Page 56 of First Snow
Arttu slumps in Jareth’s grip. His brain can’t stop playing in an endless loop the way Jareth smiled at him before he cut that poor girl’s throat. For a horrifying moment, Arttu thought Jareth was going to kill him. But still, a treacherous part of Arttu’s brain keeps insisting that Jarethsavedhim from this being that masqueraded as a girl, but somehowwasn’t. Arttu must still be drugged. He feels like he’s trapped in a nightmare that he can’t wake up from. Shaking his head, he tries to get rid of the lingering confusion, but all he manages to do is make his shoulder sting like a bitch.
Arttu grits his teeth. He has to face the fact that Jareth is a murderer. The sole purpose of his mission was to prove Jareth’s guilt after all. But he never would’ve expected that Jareth has built a whole cult around his person; that he has made people believe he’s some kind of supernatural being and made them kill for him. And, fucking hell, Jareth is good at this game. Even Arttu almost believes him.
Somethingshiftsaround them, making Arttu dizzy. He tenses all over, his frantic heartbeat picking up again.
“Whatwasthat?” Arttu gasps.
Jareth ignores him, speeding up his steps and pushing open the main door. Arttu didn’t even notice they were already back at the mansion. In the entrance hall, Jareth merely slips off his boots, but doesn’t bother to put Arttu down.
Craning his neck, Arttu attempts to get a proper look at their surroundings. Something isoff, but he can’t put his finger on it. He only knows that the atmosphere around them suddenly changed. It seems to him that between one step and the next, the world has transformed around them. There is a gloomy quality to the colors, and the sounds seem more muted. He must be losing his mind.
Jareth carries him up a flight of stairs, and Arttu’s stomach plummets. The house looks like the mansion they had been staying in for the last few hours at first glance, but, if you take a closer look, you can’t help but notice the differences. The entrance hall somehow seems larger, more stately. Arttu can’t remember the walls being made of dark gray stone before. It seems that they are now in the original estate, which may have been used as a model for the construction of the summer house. But this place is more of a castle than a mansion. Arttu shudders. Is there another building on the large property? Has Jareth brought him here to mess with his head?
Unbothered by their strange surroundings, Jareth carries him straight to a spacious bathroom on the first floor. There, he finally puts Arttu back on his feet next to a large bathtub. Jareth snaps his fingers and the bindings around Arttu’s body vanish. Even the rough rope the girl tied his hands with is gone.How? Arttu tries to breathe through his rising panic. There’s a rational explanation for all of this. There has to be.
“Wherehave you taken me?” Arttu rasps.
“This isRhosyn Keep,” Jareth answers. “The seat of my family.”
He seems so cold and composed it scares Arttu.
“Will you cut the crap already?” he hisses.
Crowding into Jareth’s space, Arttu grabs one of his antlers, yanking hard. He has to establish at least some kind of common reality, or he fears he’s going mad. Jareth doesn’t stop him, even if Arttu’s rough tugging must hurt his neck. Arttu pulls and pulls. Why are these stupid things refusing to come off? There is no way Jareth was able to attach them this well. Arttu’s movements get weaker as the fact slowly sinks in that he won’t get the stupid things off.
“Do you like my antlers?” Jareth closes a hand over Arttu’s, but still doesn’t try to pull away.
“Pretty,” Arttu deadpans, feigning calm. “How did you attach them?”
“This isn’t a costume, sweetheart, and you know that by now.”
Arttu pulls back his hand as if burned. He shakes his head. “You drugged me,” he brings up the only explanation he can think of.
“What?” Jareth sounds incredulous, maybe even a little amused, the utter bastard.
“You put something in my drink that triggers hallucinations! That’s why I saw you, wearing this silly dress up and beating up a nightmare monster with a sword!”
“You remember that?”
For the first time, something like astonishment creeps into Jareth’s voice. It gives Arttu a weird sense of satisfaction.
“Of course I do. I also remember the hangover afterward.”
A shudder wracks Arttu’s body. Only now that they’re inside does he realize how cold he is.
“I’m sorry that I put you under a spell last night. But I couldn’t let you see Ajatar.”
“That worked out so well!” Arttu growls.
What the hell is Jareth talking about? Is he one of these cult leaders who managed to convince themselves of the crap they’re preaching? He certainly sounds convinced.
“Enough of that now,” Jareth says, as if they were discussing a minor inconvenience. “I want to look after your injuries. Undress.”
Arttu stumbles backward until the back of his thighs hit the tub. No way is he going to let Jareth undress him. Not after everything that happened.
“Let me look after you,” Jareth purrs.
The bastard comes after him, and tugs at Arttu’s parka. It seems as if Jareth’s honeyed voice alone is enough to enchant him. Arttu’s head is swimming.