No magic. There was simply no magic left
in him. It was spent. He had been exhausted this past few days,
he knew, and he knew that if he was exhausted, his magic was
wearing thin as well…but he had never expected this. Since
his kingship had begun all those hundreds of years before, the
crystals had never failed to appear when he wished for them. But
his magic was at its limits. It was stretched over the city of
Los Angeles, keeping goblins human. It was poured over the
building, making the dilapidated warehouse a large music
company—oh yes, Underground Music was almost entirely
illusion.
Jareth pushed back from his desk, not entirely used to the
rolling chair, and almost fell back. He caught himself, startled
by his unusual lack of grace, and managed to stand in time as the
chair went over. He walked to the door, put his hand on the knob,
and hesitated, suddenly daunted by what he might find outside. He
threw open the door.
It was fine. Everything was fine. The goblins-as-humans glanced
up at him curiously, but paid little mind. He shut the door and
leaned against it, his head pounding. So he was tapped, but
things were still working…
Wait…he smelled it. The smell of the warehouse had been the
first thing his magic had eliminated. That musty, dusty, ancient
odor. And it was back.
Jareth was running out of time. And he knew it. In two days,
everything would be as it was. "So this is how it was to be
Cinderella when the coach turned back into a pumpkin…"
*****
"The deal is sealed, what do you
mean you don’t want to go through with it?" Eric
Ramyond asked Stormer as she and the other Misfits stood in front
of his desk the next morning, his voice very slow and calm, as
one speaking to an idiot.
"I just don’t is all," she said, looking down at
the floor.
"We’ve got this gig wrapped up! All you have to do is
keep your mouth shut!" Pizzazz told her.
"Yeah!" Jetta added. "Unless you want to see half
of everyone in this room in jail!"
Roxy narrowed her eyes. "Stormer, you’d better go along
with this one. This is serious."
"I don’t want to do it!"
"This is not the time for guilt," Eric told her flatly.
"You pay your money and take the ride. Now I suggest you
fall in line like a good little Misfit, or they’ll do the
show without you. In fact, they’ll do all the shows without
you from now on."
She glanced up at him. "But I don’t want to quit!"
Pizzazz whispered out of the corner of her mouth to Roxy.
"*Can* we do a show without her?"
"No," Roxy whispered back. "We’d be
screwed."
"Then get it together," he replied to Stormer.
Her lower lip trembled. Then she tilted her head up and turned
around and marched out, leaving them all in stunned silence.
"What were you thinking?" Pizzazz screeched. "Are
you crazy? Look what you just made her do!"
Eric actually blinked in surprise. "It always worked
before…"
"I can’t believe she’s gonna send us all to
jail!" wailed Jetta.
"She’s not," snorted Roxy. "She’ll be
back."
"And even if she’s not," Eric added,
"she’d never turn you in."
"But how are we going to do this show without her?"
demanded Pizzazz.
"Then I suppose you won’t. The Stingers will handle it
themselves."
Pizzazz laughed. "Yeah, right…"
He let her and Roxy and Jetta leave, and then got on the phone.
"Yeah, Mike, baby, how are you? Listen, I need to talk to
you, seems like the Misfits have got to back out, some kind of
scheduling conflict…Yes, I know they’re a big act, but
this is, after all, Stinger Sound now…But they’re the
hottest new band…yes, I understand, of course,
totally…Yeah, I’ll get back to you…"
He slammed the phone down.
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