Steps Before The Fall (Eternal Neverland Book 1)

“You look the perfect victim, girly.”

Helena Sharpe inhaled deeply, the thick air almost smothering her with moisture from the impending storm. Maybe, if the rain would fall, the cold droplets would give her an excuse for shaking so much. Hide the tears ready to spill.

Swallowing hard, she forced a smile. “Thanks.”

Tar squeezed her fingers and crumpled clippings from the New York Times he’d been reading over into the only hole-free pocket of his mud brown jacket. Creases bunched up his dark, chewed-leather face, but his sightless eyes were calm. “Get going. The thirst be tugging by now. Been two nights since the last body got dumped—the wilds who aren’t dead will have cleared out.”

“I’m going.” She gritted her teeth and forced a smile. “Gotta find something tasty.”

Tar snorted and spat between his feet, just missing the big toe that peeped out of the torn canvas of his shoe. “That don’t worry me. You be good prey either way. They’ll smell you coming, just be sure to choose where they nab you.” Tar lowered his gnarled body onto the nest of blankets piled in the overturned wooden crate that made up his bed. He shifted as she leaned down to grab the schoolbag she kept hidden under the blankets. “May be only a few drops you need, but drawing it…”

Stuffing a hand in her pocket, she found the leftovers from breakfast—two chewy pieces of bacon she’d swiped from a café terrace on Park Avenue before the tables were cleared. She pressed one into Tar’s palm and crammed the other into her mouth.

“I’ll figure it out, Tar.” She slid the elastic she’d found on the sidewalk from her wrist and put her hair up in a ponytail. The rubber snagged a few strands, making her scalp sore. She worked a finger under the elastic to slacken its hold. “Are you sure all I need is a few drops?”

“Ain’t sure of nothin’.” His lashless, black lids narrowed over eyes that looked like milk spilled on sandstone. “Been on the streets a long time, seen a few things, might have an opinion.” His cracked nails found the tiny, puckered scars on his neck and raked over them lightly. “But you knows it all, child. Don’t concern yourself with the ramblings of a senile old blind man.”

She put her hands on her hips. “You are not senile.”

Tar chuckled. “You best keep that to yourself and not make me regret helpin’ ya.”

“I will, Tar.” Another bracing gulp of air and she was ready to go. She pushed open the wrought iron gate that cut the dead-end alley from the street and swung her schoolbag over her shoulder. Time had faded the gold LV monogram tastefully sprinkled over the supple, dark brown leather, but wear and tear hadn’t diminished the bag’s class. Tar missing a chance to comment about her flaunting what remained of her ‘wealth’ told her he was more concerned than he let on.

Retreating into the alley, she crouched in front of his box and patted his hand. “No matter what happens, I owe you, Tar. I’ll never forget it.”

“Grateful are you?” He grunted in a way that made her wonder if he’d bring up his skimpy meal. “That’s because you’ve got the street smarts of a pampered mutt." He sniffed and felt around, his hand finding the strap on her shoulder and following it down to the bag. He shook his head. “I’m serving you into the hands of killers, I…” A fit of coughs cut him off. His voice was wheezy when he spoke again. “Just don’t go getting yourself dead in a way you can’t come back from, Helena.”

He slumped into the blankets and fell asleep before she could answer. She held her hand over his mouth to make sure he was breathing before she moved away. Not that she was really worried, Tar was tough old bag of bones. It would take more than a nasty bug to do him in.