Labyrinth 1. No One Can Blame You

The Silver Bough

The Silver Bough

A.M. Carr

(This is the continuation of 'Wanna Live Underground'. It won't make sense unless you read the Prequel (Only six chapters).)

A Prophesy Concerning the Underground's 

Potential Downfall (Vol. )

Foretold by Sir Robin of Zaker and the Woman in Grey.

Part One

1)A dark triad has been formed; three from the Underground removed; one banished, one transported, and one expatriated.

2)Twenty-five of the Aboveground kin have fallen into darkness; two have returned, ten who have descended into the Land of Shades, four who have been sacrificed, three who have been cured, three who are lodged amongst the insane, and three who are still under the darkness' control.

3)But the division of the Twenty-five appears; two, thirteen, one, three, three, three.

4)The three realms are threatened with a descent into darkness unless the Key (the princess servant, the Labyrinth's champion, the Trailblazer, the daughter of mortals) is instructed and assisted by the disregarded Fae King (the Ruler), and the Exiled girl-child (the Illusionist).

5)The Key shall be assisted by the Elfin son (the Enchanter), the mortal girl (the Seeker, whose brother had tasted the darkness), the Keeper of the Tomes (the Knower) and the two who came after and who the Key fought to retrieve (the Inquisitor and the Observer).

Chapter One

No One Can Blame You, For Walking Away

LABYRINTH: 1) A structure containing an intricate network of winding passages that are hard to follow without losing one's way; maze. 2) A complicated, perplexing arrangement, course of affairs, etc. New World Dictionary

-X-

July 22, 1990

'On the 22nd day of the 7th month, four score and ten years into the 19th Century: in an alignment shall be Gaia, the Leader, and Time with Sol blacked out by Selene.

The Ruler pledges that those taken by the darkness will be saved.' (Proph. 10, Vol.)

"This has to stop!" The Goblin King told the Seelie council. "I have it on good authority that at least six of our Aboveground brethren have succumbed to the wiles of one of our own."

"Goblin King." Lady Morgana Le Fay said, "We do understand the severity of this, but you have given us no proof, nor even a real name of who is doing this. Personally, I need a shred of evidence before we open an inquisition onto these charges."

"I would like to know," Said one of the older members, a wizened male, "Who your emissary is."

"Lady Kiandra."

"The banished imp?!" The council's reaction ranged from disbelief to laughter.

"Exiled." Jareth corrected quietly beneath his breath.

"Have you thought that perhaps your scout is playing a prank?" Queen Tatiana asked regally. "I do recall she is quite good at that."

"She wouldn't joke about something like this. One has crossed over to Tir Na Nog, you can question him. Another is staying near to her, and fully intending to do the same thing. A death that the mortals are calling a 'mugging gone wrong' reeked of magical interference. So does the arson victim. And I was there when the second most recent victim leapt from a bridge. The most recent victim, a former competitive swimmer, drowned on a clear, calm day in less than two metres of water, and well within reach of the shoreline."

"You make a persuasive argument," King Oberon finally said, "We will keep an eye open for anything odd. But, unfortunately, we can not start a formal investigation until we have more evidence. We'll need you and your agent to keep an eye open when Aboveground."

July 30, 1990

"Darn!" Kiandra hung up the phone. She picked it back up, and dialled. The answering machine picked up.

"You've reached the office of Professor Kinsey." A tinny voice told her. "At this time, he is either away or on the phone. Please leave a message after the tone."

"Hey, it's Kay. I just got a call from Officer Mike Faison. There's been another suicide of dubious origins. Call me." That would be the last one they would have to deal with.

August 2, 1990

'On the 2nd to 7th day of the 8th month, four score and ten years into the 19th Century: in an alignment shall be Gaia, War and Death, with Selene red with blood.

The death of an Innocent is foretold; A bloody attack on the Council and Underground. The Illusionist is weakened.' (Proph.11, Vol. )

"I'm worried." Kiandra said, staring out at the river.

"Of course you are." Jareth replied. "Most of the Council isn't taking this seriously."

"There's that. And the fact that the moon will be in eclipse means that we won't be able do a thing." She was bound to the moon's power in every way, they both were. "And if you're right about it being an UnSeelie attack, that means they will get their power from the fact that Mars and Pluto are aligned, as well as the eclipse. I just wish the prophecy was more helpful about the innocent."

"You translated more of it than anyone else. Remember, you figured out that the seemingly opaque symbols actually referred to the planets. We've done all we can. The Williams are safe?"

"Of course, they're all on vacation in Massachusetts, staying at two adjacent cabins on the lake. And the surrounding area has been discreetly sheltered by various protections. You have no idea how hard that was. Also, I have various Labyrinth citizens helping including her friends, and our headquarters is in a third adjacent cabin. I'd like to see the UnSeelie try to find them." She bragged slightly, proud of her work.

"Hopefully, you won't have too." Jareth was far more cautious.

"So, this is it? I wait it out Aboveground while you stay with the Labyrinth."

"What other choices do we have? Unlike us, the vast majority of the Council is not dependant on the moon. It would be another story if it was a solar eclipse. Anyway, I need you up here."

"Despite being weakened, you're still a formidable opponent."

"That's why I can't and won't abandon my kingdom and the remaining residents."

"You wouldn't have had this problem if you had chosen another animal form."

He chuckled, "I deserved that." Becoming more solemn, he told her, "I want you to promise you'll be careful."

"Hey, no problem."

"I mean it; no stupid risks, no mockery of the opponent. And I don't care if you do have an iron skillet."

"I promise." She said with a sigh, "I better get to Massachusetts before this eclipse starts. You be careful too."

For the first time in a long time, Sarah's family; dad, Karen, mom, Jeremy, Toby and Clare, had gotten together for a family vacation, on Plum Island, Massachusetts. Currently, she was reading a book on the beach, while the two little ones played in the sand. It was serene, but something didn't feel _right_. The feeling would continue to nag at her for the next five days until something would happen to make her realize that something was indeed not right.

August 7, 1990

Despite the charms, the protections, something was trying to push itself up through the only Ley Line intersection with in the area that was protecting the Williams family. Kiandra had to rally her 'troops'.

"What do we do?! What do we do?!" Twitch was panicking.

"This is what we do!" Kiandra announced. "We will fight them on the beaches! We will fight them in the forest! And, if it comes to it, we will fight them in the cabin! But we will try not to break anything! I want to get the security deposit back. Now charge!" They went running. Kiandra pulled on some gloves, and followed, carrying her trusty iron skillet. It was weird, usually they would be guided by the light of the moon, but the moon itself was ruddy and dark.

Several dark, shadowy figures hissed out of the intersection. "They're using cloud beings!" A dropped crystal and a bright flash of pure light, and most of the cloud-beings disappeared. The last one merely retreated.

But, something bigger and denser was forcing its way out. Part of the body came through, and Kiandra thrashed it with the skillet. It pulled back, howling in pain, and disappeared.

In the William's cabin kitchen, the adults were talking and playing cards. A scream came from the room where the two youngest were sleeping. Sarah got there first, and threw open the door. An oppressive shadowy figure was trying to work its way through the window. The door slammed shut behind her.

"You shall not pass!" She screamed at the shade, raising her hand. A flash of white light engulfed the room, and the creature evaporated.

"How did you do that?" Toby asked in awe. Behind her, the bedroom door gave way, and the adults tumbled in.

"What just happened?" Karen demanded. At the Ley Lines, the attacking creatures had disappeared, the victors returned to their headquarters. The battle was won.

After that, the forest was silent.

August 8, 1990

Down in the Underground, the Labyrinth itself was the opponent of the darkness and nothing broke through. Kiandra, followed by her brave troops, entered the Throne Room.

"Na, na, na, na. Na, na, na, na. Hey, hey, good-bye!" They sang happily. Unfortunately, most of them couldn't carry a tune. She saw the solemn look on Jareth's face, and stopped suddenly.

"Whoa. Who died?" She asked. Realization hit, "Did someone actually die?"

It turns out, while she was in Massachusetts, the Masry's, who leased the curio shop had her shift filled by Chelsea Masry, the young adult daughter from Mr. Masry's first marriage. The Aboveground police were calling it a 'robbery gone wrong'. But, any magical being worth their salt knew there was magical interference.

The same awful surprise was awaiting Sarah when she returned from Massachusetts. It was the same Chelsea from her Drama club.


	2. Someone True

-X-

Chapter Two

You'll Find Someone True

LUCK: 1) The seemingly chance happening of events which affects one; fortune; lot; fate. 2) Good fortune; success, prosperity, advantage.

DUMB LUCK: The seemingly chance happening of events which affects one despite one's inherent ability to make bad choices. 2) Good fortune despite foolishness and/or recklessness.

-X-

August 13, 1990

Dumb Luck was walking down Providence Street in Kingsbury when one Adam Bennett, an art student at the University of Channer decided to slip into a psychotic episode five blocks up on the same street. Of course when one factors in the size of Kingsbury, it's not difficult to be within ten blocks of anything while both are in the downtown core.

A quick 911 call by concerned bystanders and the police and ambulance services arrived with sirens wailing. The media showed up soon after. Adam was standing in the middle of the street, blocking traffic, with squad cars surrounding him. The police had their guns draw in case he became a danger to others. But all he did was blabber incoherently and wander in little circles, arms waving in the air.

A smart looking brunette woman in her thirties went up to the highest ranking member of the force on the scene. "Captain! Have your officers put away their guns! I know what's wrong with him!"

"And who are you?" He asked, gun still drawn.

She had to move fast; the situation could get out of hand at any moment. "I am Muirne Conrad. _Doctor_ Muirne Conrad. I am a psychologist, and I know what is wrong with him. Put away your guns so I can approach him before this gets worse."

The Captain watched the seemingly psychotic male speak gibberish. "If you can even understand him, he's speaking in tongues."

"Actually, it's Manx; an almost extinct language from the Isle of Man, a 'Centum' Indo-European vernacular which share Celtic roots with Scottish and Irish Gaelic, Welsh, and Breton dialects, as well as Cornish which is also obsolete." Aboveground, Manx was almost extinct. The Captain stared at her for a moment, dumbfounded.

"Is it safe to assume you can speak it?"

"I get by."

"Put down your weapons!" The Captain commanded. Dr. M. Conrad slipped through the tape and walked towards the distraught man.

Completely unfazed, and possibly unaware of his surroundings, Adam alleged in a steady, dazed, drone over and over in Manx, "And the time has come . . . A dark triad . . . The Banished . . . The Transported . . . The Expatriated . . . Darkness to all three realms . . ." There was a moment of nervousness when he reached inside his jacket. Pulling out a sketchbook and tossing it on the ground, he continued to chant. "Twenty-Five who tasted darkness . . . Ten descended . . . Four sacrificed . . . Three kept . . . Three cured . . . Three insane . . . Two returned . . . The Key . . . The King . . . The Exile . . . A time of darkness . . . . Twenty-Five . . . Ten . . . Four . . . Three . . . Three . . . Three . . . Two . . ." He noticed Muirne walking towards him, and he sank to his knees in a trance-like state, continuing to drone on, "Twenty-Five . . . Ten . . . Four . . . Three . . . Three . . ." He trailed off. "My Lady." He moaned in desperation.

Muirne offered him her hand. He reached up very slowly, and grasped it so gently. Overcome by emotion, he started to shake as Muirne knelt next to him. He buried his face in her shoulder and released pent up sobs. It was heartbreaking.

As soon as they deemed him no longer a threat, Adam was placed in the back of an ambulance to under-go psychiatric evaluation at the hospital. The doctor had stuffed Adam's sketchbook in her shoulder bag.

"You know, that was dangerous." Officer Mike Faison whispered to Muirne.

"I know. But what choice did I have?"

The next day, in Faedell Sarah picked up the Kingsbury local newspaper. He town didn't have their own.

**Crime in Kingsbury Rises**, the headline screamed at her. She scanned through the article over breakfast as she got ready for work.

"Crime rates in Kingsbury are the highest that they've been in decades. The number of unsolved cases has also steeply increased over the same time period. The sudden incline started in December of last year when a local man was killed in a mugging go wrong. The case was never solved." She scanned lower. "The owner of one local store, who wished to remain anonymous, has been quoted saying, 'This is an atrocity. Every time we turn around, another mess we have to clean up. We have insurance, but it feels like we're being targeted.' His store has been broken into several times over the last couple weeks, including a tragic burglary where his daughter was killed less than two weeks ago."

Sarah nibbled her lip, Kingsbury was a small city, and she knew it was Chelsea Masry they were referring to. It was so recent, and the crime was still unsolved; no leads, no suspects, an apparent random act of violence. She fought back tears.

In a preparatory high school with a little over a thousand mindless students obsessed with conformity and popularity, Chelsea was the closest thing she had to a friend. The rest of the student body regarded her as 'the freak'. Was it any surprise she spent most of her time growing up in Glen Park, and took out her frustration on her father, Karen, and Toby? It wasn't an excuse, but the night she wished away Toby, her classmates had been particularly cruel to her that week regarding that years Spring Fling. Karen's unaware comment about Sarah finding a date struck particularly deep.

No boy or anyone really, at her high school would have anything to do with her, not if you wanted any chance to be close to Brenna Eadoin and her cronies. Brenna was popular, pretty, rich, and ruled the student body with her own brand of cruel 'justice' to those who didn't follow her rules. Her rules for her fellow students: blend in, worship me, don't question me, do as I say, and visciously shun anyone who breaks my rules. Sarah didn't, and they made her pay with cruelty. And the faculty either didn't notice or didn't care.

She turned to the inside of the paper, trying not to remember. **Suicide Rates in NY State Highest in Decades**, the paper announced. Slightly depressed, she opened the paper to the comics.

Later, on route to her job at 'Caldwell's Tomes: New and Second-Hand Books', when they turned on Allure Street, a Police car was up the street in front of 'Charmed Woodland', it's flashing lights illuminating the nearby store fronts.

Just out front, the police were taking statements from the Masry's, and Kiandra sat waiting in front of the shop. She glared across the street where an orc, in human glamour, stood smirking. She saw right through it. The front window had been busted in and the contents were a mess. Eventually, the police left and she spoke to the Masry's. They went inside, and she crossed the street to the waiting orc.

"I quit. I gave them my two weeks notice. I hope you're satisfied. Now have your friends as well as yourself leave the Masry's alone. They're good people."

"You better disappear little girl, 'cause we're not done with you yet, causing all sorts of trouble for the Ladyship." He rubbed his meaty hand against an iron burn on his bare scalp. "And I'm definitely not done with you yet." Kiandra smirked, figuring he was the one she had beaten with the skillet in Massachusetts. He noticed her reaction and grabbed her by her shirt collar.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you." She told him calmly. "You know, with the Treaty and all."

"You're bluffing. That only works if you're a citizen of Mag Mell."

"But I am. Well, I was. And will be. It's all very confusing. Just put me down."

He dropped her as stepped back. "This isn't over." He said before he walked away.

"No, this is only the beginning." It was time for her to go underground.

x X x

To my loyal readers: Thanks so much for reading and reviewing this one (and adding it to alerts). Just to let you know, the majority of the story will take place 1991/92. Chapter three will be up in about three or four days if all goes well.

In case anyone is wondering, Faedell is a bedroom community; a tiny town (too small for even a high school) that sprang up near a city (Kingsbury) where the residents work in the city, but reside in the town; almost like the suburbs, but with shops and other things than just houses. It's just a few minutes directly north of Kingsbury. Both are along Interstate 4 (which runs alongside the northern part of the Hudson River), just north of Fort Miller (actually exists) in Washington County, New York state. Plum Island, Massachusetts (from the previous chapter), and Adriondack Park (in NY state, from 'WLU') also exists. Sadly, neither Kingsbury nor Faedell exist.

And yes, I am this finicky when it comes to research.


	3. Gets too Rough

Chapter Three

Chapter Three

When Things Get Too Rough

LEY LINES: Lines running across the land, often believed to be sources of mystical or psychic energy, connecting places of worship and are found all over the world. They are also believed to contain electrical or magnetic forces. (Wiki)

-X-

January 14, 1991

'On the 15th day of the 1st month, four score and eleven years into the 19th Century: in the house of the Goat, an alignment shall be Love, Gaia, the Leader, and Death, and Sol will be blackened.

Another is pulled into the darkness and a deadly attack; the Council will be weakened. The realization that a link of Psychic power has shifted.' (Proph 12, Vol. 19850504)

The Council had believed him this time. After the Unseelie attack in August, when several members were injured, they started putting a little more trust into the Prophecy. Especially this time, the planetary alignment contained a solar eclipse.

Jareth, though he would never admit it, was worried. Kiandra was pretty well incommunicado since about five months ago and, except for her brief visits and updates, she was incognito the rest of the time. With the alignment fast approaching, he decided to track her down.

11:45 a.m.

She was brushing her teeth with a towel wrapped around her torso, having just gotten out of the shower. Jareth appeared in her mirror, and she spit out her mouthful of tooth paste.

Jareth just saw a head of red hair just before the mirror was covered in white foam. "I'm so sorry miss. Wrong mirror." He apologized quickly.

"Jareth?!" Kiandra asked as she wiped away the mess she made on the mirror. "Jeez, now I know where the goblins get it from."

"What happened to your hair?"

She rolled her eyes. "It's called hair-dye. You know these mortals are quite adept at changing their appearances without magic. They even have these things called coloured contacts. They change your eye colour. You should get a set." It is said that the eyes are the 'window into your soul'. At the very least, it was the only thing that glamour couldn't cover or change. That's why Jareth had to wear special glasses Aboveground. She noticed he refused to look at her. "What?" She demanded before realizing why, and grabbed a robe. "Serves you right." She muttered.

"Where have you been?" He ordered. "Are you in a hotel?"

"Motel, actually. I'm _trying_ to lie low."

"What did you do?"

"Don't ask." He gave her a stern look. "Fine, I've annoyed some powerful beings. Well, one powerful being with access to Orcs, Ogres, and if I'm not mistaken, Imps. I had to quit my job and everything."

"Where are you right now?" He asked, fully intending on making her stay in the Labyrinth until this situation blew over.

"Hey, I ain't telling you. Because A) someone might over hear this conversation and come looking for me, and B) because I'm not a child, so stop treating me like one. I'll be fine, really. I'd be more worried about your girlfriend if I were you."

"Very well. Why don't you keep in contact? I'm technically responsible for you. I know you have at least one of my crystals."

"Mirrors are too likely to be hacked, and there is too much magical interference around Kingsbury and Faedell to use a crystal. All we'd get is static. And is it my fault you don't have e-mail?"

"Hacked? E-mail?"

"Right, I forgot you're technologically stagnant. Computer terms, you should try one, they're useful little gadgets." A thought occurred to her. "Actually, it's probably best you don't, they seem very prone to failure because of magical interference."

"Like all forms of electricity. What's causing all that magical interference?"

"Ley lines, lots and lots of ley lines. They're all over the place. Oh, wait here!" She left the bathroom, and returned with a notebook. "Here," She showed him a drawn map with red dotted-lines criss-crossing across the landscape. "These are all the ley lines intersecting the Kingsbury area. Now, you see this wonky pink one? It used to be this one that is lying parallel to the new pink one. You know what this means?"

"You're obsessed?"

Kiandra grimaced, "I'll pretend that I didn't hear that. No, see it was moved so that it makes a three-line intersection." The more ley lines intersecting on one spot, the more powerful the juncture is. "All the land around it is owned by a Sullivan Co. which is a conglomerate of Dash Enterprises. Dash Enterprises was the company that built the iron bridge that is situation over the ley line junction, where that guy jumped. It takes a lot of magic, and more than one Fae to move a ley line. Also, this Dash Enterprises is building a structure around the intersection. If the Unseelie court is involved, I think they're cutting off ley line crossroads so that the Seelie court has trouble entering the area."

"This is all just theory. But I'll take it to the council."

A knock came from her motel door. "Darn! It's the manager to tell me it's almost time for me to check-out. See you Jareth."

"Take care." He faded out. In the Underground, he turned to Smidge. "Keep an eye on her."

January 15, 1991

The Council prepared for a possible onslaught. Almost all had convened in the chambers, preparing for a lock-down of the Underground. Only the High Queen was missing. Creatures currently Aboveground had to decide to either stay above or hide in the Underground. After the lock-down was in place, no-one was coming through. Tatiana arrived just before the link was closed until after the alignment. They could do that this time; the alignment was only for a day.

Aboveground, a Franklin Gibson was sitting in his girlfriend, Raine Azia's parlour. She entered, a cascade of blonde hair shimmering behind her. The door slammed shut behind her as she sat next to him.

"Have you been chewing gum?" He asked after she kissed him.

9:15 p.m.

Later that night, Sarah was walking to her car after her shift at 'Caldwell's Tomes'. The sun had set and the street lights were clicking on. A dark foreboding assaulted her, and she hurried to her vehicle, her heels clicking on the pavement. It felt like she was surrounded by many, malignant shadows. It wasn't far from the truth. She turned down the alley towards the parking lot when she was grabbed from behind.

She screamed, and her assailant stifled her. A strike and she saw stars, another and she tasted blood. Sarah fought back desperately, her survival at stake.

Blood and pain, the scene became blurry. Her last word before she lost consciousness was a whimpered, "Jareth."

"Hey! What's going on?!" Her boss, Alden Caldwell shouted at her assailant, waving his cane threateningly. The attacker ran off, leaving Sarah beaten and bloody in the alleyway.

January 16, 1991 

Three hours later, Sarah regained consciousness. Hooked up to so many tubes, and pumped full of painkillers, she couldn't feel a thing, not even someone holding her hand. Jareth sat next to her, having crossed over the moment that the lock-down was removed. Hers wasn't the only attack that night; a council member who had decided to stay Aboveground was killed with a cold iron blade.

Not knowing if she could even discern that he was there, he started talking to her and had yet to stop. "Kiandra will never let me live this down. I am so sorry; I thought you'd be home safe. I can't believe I almost lost you." She turned to his voice. He looked younger than usual and was dressed in Aboveground fashion; leather pants and a button-up shirt. His hair was still as untameable as ever.

"Ja-weff?" She tried to speak around the swelling.

"Shhh, precious thing. Save your strength."

Robert came down the hall, having stepped out of the room for only a moment to get a cup of coffee. Karen was there earlier, and had just left to check on the little ones, who were home with a babysitter. He peeked inside, to watch the blond man comfort his daughter. For the life of him, Robert couldn't remember why he felt like he recognized the man. The young man had introduced himself as Garrett Richmond, and said that he had gone to high school with Sarah. Robert had no reason to doubt him.

The doctors said Sarah was lucky; she was alive, no massive head injuries, no broken bones, and no internal bleeding. The only thing that would stump the doctors was a small laceration on the base of her spine that refused to heal for the longest time.

June 26, 1991

'On the 26th day of the 6th month, four score and eleven years into the 19th Century: in an alignment shall be Love, Gaia, War, and the Leader with Selene red with blood.

Illusionist weakened, and the Three saved.' (Proph. 13)

It had been a rough five months as Sarah healed after her attack. It took that long for the stubborn wound on her back to heal.

The Kingsbury newspapers reported strange occurrences. The one year anniversary of the August 13 incident with Adam Bennett was fast approaching and in that time there had been four more local men who had experienced the same odd episodes. It was being called NDS, Neurological Deficiency Syndrome. Scientists were studying the local area, trying to figure out if the cause was environmental, or even if it was confined to the Kingsbury area. Their theories ranged from chemicals, bacterial, diseases, biological or fungal. Until they came up with an explanation, the locals were taking precautions; a boil-water advisory was in effect and face masks were constantly sold out.

Luckily, suicide rates had dropped. Crime rates dipped as well.

The five men were currently interred in the Mercy LaRue Memorial wing of the Kingsbury General Hospital. Three have which had made a breakthrough. Dr. Muirne, having been named the expert in the field, was holding a group circle. She went around the circle asking how each member was dealing with their problem.

"Adam, how are you feeling today?"

"Much better. I think I'll be able to leave soon, finish my degree."

"I'm glad to hear that. How about you Brian?" Brian Cunningham was an aspiring actor and had slipped into his episode in the middle of a monologue. One of the officers recognized the symptoms and called Dr. Conrad.

"Can't complain. I can't wait to get out of here though. I miss some stuff from the real world, like actual food. And pants." The circle laughed as he gestured to the hospital gown all patients were required to wear. His sense of humour was healthy; it was a good sign.

"That is a perfectly normal feeling. How about you, Colin?" Colin Damoiseaux had slipped into his episode while visiting his sister at her job, on the same day as Brian.

"Normal, a little bored actually. I think I might be ready to leave."

"Understandable. You three have made incredible progress over the last several months. Now, Evan, how have you been since I've seen you last?"

By the time that Evan Fitzpatrick had slipped into his episode, the news had reports about the signs and symptoms of NDS as well as a hotline. Which was good news for the driver of the cab that Evan was travelling in. When they found him wandering on the side of the road, underdressed for late February, he was weeping and wailing, "I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I never meant to hurt anyone! Darice! Darice! Take me back!"

"Well, I have my good days and my bad days." He said, much calmer since being admitted. But, Evan seemed to be healing slower than the rest.

"Well, you're here, and we are committed to see you well again." She turned to the newest arrival, Franklin Gibson. "Franklin, how have you been feeling lately?"

Having only been there for a little over two months, he was still adapting. "I-it's h-hard ad-adjusting." He stuttered. After the group circle was complete, the men got up to return to their rooms.

"Adam, Brian, Colin. May I see you for a moment?" They stuck around. "You've all made wonderful progress, and I think you three are ready to be released. My card will be included in case you need some help or just someone to talk to." They discussed it for a few minutes, and then two of them left. Colin remained behind.

"You wanted to talk to me?"

Through the observation window, Adam and Brian watched as Colin and the doctor spoke for a few minutes. She handed him a key and he exited.

August 19, 1991

'On the 19th day of the 8th month, four score and eleven years into the 19th Century: in an alignment shall be the Thief, Love, and the Leader.

An attack on the Ruler, and a weakening of the Triad. The iron bridge will descend.'

The night was still; crickets chirping were the only sounds to be heard as Kingsbury slept. A barn owl drifted out of the sky and landed on a fence near the iron bridge. A cloaked figure came out of the shadows near the road construction towards the owl. If anyone was watching, they would have seen the owl transform into a strangely dressed blond man. The two exchanged words and the figure disappeared back in to the shadows.

The bridge creaked and shifted. Then, it just collapsed on itself. Smirking, Jareth walked away. Behind him, another taller entity came out of the darkness, wielding a blade. Turning at the appearance of a shadow in the ray of light from a streetlamp, Jareth caught a glimpse of his assailant. The dagger descended and tore into Jareth's arm. He cried out in pain, before retaliating with a crystal. The entity disappeared into the darkness.

In Faedell, Sarah was awoken by the sound of scratching at her window. She groaned and tried to ignore it, burying her head beneath her pillow. When it refused to cease, she got up to see what was making the noise. She slid up her window, and a bloody, bedraggled owl tumbled in and slid into the form of a bloody, bedraggled Fae.

"Jareth?!" She said, awaking immediately. "Wh-what happened?" She was shocked.

"It's a long story, precious. Now, if you would be so kind, help me." He pleaded, in ghastly pain. Later, he would completely refuse to acknowledge the fact that he had acted so frail. Sarah lifted him up and laid him across her bed. Grabbing some towels, she dabbed away at his blood-spattered wound. Jareth unbuttoned his shirt, and tried to remove it. He grunted in pain when he wasn't able too.

Sighing, Sarah reached over and slid off the ruined garment. Then immediately wished she hadn't; it made it all so more difficult to concentrate on the task at hand. Jareth watched her, his own Florence Nightingale. She looked lovely; sleep-tousled hair and a little silk nightgown. "It was iron, wasn't it?" She asked.

"No, if it was iron, I wouldn't have made it here." She started to wrap the wound. "You know, when I imagined myself in you bed, this wasn't exactly how I pictured it." He said. She yanked on the bandage, and he groaned in pain. She smiled ever so slightly.

"Keep dreaming Goblin King."

"Back to formalities, are we?" He asked as he slid off his boots.

"Fine, Jareth. But, as soon as I finish, you are going back to the Underground." Even injured, it was far too much temptation having him in her bed.

"If I could, I would." He shrugged slightly, "I'm stuck here, at least until morning."

"Fine." She had finished with the bandaging, and climbed into the bed next to him. "Just don't steal the blankets. And stay on your side."

The next morning, the sun rose to reveal the two former enemies and current allies spooning. Jareth awoke first, feeling better. When he realized who he was sharing the bed with, her cheek resting on his chest and her arm flung over him possessively, he felt _much_ better.

Sarah awoke second and was mortified. "Jareth! I said to stay on your side."

"Oh, but precious thing, I did." She sat up and chucked a pillow at him. Footsteps came up the stairs towards her room. Panicking, she shoved him off her bed. The apparent thump resounded through out the house. A knock came from her door.

"Sarah? Are you all right?" Her step-mother asked.

"Just peachy!" She said through the closed door, a little too cheerfully. On the floor, he chuckled. She tossed the pillow at him again.

"I thought I heard a thump."

"Oh, I just," She looked around desperately, "Knocked over my chair. Sorry."

"Alright." Her step-mother walked away.

Sarah was about to lay into Jareth, when a figure appeared in her mirror. "Hoggle!"

"Sarah, you haven't seen Jareth around have you?" The Goblin King stood within sight of the mirror.

"Hogweed." He greeted. Hoggle actually paled.

"It's not what you think." Sarah explained.

Jareth sighed, "Does it matter? Now, what's the problem Hoggle?"

"The council is looking for you. Something about an Aboveground bridge."

"I'll be right there." Hoggle faded from sight, as Jareth turned towards Sarah. "Thank you for taking care of me last night."

Sarah shrugged, "I probably owed you for that dream anyway."

"Until next time." A kiss on her hand, and he faded away.

Back in the Underground, he heard laughter from behind him. The entire council was standing there. He didn't immediately realize what was so amusing until he noticed that he was wearing breeches. The problem wasn't some much that, as it was he was _only_ wearing breeches. This was going to make for an interesting council meeting.

x X x

Notes: Thank you to my readers and reviewers.

A digital cookie to whoever can guess who Dr. Muirne Conrad is. (She has been introduced.)

Did you know: Every planetary alignment in this story actually happened in reality.


	4. Not Always Swell

Chapter Four

Chapter Four

Not Always Swell

September 3-6, 1991

It was a rough first week at University.

Sarah scurried up the steps to the University of Channer's English and Social Sciences building on the Kingsbury campus. She couldn't believe that she was going to be late to her first class on her first day of University. Hurrying down the vacant hallways, she saw her classroom. She was going to make it!

Tragedy struck, when she slipped in a puddle caused by the janitor's abandoned mop. She slipped and slid, landing hard onto the floor. Why had she worn heels? She questioned herself, pulling her bruised body off the wet floor.

Limping, she entered the classroom as quietly as possible. The clock mocked her, displaying 8:31 a.m. Only one minute late, perhaps her professor would be lenient.

"I do not tolerate tardiness!" The professor lectured his class, not noticing as Sarah entered through the door behind him. The class turned and looked at her, as did her professor.

"I-I slipped." She tried to explain. Up in the stadium type seating, a high pitched giggle sounded. Sarah was standing there, slightly mussed and slightly damp from her fall.

"I'll be lenient this time." The male professor said firmly, but not angrily. "Just don't make a habit of it."

"Yes Sir." She quickly took a seat in the front next to a tall young man. The professor slipped a course outline on her desk. The giggles were still trailing down from behind her. Sarah's neck turned a dark shade of red.

"May I ask what is so funny?" The professor asked, far more irritated than when he spoke to Sarah, his blue eyes flashing from behind his glasses. "I fail to see the amusement." The girls didn't answer right away. "Well?"

"Nothing professor."

"I thought so." He turned towards the board and scrawled Prof. J. Kinsey in chalk. Beneath that, in his spidery script, he wrote Mythology in Western Civilization. Turning to the class, he announced in his clipped accent, "My name is Professor Kinsey. You will call me that, or Professor, or Sir. This is Mythology in Western Civilization. If anyone thinks they're in the wrong class, you may leave." No one got up to go. "You may have heard that this is a bird course. Unfortunately you've heard wrong, that is completely untrue. If anyone thinks they can't keep up, you can still drop out without being penalized." Silence. "Very well. Now you may have also heard that I'm a hard-ass. That is completely true. I do not tolerate tardiness, yourself or your assignments. Now, let's go through the class list." He picked up the paper and scanned it. "It's a small class. Will everyone move as close to the front as possible?" The students exchanged glances. "Now!" Quickly, everyone moved to the first two rows.

Sarah looked around. In the entire class, there were only two males. The other seven students were female. Her stomach sank as she recognized Brenna Eadoin from her high school. Next to Brenna sat Missy Vassar who also went to high school with them, still following Brenna's every move.

Proffesor Kinsey started listing names. "Avery, Patrick." That was the light brunette-haired man she was sitting next to. "Damoiseaux, Monica." A girl with blue hair, sitting on her other side, answered. "Eadoin, Brenna. Everett, Darcy." Darcy was the other man in her class. "Reeves, Adina." A mousy looking girl peeked out from behind her book. "Tavor, Debra." One of the gigglers, it seemed she was tight with Brenna. "Thorne, Emilia." She was sitting next to Adina, looking rather doctrinaire. "Vassar, Melissa."

"It's Missy, Prof." She corrected, as she chomped loudly on a piece of gum. Sarah wondered how she ever got to University. It wasn't that she wasn't smart; it was she thought school was the place to hang out with her friends, with classes amid social sessions.

"It's Professor. And it doesn't really matter since I am going to be referring to you as Ms. Vassar. And will you kindly dispose of that gum?" She got up and spit it into the trash. He looked back down at his list to finish. "Williams, Sarah." It seemed there was an ever so slight smile on Kinsey's lips, but it was so small and quick, Sarah wasn't sure. "Now, I know that some of my required textbooks were under stocked and are still currently sold out. Who still needs one?" Only Sarah and Monica raised their hands. "Right, hopefully they will be in soon." He picked up an extra text on his desk and handed it to the two young women. "Now everyone, open your books to page 6, read Pyramus and Thisbe." It was a brief myth, and the class was quickly finished. "Pyramus and Thisbe is one of the oldest myths recorded in Western History. What can you recognize from it?"

"It's a total rip-off of Romeo and Juliet." Brenna announced, pushing back her fair hair.

"Ms. Eadoin, Pyramus and Thisbe pre-date Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet. Does anyone know what that means?" Sarah raised her hand. "Ms. Williams?"

"It means that themes, certain themes are relevant no matter the time period. Two lovers forbidden to be together was a pertinent theme in ancient Babylonia, in Shakespearian England, and even modern entertainment."

"Good. And?"

A moment's silence. "Suicide." Sarah answered after refection. "Suicide is still an apparent problem, thousands of years after the story was written."

"Very good. Now, someone else other than Ms. Williams, what else?"

"Family problems." Monica piped up next to her.

"Please expand Ms. Damoiseaux."

"Well, their parents didn't want them to date. That still happens. Also, their parents want to make decisions for them. Who can't relate to that? Well, maybe not so much the forced to marry someone you've never met part." Patrick moved in his seat uncomfortably.

"Good. There was a key word in Ms. Damoiseaux's answer. Relate: to connect or associate, as in thought or meaning; to show sympathetic understanding and awareness. Good myths last beyond when they were written because there is something in them that keeps it relevant generations later. What else can you recognize? Mr. Avery?"

"Marriage, death, in this case death by wild animal, and misunderstandings." Patrick answered.

"Are these themes still used today? And how?"

"Well, a misunderstanding occurred in like every episode of 'Three's Company'." Monica said.

"Oh!" Debra raised her hand and waved it.

"Yes, Ms. Tavor?"

"In the Soap Opera 'Lather, Rinse, Repeat" Philip's evil half-brother Ricardo was mauled to death by a jaguar while attempting to kill Philip in the jungles of Brazil. Remember, it was just before Philip left Alexandra for Veronica?"

"Thank you, Ms. Tavor." Professor Kinsey said, a little curtly. After the class had finished their discussion, they were dismissed with the homework of reading 'Gilgamesh'. Monica and Sarah exchanged numbers, and Sarah took home the textbook the first night. As she left the classroom, Emilia pushed passed her roughly. Sarah regained her balance, and walked away from the class. In front of her Brenna, Missy and Debra were gossiping with relish about Professor Kinsey.

"Oh, he is so attractive!" Said Debra. "That blond hair and those blue eyes." She sighed dreamily. The other two agreed.

"He's a little harsh." Missy said, and popped in another piece of gum.

"He's a professor, that's his job." Brenna explained. Missy tossed the empty wrapper behind her. It landed just under Sarah's foot as she stepped down. The three looked behind them at the resulting noise in the quiet corridor. "Williams." Brenna said curtly, "You think you're so smart, knowing the answers."

"Look, we're not in high school anymore. Let's lose the attitude." Sarah was not in the mood.

"This might not be high school, but you're still a freak." Brenna told her coldly, "And we're going to make your time here a living hell." They walked away, laughing.

After a two hour break between classes, Sarah went to her hour of history class. Then, it was on to her job at Caldwell's. The book store was in an old building that was split between two stores. The store next door was an adult book store. Before that it held several businesses; convenience store, electronics store, music store, clothes store, hair salon, bakery, and grocers. And that was only since Sarah started high school. The adult book store relocated across town, which was actually helpful because of the confusion it caused.

As she walked passed, the brown paper covering the windows was coming down; the store was ready to be opened. Inside the book store, Mr Caldwell was getting ready to leave.

"Tony picked up some books at auction for a song." Tony was his nephew, "I'm going to pick them up. Oh, and a new shipment came in, do you mind cataloguing them?"

"No problem Mr. Caldwell." He left, and she first typed into the inventory computer to see if he had a copy of the textbooks she needed. No such luck.

There was a glass door between the two stores on the inside of the building. During the store's previous use, the glass was covered by a red curtain and was kept locked. Now, all that was covering the glass door was some brown paper and it was removed. Sarah was so involved with cataloguing the new shipment; she didn't notice the paper being removed. It wasn't until she smelled smoke wafting into the store that she looked up.

It took a moment to sink in. Her first thought was, _There's a Gypsy in that store_. Indeed, there was a young dark haired woman wandering around, dressed in the clothing typically associated with them and carrying a smoking bowl. Sarah left her inventory and went over to the unlocked door. The sign on the store's other entrance was turned to open if you were on the street, so Sarah entered.

"Uh, hi. I'm Sarah." She introduced.

"They actually prefer the term Romany or Rom." The small woman corrected in a delicate Irish accent, "The term Gypsy was actually created by Britons who mistakenly thought that they were descendants of Egyptians. Also, it picked up negative connotation over the years, so they rather it's not used. The Romany actually descended from nomadic tribes from India. And I'm not; I just like this style of clothing." She finally looked up from the smoking bowl, and smiled, "I'm Faylinn."

When Sarah regained her ability to be coherent, she asked, "You get that question often?"

"Just all the time. You work next door; I hope we're good neighbours. So, did they send you over as the welcome wagon?" Faylinn seemed to jingle every time she moved.

"Oh, uh, actually, I smelled smoke. What are you burning?"

"Sage. I'm trying to dispel any lingering curse."

"Curse?"

"Why else do you think that this place has been eight businesses in five years?" She shrugged and put down the bowl. "Hopefully, that'll work. So, what do you do?"

"I'm at the University working on a degree."

"What's your major?"

"English, Literature and Folklore. My minor is History." There was something about Faylinn that just made her keep giving information.

"Hmmm, I took a couple classes like that last year. You have Professor Kinsey?"

"Yes. You wouldn't happen to have your textbooks would you?"

"Wait here." She disappeared into the backroom. Minutes later, she returned with a pile of textbooks. "Now, what do you need?" Sarah opened her mouth to ask why Faylinn kept her old textbooks at her job, but before she could, Faylinn chirped, "I live above the shop. It makes everything easier."

Shrugging, Sarah gave her list. "Why do you have two copies of some of these?" She asked looking through the pile.

"One of my classmates last year had to go home suddenly right after the semester ended, and left them with me. I keep meaning to sell them back to the book store."

"I have a classmate who'd be willing to buy them."

"Deal! Oh, and I hope you don't mind the penciled notes in the margins." The book was practically pristine. And, it looked a little thicker than the books her other classmates had. But the cover said it was the same edition.

Wednesday was harder than Tuesday. After her hour of history in the morning, Sarah had 'The Rise of Literacy in Western Civilization' with Professor E. Lafayette. Several students from her mythology class were there; Patrick, Monica, Adina, Emilia, and Melissa. Again, the class was surprisingly small; the only student she didn't recognize was a man that went by the name Gregory Halliwell.

Emilia was cold to Sarah again. And when the female professor entered, she gave Sarah a look that one would give something disgusting that was stuck to the bottom of your shoe.

With her golden hair swinging, the Professor lectured about the rise of the written word in ancient Phoenicia. After class, as Sarah, Monica and Patrick walked to the parking lot; Sarah asked Patrick why the classes were so small.

"Professor Perth from the Math department has an in with our dean, Dr. Moriel. Apparently, these classes are pretty well useless in the modern world." He shrugged. "I don't believe it." They walked a little longer, and Monica started flirting with Patrick. He noticed. "I'm sorry, I don't want to lead you on or anything, but, I'm betrothed."

"Oh. Is she nice?" Monica asked.

"I hope so." He said. When he noticed the looks he was getting from his female companions, he explained, "It's an arranged marriage. I haven't actually met her yet."

"The comment about being forced to marry in Kinsey's class was a little awkward, wasn't it?"

"Not particularly. I don't mind. How could you have known?"

On Thursday, she had advanced first year English in the morning. Sitting next to Patrick, she asked, "Where's Monica?"

"You didn't know? She did so well on the English aptitude test at the beginning of the year; they bumped her up to second year advanced English. She's not in our Lit class either." He explained.

The English class, as a mandatory class for all courses, was a mix from a couple different courses. A few students from her course were missing, they were in English basics: Brenna, Debra, and Darcy. Missy looked lost without her friends.

A student from her history course, Ian Jones slipped in next to her. And promptly started flirting with her, and it was slightly embarrassing. He had been eyeing her in history, but was sitting way at the back. Now, he was next to her, and took advantage of her full attention despite her pleas to stop.

After lunch, it was The Works and Influence of Shakespeare in Modern Society with Professor Lafayette. She didn't seem to be any warmer towards Sarah in this class either, taking great pleasure in underhandedly belittling her opinions. But, it was so subtle that one couldn't be entirely sure it was happening.

That night, after work just before she got ready for bed, she had an unexpected guest.

"I don't share."

Frustrated groan, "Jareth, I am not in the mood for an argument." She slumped forward on the bed.

He got down off her window sill, "Bad day precious?" Sitting next to her prone figure, he removed his glove and started gently rubbing her neck and shoulders. She moaned softly as her tension released.

"The worse. Don't stop." He had magic hands. "I'm not sure, but I think one of my professors . . . never mind."

"You can tell me." His other un-gloved hand was added, and Sarah felt like a puddle of contentment.

"I hate to sound like a drama queen," Jareth chuckled, "Hush up, Goblin King. Anyway, I get this feeling that maybe one of my professors dislikes me. But, I haven't done anything. And, I'm having trouble with some of the students."

"Some of the girls?" Sarah propped herself up on her elbow.

"Are you spying on me?"

"It's not spying if you're in a public place. And anyway, the males in your classes seem quite taken with you. Speaking of which, I still don't share."

"Leave Patrick alone. I'm allowed to have male friends."

"Is he the one I see walking with you and that girl with an unusual hair colour?" Sarah nodded. "It's not him I'm worried about. It's that Ian fellow, the one who keeps flirting with you."

"Yeah, you can tell him to stop. But gently. No bog, no oubliettes, no tossing him out of a window, and don't let the goblins torture him either."

"Sarah, you left me with no options." His hands resumed work on her tense shoulders.

"Fine, maybe a couple goblins." She sighed, satisfied. "Great, now I'm too relaxed to change." He smiled and next thing Sarah knew, she was dressed in an itty-bitty, red silk and lace number. "Jareth, I'd hate to be picky, but do you think I could get something that doesn't show so much skin? Jareth?" He had disappeared. "Damn!"

"Language precious." His phantom voice floated on the air. "Anyway, I'm not complaining."

Thank Goodness it was Friday. Sarah only had one class in the morning: Romantic Poetry with Professor Kinsey. All the women from her Mythology class were there, but only one man had taken the class. He introduced himself as Hugh Ireson. After that class had finished, Professor Kinsey had asked to speak to her after class.

"Ms. Williams, have you ever thought about debate?"

"Actually, I haven't."

"The University has a team, but every year we seem to be trounced by NY State. Are you interested?"

"I guess I could check it out." In high school, she did drama, never debate.

"Great, even if you just show up to practices. We meet Tuesday and Thursday nights." He gave her the time and place.

That afternoon, at Caldwell's she was shelving books when a customer entered. "Just a minute." She stepped off the ladder. "Welcome to Caldwell's Tomes. How may I help you?"

Standing there was a very attractive man, dark hair and dark eyed, eyeing her. "I'm looking for a book." He said with a heady voice and a worldly smile.

_Get a hold of yourself_, Sarah's mind commanded. "Which one in particular?" He listed a title, and she checked the inventory computer. "We have a few copies. I'll get them." She picked them out of the shelf, and laid them upon the counter.

He chose the one in the best condition. "May I ask your name?"

"Sarah Williams." A fleeting thought she couldn't even grasp slipped through her mind.

"Miss Sarah." He picked up her hand, and pulled her close to himself. She was trapped between him and the counter, wishing it was the counter between them.

"We shouldn't-" She tried to push away.

"Is there a problem here?" A female voice said behind them. The buyer stepped back, and they both looked towards where Faylinn stood.

"No problem." Turning to Sarah, he mumbled, "Who's the flower-child?"

"She works next door." The buyer handed Sarah his credit card. Duncan Sullivan was written in raised silver letters. She ran the purchase through, shaking the entire time. The entire time he was in the store, Faylinn didn't take her firm glare off him. Eventually he left, and Sarah sat down with a sigh of relief.

"Thanks."

"Eh, no problem. We've got to look out for each other, right?" She slid a card onto the counter. "The number to the store. If he comes back, call me. I'll keep him in line."

Deep down, Sarah knew Jareth wasn't going to be happy with this recent turn of events.

x X x

Thank you to the readers and reviewers, those who faved and those who added it to their alerts. You know who you are, give yourself a pat on the back.

Vampyre-Eternal: Now that we've gotten to the body of the story, I promise that the time frame jumps will be less common. Thanks for telling me, I need to know. The last thing I want is to confuse my readers.

My interpretation of the Sarah and the Worm scene from the movie wasn't all me. In the novel version, the worm's line as Sarah walked away, "If she'd gone the other way, she'd have walked straight into that dreadful castle." Even in the movie, the worm seemed like he was trying to be helpful, and let's face it, if you're that small, a castle full of clumsy goblins and chickens wandering around would be a dreadful place, if for no other reason than the possibility of being crushed. (Or eaten.) Thanks for the question.

Rahpsody: Don't worry; I'm a firm believer in karma. Spearmint lady is going to get hers.

Moonspun Dragon gets a digital cookie for guessing who Dr. Conrad really is. Two answers were provided in the guess: Kiandra and Tatiana. Now, which one is it? Well, everyone is going to have to wait until the answer is given in the story, as it is one of the mysteries contained within. So stay tuned!


	5. Dance, Magic Dance

Chapter Five

Chapter Five

Dance, Magic Dance

September 9-13, 1991

Darkness surrounded her, pushing and pulling at her incredibly heavy limbs. Screeches resounded around her, as she tried to break free. She fought desperately. Next to her a voice muttered, "Teasd beag caile, teasd." It was so familiar, yet she didn't know what it meant. Suddenly, it was like she dropped into an abyss.

Sarah awoke suddenly with a start, and a scream. Entangled with in her sheets, her heart was racing and she was drenched in sweat. She took deep, heavy breaths, trying to calm herself. Hurried footsteps came up the stairs.

"Sarah! Are you all right?!" It was her father.

"I'm fine." She tried to convince both of them, "It was just a nightmare."

"All right. Go back to sleep." He descended the stairs. Neither of them knew that the nightmares would continue for the next week and a half.

Sarah's second week wasn't any better.

On Monday was her first English Literature class. Standing at the front of the class was Professor Lafayette, eyeing her. They started Beowulf, the earliest form of English literature. So early, that some scholars disagreed that it was English but placed it as a Scandinavian legend transplanted by the invaders of England. And ever one of Sarah's opinions was met with disproval. An hour of history in the afternoon and she went to Caldwell's.

She grabbed the mail and entered the 'Magick Shoppe'. Dressed in all black, one could only describe Faylinn's outfit as gothic. She stood behind the counter, sketching away.

"Bad day?" She asked.

"I was about to ask you the same thing. I got the mail. People always get the two stores mixed up when they address the envelopes." She explained. Sorting through the mail, most of the letters had gone to the right store. "This one's for you." She handed Faylinn a personally addressed letter.

The girl ripped it open and started reading. Sarah took that moment to peek at her sketch pad. Sighing, she tossed the letter on the counter.

"What is it?" Sarah looked down, and nothing on the paper made sense.

"Just this guy who can't take a hint. We've never met, but for some reason he's in love with me. It's in Irish Gaelic."

"I thought you guys had so sort of code." She joked, and then asked, "You understand it?"

"I get by." There was an unspoken agreement that there would be no more discussion about that.

"Oh. What do you draw?"

"Oh just things I see happening. Sometimes, things that are going to happen." Thinking it was a joke, Sarah laughed. Faylinn handed her the book as a man entered.

Striding up to the counter confidently, he asked, "Is this the place that validates parking without purchase?"

"Up yours." Faylinn replied calmly.

"Freaky bitch." He turned to leave a knocked over a display shelf. Something shattered. "What'd I break?" He asked, pulling himself off the ground.

"I don't know, but you just bought it."

"You can't make me buy this crap."

"Oh, I think I can. We take cash, debit, and all major credit cards. So, how will you be paying?" The broken objects were laid out on the counter.

Growling, he slid a credit card into the mix of broken merchandise. "Fine, but I'm not taking this junk." Faylinn tried to hand him a copy of his receipt, and he waved it away. He stormed out. Sarah just stood there in awe.

"Have a nice day sir!" Faylinn called after him.

"You are my hero." Sarah said, and then added, "You weren't kidding about the things that will happen."

"What can I say; my Anja Chakra is very sensitive. My third eye," She explained, pointing to the space between her two eyes. A moment later, the man stormed back in.

"All right, I bought your crap, now you have to validate my parking."

"I'm sorry, that only works with same day purchases, sir."

"I was just in here!"

"And I'm supposed to remember every customer that comes into the store?" He growled, "Fine, just show me your receipt."

"I didn't take the receipt. You probably still have it."

"I'm sorry, no receipt, no validation."

"Unbelievable! You'll be sorry!" He left again.

"Like I've never heard that before."

"That was a little harsh." Sarah said.

Faylinn shrugged, "He annoyed me."

On Tuesday, Sarah made it to class a little early. At the front, Gregory was talking to Professor Kinsey. Monica slid in next to her.

"Hey, can I go with you tonight to buy the books?" She asked, her hair a bright purple.

"No problem." They exchanged notes about what interpretations they got from 'Gilgamesh'. Soon enough, class started.

At the end of class, Professor Kinsey announced, "Next week, we're starting on Greco-Romantic myths. That's when I'll be handing out your related seminars. These are individual assignments. I'll be randomly choosing who'll be doing what myth." The students go up to leave, and Kinsey caught Sarah as she was exiting. "I can't wait to see you at debate tonight."

After class, Patrick entered the Magick Shoppe. With out looking up from her book, Faylinn told him; "If you're collecting for 'Pishagys Creutair Shiaghtinane', the bill goes to J- . . ." She choked on the last word as she looked up. "Oh, no bloody way!"

Outside, Sarah and Monica walked passed the big front window. "Hmm. I wonder how Patrick knows Faylinn?" Sarah asked. It was obvious, even though they couldn't hear a word being said, that it wasn't a polite conversation.

"I don't know. But, she does not look pleased." Monica grinned at Sarah, "Want to watch the fireworks?" She asked, gesturing to the arguing couple. In a sick way, if you're not involved in an argument, they are actually amusing to watch, like a soap opera on mute. "Well, they're not speaking English, I can tell you that much."

"You read lips?"

"A little. But you can totally tell what they're saying by the body language. Let's see, she just called him something along the lines of 'big jerk'. Now he's trying to placate her." It was true, Patrick's body language was definitely a calm down type, where as Faylinn was moving about her hands forcefully. Despite being more diminutive in size, Faylinn was obviously not at all intimidated by Patrick's height. "My money's on her."

A figure walked passed behind them, and then took a few steps backwards. "What is going on?"

"Professor Kinsey!" Both women said in unison.

"Damn it all!" He said, looking into the shop. He entered and stepped between the two. There was so more arguing, a little scolding and finally the two younger ones shook hands in a sort of compromise. Patrick exited the shop, leaned against the wall, and slowly slid down it to sit on the sidewalk.

Noticing the two girls staring at him, he said with a shrug, "She's a spitfire."

"Is that you're fiancée?" Sarah asked, surprised.

"Actually, yes."

"Don't tell them that!" Faylinn popped her head out of the doorway. "Are you here for the books?" She asked Monica, who nodded. Professor Kinsey pushed passed her and exited.

That night, Sarah entered the classroom where the debate club was being held. Most of the participants were upperclassmen, and she felt out of her league.

"Ms. Williams." Professor Kinsey greeted, "How good of you to come."

"I didn't think I had much of a choice." He showed Sarah to her team. Her team-mates were not too impressed with her arrival, but she held her own.

Wednesday was a repeat of Monday. Sarah's first assignments from Professor Lafayette were marked low, very low.

On Thursday, in Grammar class, despite trying to flirt with her the week previously, Ian sat as far away from Sarah as possible while still in the same classroom. She made a mental note to ask Jareth what exactly he had done.

In her Shakespeare class, the discussion was on the Queen Mab speech in 'Romeo and Juliet'. After that was finished, the class was given the rest of the period to work on an in-class essay assignment that was due at 4:30 that day. The class was given leave to work elsewhere. After she wrote her name and subject matter on the list, Sarah hurried down to the library.

She stepped up to the periodicals' index book, but was rudely intercepted by Emilia. "Excuse you." She said; an icy blade was evident beneath her words. That girl was becoming a real thorn in her side. Sarah managed to still see the book code she needed, and went to grab it. Again, Emilia got to the book first, despite the fact that none of the essays contained within had any relevance to her topic of romantic imagery. She stacked the book along with several others, and sat in a privacy desk.

Endless nights of terrifying nightmares and lack of sleep made Sarah feel like she was on the verge of tears. "Are you all right?" A red-headed male asked her.

Wiping her eyes, she said, "I'll be alright. It's just, I need a certain periodical, and it isn't around. Sarah Williams." She introduced herself as an afterthought.

"Walsh Gerson, assistant librarian. Don't worry 'bout it. We have both hard copies and data files of the periodicals." He gestured to follow, and walked towards the front desk. "This happens surprisingly often, even though the periodicals are not supposed to leave the library. What's your subject?"

"Regicide in Shakespeare's works."

"Heavy stuff. That'll impress the prof."

"I certainly hope so." Some how, Sarah wasn't so sure. As Walsh picked out the necessary materials, Patrick and Monica entered. She gave them a quick wave from across the room, which they promptly returned.

"Who's your cute friend?" Walsh asked with a smile.

"Patrick?" She asked. She hadn't seen that one coming.

"No, the vivacious girl with the mauve hair."

"Oh, Monica."

"Monica. Is she single?" He asked with a slightly rakish smile.

Sarah wasn't thrilled about him grilling her for information. On the other hand, he was helping her with her essay. "I don't know. I do know she is my friend, so if you want to ask her out, it should be respectfully."

"No problem. Here's your stuff." He handed her some papers, and she walked over to her waiting class-mates.

"So, who is he and does he have a brother?" Monica asked, pointing to Walsh.

"He's just the assistant librarian. And, he actually called you cute." Sarah winked.

"The man's got good taste."

"What are you guys waiting for?"

"That Thorne bitch has all the periodicals with any relevance to Shakespeare in them."

Missy's voice came from behind them. "She can't do that!" For once, Sarah agreed with her.

"Well, we do outnumber her." Patrick started, "Perhaps we can reason with her."

"I like how you think." Monica grinned, "Right, so Patrick, you hold her, I'll pummel her, and Sarah'll grab the books."

"I can't do that." Patrick argued.

"Fine, I'll hold her and you pummel."

"That's not what I meant. I can not do anything that would cause harm to a lady. No matter what she had done."

"Fine, Mr. Chivalry. Sarah'll hold her, I'll pummel her, and you grab the books."

Patrick sighed, "Wait here. I'll be right back." He went over to Emilia, and pulled out a nearby chair. Seated, he spoke to her for a moment. She turned around and conversed back. Then she leaned over and ran her hand down his chest, his stomach, his . . . He froze and jerked back slightly.

"Did she just . . . ?" Sarah started.

"Oh, I think so." Monica replied. "Hope his fiancée doesn't find out about it." Patrick stood stiffly and carried back the books that Emilia had handed him. His face was a fetching shade of crimson.

"Well," He said as he reached the group and deposited the books, "I feel slightly violated."

Sarah finished her essay in plenty of time, and brought it back to Professor Lafayette. She marked it quickly, and handed it back.

"Professor, are you sure about this mark?"

"Yes. I didn't like your essay." Sarah had worked really hard on it.

Feeling slighted, she mumbled, "If I didn't know better, I'd think you didn't like me."

"If you put that kind of thought into you essay, you might have gotten a higher mark." Sarah stiffened, and left before the tears broke forth.

She didn't have work that night, so Sarah took the long route home, down a country road so she could fall to pieces in peace. As she drove past a fenced in area, with a sign proclaiming: 'The future site of Sullivan Co.' and beneath it, in smaller letters, said: 'A conglomerate of Dash Enterprises'. But, what caught her attention was the fact that someone was being forcibly evicted from the property, kicking and screaming.

"Wait. That can't possibly be . . ." It was. She pulled over to the shoulder as the figure pulled herself out of the ditch where she was tossed unceremoniously. Sarah rolled down her windows, "Faylinn?"

Slightly dazed, the woman wandered over to the car. "Hey Sarah." She said brightly, like they had just met up in the same restaurant and not under these odder circumstances.

"You're bleeding! Come on, get in the car." Faylinn hesitated before climbing into the passenger's seat. Sarah handed her a tissue for her split lip.

"Thanks."

"What was that all about?" She asked, as she pulled the car back onto the highway, and pulled a three-point turn back towards Kingsbury.

"Let me put it this way," The woman said around the bloody tissue, "They don't give tours." She huffed, "Jerks confiscated my stuff. What's bugging you?"

In a temporary office in a portable, Duncan Sullivan watched the car drive off. He turned and surveyed the assortment of objects taken from the girl. Some how, she seemed familiar. Upon his desk sat an odd looking theodolite (with crystal pendulums dangling from the hazel twig across the top of it and odd symbols carved into the legs), a sketch book, pencils, a map of the area, a hand pendulum, and a vaguely recognizable crystal sphere. One of the men who had just evicted the girl from the property entered the temporary office.

"Find and keep an eye on both of them." Sullivan growled, "I want to know that they can't blink without you knowing. Step up security around the iron building. And have someone call Gethin. He'll want to know about this."

"What about you're third colleague?"

"I'll be calling the lovely Ms. Easton." He gestured to the strange assortment of objects upon his desk. "Have someone collect these and put them somewhere secure. The underground vault will do. You're dismissed." Sullivan wondered how she could get so close without alerting anyone to her presence. He picked up the sphere and studied it before tossing it back on the desk, not noticing that it rolled off and landed silently on the plush carpeting, hidden by one of the escritoire's legs.

On Friday, the Romantic poetry class was being held in a park just off campus in order to enjoy the last days of warmth before the winter. Even though it was Friday the thirteenth, nothing particularly unlucky happened to Sarah.

"Come live with me and be my love; and we will all the pleasures prove, that valleys, groves, hills and fields, woods or steepy mountains yields." Professor Kinsey's harmonious voice recited Christopher Marlowe's 'The Passionate Shepherd to His Love'. "And we will sit upon the rocks, seeing the shepherds feed their flocks, by shallow rivers, to whose falls, melodious birds sing madrigals.

"And I will make thee beds of roses, and a thousand fragrant posies, a cap of flowers and a kirtle, embroidered all with leaves of myrtle; a gown made of the finest wool, which from our pretty lambs we pull; fair-lined slippers for the cold, with buckles of the purest gold; a belt of straw and ivy buds, with coral clasps and amber studs; and if these pleasures may thee move, come live with me and be my love." Some thing stirred in Sarah's memory.

_"Fear me, love me, do as I say, and I will be your slave." _The voice haunted her; it was what he had said just before she broke his heart. _"I'll place the moon in your heart . . . I'll be there for you, as the world falls down . . . I'll paint you mornings of gold, I'll spin you Valentine evenings . . . Falling in love . . ."_ The Crystal Ballroom. _"Everything I've done, I've done for you, I move the stars for no-one . . . Love without your heartbeat . . ." _He had been generous, in his own way._ "I have been generous up until now . . . Everything you have wanted, I have done! . . . You can have everything that you want . . ."_ In her mind, Jareth became the passionate shepherd. She could only hope that the shepherd had better luck with his love.

Professor Kinsey continued, "The shepherd swains shall dance and sing, for thy delight each May morning; if these delights thy mind may move, then live with me and be my love." He finished the poem, and said, "Ms. Williams, would you be so kind and read Sir Walter Raleigh's 'The Nymph's Reply to the Shepherd'?"

"Yes Professor." She sat up and started. "If all the world and love were young,  
and truth in every shepherd's tongue, these pretty pleasures might me move, to live with thee and be thy love. Time drives the flocks from field to fold, when rivers rage and rocks grow cold, and Philomel becometh dumb; the rest complains of cares to come. The flowers do fade, and wanton fields, to wayward winter reckoning yields; a honey tongue, a heart of gall, is fancy's spring, but sorrow's fall.

"Thy gowns, thy shoes, thy beds of roses, thy cap, thy kirtle, and thy posies, soon break, soon wither, soon forgotten, in folly ripe, in season rotten. Thy belt of straw and ivy buds, thy coral clasps and amber studs, all these in me no means can move, to come to thee and be thy love."

_"You have no power over me!"_ She paused for a moment as the memory came unbidden. Dampness collected in her eyes. Apparently, the shepherd didn't have any better luck than a king.  
She finished the last stanza, "But could youth last and love still breed, had joys no date nor age no need, then these delights my mind might move, to live with thee and be thy love." The two poems were discussed, and again Sarah was the last to leave.

"I saw your reaction to Raleigh's poem." Professor Kinsey said, "Do I detect a sense of sympathy for the shepherd?"

"Oh, you saw that?" She blushed slightly. "I- uh . . ."

"Don't worry about it. I just wish I had more students like that, instead of staring blankly." They talked a little longer before Sarah bid farewell.

As she walked away, she stopped and turned towards her professor. "You asked if I had sympathy for the shepherd. I do."

She met up with Monica, who told her that her and Patrick were planning on meeting at the 'Drunken Goblin Pub' just off campus, and if she would like to come. Also, if she wanted, Sarah could bring Faylinn along.

That night, the four met at the Pub. Lights flashed and pounding music shook the room. It was karaoke night; patrons singing in between club tunes. Some singers were good, some not so much. Monica noticed Walsh across the room and waved. He waved back. While Patrick was slightly out of place, standing stiffly amongst the crowd, Faylinn was in her element. It wasn't any type of regular dancing, but she moved to the beat, part of the shining, pounding, grinding organism that was the dance floor.

"C'mon Paddy!" She shouted over the music. "Loosen up!" They finally made it to their table. Halfway through the night, Sarah suggested to Faylinn, "You should go sing."

"Well . . . Okay! But you have to dance."

"With who?"

"Anyone. But, if I have to sing, you have to dance." Sarah agreed.

"Um . . . do we have to dance?" Monica asked, gesturing to herself and Patrick.

"Who am I? Your mother? Do what you want." Faylinn scurried up to the stage and was at the front of the line surprisingly quick.

Sarah got up and walked onto the dance floor, wishing someone would ask her. Behind her, someone tapped onto her shoulder. She turned. "Jareth?" He blended right in with the crowd; here his outfit wasn't so peculiar.

"Care to dance?" Offering her his hand, he pulled her close. Heart's 'Magic Man' came through the speakers. On stage, Faylinn swung the microphone by the cord before starting.

"_Cold, late night so long ago, when I was not so strong you know; a pretty man came to me. I never seen eyes so blue. You know, I could not run away it seemed; we'd seen each other in a dream. Seemed like he knew me, he looked right through me. Yeah!_" She crooned into the mic. On the dance floor, the king and the champion moved together in harmony.

Both sang the chorus, but Jareth's performance was for Sarah only, "_'Come on home, girl' he said with a smile. 'You don't have to love me yet, let's get high awhile. But try to understand, try to understand, try, try, try to understand, I'm a magic man''_" Faylinn surveyed the floor during the song. At the bar, Monica was talking to Walsh. Patrick was the only one at the table still. She sang the next verse and chorus before the big finish.

"_'Come on home, girl' he said with a smile, 'I cast my spell of love on you, a woman from a child'. But try to understand, try to understand, try, try, try to understand, he's a magic man!_" On the dance floor as the dance finished, Jareth pressed his mouth against Sarah's before disappearing into the crowd. She tried to find him, a parody of her time in the ballroom. Instead, she stumbled into the table where her friends were waiting.

Grinning, Faylinn announced, "I got a standing ovation."

"I got a date." Monica beamed.

Running her fingers over her still kiss-swollen lips, Sarah smiled, "I got a kiss."

The three turned to Patrick. "I got sympathy from the waitress." He said glumly.

They offered condolences, although in Faylinn's case that was only after she had finished laughing. "So, who was the hottie?" Monica asked Sarah.

"Just an old friend." Sarah quickly ended that conversation by asking, "Who'd you get a date with Mon?"

"Remember Walsh from the library? He wants me."

"I think he's bitten off more than he can chew." Faylinn teased.

"Damn straight." The three women laughed.

"They're all sisters." Patrick said, half joking.

Sarah leaned over and said into Faylinn's ear. "Go dance with him."

Sighing, she acquiesced. "C'mon Paddy, let's shake a leg." Not waiting for an answer she pulled him onto the dance floor. The previous song ended and a slow song came on.

"Do you think she'll be able to reach his shoulders?" Monica asked. Apparently, she couldn't. They couldn't hear the couples' conversation over the music, but Patrick made an attempt at crouching down, before standing back up at his full height.

Across the room, Sarah and Monica heard Faylinn's voice over the music. "I am not standing on a chair!" They cracked up laughing.

Eventually, they left the bar. Sarah was in no hurry to go home to sleep. Patrick went back to the dorms and Monica took a cab to her aunt's house. Which just left Sarah and Faylinn; both underage and stone sober.

"I'll give you a lift." Sarah offered. They drove down Channer Road and turned towards the 'Magick Shoppe'. A dark figure was waiting out front. "Who's that?"

Faylinn flicked the headlights between high beams and low beams. The figure seemed to merge with the shadows. "Drive around the block."

Sarah complied, and by the time they returned the figure had disappeared.

-x X x-

Thank you to my faithful readers, reviewers, to those that favourited and those that added it to alerts.

Over the next couple of weeks, the chapters will be a little more sporadic than usual because of personal things Life: What gets in the way when you're trying to write.

A digital cookie to those who can recognized the 'Good Omens' reference in the chapter.

I'm surprised no-one has used 'Magic Man' in a Labyrinth fan fiction yet. The lyrics just work. Check it out, it's a great song. (You can find it on Youtube)

Pishagys Creutair Shiaghtinane a weekly news-type publication.


	6. Makes no Sense

Chapter Six

Chapter Six

Makes No Sense for You

September 13, 1991

If one didn't know better, they would assume that Jareth was sitting in his own throne room, and that the Goblins had done something destructive to the castle. As it was, he wasn't, and was hoping that the latter wasn't true. He was Aboveground, sitting in the scorched remains of a mortal's attempt to build a castlesque estate, a stone harbour and a holding place for black powder on the island that still bears his name. This would be his folly, because in the early years of the 20th century, lightning struck and the buildings were destroyed when the black powder ignited and exploded.

The castle still stands sentinel over the abandoned Bannerman Island, which was nestled in the watery cradle of the Hudson River, almost three hours south of Kingsbury. Jareth waited impatiently.

"Ah," He said, seemingly to himself, "Something wicked this way comes."

"I resent that." Kiandra came out of the gloom. "Glad you found the place all right. So, I saw you dancing with your girl. And the song worked to. It should be your two's song."

"All ready have one."

"Yeah. Yours is 'You're so Vain' and Sarah's is 'Love is a Battlefield'."

Jareth sat there unimpressed. "I meant, _we_ have _a_ song."

"Oh, right. _How you turn my world you precious thing_." She sang softly.

"Enough! Not that one." The rejection was still a slightly sore spot.

"Right, sorry. Did you ever end up telling her that the Fae song and dance in the crystal ballroom bound her to you?" Jareth looked a little guilty. "Oi. Right now, as an imp, I'm just glad I don't have to go through that kind of crap."

"No, your kind just finds someone they can stand for the rest of their life and reproduce like rabbits."

Kiandra shrugged, "Pretty much."

"Remind me again why we are here."

"It was your idea to meet once a month outside of my Labyrinth time in order to exchange notes."

"The emphasis is on _here_. This forsaken island in the middle of nowhere."

The imp shrugged and sat cross-legged on the remains of a stone wall. "Well, it's private. No mortals come out here, either because of superstition or the fact that it's dangerous to boat here, especially in the dark. Or both. Secondly, we won't be over-heard by any magical beings because the closest ley lines are in the river. Also, because it's an island, that makes it so much easier to put up protections. Moreover, remember what happened at the last place we used as a meeting ground?"

August 13, 1991

"Jeez Jareth, what's with you and thirteen's?" Kiandra asked as she came along side 'The Fairy Bridge' on the Isle of Man. She had just hoofed it from Castletown and wasn't in such a pleasant mood.

"Lucky number I guess," He said as he offered her a hand. "I think this'll do."

"Are you kidding me? Do you know how many ley lines intersect at this bridge?"

"No. But I have a feeling that I'm about to find out." Kiandra was about to reply, but was cut off by the approach of two young mortals.

"They say," Said the older boy in a conspiratorial voice, "That it's bad luck if you don't say hello to the fairies as you cross the bridge." The two started crossing the bridge.

"Hello fairies!" The younger one called.

A female voice replied, "Hi!" The two boys exchanged glances, turned right around and bolted back to the town, screaming bloody murder.

Down next to the bridge, Jareth had his hand clamped over Kiandra's mouth. The imp was laughing so hard, she was shaking with tears rolling down her cheeks.

"That was not amusing." The Goblin King chastised.

September 13, 1991

"How could I forget?" He said; still not amused.

"Sour puss. I thought it was hilarious." Kiandra teased, before continuing her reasoning, "Just a reminder, not all of us have intense magic powers. I needed somewhere close. And the mortal who built this place kind of reminded me of you."

"How so?"

"Well, the Dutch believed that the island was home to Goblins. And they were right; the place is swarming with them." Hidden in the shadows in the corners, little giggles came out from the darkness. "So, the goblins, the castle, and the unmitigated arrogance, reminds me of you." She leaned to the left as a crystal whistled passed her ear. "Oh, I felt a little breeze on that one." He wouldn't dare throw one directly at her. He tried that once, she threw it right back. This is exactly how he got his unusual pupil. As she was quite young, he forgave her for that. Eventually.

"So, why is it so important that we meet?"

"Getting a little antsy Jareth? What, does being on a cursed island on Friday the 13th make you nervous?" She teased. He sighed and got up to leave. "All right, don't get your breeches in a knot. Jeez. Malevolent things are stalking your girl." She said; very matter of fact.

"So I am aware."

"Okay, malevolent things are very close to your girl, and I'm not sensing them until they are way too close for comfort. Like that one powerful being hanging around her tonight. It makes me nervous."

"You're supposed to be guarding her." The Goblin King reminded testily.

"I'm trying! Something is hiding their magic signature. Like a charm, a powerful one."

"I'll look into that. Anything else?"

"I'm worried about her; something is making it so she's not sensing the magic. Like something has been blocked. Oh, and I have a name you should look into." She passed him a folded paper. "And I haven't been able to track down the former flame."

"So, other than these set backs, how goes the guarding?"

"Well, I'm sliding into her life ever so gently. She thinks of me as a confidante of sorts, completely oblivious to my true identity with a kicking pseudonym. How 'bout you?"

"She is completely unaware of me."

"Which make no sense to me. Your alias is so obvious, I mean c'mon. You should have used my choice for you assumed name."

"For the last time, I am never going under the name David Jones. Ever."

"Fine, fine. Somebody's in a snarky mood. Oh, by the way, I'm about to kill your Goblins."

"I sympathize with you completely. What have they done?"

"Well, they raid my kitchen and eat everything in sight, whether or not it's edible, dog-ear my books' pages, re-arrange everything, I can no longer bring anything containing sugar or caffeine into the house . . ."

Fifteen minutes later

". . . They steal my clothing, especially the undergarments and socks for some reason, and catapult, eat and/or wear my make up. I think that's it." She finished her laundry list of complaints, and Jareth was rubbing his temples in frustration.

"I'll deal with them. Anything else?"

"Not that I can think of."

"How about your recent excursion into Aboveground private property?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about." She said; her face a picture of guileless honesty. Jareth knew better.

"Really," He paused for a minute, "Damn. I have to go." The magical fabric shifted and he and the goblins disappeared.

"Whew, saved by a summons."

His disembodied voice sounded like it was right next to her, "We will talk about this later."

Meanwhile, another meeting was in progress. "Where is she?" Duncan Sullivan tapped his fingers impatiently upon the heavy wooden table that was moved into his office. The room was set up like a conference room, for the time being.

"Patience Duncan." Said Thane Gethin, who was sitting at the head of the table, nursing a brandy. "She'll be here soon." Other than the two men, they only other person in the room was a diminutive adolescent girl in a waitress type uniform, waiting quietly at the temporary bar.

Not even a moment later, Darice Easton, one of her many alias, was escorted in by two burly men in security uniform.

"Thane, Duncan, dahlings." She greeted.

"Darice." Both men welcomed. They waited until the escorts left, and the room was magically sealed.The three members let their glamour drop; the server only did after she was cued by Thane. Even though it was Duncan's office, it was obvious who held the real power.

The real greetings began. Not the false names that they had assumed while residing on the mortal realm, but the names they would never want to be heard by the non-magick creatures they were forced to mingle with every day.

"Lord Thanos of the Unseelie," The blonde Fae greeted the unglamoured form of Thane. "Dolan of the Above." She nodded towards the former Duncan.

"Lady Evadne of the Hinterland." They welcomed before taking their seats.

Evadne gestured to the server who had taken her true form of an imp, a true imp. "Maggie, the usual." The youthful imp carried over a flute of champagne.

"You know," Thanos said, making small talk, "When you said we could use imps as underlings, I had my doubts." He looked up at the silent red-headed girl who was currently refilling his drink. "But, they really are useful, once you break their spirits of course."

"I told you," Evadne smiled over the rim of her glass, "They are smarter than anything else; orges, orcs, gremlins, goblins." She reached for a cracker on the platter. With a snap, the biscuit broke right in half. "And their bones are so fragile." She took a bite out of the crunchy wafer.

"Quite." Dolan agreed. "So, down to business. We've had a break in of sorts. Some how, a female entered the property." He slid the open sketch pad onto the table. The map was covered with a criss-cross of red lines. "This actually makes our job so much easier."

"How did she make it onto the property?" Thanos asked.

"That, we can not figure out. She didn't set off any of the conventional mortal alarms, and we didn't detect any strong traces of magic. She was hanging around the iron buildings. The big one in particular."

Thanos pulled out 'The Prophecy', the missing copy. "How are we doing on this? The Key?"

"We know were she lives, works and learns as well as where her family does the same." Evadne said, "Her home is protected by all sorts of enchantments as well as mortal protections. The small blonde boy and recently his small sister have been redoing the protections every day. So, her home is out of the question. Though her nightmares are still making her anxious.

"You really dropped the ball when your army attacked the home. Honestly, defeated by a condiment and some cookware." Under the table, Thanos rubbed his scarred hand. The Key was going to pay for that injury. "Her work is currently unprotected, and at school, I am slowly breaking her down with a little help. Mortals are so easily influenced."

"Very good Evadne. And she has no idea?"

"None what so ever. Her intuition has been compromised."

"Good, step up the nightmares."

"Not too high." Dolan finally spoke.

"I didn't know you cared for the girl." Evadne sneered.

"You know very well, I don't. If she is to be my prize, I don't want her broken any more than is necessary. I'm here because I want revenge on one person, and one person only."

"I think you took enough revenge last month." The fair-haired Fae glared at Dolan, a common criminal in her eyes having been exiled from the Underground for 150 years. Thanos rolled his eyes as the argument started again.

"I didn't know you cared for the boy. It wasn't even iron! Personally, I think your crony took enough revenge on the girl!"

"Enough!" Thanos shouted. "Now, the Ruler."

"I am so close to him, and he hasn't realized it yet." Evadne smirked. She pulled out the charm hanging around her neck. "Thank you great aunt Tatiana."

"Good, now the illusionist."

Evadne and Dolan exchanged glances, "We are at a loss." Dolan explained, "Evadne had some of her best on her trail, but she pretty well disappeared."

Thanos tapped his fingers impatiently, "She needs to be found. And when she is, I have a little present for her." He dangled a piece of onyx on the end of a chain. "Now, who else? The elf."

"I know exactly where he is." Evadne smiled coldly. "He'll be easy to tempt."

"And the mortal sister?"

She pulled out two copies of a list. "These are the sisters of those who have been Fae touched. Names and ages, and ordered into the most likely possibilities."

"I'll take the top seven." Thanos commanded, "You take the bottom six, Dolan. The two is obviously the Key's brother and sister. Now, the Tome Keeper, any ideas?"

"Plenty of theories, but we do not know who." Dolan explained.

"That list is on the back." Evadne said, "She knows way too many people who deal with books on a regular basis."

That night, Sarah's nightmares got so much worse.

-x X x-

Bannerman Island actually exists, but it is more commonly known as Pollepel Island, near Cornwall NY. The Native American thought it was haunted by spirits. The Dutch really did believe that Goblins existed on the island and it is currently abandoned, with only the remains of Francis Bannerman's castle-like home left. It is treacherous to try to boat to the island because of the submerged stone harbour. To this day, people still think the island is cursed.

I take back what I said about no-one using 'Magic Man' in Labyrinth type fan-fiction. Last chapter, it tried all Tuesday to upload my chapters. P.S. the only change in chapter four is I screwed up the date and had to fix it. That is all. The site wouldn't let me log in. So, early Wednesday I finally logged in and put up the new chapter. After I finish that, I went over to Deviant Art and read Pika's newest GND comic check it out if you haven't already. I nearly keeled over as, surprise surprise; we find out that in the comic, Sarah has sung the exact same song when she was at a karaoke bar. And who says that the divine creator being/fate doesn't have a sense of humour?

Also, I finally put up a blurb about myself on my profile. That took way too long.


	7. What Kind of Magic Spell?

Chapter Seven

Chapter Seven

What Kind of Magic Spell to Use?

September 14-20, 1991

It was going to be a long day. Exhausted from another night of frightening visions, Sarah slunk into the kitchen. The nightmares had been getting worse, as well as her insomnia. Karen was standing before the counter, cracking eggs.

"Do you want eggs?" Her step-mother offered, reaching into the spice rack. "Darn!" She exclaimed as she pulled out an empty salt shaker; careful with her language lest young ears over-hear.

"Eggs will be fine." Sarah replied, still half-asleep.

"Still having bad dreams?" Karen asked sympathetically as she walked over to the pantry.

"Yeah," Sarah stifled a yawn, "I think they're getting worse."

"I could give Dr. Garrick a call." She pulled out a 40 oz box of table salt. "Darn! Where's all the salt disappearing to?" She placed the box on the counter.

"You think . . . ?" Sarah started, remembering the incident of a few years ago.

"TOBIAS ANTHONY WILLIAMS!!" Karen hollered. Toby poked his head into the kitchen. "Have you been spreading salt around the house again?!"

"No," Toby said innocently. "And Clare did it."

Karen sighed as the boy left the room. "Do you think they're acting out because your father isn't here?" Currently, Robert was at a conference in Connecticut and wouldn't be back until Friday.

Sarah shrugged, "It's all right, I'll just use ketchup. Her step-mother walked back to the stove. "You're looking tired too."

"Toby and Clare keep insisting there are monsters outside at night. It's been happening for a while now, actually."

"Oh." What else do you say to that? "Why . . . why am I only hearing about it now?"

"Your father thought it best to not upset you with something that is probably a childhood phase. He thinks you're stressed, and that's what is causing the nightmares."

"What do you think?"

"It's valid, heaven knows I was a wreck my first few weeks of college. I just want to see if it will pass on it's own. Dr. Mitchell's book on children says that it's a normal phase of development. I don't know."

Later, as Sarah stepped into her car, her foot stepped down on something with a crunching sound.

"Toby!" There was a box worth of salt spread out on the car floor.

"Clare did it!" His five-year-old voice sounded from the front window. "It keeps the monsters away!" Cranky, Sarah looked towards the house where her brother stood in the window. Sometimes, he could be such a little goblin. Her three-year-old sister popped into sight with a smile and a wave. You just couldn't stay mad at those two. Sarah shook out the floor mat, and with a sigh, she climbed into the car.

Sarah came into the bookstore, bleary eyed and grumpy.

"Ms. Williams, are you feeling unwell?" Mr. Caldwell asked. He was about to leave, but stopped when he saw her exhausted face.

She stifled a yawn. "Don't worry, I'll be alright."

"If you insist. Tony found some books through a dealer, I need to appraise them. Don't work yourself too hard." He hobbled towards the door on his cane. "Oh, and that strange young woman from next door wishes to speak to you."

"Did she say why?" Sarah knew instantly he was referring to Faylinn.

"Her exact words I believe were, 'it's an emergency; we're talking about total worse case scenario here'."

"Thanks Mr. Caldwell." He left, and Sarah peeked into the shop next door. Faylinn wasn't there, but a black kitten was sitting on the shop counter. "Hello, precious. What are you doing here?"

"I own the shop." A gravely voice answered. Sarah jumped back. Great, her lack of sleep had her hallucinating that the kitten could talk. "Are you all right miss?" She looked up and was relieved to see a grandmotherly woman come out of the backroom.

"Oh, I'm fine. I'm just looking for my friend."

"Sarah Williams, yes?" She could only nod. Was everyone in this shop clairvoyant? "Faylinn was looking for you. I'm Aradia Gwydion." She took Sarah's hand in her own. "Dear, you've been Fae-touched."

Would Aradia think she was crazy? "Just once or twice."

The older woman laughed heartily. "Child, Fae-touched is an expression. Now I see it, you are his beloved, the other half of his soul. You complete him." The woman winked, and turned to shoo the cat off her counter. "Scat! Go on," Aradia shouted something that sounded like 'Come-'ere-Ceoir' and added, "Shoo!" The cat calmly descended from the counter, and went into the other room. "Faylinn's pet. I don't know how she got out here. Speaking of which, she's gone up the street to get some things from the store."

"Thanks." Sarah peeked out the window as Faylinn came up the street with an overflowing arm-load of bags. Sarah exited the store and eased the girl's burden by grabbing one of bags. It wasn't enough. The bottom tore-out of one of the other paper bags, and several 40 oz boxes of salt landed on the pavement. The Irish girl jumped back like she was avoiding hot coals instead of the saline crystals trickling over the cement. "You use a lot of salt?" Sarah asked as she helped pick up the fallen boxes.

"Tons. Like you wouldn't believe."

"And you're not worried about your heart at all?"

"Oh, I don't eat the stuff!" Faylinn laughed. Looking up, she observed, "You're tired." Not 'you look tired', 'you are tired'.

"Uh, yeah. I haven't been sleeping well lately."

"Follow me." Through the store, through the storage room, was a little narrow room with a wooden staircase. Two doors; one to the thin strip of land and the alley behind the building, the other, Sarah could only guess, was to either the basement or the room with the furnace and water heater. Ascending the stairs, they reached another door.

As they entered her apartment, Sarah heard skittering coming from inside. "Do you have rats?"

"No." She didn't offer any more information. Faylinn's apartment was a collection of the eclectic. As they passed through the beaded curtain, Sarah was hit with the smell of spices and herbs. "Feel free to make yourself comfortable." She gestured towards the over-stuffed couch. Sarah sat, and took a closer look at the velvet curtains hanging on the wall behind the couch. They looked familiar.

Sitting calmly on the coffee table was the black kitten. Sarah made some kissing noises. "Come here Miss Ceoir."

In the kitchen, Faylinn cracked up with laughter in the middle of pulling out some glass bottles. "D'you know what you just called her?"

"No." The kitten crawled into her lap and curled up.

"Well, it was badly pronounced, but 'drunkard'."

Sarah blushed. "Oh. What's her real name?"

"Coimirceoir. It means guardian. She likes you." Going back to her work, Faylinn mixed a tablespoon each of herbs from three different containers and put it in a plastic baggy. "Try this tonight, mix it into two-and-a-half cups of boiling water. Let it steep for ten minutes, strain and drink one cup after dinner and another just before bed. If it doesn't work, we'll have to try the stronger recipe." She took out three more glass bottles. "Choices, choices. You don't suffer from glaucoma, headaches, or a depressive illness, do you?"

"Not that I'm aware of." The couch comfy, and Sarah felt like she was being lulled to sleep.

"Good." Faylinn chose one of the bottles for later and wrote down the recipe before looking up from her work. With a shrug, she moved the kitten, covered the prone figure of Sarah with a throw, and left the slumbering girl to rest.

A couple hours later, Sarah left Faylinn's apartment, and went back down to the book shop. Currently, the Irish girl was sprinkling salt along the floor boards near the front door. It was also noted that over the door hung a silver bell.

"What are you doing?" Sarah asked incredulous. Most people would have reacted with a guilty look on their face. Most people.

"Relax." Faylinn said soothingly, completely shameless. "Salt won't damage the books."

The first thought that crossed Sarah's mind was, 'Has everyone lost their marbles?'. "Wha . . . why . . . ?" She finally asked.

"Do you believe in Magick creatures? You know; fae, dwarves, goblins, and all that jazz?" Sarah nodded, "Well, I firmly believe that who or what ever was hanging around last night was not human, and a malevolent force to boot. Trust me on this."

"What if your wrong?"

Faylinn shrugged. "Eh, luck favours the prepared."

Thinking for a moment, Sarah started, "My brother and sister, have lately-"

"Children often see what adults refuse to view, know what adults deny, and believe what adults question. Frequently, a child is braver than an adult, and can handle what the adult can not. They're stronger than you think."

"That was very profound. So, the monsters . . ."

"Oh yeah, definitely dark, mystical beings." Later, when Sarah had left for the day, Duncan Sullivan tried to enter the bookstore. When he found himself flat on his back from an unknown source, he decided to revise his tactics. As he walked away, Duncan thought he overheard the sound of quiet snickering.

Sunday passed in relative silence. Except that Faylinn's sleep remedy, while it made Sarah sleepy, the nightmares persisted.

Monday was the start of a very trying week. It seemed that, for some reason, over the weekend, Patrick had gotten very popular. Which was much to his surprise as he wasn't even in the states that weekend. It started with Brenna flirting with him, fluttering her blue eyes enticingly. Even though Patrick tried desperately to explain that he was engaged, she didn't seem to get the hint. But, that was Brenna, she flirted with all the guys.

Emilia on the other hand, after the incident in the library, also tried to cozy up to him, even sitting next to him in class, being coy while twisting her blonde locks. Sarah rolled her eyes, wishing she had Monica to talk to.

It seemed that there was a memo she missed, because it seemed her usual female classmates were doubling their effort to be cruel to her; Debra and Missy were following Brenna's lead, but Emilia didn't even bother associating with those three. Other than Monica, the only girl not trying to make her life miserable was Adina, and Sarah hadn't even heard the bookish girl speak. They started 'The Canterbury Tales' in English Literature.

Over dinner that night, Karen told Sarah that she got a call from the Nursing home where Robert's grandmother, Sarah's great-grandmother, was a resident. "They called me this afternoon," Karen explained. "The orderly that called said that great-granny Cagney is being disruption. They want to evict her."

Morrigan Cagney was 91 years old and more Irish than you can shake a stick at. Of course, you wouldn't want to do that because she'd take it from you and beat you with it for your audacity. Then make you feel guilty for exhausting a 'poor old lady'.

"But, haven't they said that before?"

"Yes, and last time they wrote up a contact. But, apparently, this time, a contract isn't going to cut it. I'm going to have to call your father." She did, later that night. It was an interesting conversation.

Sarah could here it from the living room. "Robert, she's your grandmother . . . . Your parents are having a hard enough time taking care of themselves . . . . You know she's not talking to your Uncle Terrell, not since they had that falling out . . . . She won't . . . . Because your brother lives in Vermont and she wants to stay in state . . ." This went on for a while before Robert finally agreed that great-granny Cagney could stay with them, until they found another assisted living facility. Several more calls, and Karen had everything arranged.

Later, as Karen was packing, she told Sarah the arrangements that had been made. "I'll be leaving tomorrow afternoon to pick up your great-grandmother. I called Mrs. Lazzaro up the street, she can take care of Clare during the day and Toby when he gets off from school. Paige still walks Toby to and from school, so you don't have to worry about that. I'll pick up some groceries in the morning and some money for pizza or what ever will be in the tin on the fridge. All the numbers will be on the fridge. I should be back Wednesday or Thursday."

In Tuesday's class, Professor Kinsey assigned the Greco-Romantic myth seminars. He chose them randomly from a pewter bowl. "Mr. Avery; _Eros and Psyche_. Ms. Damosieaux; _Ariadne and King Mino's Labyrinth_ . . ." Sarah listened to the professor's voice and was lulled to sleep. She didn't know this until class had ended, she had missed the entire thing. "Ms. Williams."

Sarah awoke with a jerk. "Oh, I . . . I am so sorry, I just . . ."

"Follow me to my office." Seeing she had no choice in the matter, Sarah followed. In the well decorated office, she took a seat. "You're one of my best students Ms. Williams." Professor Kinsey told her, sitting behind his wooden desk.

"I'm really sorry, I didn't mean to fall asleep." Sarah explained quickly.

"I know. That's why I'm worried about you." He leaned forward, with an expression of gentle concern. "Has everything been going well lately? Any problems?"

"It's not that, I'm just not sleeping well lately." Sarah watched him, still a drowsy. He was handsome, obviously.

"May I ask why?"

"Nightmares, mostly. I guess I might be stressed." Her mind wandered a little.

"Hmmm." He sat back. "Well, not much I can do for you there." Looking down at a clip-board, he announced, "Your assignment is _Hades and Persephone_. I can't wait to see your view on the matter." She smiled and blushed a little, a strange feeling began in the vicinity of her internal organs.

"May I ask you a question Professor?"

"I believe you already have, but go on."

"You didn't actually chose the myths randomly."

"Not so much a question, but I'll answer it anyway. I actually chose out the myths before hand."

"May I ask why?"

"Myths are meant to instruct, lessons contained within fiction." Sarah nodded, she understood, "What's your favourite myth, of any origin?"

"The Labyrinth."

"And you understand the lessons the Labyrinth tried to teach?" Sarah nodded again. "Now, if I was to say chose any myth to do a report on which one would you chose?"

Sarah opened her mouth to answer, but just said, "Oh." Realization had just hit her.

"Exactly, the myths I assigned are to give a necessary lesson to those that need it. And a necessary lesson isn't always a pleasant one."

"Thank you professor." Sarah exited the office just as a professionally dressed woman entered. She was the epitome of proper from her sensible shoes to her fair hair tied up in a bun.

As the woman entered the office, Sarah over-heard Kinsey greet, "Nice to see you Professor Perth." Sarah took the most direct route to the main building where the cafeteria was situated. That meant cutting through the art department. Have way through, she realized she forgot her book bag and returned to Kinsey's office. When she got there Professor Perth was leaving. Even beneath her schooled features, it was evident she was in a huff.

Sarah entered the office, her professor was on the phone. "Yes I'm sure . . . You got them? . . . Good, talk to you later." Sarah picked up her book-bag trying not to overhear the conversation. Professor Kinsey smiled at her and the strange feeling started again. "Family matter." He explained.

"Oh, I just forgot this." She turned to go.

"Ms. Williams," He came up behind her. "You have glitter on you back." He brushed off gently. She blushed again.

"I must have gotten too close to one of the projects in the art wing. Thank you." She exited again. She was halfway across campus when it occurred to her. She mentally kicked herself; she had a crush on her professor.

After class that day, she got off before her shift started and entered the Magick Shoppe. "Why didn't you tell me it was nightmares?" Faylinn asked, not looking up from her book.

Once you got used to Faylinn, her ability to know was slightly less freaky. "Nice to see you too. You think you can do anything about them?"

She finally looked up and smiled, "No prob. Follow me." They went down the row containing gems. Faylinn meditated for a moment before choosing a few. "Mexican onyx," She picked up a brown and white stone, "Helps one sleep; sodalite, protects from external negative energy; opal, aids in dreaming; amethyst," She picked up that gem with a pair of tweezers. "Heightens intuition and grants intuitive dreams; citrine, helps realize dreams; diamond, relieves nightmares-"

"Diamond? Oh I couldn't." Faylinn gave her a look that said there was no room for argument.

"Yes, you could. Now, where was I? Jade, helps with lucid dreaming and controls content; and jasper, soothes nerves."

"Do you think this'll actually work?"

"If I didn't, would I wear this all the time?" She pulled out a gold chain from inside her pocket. On the end sparkled a sapphire and a turquoise. "Sapphire, clears the third eye and sharpens psychic ability and intellect, also protects wearer from capture, especially useful in legal matters. Turquoise, protects against environmental pollutants, speeds healing and improves communication. It is also said that when the owner is in danger, the stone will change colour. Now, one more thing." Sarah followed her to the herb row. "Chervil, stops bad dreams. Also keeps away slugs. So, tell me about the guy."

"I'd rather wait until I had a full night's sleep to make sure it wasn't a fluke."

That night Sarah placed the little velvet bag of gems beneath her pillow. That was the night the nightmares stopped. Unfortunately, Sarah's dreams took on a slightly more erotic plot.

On Wednesday, Karen wasn't back yet. There was almost a static quality to the air that day, and it was making Sarah antsy. It felt like something was going to happen. The Lazzaro's had taken their grandchildren, as well as Toby and Claire to an outdoor movie set up in Kingsbury. So, Sarah, anxious as she was, decided to take a walk. But, for the life of her, she couldn't persuade Merlin to come with her. She ended up at Glen park where she had played as a child. Walking past the stone obelisks, she was startled by a voice.

"Good evening pretty one." Sarah turned towards it.

"Mr. Sullivan." She greeted curtly. He was sitting on the stone bench, fiddling with a clay pipe.

"Tsk, tsk, so cold. Do you need a ride home?" Both noticed the sun was setting quickly.

"I'm fine. Thank-you." She turned away and walked briskly to the edge of the park.

He followed her, "Come now, a young lady walking around after dark. Isn't that just asking for trouble?"

Sarah picked up the pace, the entrance in sight, and fully intended to take refuge in a nearby store. She slipped through the exit to the street, but Duncan caught up and grabber her by the elbow. She tried to pull away from his grasp.

"Is there a problem here?" Another cultured voice came through the gloom.

"Professor Kinsey!" She hadn't even noticed the car there. Duncan back off at his appearance. Both men exchanged dark glares.

"There's no problem." Duncan walked away.

"Ms. Williams, do you need a lift?" Nodding, Sarah climbed into Kinsey's posh car, rubbing her bruised elbow.

"Thank you so much, I . . ." She sighed. "I can't believe I was so stupid."

"Now, now, it's all right." Professor Kinsey pulled her close. "Who was that?"

"Duncan Sullivan."

"Ex-boyfriend?"

"Lord, no!" Kinsey laughed.

"Fair enough. Are you going to be all right?"

""I'll live." They pulled up in front of Sarah's house. "Thank you."

He granted her a chaste kiss upon the back of her hand, "It is always an honour to escort a fair maiden. Good night Ms. Williams."

"Good night Professor Kinsey." It was later that Sarah realized, she never gave him her address.

That night, Sarah came home to a message that Karen would be away for one more day because of a paperwork mishap.

It was Thursday evening, and Sarah was a nervous wreck. She was panicking and had no idea why. It started to storm that afternoon, and the darkness engulfed the house, knocking out the power. It felt like something was desperately trying to get in. The two young ones sat huddled together, waiting for the storm to cease. She desperately wanted to call someone. She jumped as a loud knock came from the front door.

Clinging to a baseball bat, she hollered through the door, "Who is it? I'm armed!"

"You have a bat!" Faylinn's voice came from the other side of the door. "Let me in, I'm getting soaked!" Sarah pulled open the door and let her enter. Faylinn wringed out her coat, "Thanks." Peering into the darkness, she said sardonically, "This is cozy."

The two girls entered the living room, and the two young ones flew towards Faylinn, almost knocking her over.

"Toby! Clare!" Sarah scolded. Faylinn shrugged, and when the children unattached themselves from her, she set up and lit several candles that she pulled from her bag. "So, any reason you stopped by?"

"So you wouldn't have a nervous-breakdown. And I was bored. Who wants to play 'Twister'?"

It was getting late, and Sarah was about to put the two little ones to bed. She entered the living room, just out of sight. Faylinn, with Clare curled up in her arms and Toby was lying with his cheek upon her leg, was singing.

"_Where dips the rocky highland, of sleuth wood in the lake. There lies a leafy island, where flapping herons, wake the drowsy water rats. There we've hid our fairy vats, full of berries, and of reddest stolen cherries. _

"_Come away oh human child, to the waters and the wild, with a faery hand in hand, for the world's more full of weeping, than you can understand._" Sarah paled as she recognized the song. She wanted to stop her, but . . . she listened on.

"_Where the wave of moonlight glosses, the dim grey sands with light. By far off furthest rosses, we foot it all the night. Weaving olden dances, mingling hands and mingling glances, till the moon has taken flight. To and fro we leap, and chase the frothy bubbles, whilst the world is full of troubles and is anxious in its sleep._" Faylinn repeated the chorus, and continued.

"_Where the wandering water gushes, from the hills above Glen-car. In pools among the rushes, that scarce could bathe a star, we seek for slumbering trout, and whispering in their ears, give them unquiet dreams. Leaning softly out, from ferns that drop their tears, over the young streams_." The next chorus, and she continued to the next verse.

"_Away with us he's going; the solemned eyed._" This gave Sarah a slight feeling of nerves, and a little guilt, "_He'll hear no more the lowing, of the calves on the warm hillside. Or the kettle on the hob, sing peace unto his breast. Or see the brown mice bob, round and round the oatmeal chest. For he comes, the human child, to the waters and the wild, with a faery hand in hand, for the world's more full of weeping, than you can understand_." By the time the song ended, both children were asleep.

"Please, don't sing that." Sarah finally said, feeling more than a little guilty.

"As you wish."

"Aren't you going to ask why?"

"Do you want me to ask why?"

Sarah paused for a moment. All could be heard was the storm letting up. "I'll put the kids to bed."

Friday rose, calm after the storm. That morning, Karen's car pulled into the driveway. Her step-mother exited, looking exhausted. On the other side, her great-grandmother exited, completely calm. Sarah went down the steps to meet them.

"How was the drive?" Sarah finally asked after hugs and greetings.

Grabbing some of the suitcases, Karen said, "Well, it was pretty good once you got out of the city." They got great-granny Cagney settled before Sarah had to leave for class. During her Poetry class, Kinsey kept looking towards her like she was going to disappear. After class, he asked her to stay behind.

"How have you been feeling?" He asked her.

"Pretty good, I guess. The nightmares stopped, at least."

"And that Sullivan chap has left you alone?"

"Yes."

"Good, good."

Sarah smiled, "If I didn't know better, I'd think this was favouritism."

"Good thing you know better. I just don't want to see anything bad happen to one of my few students that actually bring up the learning curve. Especially if it was preventable. Take care Ms. Williams."

"Professor Kinsey." On route to her job, she picked up a few things that her great-grandmother needed. But, there was one thing on the list she couldn't find. She stopped by the Magick Shoppe. "Faylinn," She was about ask something else, but what came out of her mouth was, "What are you doing?"

"Meditating." The Irish girl was sitting upon the counter in the lotus pose.

"Stressful day?"

"That's putting it mildly."

"Does it work?"

"Well, I haven't killed anyone yet, so I'd have to say, yes." She grinned and asked, "Now, you didn't just come in here to bother me about my apparent quirkiness. What do you need?"

"Oh, do you have a Rowan cross?"

"Both traditional and Celtic, third row, next to the pentagrams. So, great-granny showed up, am I right?"

"Of course." Sarah paid and went next door. As she was leaving, a ruddy-haired man with a ponytail entered Faylinn's shop. Minutes later he was practically given the bum's rush. Sarah came back.

"What was that about?"

"He annoyed me."

"Boy, I'd really hate to see what happen when someone actually pisses you off."

Faylinn smiled. "You would hate it. No survivors." She winked and went back to her meditation. As an after-thought, she added, "Try to stay away from him. He's bad news. Trust me."

That night, as Sarah helped put her siblings to bed, they demanded the lullaby that Faylinn was singing. Nothing she did changed her mind and eventually she acquiesced to call Faylinn.

Half a ring, and the Irish girl picked up with a, "They want the song, don't they?"

"Yes. You're on speaker phone."

"I'll teach it to you." After the song, and a story, surprisingly, about Goblins from Sarah, her younger siblings finally settled down.

They, she herself tried to sleep. But, she was only rewarded with dreams that were far too shameful to talk about. Unfortunately it seemed that her choices in dreams were that, or terrifying nightmares. Not much of a choice.

-x X x-

Sorry about taking so long, the last little bit has been hectic, with moving into Rez, and the start of classes. So, updates are going to be a little more sporadic now.

I had so much trouble with this chapter and I don't know why! I might revisit it.

The song is, _The Stolen Child_ by Lorenna McKennitt based off the poem by W.B. Yeats. Can you blame Sarah for being nervous? It's a beautiful song, check it out.

Trivia time: What does Heart (Original singers of_ Magic Man_ two chapters ago.), Lorenna McKennitt, and myself have in common (and it's not a connection to this story)? A clue is on my profile, very first sentence. A digital cookie to whoever gets it!


	8. Strut Your Nasty Stuff

Chapter Eight

Strut Your Nasty Stuff

September 21- 28, 1991

"Stupid seminars." Monica grumbled from across the table. Sarah, Monica and Patrick were in the University's library. It was not her favourite place to be on a Saturday.

"They're not so bad." Patrick said, but retracted that statement a minute later by tossing down the book he was reading, and exclaiming, "Bloody hell!" He sighed and asked, "What am I supposed to learn from this?" Part of the assignment was to explain the lesson or lessons included within the myth and how they relate to the student.

"Well, just look at what the characters learned." Sarah explained, "_Eros and Psyche_: beautiful, youngest, mortal princess receives the ire of the goddess of beauty. Said goddess sends her son, the god of love to make her fall in love with something hideous. God of love sees princess and falls in love with her instead. Princess gets no suitors, so her parents visit an oracle. Oracle says princess is destined to marry winged creature. Parents leave Princess on the side of a mountain, and the west wind carries her away.

"Princess finds she's married to a man that she's never allowed to look upon his face. She gets lonely, begs that her sisters could come visit. Jealous sisters make princess doubt husband. Princess looks upon sleeping husband with a candle, who happens to be the god of love. Hot wax drips onto him and he awakes and leaves, betrayed. Princess goes to the goddess of love to beg for her husband's forgiveness. She's given several tasks and completes them with some help. The last task is to descend into the underworld and retrieve a box of beauty from the goddess of the underworld. On the way back, for any various reason, princess opens the box and falls asleep. Her husband finds and forgives her, and they ascend into the heavens and she's made a goddess."

"Wow. And that's from memory." Monica said, impressed. "At least mine's easier. Athenian guy shows up on ancient Greek island, planning on slaying a monster in a big maze. Island king's daughter falls for guy and helps him. He slays the monster, but on the way home ditches her on some island. I know exactly what the lesson is; don't blindly trust a man."

Patrick started to argue, "I don't think . . ." He trailed off without finishing when he noticed Monica's expression. "Er, Sarah, what's yours about?"

"A beautiful young goddess of spring is pulled down into the Underworld by the god of death. Mother goes crazy looking for her, eventually finds out what happened to her. She demands the return of her daughter. But the daughter ate some Underworld fruit, so she has to spend part of the year in the Underworld." She stopped suddenly as a thought occurred to her. "Excuse me for a second."

Sarah rose and exited the room headed towards the empty students lounge. On route, she saw Ian. When he saw her, he promptly turned around and went back towards the English offices. She sighed, and entered the lounge.

"Jareth, I need to talk to you."

"Yes, precious?" He asked, suddenly lounging across the room's cleanest couch.

"Don't 'precious' me. This is serious. What exactly did you do to Ian? He's avoiding me like I'm a leper."

"I did not do anything to this Ian fellow."

"Jareth." Sarah warned.

"Really, I didn't. I meant to, but I never got around to it, before he started leaving you alone. Fae's honour. Is that all?"

"Uh, no actually. Um, remember that peach you gave me?" Jareth actually paled at the mention of the hallucinogenic fruit.

"What about it?"

"Well, I was reading the myth 'Hades and Persephone', and I was wondering. She ate like three to six seeds of an Underworld pomegranate. And, I took a bite out of an Underground peach . . ."

"Yes, you are now bound to the Underground."

"How many months per year? Or was that just because Demeter demanded her daughter back?"

"Sarah, I am not going to drag you into the Underground and force you to live there. But, I had always hoped that you would come back on your own one day."

"Did you know? Before you gave me the fruit, did you know that I would be bound to your world?" She didn't know what was worse, if he did, or if he was completely unaware.

"I knew."

Sarah was quiet for a moment. "I have to go." She turned to leave.

"Sarah-" She didn't even look back at him.

"I-I just can't do this right now." She walked out, her heart wished she had someone to talk to that would understand both mythical aspects of her relationship as well as the intricate adult issues. She finished up her work at the library except the part about the lessons, which seemed pretty obvious, and drove home. Or, at least she meant to, but Sarah found herself in front of the Magick Shoppe.

Entering, she found, to her surprise, Aradia behind the counter. "Good afternoon, dear. Are you looking for Faylinn?"

"I guess I am."

"Sorry, but she is at a Sabbat today." Sarah gave her a confused look. "A religious holiday." The elder woman explained. "She'll be back tomorrow. I heard you had a presentation this week." A weathered hand gave Sarah a reddish-brown stone. "It's sard, a type of onyx. It's sharpens the wit of the wearer."

"Oh, I couldn't-"

"Don't worry dear, we've already set you up with a tab."

Finally reaching home, Sarah was once again surprised, as the usually impeccably neat home looked disarrayed; papers were all over the living room floor. It was also very quiet, and she started to get nervous. "Karen! Toby! Clare! Granny!" Sarah called as she raced to the stairwell.

Karen poked her head out of the first floor office, her arms full of papers, and asked, "What's the matter?" Her stepdaughter stopped running and headed to the office.

"Sorry, I just saw the mess in the living room, and I thought . . . it actually seems stupid now." She laughed; it was cathartic after the day she was having.

"No, no. We've all had those days."

"What's going on?"

"Well, I wanted to make an appointment with Dr. Garrick for Toby and Clare, but I can not find his number in the phone book. And directory assistance couldn't find his number, either. So, I remember picking up a card with the office's information on it, but I can not for the life of me remember where I put it." Karen laughed, "It's almost like he never existed."

"Well, you always said we could lose a person in dad's paperwork." Sarah took the papers from Karen and took them to the living room. Her stepmother followed her with another bundle from the home's paperwork.

Sorting through it, Karen asked, "So, what's on your mind? You're pretty pensive today."

"Oh, just problems. I just . . . Karen, what would you do if someone had you eat something that wasn't entirely what it seemed?"

"Oh Lord, did someone slip you a roofie?"

"What? Oh, no, no, not a roofie." Karen laid a hand to her chest in relief. "Did someone spike your drink? With alcohol perhaps?"

Not being able to tell her what really happened, Sarah grabbed that explanation. "Yes, one of my friends bought me a mixed drink and I finished it without realizing what was in it. Should I forgive him?"

"Well, that would depend on the friend's motivation. Was done out of spite or was it just a joke?"

"I'm not sure."

"Remember, a real friend will not try to hurt you."

The next morning, just before work, Sarah entered the Magick Shoppe again. "Hey Faylinn. Where were you yesterday?"

"Mabon celebration. Peach?" She offered Sarah a slice of fruit off a plate.

"Uh . . . no thanks. I'm not really a fan." Faylinn hid a knowing smile behind her book. "So, what's Mabon any way?"

"Autumn Equinox celebration." Sarah gave Faylinn an odd look. "What? I'm neo-pagan."

Sarah looked around the _Magick Shoppe_, "That actually explains a lot." She shrugged and asked, "What are you reading?"

"Austin's _Pride and Prejudice_."

"Oh. So how are things going between you and Patrick?"

Faylinn scoffed. "Why do you think I'm reading this?"

"It's not going well?"

"Let me put it this way, he's Darcy, I'm Elizabeth."

"What part are you up to?"

"Elizabeth just found out that Mr. Darcy cheated Mr. Wickham out of his inheritance. What a jerk!"

"Well, I wouldn't be so quick to judge Mr. Darcy."

"Oh, sure. You just have a thing for British accents. Speaking of which, what's going on with the men in you life?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

"Yes you do. Get it off you chest. Let's start with guy number one. The first on you met."

"I-I just can't. It's confusing."

"It usually is. So, what's wrong with the guy?"

Sarah rolled her eyes. "Nothing's wrong with him. It's just . . ." She sighed, "He's older, and we're worlds apart."

"Right. So, what does he do?"

"He's in acquisitions. And a member of his local politics."

"So, what's the problem?"

"Our relationship is complicated." Sarah tried in vain to explain.

Faylinn chuckled, "Of course it is."

"It's just that . . . it's like a game to him. Sometimes, he's super-competitive, arrogant, vain, and can be a bit of a jerk, to be perfectly honest." A moment of wistfulness betrayed her, "But, other times, he's romantic and . . . generous."

"And?"

"I just feel like I can't trust him!" The confusion about the peach was tearing her apart.

"Is it because of something he did?" Sarah nodded. "The problem isn't that you can't trust him. It's that you can't forgive him. Does he love you?"

"Yes."

"Do you love him?"

"Yes."

With a shrug, Faylinn reminded her, "One of your wise women once said, 'Love is a Battlefield'."

"That was Pat Benatar. She's a rocker." Sarah said flatly.

"Doesn't make it any less true! Do you want him out of your life?"

"No." She admitted.

"Now tell me about the other guy."

Sarah groaned, "He's my professor!"

"Kinsey?" Faylinn shrugged again, "That could cause a problem."

"I know!"

The Irish girl patted Sarah's head sympathetically, "'All you need is love'. John Lennon, smart man. His death, tragic. But, I am also reminded of another song."

"Do I want to ask?"

"_One of these days, gonna tell him I dream of him every night. One of these days, gonna show him I care, gonna teach him a lesson alright_-"

"Please stop singing 'When I Kissed the Teacher.'"

"Hah! Yeah, like that's going to happen. _What a crazy day, when I kissed the teacher. All my sense had flown away when I kissed the teacher. My whole class went wild, as I held my breath, the world stood still, but then he just smiled. I was in the seventh heaven when I kissed the teacher._ Oh, c'mon Sarah, it's funny. Like you're the first person to have a crush on her teacher. Sar-" The shop door swung shut with a resounding bang behind Sarah's retreating backside. "-Ah. Bugger!"

That night Sarah had a memorable dream. Perhaps it was because she had spent most of the evening going over her report or the fact that she was contemplating, really contemplating for the first time in a long time, her spell in the Labyrinth. It may have even been the fact she was weighing her feelings for the men in her life instead of pushing those thoughts back. It didn't help that Karen had tried a new peach cobbler recipe for dessert. Or that she stumbled over the box of things she had put away after her trip through the Labyrinth.

The dream started out with her in Glen Park, picking flowers among the obelisks as swans floated serenely in the little lake. Merlin trotted at her heels. That was when she noticed she was wearing her old costume dress including the flower wreath upon her brow. But, she was no longer fifteen and the dress didn't fit exactly the same way anymore, highlighting her adult 'assets'.

A posh, black car drove into the park and stopped right next to her. The passenger door opened and Kinsey reached over from the driver's seat and pulled her in. He never said a word as he gunned the accelerator and took off across the grass. Sarah blinked and found her surroundings to no longer be the park, but the Chilly Down forest; she was back in the Labyrinth. She also noticed her outfit had changed to the silver ball gown which also fit differently. And her driver, well not so much the driver as it seemed that the car was now driving itself, Kinsey had become Jareth. The vehicle finally came to a stop outside the castle beyond the Goblin City. Jareth offered her a peach, which she took, and without thinking, bit into it with a smile. The Goblin King reached over and gently played with a ringlet of Sarah's hair, before leaning in. A tap on the passenger window interrupted them. The window rolled down, and Faylinn, at least it mostly looked like her, stood there with her arms crossed in disappointment.

"Karen wants her daughter back."

"Stepdaughter." Jareth corrected.

"Well the daughter part is more important than the step part!"

"She's an adult!"

"Her family wants you to court her properly! This isn't the Ancient World where it was all well and good to bride snatch a girl. You have to woo her! Flowers, dinners; mortals dig that romantic crap!" Jareth pointed at Sarah's hand, and Faylinn noticed the peach. "Bugger! Not again!"

"I'll bring her back in a little bit." Jareth said with a smirk. The window rolled up again. "Now where were we?" Sarah's dream-self reminded him eagerly. When they were done, the car's windows were well and truly fogged up.

Sarah sat bolt upright in her bed, panting heavily. She caught her breath and reminded herself, "No more peaches before bed." Looking down at her warm limbs entwined in the blankets, she told them, "Stop it! I haven't forgiven him yet." Of course her traitorous body refused to obey her.

Tuesday's Mythology class came too quickly, yet not soon enough for Sarah. Since she was sleeping normally again, she could remain awake to take notes during the seminars. It was alphabetically, so Sarah was last. Patrick had started and took an unconventional look at the _Eros and Psyche_ myth and discussed prejudice, including within relationships. Currently, Monica had just finished hers.

"Ms. Damosieaux, I do not think that is what the storyteller had in mind." Professor Kinsey disputed.

"Well, it's what Ariadne learned."

"We'll discuss this after class. " Brenna completely missed the point about her myth, _Arachne_, as did Missy with the _Danaides_. Darcy understood the basic premise of the _Sirens_ myth, but it was more of a minimalist explanation about temptation.

Adina went next with her interpretation of _Antigone_ that she finished with, "The lesson is that sometimes you will get killed for doing the right thing." She looked over to Kinsey who seemed like he was waiting for something. "Or that it is sometimes worth dying for what is right?" She finished uncertainly. Kinsey nodded and she sat down. Debra got the lesson correct with _Echo and Narcissus_, but failed to apply it to herself, as did Emilia with the Greco-Roman _Gods vs. Titans, Creation_ myth.

Finally, Sarah's name was called. The explanation of _Hades and Persephone_ went smoothly, as smoothly as it could while Sarah was trying not to remember her dream from the other night. But just as she was about to start explaining the myth's lessons, the clock's hand clicked to 11:30. Half the class rose for their lunch period.

"Sit down!" Kinsey commanded. "I dismiss the class, not the clock."

"But-"

"No buts, Ms. Vassar. Please continue Ms. Williams."

Sarah cleared her throat and continued, "Well, the obvious lessons are warnings for young women to obey their mothers and be wary around strange men. But the two deeper, less obvious lessons," She paused for a moment as she remembered her conversation with Faylinn a few days earlier. _The problem isn't that you can't trust him. It's that you can't forgive him._ Her voice came as clear as if the Irish girl was standing next to her. "Are about trust and forgiveness. You have to wonder if Persephone ever wondered if the pomegranate was on purpose so she would have to come back. And if she did find this to be true, would she forgive him. Did she even forgive him for spiriting her down to the Underworld in the first place? And how would she be able to trust a man who was capable of just kidnapping a random teenage girl to be his wife?

"While I can not condone Hades' methods, one has to wonder that, since it is said that Demeter had turned down four other suitor gods interested in her daughter, Hades may have felt that he didn't have any other chance. But motivation aside, it is possible for Persephone to forgive him because of the least obvious lesson within the myth: love. Not so much maternal love, because that is obvious on how Demeter worked so hard and mourned so much that her daughter was gone.

"The Greeks had four different types of love; _Narcissus_ or self-love, _Philia_ or love of a friend, _Agape _(A-ga-pay) or unconditional love, and _Eros_ or Erotic love. I believe that the relationship between these two eventually became the last type of love. Any questions? Yes Emilia?"

"Wasn't the myth originally known as _The Rape of Persephone_?" Emilia sneered, like she had caught Sarah in a corner. But Sarah had a wild card. She ran her thumb over the piece of sard in her pocket before answering.

"Yes, that is the alternative title. But the translation of the word from Greek to the English at the time referred to bride snatching, as it did with _The Rape of the Sabine Women_. It didn't mean sexual assault until the 1400's, the 1480's I believe. In the myth, I don't believe there was ever mentioned an instance when Hades physically took advantage of Persephone. And the Greco-Roman myths didn't exactly gloss over things like that. Any other questions?" The class was silent. Kinsey dismissed them.

Sarah followed her professor and Monica down the hall to his office. Gregory Halliwell was currently dusting the keyboard of Kinsey's computer, some files tucked beneath his arm.

"Mr. Halliwell, I need to speak with a student." Gregory left the room and stood beside Sarah just outside of the office.

"What's with the dusting?" Sarah asked, pointing at the rag.

"Someone has to. It's like the man never touches his computer. No idea why the janitorial staff doesn't do it. So, as his TA, I guess it falls to me. Don't we have a class together?"

"Yes, 'Rise of Literacy' with Professor Lafayette."

"I knew I recognized you. Sarah Williams, right?" She answered in the affirmative. "You know, I help out with the marking, but professor Kinsey always grades your papers himself." Gregory gave a Cheshire grin. Before Sarah could answer, Kinsey cleared his throat behind them. "Oh, uh, sir . . ." Gregory stuttered trying to explain himself, as Monica propelled Sarah out of the room.

In the hall, she asked, "So, what happened?"

Monica shrugged and answered, "He's not going to fail me on this assignment as long as I do a short report on Dadelus and the Construction of Minos' Labyrinth. No biggie."

It had been a fairly quiet week. On Friday, Sarah headed to _Caldwell's Tomes_ for her afternoon shift. Parking in the lot up the street, her head was in the clouds as she walked to the bookshop, so she failed to notice the redheaded man before her. It was the one that had annoyed Faylinn the week before. He stopped her before she could reach the door of either shop.

"May I discuss something with you quickly?" He asked, not bothering to introduce himself.

"I-I guess so."

"Good." For some reason, he reminded Sarah of a Bond villain. All that was missing was the cat. "What do you know about the young woman who works in the shop beside you?"

"Faylinn? Um, not much. Why, is she in trouble?" Sarah looked toward the shop door, so close she could make out the new pentacle decal.

"That is really none of your concern."

Sarah's temper flared, "Well then, I guess what _I_ know is really none of your concern!" She walked around him, giving him a wide berth. But he reached out and clamped down on her arm, sharp nails digging into her skin. "Let go!" An inside-out glove flew through the air and landed on the sidewalk between them. The man released her, and backed up quickly.

Standing there, in the doorway of the shop like an avenging angel, was Faylinn with a horseshoe clasped in her left hand. "Bugger off Thane, before I throw the horseshoe." She threatened quietly.

"This isn't over." Thane warned them before taking off down the street. Faylinn picked up the glove and guided Sarah into the store.

"I should have run." Sarah chastised herself. "What is wrong with me?"

"You can't blame yourself."

"But . . . this would never have happened before!"

"How do you mean?" Faylinn asked, sitting upon the counter.

"I don't know why, but it seems my intuition is gone."

"Have you had any injuries that healed very slowly, for no apparent reason? Possibly on the lower back?"

Sarah thought for a moment. "Actually, yes." She explained about the attack, and the wound on the base of her spine.

"Turn around." Faylinn said, and checked the scar just below Sarah's waistband. "Have you been feeling a lack of energy, anxiety, fear, anger, frustration and depression?"

"Yes."

"That jerk blocked your Muldhara Chakra!"

"My what?"

"Your base chakra. It's the chakra in charge of instinct, security and survival, self-preservation really. No wonder your sense of intuition is skewed."

"Can you fix it?"

Faylinn went around the counter, "Of course. But the procedure is a little invasive." She pulled out a little knife. "All I have to do is make a small incision-" She looked up at the sound of a door slamming. "Sarah?" She huffed, "I was going to sterilize it!" She dropped the knife onto the shelf beneath the counter, and walked over to the door between the stores. "Have you ever heard of acupuncture?"

"First of all, what you are planning is a little more invasive than acupuncture. Secondly, are you even licensed?"

"Both valid points. What do you suggest then?"

"I don't know! What are my other options?"

"Well . . . we could try some gem healing."

"Deal!"

"You can unlock the door now. Right, so the colours associated with the base chakra are red and black." Faylinn lead Sarah back to the gem row, "Let's see . . . ruby, it's supposed to change colour in the presence of poison or when the wearer gets sick, or when trouble threatens; carnelian, bloodstone, obsidian, a grounding stone, it acts like a protective shield; garnet, and moonstone. That should just about do it. Oh, and try to get more basil in your diet."

"So, how often should I wear them?"

"For you, I'd say all the time, as close to the skin as possible. So, I'll just put them on your tab?"

The next morning, Sarah stormed in the Magick Shoppe. "What's wrong with my dreams?!" She demanded. If she thought they were graphic before, it was nothing compared to what she dreamed the night before.

Unconcerned, Faylinn asked, "How do you mean?"

"They're uh . . ." She blushed and whispered the last word, "Sexual."

"That'll probably be the diamond. Or the ruby. Actually, it could also be the moonstone." Sarah glared at her, "What? 'Snot my fault! The gems do what they wish! So, are they kinky or erotic?"

"What's the difference?"

"Erotic is when you use a feather. Kinky is when you use the entire chicken."

"You're not helping!" Sarah thought for a moment. "And please don't mention chickens."

"Come on Sarah, strut your nasty stuff!" Faylinn laughed, then asked, "Other than the side effect, which could be worse by the way-"

"How is that possible?"

"Have you read the possible side effects on the side of a prescription bottle?"

"Touché."

"Any way, do they seem to be working?"

"A little bit. But the ruby," She pulled out the stone, "Looks very dull when ever I am at the school. And I don't think it's the lighting."

"Then trouble threatens."

-x X x-

I'm back. Sorry it has been so long.

Shameless self-plug: I'm thrilled! Not this story, but 'The Prom Incident' (check it out if you hadn't) had 135 visitors in one day! Personal best!

'When I Kissed the Teacher' is by Abba.

Dragonzair: It was not intended as 'A Princess Bride' reference. Faylinn was just being a smart-ass. She's good at that.


End file.

Labyrinth, Fantasy