. Jake saw fear flit briefly across his face before it was swiftly replaced by anger.
"I may not be familiar with these terms, but I know that you're trying to insult me." The stranger straightened the cuffs of his armoured jacket and sneered at them both in turn. "That's never a wise choice."
Travis attempted to pull his feet off the spot with more vigour. "Stop with your freaky deeky shit and let us go."
"Ah, you see. You trespassed onto my property and now you shall be punished appropriately." The man started pacing around them with slow, measured steps. "How you even found your way here is a mystery and perhaps if you can answer that, then I will let you off lightly. Neither of you have any magic, and yet the wards are intact. Explain yourselves."
"What the f—?"
"We got lost going to a Halloween party," Jake interrupted, frightened that they were dealing with a seriously unhinged man. "We're sorry, sir."
"Your manners do you credit, but you still broke into this house intending to damage it." The man kicked Travis' rucksack until it tipped over and a spray-can rolled out and hit Jake's foot. "Tagging, I believe you call it."
"The house is damaged anyway," Travis yelled. "Now let us go."
"You really are a pleasant boy." He waved his hand and suddenly all the apparent damage vanished and the house was fully furnished and pristine once more. Jake couldn't help but gape. "You only see what I want you to see, but you still intended to decorate my property with your hideous, toxic paint, so you still need to be punished."
Jake bit back tears. He should have stayed home with Sarah. Now he'd lost her. The poor, sweet child who was nothing but kind to him was left in the clutches of his weird, magical dude. He would lose his babysitting job and he would definitely be grounded. He seriously needed to reevaluate his friendship with Travis.
The magical stairs that transformed into a slide seemed less overwhelming as he stared around the brightly lit interior of this apparently abandoned house. He stared at the closed door, hoping Sarah at least had enough sense to run home.
"Have you anything to say for yourself?"
"Yeah, fuck y—"
Travis disappeared with a small pop.
"Now you, dear boy?"
Jake swallowed heavily and lifted his eyes to meet the magician's blue ones, currently narrowed with distrust. "I was wrong to follow Travis here and I have learnt my lesson." He whimpered as the man moved his hand but he only settled his finger on his chin. He wanted to beg him not to hurt Sarah but he didn't want to alert him to her presence if she was safe, either. He closed his eyes. "Man, I didn't want to come here tonight and I shouldn't have. I am really sorry that we disturbed you."
"You are less a holy terror and far more obsequious, but you still trespassed." He gave a mock sigh and rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "I will deal with you later."
He waved his hand and Jake was enveloped in sudden darkness.
Jareth pinched the bridge of his nose and let out all his pent up exasperation. In the last however many centuries, no one had stumbled onto this property either by accident or design. Then two imbecilic boys, barely out of nappies, managed it on tonight of all nights. Instead of enjoying an orgy with some of his nearest and dearest, he was now forced to deal with trespassers at his mother's residence.
He meandered through the myriad of rooms until he found her—
—Not alone.
Perched on the sofa next to his mother, Ismaila, was a dainty wee child of about four or five years old, with a plate of teacakes on her lap and an enraptured look upon her face.
"Mother?"
"Oh, darling, what are you doing here?" his mother asked him as she looked up from her plate of cakes.
"You had trespassers and they set off the wards, so I came to investigate," Jareth answered with a pointed stare at the young interloper who nibbled quietly on a cake with her large, green eyes unwaveringly fixed on him. He marvelled at her lack of fear even faced with his dark, imposing armour. "Who is your guest?"
"I don't know. She didn't tell me her name," his mother replied, placing her plate down on the coffee table with a clatter. "But I am grateful for her company. She has been telling me all about her dog and the books she enjoys, but I think she may be tired and in need of her bed."
"My dog is called Arthur," the girl said, directly to him. "He's very old. Even older than you. Daddy says that he is like seventy-seven in dog years and that is a big number."
"It is a big number, dear one," Jareth commented, with a grin. He couldn't help the way his lips twitched at the precious child. "Arthur is a very noble name. What is your name?"
She shook her dark head, tendrils flying everywhere. "Daddy said never to tell strangers my name. Mommy says never tell magic folk my name. You are a stranger but you also look like an elf."
"Your parents are both correct," he replied, smiling. This child was certainly something else. "But I am not an elf. I am fae."
"So you are magic?"
"Indeed, sweetling." He had no qualms about letting her know his magic status. She was, after all, only young and would soon forget. All children believed in magic, so it wasn't as if any adult would believe her. "Shall I show you a trick?"
He placed his gloved hands behind his back and slowly brought them back out again to reveal a silver brooch in the shape of a feather. Her eyes widened and she held her hand out to receive his gift.
"Your name?"
Jareth watched in disappointment as her fingers curled up and she dropped her hand back into her lap.
Her head lowered. "I want to go home."
"Oh, see what you've done," his mother scolded. "You've upset her. I rarely get company and yet when I do, you scare it off."
"I am not scared," the child said, defiantly. "I just want to go home. You're a stranger."
Jareth nodded. "I will walk you home, my sweet. Do you know where you live?"
She nodded confidently and stood up hastily from the sofa, quite forgetting her plate of treats. They tumbled to the floor with the plate landing on top of them.
"Oh."
"Never mind, dear." His mother patted her arm gently. "I will tidy them up. Hurry along now. And remember what I told you."
The girl tapped her nose and his mother winked. "That's right, darling one. Visit again soon."
"Where is Jake?" the girl asked him, her stare unyielding.
"Who?" He shrugged. "One of those nasty boys?"
"He isn't nasty. I like Jake. He was babysitting me," she corrected, nibbling her lip. "Until that awful Travis showed up."
"They have been given consequences of their actions for not being very nice boys," Jareth replied, delicately. "Not only did they enter a building without knocking, but they also left you behind."
The girl's lip wobbled slightly but she recovered with a sniff. "Jake is my friend."
Jareth studied the wee child as something stirred inside him at her words. Friendship was such a foreign concept to him, so he didn't understand how she could give her friendship so easily to someone so quick to put her in danger. As a king, he had little time for anything deeper than acquaintances with anyone in his life.
"He will return home having learnt an important lesson about who he keeps company with and not deserting his responsibilities." He absently fiddled with a picture frame on one of the many old-fashioned oak tables scattered around the room. They were all devoid of any photo and Jareth was hit anew at how empty his mother's life must be. So desperate was she for company that she was ecstatic to have spent five whole minutes with an imprudent four-year-old human. "I do wonder…"
Jareth wanted to suggest that the wee child visit his mother again, but thought better of it. Instead, he collected himself and gestured towards the door. It wouldn't be fair to bring a child into this prison. For that is what it was. His mother was in exile and the only way to keep her safe and to keep the Aboveground safe from her was to hide her away in this house of mirage and illusion.
"We should start heading to your home," he said, casting his eyes to his mother who remained suspiciously jovial despite losing her brief playmate.
"Goodbye, little one," his mother said, waving to the girl as she approached Jareth's side. "Remember: nothing is as it seems."
The child smiled at her and then looked up at Jareth expectantly. Her green eyes revealed a depth of emotion and understanding and a lack of fear that he had never experienced from a mortal before. He shook off the strange feeling sweeping over him and he took her hand to lead her out of the house. In the simple touch, he could feel magic coursing through her, which explained how she saw and entered the house. The boys had only gotten lucky from being in her proximity. What it didn't explain was why he couldn't detect it when he was not making contact with her.
He pondered this strange puzzle as they strode out of the house and onto the street. Jareth subtly glamoured himself to look like a mortal. Despite it being Halloween, he thought it best not to draw too much attention to the child and himself. Once at the end of Harrows Lane he asked the child which way they should go.
She sucked her bottom lip in and looked both ways. She pointed to their right and so right they went—in silence. He noticed her eyes flitting from costumed person to costumed person. After they'd reached the end of the road and turned into a new one, he saw her staring up at him.
"Why did you take your costume off?" she asked, looking him up and down.
He hummed thoughtfully. "These people don't believe in real magic as you do. It is unnecessary to frighten them."
"You're not frightening," she said, giggling. "That's silly."
Jareth had his pride but somehow it wasn't hurt by the wee critter holding his hand tightly and skipping at his side, declaring his lack of ability to be frightening. Anyone else and he would have been furious, and then amped up his frightening manner until the offender relented—preferably by soiling themselves.
"Why did Jake and Travis think the house was messy and dirty?" she asked as they moved steadily under the streetlights. "I thought it was beautiful."
Jareth's steps faltered, but he quickly regained his footing. "You saw the house as it is, instead of how it was glamoured to look?"
The child merely frowned.
"Describe how you saw it."
She shrugged. "He said it was mouldy and falling apart but I saw pretty paintings and no holes in the stairs."
"Remarkable."
"What is?"
"You should not have been able to find the house, let alone enter it or see it as anything but a ramshackle, decayed house." Jareth inhaled sharply as he pondered what this might mean. "You should have seen what the boys saw."
"Why didn't I?"
"I don't know, but I could help if I had your name."
"What's your name?" she asked.
"Clever girl." Jareth lightly squeezed the child's hand. "I will tell you my name if you tell me yours."
She shook her head. "No, mister. It's my name and I am keeping it all to myself." She gave him a rather prim toss of her head and then seemed happy to remain in silence the rest of the way to her house.
With one look, he could tell no one was currently home at her residence.
"Did the boy have the key to your house when he decided to abscond?"
"He didn't come to my house," she replied, scuffing the toe of her shoe against the edge of the step leading up to her front door. "Mommy and daddy took me around to Jake's house."
"Ah!" He sat down on the stairs and smiled at the child. "Then we wait until your parents return home." He could open the door with magic and allow her entry, but that would risk too many questions when the parents came home. He didn't want this innocent child to be in trouble for other people's actions. He swelled with pride over his own benevolence.
"They will pick me up from Jake's house," the child said, glancing over her shoulder. "Next door."
Jareth sighed but looked to where she pointed. He smiled back at her in what he hoped was a reassuring manner. "Then we will see them when they arrive."
She nodded and sat heavily down next to him, placing her chin in her hands as they watched the witches and ghosts flit past.
"Do you like Halloween?" she asked after a few minutes of silence.
"I can't say I really do," Jareth replied, watching a man with a pumpkin for a head streak past and collide with a werewolf. In the Underground it was Samhain and though he partook in the carnal festivities gladly, it did remind him annually how lonely his life was as the Goblin King. Making lasting connections wasn't really the aim of a lascivious revelry. "And what about you, child?"
"I like it," she said, flashing her milk teeth in a grin. "Everyone believes in magic at Halloween. Not just me."
Jareth nodded and turned back to watch the passersby. He knew none of them truly believed in magic. And it hurt his heart that a mere infant mortal already lamented the lack of magic in her world, and was cognizant of its deficiency.
His companion stretched her arms above her head and then curled up on the step, yawning. He supposed it was well past her bedtime and he sang gently to try and lull her to sleep. An hour later he saw a brown, boxy car pull up in the driveway. Two adults climbed out of either side of the vehicle—an obviously tipsy woman stumbled up the driveway, while the man locked the car with his keys and shoved them into his pocket.
"Robert, go fetch her," the woman slurred as she weaved across the lawn. "I'm gonna go and…"
Her words trailed off as she saw Jareth sitting on the step with her daughter. It was clear this drunken woman was the mother as they had the same hair colour and a similarly shaped face. The only definitive difference was the woman's eyes were colder and not the bright, vibrant sheen of her daughter's. Something pierced his insides and he took an instant dislike to the swaying lush in front of him.
"Who are you?" she asked, brushing her hair behind her ear, sticking her hip out and nibbling her lip. "And why is she there?" The woman briefly cast eyes to her daughter before flicking back to Jareth where they bored into him with all the intensity of a lustful drunk. "And not at the Mackintosh's place?"
"The young Mackintosh boy took her out into the streets and I found her in my house," he answered, standing up.
"Linda?" The man had seen his wife talking to Jareth and had come around the car to see what was happening instead of heading next door to retrieve his daughter.
"Robert," she said, holding her hand to her heart in a fluttery motion. "Jake left your daughter with a strange man."
Jareth frowned at the use of 'your daughter,' though the casual observer would assume he was glowering at the use of 'strange man.'
"What's going on?" the man asked mildly, looking down at his sleeping child and ignoring Jareth completely. Jareth heard his sharp intake of breath as Robert rushed forward to scoop the girl into his arms. "Thank you, sir, for bringing her safely home."
"No need to thank me." Jareth watched as the child's father brushed her hair off her face and cradled her against his body. He managed to suppress his growl at being thanked by watching the affection the man had for his child. He didn't want to give himself away by pointing out the debt that thanking a fae would entail.
The woman snorted. "She probably ran away."
Jareth felt anger lick his insides. "She did not run away. Jake Mackintosh broke into my house with his friend Travis and dragged her with them. The boys disappeared as soon as they saw me and I returned her to her home."
"She is safe, Linda," Robert muttered feebly. "She doesn't need any further reprimands."
"Indeed, she should be commended. For someone so young, her sense of direction was incredible," Jareth replied in acknowledgement of Robert's weak testimony. "I suggest you find a more suitable carer for your precious child, moving forward."
"She always causes trouble, that one," Linda slurred. "Probably convinced Jakey to take her to your house."
"Linda, really," Robert said with exasperation. "She is four and not as manipulative as you believe her to be capable of."
Jareth would never have guessed that this witty child's parents were a drunkard and a limp, spineless man. She had such fire and spirit. He contemplated tricking them into wishing her away, but something stilled him. Something he could only sense in the child's sleeping form stopped him from disrupting her life.
"We're sorry for any incon-inconveee—any nuisance she has caused you," Linda said brokenly as she forced her tongue to cooperate in her wine-soaked mouth.
"There was none at all." He refrained from mentioning the orgy he had been at when the wards went off. "She is a sweetheart."
"Thank you, Mr…?" Robert asked.
"Mr Martin. Jamie Martin," Jareth replied, cringing as he was thanked yet again. "And you are Robert…?"
"Williams," Robert replied with a wry smile. "I would shake your hand but…" He indicated the load in his arms.
"I will let you take her inside," Jareth smiled warmly and stepped down the stairs past the couple. "Lovely to meet you, Linda and Robert Williams," he lied once more.
Without so much as a backwards glance, he strode off into the night, back to the house his mother resided in.
Jareth arrived back at his residence and went to find his mother. She was still sitting in the lounge, nursing a cup of steaming tea.
"Jareth!" she greeted him warmly, placing her cup back in the saucer. "I take it that the child was returned home safely."
"Of course." He sat down on one of the frilly armchairs and crossed his leg over the other as he stared deep into the fireplace. "How do you think she managed to get the three of them in here?"
"You think she did it?"
"The boys had as much magic as five wilted leaves of cabbage," he replied, tapping his chin. "While the girl, for someone so young and so…mortal, was alive with magic."
"I didn't detect—"
"No, neither did I until I touched her hand," he replied mildly. "It was deeply hidden but it was there."
"Interesting." Ismaila couldn't look less interested. She yawned and rubbed her hand over her face. "Are you sure you didn't just trace your own magic by mistake?"
Jareth looked down at his gloved hands. Mistaking magical objects or people with your own magic was an amateur mistake. One that his mother had long grown tired of him making time and time again as a child. One mistake that had resulted in a deadly and costly result. He could hear her voice in his head every time he touched an object, trying to taste its magic and getting it wrong. His magic was of such a nature that sometimes, it would mislead him. Had he made that preliminary mistake with the girl? He was sure that he hadn't; her magic was dormant and unused, but it had been different from his own.
Ismaila stood. "I'm going to bed."
"Before you go, I think I should relax your restrictions here, mother." He'd thought about this the entire way home. "Once a week, you may take a walk in the neighbouring park."
"How kind of you," his mother sneered, cutting him with her deep blue eyes. But then she relaxed and her shoulders slumped. "Forgive me, my son."
"Nothing to forgive, mother." He stood up and pulled her into a quick embrace. "I know what it is like to feel trapped."
"Yes, well, I daresay we both deserve it."
Jareth tensed and he turned back to the fire. "Don't say that, mother."
"Jareth, leave the girl alone. Magic or not, it's best you let things play out how they will."
"What does that mean?" Jareth couldn't just ignore the curiosity that child had drummed up in him. Magic or no, there was something about the juvenile mortal that had intrigued him.
"It means, my darling child, that not everything is as it seems."
When Sarah woke the next morning, she dived for her jacket that was hanging from the end of her bed. Inside was a small book with gold lettering on the red cover. She recognised the letters A, R and H as all three were in her name, but she didn't know what it said. Her fingers traced the unfamiliar letters and she sighed with satisfaction. She loved receiving gifts and had been so excited when the pretty lady gave the book to her last night. As soon as she learnt how to read, this would be the first thing she would consume.
The lady had told her to keep it safe and secret—something that thrilled her no end. It was something of her own; something her parents couldn't take away from her. Much like the knowledge she could see magical creatures and magical houses when they couldn't.
Sarah carefully hid it behind her mirror and then slipped out of the room to get ready for the day. She couldn't wait until she met her new friends again.
A/N:
Thank you to the beautiful Telcontarian for being my beta reader and supplier of the title. It is from a song by one of her favourite bands, the Decemberists.
Most of this story is finished. Just wrapping up the final chapter and an epilogue. Will post the chapters as they return from my beta.