Chapter 4: The Labyrinthine House

Sarah had given Jareth the details of the company she worked for when he rang her. He had wasted no time after she'd given him her card to call and ask for the house viewing. She told him that the only way he could visit the house was to pretend to be an interested investor. He readily agreed. Sarah wanted to attend just to see his reactions to her ideas made real. Part of her didn't want to give him the satisfaction of being there in person so she weighed her decision carefully.

Two days later as she sat in her office, trying to tidy up her senior's mistakes, she got a phone call from Lyndall, the receptionist who had informed her that Jamie Martin wanted her to attend his visit with him. She felt the urge to turn him down even stronger than before. But her boss got wind of the client's wants and she was strongarmed into attending. She dreaded Peter, her Senior, finding out as he would be more than a little chagrined at having to share his glory with his junior architect.

When she arrived on site it was to see Peter already there leaning against his Audi.

"What are you doing here, Williams?"

Peter was a middle-aged man that would be considered a silver fox if it wasn't for the fact his attitude made him so unattractive. He was well-off and he flaunted it too. His suit was tailor-made and he was slender and fit. Sarah had had a bit of a crush on him when she first met him but that quickly dissolved as he shoved his arrogance in her face with every chance he got.

"The client asked for me," she replied confidently,

"Client management is my job."

Sarah shrugged. "He asked for me, so given our client policy, I obliged."

"I know that you're unusually attached to this project, Williams, but while you may have had one or two good ideas, it is still my project."

Sarah nodded. "I am aware, but—"

"Good morning, Mr Martin," Peter said, pushing past Sarah to shake the hand of Jareth who had appeared soundlessly beside them. Sarah flushed at both the shock of his sudden appearance and the sight of Jareth wearing a suit. It was navy blue and tailored so perfectly that it made her head spin. He took Peter's hand genially, but his eyes remained on her.

"Ah, Ms Williams, this is—"

"We are familiar with each other, Mr Richards," Jareth interjected. "It was on her suggestion that I came here."

Peter gave her a disparaging look.

"Good morning, Mr Martin," Sarah said as she walked up to him and took his proffered hand in hers.

"Jamie, please." Jareth squeezed her hand.

"How do you know each other?" Peter asked, his tone casual but with an underlying suspicious bent.

"She is the daughter of my lawyer," Jareth replied, professionally. "We met at her family's party over the weekend."

His tone suggested there was nothing else to imply about their relationship.

"Shall we take a look then?" Peter asked, heading towards the front gate.

The cobblestone drive led up to a wall that looked like it was crumbling but was in fact designed artistically to look like it was ancient. The driveway headed through a wide arch that had a black wrought iron gate and beside that there was a smaller twin for pedestrian access. This is where they entered a courtyard that matched the tone of the wall with splashes of colour from flowers planted in barrels and wooden buckets. The front door was stylistically like Jareth's front door.

She saw his eyes dart up and she knew he must have clocked on. Inside mostly everything was tiled or concrete and looked like they had walked into a budget Escher Room. The art and the sculptures were pieces Sarah had commissioned based on things she'd seen in the Labyrinth. Jareth's eyes raked over them, his lips twitching.

Peter was giving the tour so she let him explain all his inspirations as Sarah listened on sourly. She should have saved her ideas for when she was made senior but her chances of making Senior could only occur based on a stand-out idea like this. It was a catch 22. Unless you were Peter whose father owned the company, it was impossible to climb the ladder without selling your best ideas.

Jareth remained quiet—containing himself to observing and taking notes as they moved around. She did see him smile when they walked down a corridor that was lined with potted trees so close together they looked like hedges. He outright laughed when he saw the sign on the toilet door.

"The Bog?" He chuckled. "I can only imagine that idea came from you, Ms Williams."

Sarah gave him a wry smile. "Actually, I made that myself." It was a wooden stump sliced to a centimetre thickness and engraved with 'The Bog' and hung on a silver chain. Every architect would add something personal to the project. That was her contribution. Peter usually left an ugly water fountain in the garden.

"Perhaps you could make a few for me," he said jokingly.

The tour ended, and Peter commandeered Jareth to pass him all the pamphlets and paperwork. They made their way back outside slowly as Jareth took it all in.

"I do have to pop over to my Chirpingwood Project now so I will leave you in Ms William's hands if you have any questions." Peter unlocked his ostentatious Audi with a simpering smile. "She is my junior on the project so she is quite familiar with it. But if she can't answer any questions, flick me an email or ring me and I will make sure you get all the answers you require."

"Oh, I am sure that is not necessary," Jareth said, baring his teeth. "I could see Ms William's touches all through the project. I am sure she is more than capable of answering the questions I have considering the amount of work she has put into this as well as the inspiration."

Sarah closed her eyes at his words. Peter wouldn't be shamed into acknowledging her contribution. Instead, he'd be nettled with her for Jareth's words.

"Yes, Ms Williams is a competent junior," Peter said through clenched teeth. He got in his car and drove off with a fury.

"That man is—"

"My senior, and isn't going to be affected by your words, outside of blaming me for them."

"But I can see this house was your hard work, Sarah, and you should get the credit for it. That Bog flea couldn't pull this out of his arse."

"I am flattered, but he's only going to double down on his arrogance." Sarah sighed. "Did you like the house?"

"It's terrific," he said. "I have half a mind to not only invest but buy one."

Sarah laughed.

"Why did you choose to use the Labyrinth as your muse?"

"My ideas were good but never remarkable. One day I was doodling one of the obelisks from the first part of the maze, and a workmate suggested I build on it. And then I designed this house. Well, the elements of it. Peter put it all together." She pointed to a gate in the far wall that led to a secret garden. "The obelisks are through there as well as a water and hedge maze."

They meandered over to it and Jareth seemed to be taking every detail in as they wandered through the paths lined by greenery and water features."

"I don't understand why you don't get the credit for it." He was leaning against an obelisk with one booted foot pressed up against it and his hand tapping his crooked knee in a soothing rhythm.

"That's just the way it is," Sarah replied levelly. "The Senior is the Project supervisor and the one that agreed to take on the design so he has the final say. It's their head on the block if it backfires."

"But that's hardly fair."

Their eyes met.

Sarah burst out laughing. "Like you've had to work in architecture before. It's not like you have a basis for comparison."

Jareth's lips twitched. "Do you remember everything I said to you during your run, Sarah?"

That sobered her up. "Of course not."

"I remember everything you said." He clarified. "I remember every second that you were there."

Sarah wiped the corner of her eye, absently and looked around the garden without seeing. "I ought to get back to work."

"Thank you for this. Your debt is clear."

"It already was clear."

Jareth laughed again. The deep, rich sound sent curls of something unmentionable through her body. It warmed her. He vanished from the spot.

Sarah had been on a date the next time she had seen Jareth. The man and the entire experience had left Sarah cold so she could not wait to get back to her car. The restaurant had been near her parent's home, and as was quite typical, there was zero parking available nearby. She'd parked quite far away. Walking through the dark streets, trying to remember where her car was had not been the best end to a romantic date that she'd had in mind. Her feet had started aching from the furious pace she marched in her high heels trying to put distance between the obnoxious date and her safe car.

"You have been touched by the devil, Williams girl," came a loud, raspy voice from behind her. She looked over her shoulder to see Travis, the local junkie, stumbling towards her, smiling wickedly, revealing the gaps in his teeth. "I can smell him on you."

Sarah pulled her handbag tighter to her and walked a little faster down the street. Concentrating on where she was going, while fumbling around for her keys meant he had soon gained on her.

"You've sucked Satan's cock, you have," he chirped gleefully. "I can smell his come all over you. You're Satan's whore."

"Travis…" She replied, exasperatedly as her keys eluded her. She looked around for people to call out to, but the streets were deserted. Fuck.

"No, Sarah," he hissed. "You fucked up my life. If it wasn't for you and your fucking cunt, then I wouldn't be on the streets."

"I don't know you, and I don't know how I could have fucked up your life," she said shakily. "If you could just tell me how then maybe I could see if reparations are due."

"Oh, reparations are due," he laughed. "Perhaps the devil will like to give me back my life if I threaten yours." He grinned maniacally. "After all, he'd probably not have you on your back so often if your face is all messed up." It was then that Sarah noticed he had a knife.

Sarah picked up her speed, neglecting her hunt for her keys. Clearly, this man was deluded and dangerous.

"Or maybe I should have fucked you before he did," he jeered. "Once you've had Mack, you never go back." Sarah shuddered at the thought that he'd named his penis.

"You don't think I noticed the way he would watch you at the park in his other forms?" he cried out from behind her. "The devil wants you, Williams. He's noticed you. He spies on you. And you're gonna let him take you."

He then started chanting, "The Devil's Slut," as she hurried along the road. Without thinking about where she was going, she suddenly realised she was heading towards the park she used to spend her days in as a child. At nighttime, this wasn't a particularly wise idea. But still, her feet lead her onwards. That was until Travis grabbed her wrist and spun her around.

She hissed as a sharp stinging pain radiated from her cheek. In the dim streetlights, she saw the flash of a knife in Travis' hand, coated in what she assumed was her blood. Without hesitation, she smacked him over the head with her handbag and tried to move out of his grasp. The knife came back down, grazing her arm, but the momentum caused him to release her. She instantly jumped away from him. Being drug-addled as he was, Travis lost balance quite easily. Kicking her heels off, she ran as fast as her lungs and legs could carry her.

When they were burning and screaming, she slowed down, not daring to look behind her. She gasped for air as she clutched the stitch in her side. Sarah's eyes widened as she realised the house she was somehow heading towards.

The Haunted House on Harrows Lane.

Except she never saw why others considered it haunted. It was well kept and pristine, compared to their descriptions of derelict and abandoned. Right now it was all blurry as her vision was obscured by her tears of pain.

Like she was possessed she headed up the path, the cobblestone smooth and soothing after the rough concrete of the sidewalks. She pushed against the front door and it admitted her with ease.

Memories flowed around her mind as she stared up into the grand entrance. She'd been here before. But when? The thought slid from her mind as her pain and exhaustion screamed at her to acknowledge the various bodily complaints.

Before the door snapped shut behind her, Travis yelled from the sidewalk, "You're entering the house of the devil. How dare you deny it, slut."

Sarah's eyes watered from her run and her pain. Mascara was probably forming rivulets down her cheeks. Her feet ached and her cheek and arm stung like billyo. She leaned down, placing her hands on her knees as she focused on her breathing.

"Can a man not have a bath without being interrupted by a trespasser?" came a voice from the other room. Sarah looked up through the curtain of her hair and blurry eyes but she was still alone.

"I—I'm sorry," she said threadedly, sucking in lungful after lungful of air. "I was being chased—"

"Sarah?"

She looked up to see Jareth enter the hallway, with nought but a towel wrapped around his waist and a puzzled expression.

"Jareth?" She asked in turn, feeling dizzier by the second. "What—"

"Who did this to you?" His voice was stern as he strode over to her. She'd never seen him move with such haste whilst retaining his regal air.

"Remember when Melissa—"

"Who?"

"The blonde girl at the party," she replied. At his nod, she continued, "Melissa told you about my stalker. Travis, not Gavin."

Jareth's expression darkened and he stepped closer. "He did this?"

Sarah cocked her head. "He thinks I am the devil's slut or something. And supposedly the devil lives here."

"Does he now?" He looked momentarily bemused. "Is the devil one of your previous lovers, Sarah?"

She shook her head but the movement sent pain shooting to her cheek. She practically yelped as her hand rushed up to touch the graze. Except she quickly learnt it was a deep laceration. As she took her finger away from her face she saw the thick blood on her fingertips. "Oh."

Jareth growled and then moved past her to the door. "Did you say his name was Travis?"

"Yes."

"Hmm."

She didn't know what he could see out in the dark. Sarah sensed he was about to march out there, but the shock of her attack and the blood loss had Sarah teetering and threatening to fall. Strong arms wrapped around her as the door was slammed shut. "He can wait. You can't," was all he said.

Sarah tried to wriggle free of his grasp, and reluctantly he released her, causing her to instantly miss the support. She rested her uninjured arm against the wall.

"May I heal your cheek for you?" he asked, his eyes dark and he pressed his lips together into a grim line.

"Is he still there?" she asked, trying to put some strength into her shaky voice. Her arm suddenly throbbed, reminding her of the presence of her other wound.

"I will deal with him later," he replied, waving his hand as if Travis was inconsequential. "Let's address your cheek first." He looked down. "And your feet."

Sarah glanced down at her feet, noticing they were bloody as well as her cheek. It must have been from all her running. "And my arm," she said absently.

Jareth's eyes narrowed. "Your arm?"

"He got my arm as well," she said, fumbling with the sleeve of her jacket.

"I had assumed that was blood from your face on your jacket," he said, more to himself than her. "I apologise for my oversight. May I assess the damage?"

She nodded weakly, her eyes fluttering shut as he pulled the slash in the jacket wider.

"It's shallow and not very severe," he commented.

"It doesn't hurt as much as my cheek."

"Come." Jareth held out his hand and she slipped her hand into his. Her lack of resistance had him frowning. At least, that is what she assumed was causing the deep creases on his forehead. He led her wordlessly to another room where there were a couple of armchairs and a billiards table. She sat down at his invitation and he pushed an ottoman closer to her chair.

"Lean forward and we will deal with your cheek first." He crouched in front of her, Sarah noticing through her haze, that he was still in nothing but a towel. It was the whitest, fluffiest most luxurious towel she had ever seen and the temptation to run her hands through it was strong. She chalked up this desire to pain and blood loss.

She did as she was told and he gently pressed a clean handkerchief to her cut. "A knife?" he asked as he then dipped the handkerchief into a shallow bowl of yellow liquid that had just appeared on the table next to them. She nodded and he dabbed the wound with the now damp cloth. "This will heal it and it won't scar."

It didn't sting as she expected it to. Instead, it cooled and soothed, and she could feel her skin tightening up and the pain easing. She opened her eyes to see Jareth's eyes intently studying her.

"Is that better?"

She nodded, biting her lip. He placed the cloth into the bowl and then brought his finger up to her cheek, where he lightly ran his fingertip down the line of her wound.

He then assisted her to remove her arm from her jacket revealing the wound underneath. If only she hadn't worn a sleeveless top, she would have had more protection. He repeated his method over the cut on her upper arm. He traced it with his finger, lingering slightly at the base. Goosebumps flared out all over her skin.

"All done," he said in a low tone.

"We should call the police," she muttered, though they hadn't helped her in the past.

"No." Jareth tore his hand away from her. "They can't do anything for you. And what's more, your scars have been healed."

"But Travis needs to be dealt with," Sarah mumbled. "Before he hurts someone else."

"He won't hurt anyone else," he said with a low growl. "You were his target."

"What?"

"Leave him to me," he said, darkly. "I will deal with him for what he's done." He clenched his fist and drew his lips in a thin line again.

"You know why he has been stalking me." It was not a question.

"I only suspected, but I confirmed it when I saw him outside." He paused to vanish away the bowl of yellow liquid. "He can't hurt you here."

"Who—"

"I will answer your questions when you're whole and hale." He was sitting on the ottoman now with a bucket between his legs. "Your feet, Sarah."

She gingerly lifted one foot off the ground and he took it in his hands.

"May I remove these tights?" he asked, picking at the torn pantyhose at her feet.

"They're pantyhose," she corrected.

"Hmm, your dialect varies from country to country," he said. "But may I please remove these rather fetching but destroyed sheer leg coverings?"

Sarah nodded, readying herself to stand and pull them down when a simple flick of his wrist and they were gone. He then dunked his naked hands into the bucket and brought them out covered in white foam. He picked up her left foot and started massaging the foam into the sole of her foot. She had instant relief from his ministrations. She longed for it to continue, but he had placed her foot back down to work on her remaining foot.

"I think you should stay here tonight," he said as he placed her foot down and wiped his hands on a towel he'd just conjured up.

"Where is here?" she asked, drowsily.

"My house."

"Am I Underground?"

"No, you're Aboveground and in your home town." Jareth vanished the bucket but remained sitting on the ottoman, a hairbreadth away from her knees. "Remember I told you how I met your father? This is the house I needed legal advice for."

She looked around, admiring the old fashioned beauty but her focus couldn't remain on it for very long. Nor could Jareth. He suddenly cocked his head towards the door and then swore under his breath.

In the next moment, the door opened and there stood May, her old friend from the park.

"Jareth, my boy. You're here," May said to the Goblin King who nodded briskly.

"You had an intruder."

May peered around the doorframe and saw Sarah sitting practically between Jareth's legs.

"Sarah!"

"May?" Sarah leaned back in the chair to try and put some distance between her and Jareth.

May smiled. "I see you've met my son."

The pit of Sarah's stomach sunk, floated and then sunk once more. She was Jareth's mother?

"You know my mother?" he asked her quietly, his eyebrow twitching.

"Oh yes, dear," May answered on Sarah's behalf. "She used to keep me company as a child when you let me out for my walks."

Jareth's eyes flicked to his mother before landing back on Sarah. "I see."

"Your son?" Sarah laughed hysterically. "The one you said that I would like? The one you tried to set me up with?" Sarah covered her mouth to stop herself from screaming with her mirth. "Oh, dear."

"I do not see what is so amusing," Jareth said, flatly.

"Well, she couldn't be more wrong, could she?"

May tittered. "I still don't think I'm wrong, my dear. You'll see."

"I won't."

"Mother, I am afraid Sarah has been through an ordeal so perhaps we best let her get to bed."

May's eyes assessed Sarah with some horror.

"Oh, my dear, what happened?"

"I was attacked and then found myself here," Sarah replied. "Jareth has fixed me up."

"Of course he has," she nodded sagely. "I am so sorry, my dear. It is best if you do get to bed now."

"I have so many questions," Sarah whined.

"I bet you do, but you're more than a little exhausted and I have that festering carbuncle, Travis, to deal with." He rose and indicated that Sarah should follow him. On unsteady feet, she left the chair and accompanied Jareth out of the room.

"I didn't know your mother was a mortal," Sarah said as she followed him up the stairs, leaving May behind in the sitting room.

"She isn't," Jareth answered, pausing on the step above to face her. "She is being punished and forced to Aboveground. Stripped of her magic. Alone."

"You're here," Sarah pointed out.

"Not full time," he replied, hastily. "I have a kingdom to run."

"What was she punished for?" Sarah asked.

Jareth reached out and gripped her shoulder. Not hard but enough that it took her by surprise. "Please save that question for another time, Precious."

Sarah frowned as he guided her up the stairs, not removing his hand from her shoulder.

"I know you're burning with curiosity, but please let's save it for the morning." There was a dangerous edge to his voice begging her not to push it. "I will tell you how Travis knows you too."

"Will you hurt him?"

"I will do what I should have done a long time ago."

"Pay for his therapy?" Sarah asked as they reached the top of the stairs. "He clearly needs help, not more punishment."

"Sarah, you don't know what that man is capable of. What he has done to chil—" He covered his mouth. Sarah met his eyes, noticing them widen and his sudden pallor. Sarah stifled a yawn, as she fought the urge to demand more answers.

"Your mortal prisons could not do this man justice, Precious." He stroked his chin as they headed down a long hallway; their footfalls softened by a royal blue runner down the centre of the wooden corridor. "He hurt you."

"Yeah?"

"He doesn't get away with hurting what is—" He slammed his mouth shut again, before adding, "He is a dangerous man, Sarah."

Sarah was too tired to ask why he never completed his sentences. Instead, she let him continue to navigate her to a room with a comfortable looking double bed.

"I will stay in the room across the hall if you need me," he said as he passed her a bundle of cloth. "A nightdress and some fresh undergarments." He then indicated the door off to the side as an en suite.

"I should go home," she muttered feebly.

"No, you're safe here," he repeated, sternly.

"You're here," she pointed out. "So I am never safe."

"While in theory this is true, and wise of you to be so guarded, in practice" —he stepped away from her back into the corridor, irritation forming on his brow—"You are safe. And I, nor my mother, intend you any harm."

"Fancy your mother being May," Sarah remarked.

"Ismaila," Jareth corrected. "Her name is Ismaila, not May."

"That's not the name she gave me," Sarah huffed.

"Get some sleep and we will talk in the morning." His voice was gruff as if he was annoyed at her for daring to know his mother. "Goodnight, Sarah."

Sarah had been too tired for a bath, though she washed her face and brushed her teeth. She barely managed to dress in the nightdress before collapsing on the bed and fading out of consciousness.

A.N: sorry this has taken so long. It was with my Beta and then I just couldn't muster the energy to post this.

It hasn't been beta read. And I haven't read it in months but last night we had a fire so I am no longer wanting to sit on this. One less thing on my mind if I get rid of this LOL.

Any mistakes are my own. But at this point, you get what you get. Haha.