Signs

‘What’s it going to be then, eh?’
There was old Luna, glittering down like a nozh at we four young malchicks as we patrolled the darkened back alleys which opened up at us like the rot of some bolshy great animal or beast.  It was I who took the lead, but I was followed closely by my droog Georgie, with Dim panting huh huh huh next to him, and Pete goolying along behind, meditating as usual on some unknown veshch or another.  And having just left the Korova Milkbar after gracing it with the like pleasure of our welcome company and more welcome deng, we had all peeted a glassful each of the knify moloko, which knives were now beginning to prick real horrowshow at the old keeshkas.  It was now a matter of finding some chellovecks or devotchkas to give lashing of the ultra violence to, which was like the good old bashing and fisting and tolchocking and kicking litsos in and all other manner of entertainment with which to pass the carefree hours of the nochy, O my brothers.
As we found ourselves in the vicinity of the Duke of New York, the idea came to me to stop there first and buy drinks to establish the usually alibi, it being a drinking-type place, but before I could voice the thoughts of my razoodock to my loyal droogies, I saw some veshch which made a quite different idea come into my gulliver.  This veshch was the sudden appearance of two doddery-type chellovecks, one some distance away, coming up from the like opposite direction we had traveled, heading like to the pub, and the other exiting, having been kicked out by all looks of it, him being a starry, drunken sort of veck.  By then the others had noticed also, and Georgie said:
‘Which one, brother?’ Meaning which of the two would we filly about with.  If it was pretty polly we were after, it would only be sensible to vred the one coming up to go into the bar, thus loveting his cutter before it was spent all therein.  But seeing as how I and my droogs were already fair loaded down with cutter, I pointed out the other, drunkie veck.
‘That one,’ I said.  ‘Pete behind, with Dim ready with oozy.  Georgie and myself in front.’  And this was done real skorry in the dark, the only light coming from the afore-mentioned Luna, and the like glow from the back window of the Duke of New York.
Me and Georgie goolied up to this veck all innocent-like, doing the sammy act, as if we were all out then for nothing more than an evening stroll.  I said:
‘Good evening, brother.’  I could slooshy this veck had been muttering angry-like drunk slovos under his breath, and he stopped his mumbling and grumbling and chumbling to look at us two smiling young malchickiwicks, not being able yet to viddy old Pete and Dim crouching behind with Dim’s oozy (chain, that is).
‘Pardon my asking, brother,’ I said.  ‘But you seem a bit disheartened this fine nochy.  Pray tell me, what troubleth thee and thine?’  This drunk veck mumbled:
‘Won’t let a man drink anymore, will they?  Even when he’s got the lolly to pay for it, they say’s he’s had his limit, he’s had enough.’  The drunkie looked full at the two of us now, glassy meeting glassy, and said, ‘Who are they to know if I’ve had enough?  How can they judge, not even knowing me?’
‘If it’s a drink you want brother,’ I said, ‘then it’s a drink thou shalt have.’  Then Dim and Pete made like with the oozy, pulling it tight under the drunkie’s nogas and making him fall backwards with a horrowshow crash, his balance and coordination being mostly gone by this time.
‘And it’s on us,’ Georgie said, smeking.  And then we did give him to drink, taking turns kicking at him full in the gulliver and litso until the red red kroovy ran from his open, gaping rot like a fountain of red wine.  And then it was the canes, blows raining down on his vonny, drunken plott as he creeched at us in a broken-type goloss, his slovos coming out sort of gurgly-like as the kroovy continued to pour forth from his rot all lovely, in a like bezoomy, horrowshow wave, and then—
    “Father?”
The voice cracked through the cold night air like a gunshot.  Alex whipped his gaze from the bleeding man on the ground to stare in horror at the owner of the voice.  A beautiful, young, teenage girl had appeared at the side of the road.  Long brown hair framed her pale face and striking blue eyes; eyes that were the exact color and shape of Alex’s.
“Lexa!” Alex gasped, the color draining from his face.  “What are you doing here?  Run back home!”  Hearing a groan, Alex looked back at the ground to see his friends kicking the old drunkard and laughing.
“Stop it!  Leave that man alone.  Lexa, go away, get out of here,” Alex pleaded, shame in his voice.
“No, father,” Lexa replied softly.  “I want to help.”  Alex watched in shock as Lexa walked forwards and began to join the others in beating the helpless old man.  She threw her head back and laughed, her face a mask of delight, taking pleasure in violence.  Her eyes glittered and she sneered as her face assumed an expression of menace that was very familiar to Alex, for it had once been his own.
Feeling sick, Alex glanced down again, and was horrified to see that the pleading old man on the ground now greatly resembled him, older and with hair that was just barely beginning to thin; a man of thirty-four.
“No, please, Lexa,” the old man/Alex begged.  “You don’t want to live like this.  You’ll create your own hell if you do so.”
“Shut up!” Lexa shouted, and continued to beat him.
“Please. . . “ Alex whispered, as unconsciousness closed in on him.  The last thing he could see was Lexa’s eyes, so identical to his, as she laughed a heartless, mocking laugh.

Alex woke from sleep with a jerk that rolled him off the bed and onto the floor with a thud.  In the pale, semi-darkness of the dawn, his eyes took in familiar surroundings; the thick, tapestry-covered stone walls that made up his room, the strong oak doors, the incense-perfumed gargoyles, the gothic window, and the large bed near it that Alex shared with his wife, Lara.
Lara was sitting up now, beautiful, pale, and glancing quizzically down at the sight of her husband sprawled on the floor.  “What is your problem?  First you started tossing and moaning in your sleep, and then you sort of twitched and fell off the bed.”
Alex scowled as he disentangled himself from the sheets and stood up.  “Where does Lexa always disappear to these days?” he asked.
Startled by this abrupt change of subject, Lara stammered, “She usually plays in the village or meadows with Marco.”
“I think she spends entirely too much time with that malchick.”
“Alex, she’s fifteen years old!”
“That’s precisely what worries me.”  Alex poured himself a glassful of mead from a pitcher by the bed.  “I had a sneety just now, and in it I could viddy myself real horrorshow, just like how I was when I was fifteen.  Love’s young nightmare, tolchocking vecks for my own amusement with my droogs.  We were working this like starry old veck, and all of a sudden, I viddied Lexa watching me, and I realized what I was doing.  I creeched at her to itty off, but she didn’t,” Alex took a long draught of mead and continued.  “She came forward and started in on tolchocking the starry old veck.  Only he wasn’t the old veck anymore, he was me, as I am now.”
Lara didn’t speak at first, and Alex waited in silence, sixteen years of marriage being long enough to reassure him that Lara perfectly understood every word he had just said.
“Lexa doesn’t get into trouble, and Marco’s a good kid.  He’s Tony’s son after all.  I wouldn’t worry about them now,” Lara said at last.  “Right now, I’m more concerned about that conference meeting this afternoon.  And don’t think you can weasel your way out of it, Alex.  This year, you’re going.”
Alex choked on his mead.  “Are you crazy?  What am I going to do there, pick at my eyelashes?  I’m not in charge of this kingdom, you are.  I’m not a vam—“
“I am perfectly aware of the fact that you are not a vampire,” Lara interrupted, her voice heavy with sarcasm.  “And you do help me run this kingdom; I really would go crazy if I didn’t have you here to help me.  I’m just trying to help you feel more involved.”
“The representatives from the other kingdoms are so nadmenny,” Alex complained softly.
“Oh come on.  You can charge a castle and take out half Rasputin’s army, (including Jareth), but you’re afraid of what a few stuffy old farts at the conference think?”
“All right, all right, I’ll go,” Alex gave in.  “But I’m not dressing up.  I’ll go in just my plain white platties.”
“That’s fine with me,” Lara said, and she got up out of bed to start to get ready for the day.

“But why?  I always go out to play with Marco.”
“Exactly.  Why don’t you do something else today for a change?”
Alex stood at the bottom of the stairs and looked up at his daughter.  Lexa stood at the top dressed in a pair of tight black pants and boots, and a fancy, black and red corset shirt.  She folded her arms and glared down at her father, her face framed, as always, by silky curtains of long, dark brown hair.
“But Marco was going to take me with him to the caves today.  We were going to visit the vampire village,” Lexa protested.
“Well, you’re not going to bloody well snuff it if you don’t go to the village today.  Marco and it will still be there tomorrow.  You’re staying in the castle today.  You can do embroidery or something,” Alex replied.
“Embroidery?” Lexa repeated.  “Embroidery?  Did I hear correctly, you want me to do embroidery?”  She snapped her fingers, and a breeze blew down the corridor, making the hand-stitched tapestries on the walls flutter.  She then continued to speak, her voice rising as she did so.  “I embroidered every single tapestry in this hall!  I’m surprised I didn’t come out of the womb with needles and fabric in my hands.  All anyone ever tells me to do is embroider, and I AM SICK OF EMBROIDERING!!”
“Fine!” Alex snapped, his own voice rising.  “That’s just dobby then.  Don’t embroider. I don’t give a rat’s sharries what you do, but you are not playing with Marco today, and that’s final!”
“Mother!” Lexa protested.  But Lara had chosen this moment to begin a deeply engaging conversation with a maid about wall erosion, and seemed completely oblivious to her daughter and husband’s shouting match on the stairs.
Lexa and Alex glared at each other for just a few seconds longer, and then Lexa turned and angrily marched back to her room, slamming the door behind her.  Alex remained at the bottom of the staircase, breathing hard and watching the place where Lexa had stood a moment ago.  Lara finished her conversation and took Alex’s arm gently.  Alex allowed himself to be led back to the throne room with Lara.

Lexa sat on her bed, fuming.  The bed wasn’t coffin-shaped, like her mother’s, and Lexa didn’t stop breathing when she fell asleep like her mother did.  Unlike Lara, Lexa was only half-vampire, a fact that had caused most of the children her age to shun her, and even result to bullying her, when she was younger.  But all that had stopped when Lexa met Marco.  Marco had mixed parentage as well, and he had befriended Lexa and defended her against the other vampires that bullied her.  Now the vampire children left her alone, and some of them had even become friends with her, thanks to Marco.
Lexa stood up and walked over to the corner of her room where she kept her harp.  She sat at the cushioned stool and leaned the harp in towards her.  The harp, which was beautifully decorated with carved roses, had been a gift from her father, who loved music.  Lexa had practiced long hours on the harp, and was now quite proficient.  She started out now with a few bars from Crazy Train, just to warm up.  After playing a few Ozzy Osborne songs, she played songs from Scorpions, Blue Oyster Cult, and then switched to classical.  
As she was playing a romantic, melancholy piece from Carmen, Lexa heard the sound of an Irish flute outside accompanying her.  She smiled, and continued playing the piece, and the flute continued to harmonize with her.  Lexa finished the song, and walked over to look out the window at the source of the flute playing.  A young unicorn male stood underneath the window.  His coat was black and his mane, beard, and tasseled tail were silver.
“Marco!” Lexa called happily.  The unicorn blew one last note on his horn, and then shimmered and changed into a young, flamboyantly dressed, teenage boy.  Although Marco was only sixteen, he looked older, closer to eighteen.  His hair, which was long and the exact same color as his mother Tony’s, was pulled back into a ponytail.  Apart from his hair, Marco was practically a younger copy of his father, Adam.  Marco grinned up at Lexa.
“Are we going to the caves today?” he asked.
“I can’t.  My father said I have to stay at the castle,” Lexa said glumly.
“Where is he?” Marco asked.
“In the throne room with my mother.  They’re getting ready to attend that annual conference thing,” Lexa replied.
Marco shrugged.  “Well that’s all right, then.  That thing lasts for hours, they won’t even notice we’re gone, and then we’ll get you back here before the meeting’s over.  What Alex doesn’t know, won’t hurt him.”
“Okay.  Hold on, I’ll come down.”  Lexa eased herself out of the window and caught hold of a thick vine of hanging ivy.  She shimmed down the wall outside, and as she neared the bottom, Marco reached up and lifted her to the ground.  After giving Lexa a playful kiss, Marco changed back into a unicorn and Lexa gracefully mounted.  Marco made sure that Lexa had a tight grip on double handfuls of his mane before he galloped off the castle grounds at top speed.
As Marco was running, Lexa reached up and touched his horn so that she could communicate with him.
“So where are we headed?” she asked.
Marco’s voice sounded in her head.  “To the caves, right?”
“No, I just had a thought.  Father knows I was planning on going to the caves with you.  It’ll be the first place he looks if he finds me gone,” Lexa explained.
“All right.  So where do you want to go?”
“Well, we can’t go to the Gypsy camp.  You’re folks might see us there and tell my parents.  We can’t play in the fields for the same reason; the unicorns graze there.”  Lexa thought for a moment longer.  “I know!  We can go to the goblin kingdom and explore the Labyrinth.  We haven’t done that forever.”
“You’re right.  Let’s go there then.”  Marco turned and began to gallop in the direction of the goblin kingdom.  As they traveled, Marco visited with Lexa, asking her why Alex suddenly didn’t want them to play together.
“Oh, it’s not about you.  Father likes you just fine,” Lexa replied.  “It’s me.  He thinks that I’m going to go off the deep end one of these days and start getting into gangs and violence and stuff like he did.”
“Have you told him about us?” Marco asked.  “You know, becoming betrothed?”
“Of course not,” Lexa answered.  “Father is freaking out because he thinks we spend too much time together as friends.  He’d blow a gasket if I told him we plan on getting married.  But don’t worry,” she patted Marco’s flank.  “He’ll come around.  I’ll talk to him reasonably one of these days, and see if we can get his permission.”  
Marco twitched one of his ears back; an equine way of showing agreement, and he started to play a few tunes on his horn as they continued to travel.  It wasn’t long before they reached the outer dirt hills which sloped gently down until they came into contact with a long, solid wall.  This wall spread out in both directions, encasing pathways made of stone and hedge, pathways that were forever twisting and entwining in on each other like a coiling serpent.  Constantly changing, impressive and forbidding, the Labyrinth spread out before Marco and Lexa, as if challenging them to breach its depths.  In the exact center of the Labyrinth, Marco and Lexa could make out a large castle, surrounded by the stone buildings of the Goblin City.  Although they had played in the Labyrinth many times, they had never made it to the gates of the Goblin City, or to the castle.  But they had fun trying.
Marco trotted up and down along the wall.  He eventually found the gate and entered into the main part.  A single walkway stretched on both directions, seemingly forever.  Lexa dismounted, and Marco changed back to human form.
“So, did we go left or right last time we were in here?” Marco asked.
“Left,” Lexa responded.  The two of them immediately tuned and went to the left, running their hands along the inner wall as they walked.  They didn’t walk far before the wall moved in, opening up a new passageway, and they walked into the wall and took a left.  Before continuing on, Marco preformed a small spell, and multi-colored sparks started shooting up from the ground, about twenty feet into the air.  This served two purposes: 1) to let Jareth know that they were in the Labyrinth, in case they got stuck in an oubliette or something, and 2) because the Labyrinth was constantly changing, there was really no point in figuring out whether to go left or right, just as long as they put distance between them and the sparks.
Marco and Lexa set out, laughing and chasing each other around corners and through alleys.  Eventually they emerged in an open area containing a small fountain pool in the center.  Marco turned and checked on the sparks.  They continued shooting off behind the two of them in the distance.  Satisfied, Marco turned and dived at Lexa, trying to scoop her in his arms and dump her in the pool.  But Lexa was too quick for him.  She bent low and flipped Marco over her shoulder, where he landed into the pool with a splash.  Smiling, she jumped in after him, and the two of them dived to the bottom of the pool.
Immediately, the water began to drain, and the floor of the pool opened up.  Marco and Lexa were sucked through the floor, and carried down a swift waterfall, which flowed down some pipes and eventually emptied into an underground pool, surrounded by flickering torches.
After climbing up out of the pool, Marco turned and offered his hand to Lexa.  With a wicked grin, Lexa accepted his hand and yanked him back into the pool.  Marco sank down under the surface.  The water was still.
“Marco?” Lexa called, swimming in a little circle and peering in the dark water.  “Are you all right?”
Suddenly, Marco swam up as a unicorn from underneath Lexa.  He jumped out of the water with Lexa on his back, sending rivets of water splashing out from them on either side.  Marco landed on solid ground near the pool, him and Lexa both soaking wet and dripping water on the floor.
They were standing in an underground corridor which ran straight for a little bit, and then made a turn to the right as it was swallowed up in darkness.  Marco stayed in unicorn form, the tip of his horn glowing and providing light, as he cautiously trotted down the passage, Lexa on his back.
This tunnel was familiar to Marco and Lexa.  They like to travel underground, instead of the surface, because the tunnels underneath the Labyrinth didn’t change.  The only thing to worry about was the Cleaners, a goblin-propelled contraption consisting of a round disk that filled the whole passage, with rotating blades mounted on the front.  The Cleaners usually didn’t come unless a lot of noise was made, so Marco traveled as quickly and silently as possible.
Soon they came to a dead end.  Marco turned and kicked his hind legs against the wall, which collapsed, reviling a small room beyond.  Turning, Marco entered the room.  There was a hole far up in the ceiling, and a mirror which stood in the corner.  There was nothing else in the room.
Marco looked up at the hole in the ceiling.  He pawed the ground, paced the room, and returned to look up at the hole again.  Finally he snorted and rippled his shoulders, signaling to Lexa to dismount.  After Lexa got off, Marco changed to human form and looked at her.
“Where’s the ladder?” he asked.  Lexa knew what he was talking about.  Normally, a rope ladder dangled from the hole in the ceiling, and there was no mirror.  Shrugging, Lexa walked over to the mirror and examined it.  It wasn’t like a normal mirror.  Lexa couldn’t see her reflection because black clouds formed and reformed over the surface.  There appeared to be no glass, that Lexa could just reach into the mirror and touch the strange, black clouds.
Marco had also been observing the mirror.  He came up behind Lexa and was about to step into the mirror, when Lexa grabbed his arm.
“Don’t.  It could be dangerous,” Lexa whispered.  Marco sighed.
“There’s no other way.  The rope’s gone, and this mirror’s here instead.  Obviously, we’re supposed to go through it.”
Lexa shivered, “I don’t know.  I just have a bad feeling about it.”
Marco put his arm around her.  “It’ll be all right.  Jareth wouldn’t put anything deadly in the Labyrinth, and if something happens, he’ll see our sparks and come after us like he always does.”
Reassured, Lexa allowed Marco to lead her closer to the mirror.  Together, they stepped through the mirror and into the smoky clouds.  There was a flash, and the two of them vanished.