Page 54 of First Snow

Jareth dimly remembers taking some magical artifacts from there to prevent them from falling into the wrong hands.

Watching him in excitement, Phyllis’ eyes shine feverishly. She has no idea what kind of danger she’s in, because for Jareth, it doesn’t matter whether Arttu is a detective or not. Phyllis was dead the moment she hurt him. Oblivious, Phyllis pulls out the knife of its plastic wrapping, triumphantly presenting it to him.

Opposing emotions battle for the upper hand in Jareth’s chest. The Fae part of himlovesthis game, the danger and the deception, and the fact that he beat Arttu in it, that he’ll take him home as his prisoner tonight.

Jareth’s human heart on the other hand…

Phyllis presses the knife to Arttu’s throat. Jareth has to restrain himself from killing her on the spot. Instead, he forces himself to ignore the bone fairy, his gaze fixed on Arttu. Jareth knows he must look angry, that his features probably lack any trace of gentleness or warmth. Arttu, however, is pale, and Jareth isn’t sure if that’s because of blood loss or fear.

“He’s unworthy,” Phyllis babbles, completely unaware that Jareth is close to unleashing his wrath on her. “He tried to weasel his way into your good graces. But all he wants is to hand you over to the humans’ ridiculous authorities. He plans to lock you up. Isn’t that pathetic?”

Jareth senses Arttu’s breath going shallow.

“I can kill him for you, if you like,” Phyllis offers eagerly. “I can get rid of the body.”

Jareth grits his teeth and turns to her. He can’t keep the frown from his face. With one hand, he grabs Arttu’s jaw, forcing him to tilt his head backward, to expose his throat even more. Arttu makes a small, anguished sound that nearly breaks Jareth’s heart. But Jareth needs him in this position. If his plan to trick Phyllis fails, he can still get his hand on the blade before she can slit Arttu’s throat.

“No,” Jareth growls. “It’s my job to make sure he doesn’t do any harm. Give me the knife.”

Without a second of hesitation Phyllis takes the blade from Arttu’s throat and hands the weapon to Jareth. Immeasurable relief floods through his veins.

Arttu refuses to look at the knife as Jareth twirls it between his fingers. Breath coming in panicked little huffs, he stares into Jareth’s eyes. Jareth wants to soothe him, but his little human must hold out for just a moment longer.

“It would be very unwise to kill me,” Arttu says, managing to make his voice sound almost impassive. “The police don’t react kindly to cop killers. And reinforcements are already on their way.”

Jareth gently runs his hand through Arttu’s hair. He’s bluffing, Jareth can tell by his tense posture and the subtle trembling of his shoulders. Arttu looks like a wounded animal, a cornered wolf. Yet, he manages to smoothly spin his lies. Jareth can’t help but be impressed by his level-headedness. It’s probably not the first time Arttu has worked undercover, and it’s certainly not the first time he’s found himself in a very dangerous situation. Jareth should have known.

Smiling at his lover, Jareth brings up the knife in a harsh upward motion.

Arttu winces.

Blood gushes from Phyllis’ slit throat. Her claws come up to stop it, leaving her torso unprotected. Growling a curse, Jareth buries the blade to the hilt in her heart. The bone fairy crumbles to the ground, her human features morphing rapidly. By the time she lands in the snow, she’s back to her true form.

“Vittu,” Arttu breathes. He watches wide-eyed as the fairy’s skin starts to fall off in flakes. The small body decomposes in time lapse. Jareth isn’t surprised by the way Phyllis disintegrates. He has seen what happens to the corpses of many supernatural creatures when they die in the human realm. Arttu, however, has not. A violent tremor shakes his body.

“Stand up.”

Jareth grabs him by the lapels of his parka and drags him to his feet. Arttu snarls at him, but his limbs seem to be barely cooperating. If it weren’t for Jareth’s grip on him, he’d fall over again. Shit, Jareth needs to get him inside as soon as possible.

He’s still surprised by Arttu’s lack of resistance as he starts to pull him back toward the mansion. Considering how Arttu managed to severely wound a fucking bone fairy, Jareth would’ve thought he would put up more of a fight. But Arttu is probably in shock. Jareth should talk to him, reassure him that he’s going to be okay. But his feelings are a jumbled mess; anger, worry, and hurt battling for the upper hand. He can’t think straight right now and he has no idea what to say, so he keeps walking in silence.

They cross the thicket Jareth came from when Arttu’s steps falter. Jareth moves to catch him when Arttu stumbles, only to be rewarded with a heavy punch to his jaw. The blow has Jareth’s teeth crashing together. He tastes blood. Arttu kicks him in the shin. Hard. Jareth grunts in surprise and pain. Before he can comprehend what’s even happening, Arttu has slipped from his grasp. It takes Jareth only a second to catch his breath, but by then Arttu has vanished between the trees.

Fuck. Jareth hurls a furious spell after him. He canfeelhis magic connect with its target a split second before he hears Arttu’s startled yelp. Jareth exhales an irritated breath. How can one single person be able to cause so much trouble? He’s acutely aware that Arttu would’ve managed to escape him if Jareth were a mere mortal. Unbelievable.

Jareth slips under the trees to where his magic has Arttu trapped. It’s only a few steps before he sees his prey lying in the snow, struggling desperately against the magical ropes wrapped around his legs and torso. Arttu stops writhing as soon as he hears Jareth’s steps. In the gloom, Jareth can make out the rapid rising and falling of Arttu’s chest. He kneels down next to him.

“Get it off of me!” Arttu yelps.

He sounds so distressed that Jareth’s first impulse is to drop the spell immediately, but he hesitates. He greatly underestimated Arttu. He shouldn’t repeat the same mistake. Gently, he touches Arttu’s uninjured shoulder.

“It’s a restraining spell,” Jareth says. He’s surprised how calm he sounds. “It won’t harm you.”

Blinking rapidly, Arttu visibly tries to calm his frantic breathing.

“A spell? Yeah, of course,” Arttu snarls. “Is this how you convinced Mikael and the others that you’re a sorcerer? A few tricks and a ridiculous costume?”

Jareth grits his teeth. Is this what Arttu thinks of him? The implications of his lover’s betrayal are only now slowly dawning on him. He’s only a mission to Arttu, and all the things Arttu has allowed him to do to him… Had it all been part of the mission? The mere idea makes Jareth sick. And now Arttu has put them both in a position where Jareth has to lock him up in his castle. Jareth bares his fangs.