Page 4 of Veiled in Stars and Silver
The woman's eyes grew round, and tears filled them. She clutched the money to her chest and handed me a tiny glass bottle of violet liquid. “Thank ye, miss.”
I gave a reassuring smile and pocketed the small potion. I continued along the row of stands.
A large shadow loomed behind me, and meaty hands clamped onto both my arms, pinning me in place. “Now, what is a delicate flower like you doing in this rat's den?” a deep voice drawled. He leaned forward and took in a large whiff. His scruffy beard gratedagainst my skin. “Do you know what we rats do to delicate flowers caught in our traps?”
My stomach knotted, and I tried not to gag at the stale alcohol on his breath. My lip curled.
The man chuckled, and his fingers squeezed tighter. “Whatever we wish.”
In a flash, a throwing knife appeared in my hand. With a flick of my wrist, I pressed it against the man's groin. He gasped and stiffened.
“If you'd prefer to keep your manhood,” I said evenly, “I'd recommend unhanding this delicate flower this instant.”
He didn't release me at first, so I jabbed the point of the knife a little harder, prepared to follow through if necessary. The brute staggered back, his hands falling away. He looked me over with a mixture of uncertainty and anger. They always stared at me like that after threatening to remove their source of power and pleasure from them.
He sneered at me. “Ain't worth my time anyway.” And with that, he turned and took his drunkenness with him, staggering down the street.
I let out a breath. I hadn't been attacked here often. At least during the last six years it had happened a lot less than I might have suspected. But it had occurred enough times that I was more angry than shocked when some self-absorbed man stumbled upon me and assumed he had a right to whatever he pleased. One time, I’d had to give a man more than just a warning, though a small nick was all it took to send him howling to theground, clutching his crotch.
I pretended to browse but watched out of the corner of my eye until the drunk with meaty hands was too far down the alley for me to see. Then I tucked the throwing knife into my cloak.
Now, I’d return to my search for the one thing that would help me reach Neverland.
I moved forward, examining every vendor and sighed with disappointment. Nothing new or out of the ordinary. I had hoped sneaking out of my home this time of night might be worth the risk. The cold bite of winter had recently made its appearance, sinking its teeth into the people of southern England with a vengeance, bringing a surge of travelers and migrant workers into London’s streets. That meant a fresh assortment of newcomers peddling their wares. Including in the backstreets of London’s magic and macabre black markets. But my faith that tonight I might find what I’d long been searching for was dying a swift death.
As I neared the end of the alley, my shoulders fell. Another day of failure. Another day my need for hope and revenge went unfulfilled. Another day my brothers were trapped in Neverland. If they were even still alive. Trying not to dwell on that, I turned to head back up the alleyway.
And blinked. A stand with a large colorful tent loomed where I swore none had stood before. A man with graying hair and a peg leg lingered outside its opening. He stared straight at me.
“Hello there, young miss. May I interest you in any of my wares?”
“Where did you come from? I didn’t see you on the way down.”
The man bowed. “Just a demonstration, miss. I only carry wares that the most determined seeker may find. And I can tell that you, miss, are the most determined of the determined.”
I pursed my lips. I glanced at the jeweled dagger in my cloak and lifted it slightly from its hilt. A blue hue shone from its blade. My heart skipped a beat. There was magic here.
I took a step toward the man. “I am looking for something quite particular. Do you perhaps carry powders or dust?”
“Dust? Why yes, I carry dust! The question is, what do you want it to do? I have dust to make you taller, dust to make you fertile or sterile, as you wish. Oh, and of course, fairy dust for flying.”
My fingers trembled with anticipation. At last. But I schooled my emotions, keeping my face smooth. It could be fake. I needed to be careful. “May I see your assortment?”
“Yes, yes. Come inside.”
I entered the tent and sat on a wooden stool. The space was filled with traveling trunks standing on their sides and opened to show bottles of potions and elixirs. He brought out a variety of powders and dusts in bags and laid them before me on the brightly woven rug.
I could pretend no longer. “And your fairy dust?”
“Ah, I see you want nothing but the best.” He stepped to the tent’s rear and lifted the lid of a trunk, pulling out a small brown drawstring bag.
I took it from him and peered inside. Though the lanterns in the tent only offered a dim lighting, the dust gave off its own golden glow.
My breath caught. “I should like to test it.”
“Not in here, are you insane?” He snatched the bag back. “If you want it, you must buy.”
I surreptitiously checked my dagger again. The blade still glowed. I’d take the chance. “Fine. I shall pay you eighteen pounds for it.”
