It was thirteen years to the day, and Sarah couldn’t sleep.
Her insomnia had become a yearly ritual ever since the night
she’d made a stupid wish and almost lost her little brother. When she was younger, she would sneak into
Toby’s room and face the window with her back to the wall, baseball bat in
hand. It wasn’t the same room, but it
was the room he was in, so it was the one that had to be protected. What she thought her clichéd weapon would do against
him was beyond her, but something
about the cold steel pressed against her sweating palms made her feel safer. It just wasn’t enough to send her back to bed
until the following dawn.
She had the bat at her side, but she did not hold on. She considered that much a personal
triumph. Perhaps next year she could
take a step away from the wall.
She knew this was ridiculous. Beyond ridiculous.
Two years shy of thirty and a childhood nightmare was commanding her.
But that was the trouble, wasn’t it? Nightmares didn’t scare her. Dreams had always been easy for her to forget
or hold on to. It was reality she wanted
to run away from.
The fear was real, and so the threat of him was very
real. That was why she didn’t dare to
shut her eyes on the anniversary of her descent.
Sarah felt her chest tighten at the sound of her grandfather
clock chime three times. She shut her
eyes as if she was about to crash her car into a wall. Like the danger was coming, and she didn’t
have to keep her eyes open to know it.
And that’s when she realized the danger was there.
“I knew you’d come,” Sarah said suddenly, her hands curling
into fists behind her back. “I wasn’t sure
when, but I always knew.”
“Didn’t you want me to come?” he asked, making her insides
stretch. His voice sounded just like she
remembered: nightshade and broken promises.
“Just like I wanted you to make me miserable,” Sarah
recalled, not without bitterness.
She could feel his lips twisting into that smile. She almost wanted to see it, the slash of a
knife across a beautiful portrait. But
she didn’t dare. Somehow, she’d always
known that if they met again, she wasn’t going to see him. She had no interest
in hearing about her cruel eyes.
“It was all for you,” he reminded her.
“No, it wasn’t,”
Sarah said testily, amazed and yet not at all surprised that he still clung to
that. “It was always for you. You enjoyed tormenting me.”
He sighed. “Thirty
seconds and already you’re being overly dramatic.”
Thirty seconds and already
I want to kill you. “I am
not--"
“We went over this,” he interrupted effortlessly. “You asked me to take the babe. Everything else happened according to your
design.” He paused. “I could have taken him again, you know. Once he entered my Labyrinth, he became a
part of it. Anytime, I could have taken
your precious brother away from you. And
I would have kept him.”
Sarah shivered, wishing that the air conditioning in her apartment
wasn’t broken so that she could blame the chill. She had always known this, but hearing it
like that made her skin crawl - made her want to tear it off to stop the
feeling. “Why didn’t you?” she asked,
trying to be an adult.
He scoffed. “I am king
of an army of goblins, Sarah. I have
better things to do with my time than kidnap little boys.”
She hated that he made it sound as if she should have
known. “Why are you here?”
He made a mournful noise, almost like a cat’s meow. “No more small talk? Pity. You’re such a stunning conversationalist.”
“Just tell me,” she demanded, lifting her chin in
defiance. She knew it was a gesture he
hated.
“Fine,” he said, practically growling. From cat to lion in five
seconds.
He cleared his throat, regaining his composure. “I must say I’m embarrassed to admit this…”
Sarah wished that she could raise an eyebrow. She would have loved to effortlessly question
the idea that he had shame.
“I seem to be suffering from a case of extremely bad luck,”
he muttered regretfully.
If her eyes had been open, she would have blinked. “Bad luck?
That’s what brought you back?”
She had no idea why she felt so insulted. After all, what had she expected?
“Don’t trivialize it,” he retorted, his voice cracking like
a whip. “It’s not broken mirrors and
ladders I’m talking about.
“You opened an umbrella indoors then?” she asked, feeling
bold.
“I am watching my people die!” he raged, making her
jump. “This is not a child’s game,
Sarah. This is the
Labyrinth collapsing – the Underground caving in.”
Sarah’s heart twisted and her stomach clenched. Instantly, she thought of Sir Didymus, Ludo, Hoggle. Her fists vanished and her fingers began to
shake. She wanted to ask about them, but
she didn’t trust his words. Not even
ones this grave. “What do you mean?”
She detected nothing, but she could tell something
changed. It was like a patient who went
in for a normal check-up and went out with cancer: unexpected dejection. “Everything is falling. My walls decay and crumble. Diseases sweep through my realm – plagues. And now we’re caught up in this… damn war
over nothing and losing. Badly.”
Sarah almost felt sorry for him. Listening to him, she almost believed that he
cared for his people, that the losses hurt. But in her heart, in the shadows that she
didn’t let anyone see, she knew him. “They
want your head.”
He glared; she could feel his look, bright and searing her
flesh. And he called her eyes
cruel. “I believe at the moment they
want to defenestrate me. But who
knows? Goblins are fickle.”
Sarah was struck by the image of him being pushed out of a window,
flailing inelegantly as gravity took over.
It was almost funny, and then his body hit the ground.
“Isn’t there something you can do?” she asked, realizing
belatedly that it was an outrageously stupid question.
Surprisingly, he didn’t point that out. “At first I thought it was hopeless, and I
began to arrange it so that I at least died beautifully--"
This time, she couldn’t resist snorting.
“But then I realized something,” he said slowly in his
aristocratically disdained tone.
Just to be maddening, he didn’t go on. “What?” she asked reluctantly, hating her curiosity.
“It began thirteen years ago today.”
Sarah’s tangled heart dropped to her feet, and the rest of
her nearly dropped to the floor. She
pressed her palms to the wall, leaning for support. It was all that kept her upright as her world
broke apart, just like the one hidden beneath her feet.
What have I done?
She quickly revised the thought, finding it inappropriate. What
did I do?
“But…” she whispered.
“I didn’t--"
“You bested me,” he said, his resentment reaching out for
her, making her bones grow cold. “What
you said proved that I was not invincible.
And the principle upon which the Labyrinth was
founded, that I was all-powerful, shattered.”
His arrogance would have infuriated her had there not been
more pressing matters. Sarah shook her
head, not wanting to believe. She
couldn’t have been the cause. These were
her friends, people she loved. Someone
would have come to her before this.
Someone would have put it together.
Someone would have said, “Sarah, we’re in deep shit,” and then…
And then what?
“And you’re expecting me to fix this,” Sarah said, cursing
the quake in her voice.
“Yes.”
He made it sound easy.
“How?” she returned
“Come back with me.”
Just like before, it was not a request.
Nor was it a command. It was an
expectation, as though he could not fathom her refusing.
“What!” she shouted, fighting to keep her eyes closed. She would not
look. “I don’t believe you! All this time, and--"
“It’s the only way,” he interrupted, pretending to be
sorry. “You defied me in my Labyrinth,
and the magic unraveled. You submit to
my will there, and it can be mended.”
“And I can be destroyed!” she challenged.
“So hysterical,” he sighed.
“I’m not going to kill you, Sarah.”
“No, just cage me,” she ranted.
“At least it would be gilded.”
Her cheeks flamed.
“Your people are dying, and you make a last effort to catch me. I don’t believe you.” She shook her head fiercely. “I won’t--"
“Stop,” he said. It
was his quiet that actually made her listen.
“Sarah, this isn’t a trick.
I swear to you, I know my world.
I know its boundaries and its foundations and I know why it collapses.
“You. Without you, the Labyrinth is dust and
ash.” He paused. “Your friends with it.”
There it was. “Don’t
bring them into this.”
“I am not delusional, Sarah.
I know they are the only reason you would ever return.”
“If they’re in trouble, they can come to me,” she insisted.
“If they could come,
they would have.”
That made her snap. “What
have you done!” she shouted.
“Kept them safe as long as I could,” he said clearly. “Even before I knew how much damage you had
done, I knew better than to lay hands on them.”
Because you always
wanted me, Sarah thought wildly. You were always going to find a way to bring
me back.
“Sarah, I am telling the truth,” he confided, air hissing
through his teeth. “We will all die if
you do not come.”
He was lying. Of
course he was lying. He hadn’t told the
truth a day in his life, not when it meant he wouldn’t get his way. He just wanted her there, under his thumb,
proof to his world that no one could rule him.
In his world, only he ruled.
“I’m not going with you,” Sarah said, her voice tight.
He breathed in so sharply she thought he’d taken all of the
air in the room. “Sarah--"
“No,” she repeated forcefully. “Not this time. I’m not a child anymore, and you will not hurt
me again.”
“Sarah,” he hissed.
“I am telling you the truth.”
She took a deep breath.
Just as she’d known she would not look him in the eye, she had always
known that she would say those words again.
The ones that had shattered him, not his Labyrinth. “You still have no power over me,” she
whispered with much less bravado then she had been planning.
She heard something splinter, and that of all things scared
her into opening her eyes. Before she
could turn away, she saw him. She
stopped the gasp in her throat.
Standing not in front of the mirror, but in the mirror was
the Goblin King. But had she not been
speaking to him these past minutes, she might not have known him. His hair was thinning and grey, wrinkles
spreading out from his fairy eyes. He
was still proud, still tall, still so much of what he
had been… But he was old and hardship was his mask now.
And he only had one cruel eye, staring from within.
He smiled ruefully, reading her mind. “Your eyes can be so cruel.”
The room spun. She stumbled
forward, her hands gripping the frame.
“Why didn’t you say?” she demanded.
“My mistake.” He began to turn. “Your decision is made now. We are both bound to it.”
Sarah shook her head.
“But I didn’t--"
“You’re free now,” he said as he disappeared. “You have nothing more to fear.”
“No. Wait,” she
called out. “Jareth!”
But he was gone. He
had returned to the Labyrinth, where his people were waiting for him. They would kill him when he returned without
her. They would follow soon after. The Labyrinth would disappear with only her
to mourn for it.
And she was free of him.
“Lucky me,” Sarah whispered to the empty glass, watching the
tear roll down her cheek in the cracked mirror.
