Faith, Trust & Pixie dust.

Chapter 1

“Shit!” The glass in Nyx’s hand shattered, slicing up her palm.

“Here,” Brook grabbed a tea towel and wrapped it round Nyx’s hand, “You okay?”

“Yeah, just caught the cup on the counter,” She grumbled, gingerly checking her palm for glass. Luckily, the cut was clean, “I’m gonna go wash this up can you cover my tables?”

Brook nodded and Nyx headed upstairs to the bathrooms. The café they worked in was a small two storey building. Both floors had tables, but people mainly sat downstairs. At times Nyx wondered if anyone knew there was seating upstairs. Honestly it made their jobs easier. Both girls hated trying to carry multiple plates of food up that annoyingly narrow staircase. In the bathroom, Nya cleaned up her hand. The cuts weren’t deep, but they stung and were bleeding quite a bit. At the very least she was gonna have to bandage her hand up. This was just what she needed. An injured hand to go along with the shitty pay, and the threat of eviction.

Back downstairs, Nya dug out the old first aid kit and hastily bandaged her hand up. Just in time too, because the usual lunch rush started coming through the doors. For the next few hours Nyx and Brook did nothing but take orders, make drinks, and run food. They barely had time to breathe. By the time closing rolled around, Nyx had bled through her bandages and Brook had several very nasty blisters on her feet. The splurged and took the bus home.

Home was a dingy flat with one bedroom and a roll out sofa bed. The kitchen was tiny, but the living room was decent. The bathroom was abysmal, leaky, and had a mouldy ceiling. Yet somehow, their landlord managed to find reasons to raise rent. They barely made enough to scrape by. While Brook tended to her blisters, Nyx took a cold shower (hot water was a luxury they couldn’t afford) and re bandaged her hand. When she was cleaned up, she came out to find that Brook had already made the sofa bed up for her.

“I didn’t think your hand was gonna like those gears,” She laughed, shaking out the duvet.

“Thanks, it’s appreciated,” She flopped face first onto the bed, ignoring the protesting springs, “What do you fancy for dinner?”

“Pasta cheesy and ham?” Brook spoke quickly then stopped, a crease forming in her blonde brow.

Nyx broke out laughing, “Pasta cheesy and ham it is.”

While Nyx cooked, Brook hovered in the doorway, mainly because even though she was tiny, the kitchen was too small to hold two people at once. Once dinner was done, they curled up in Nyx’s bed and watched stupid youtube videos on their phones until it was well and truly dark outside. By ten, they were falling asleep. Brook shut herself in her room and fell asleep almost instantly, but Nyx lay awake for quite some time, just listening to the rain. It was probably her favourite thing to do, lay in bed and listen to the rain. As nice as it was, the chill was getting a little harsh. Still wrapped in blankets, Nyx got up to close the window.

“What’s the matter? Don’t like the rain?” A boy no older than Nyx herself was sat on her bed. His dark blonde hair sprinkled with rain.

“Who the hell are you?” Nyx clutched her blankets closer, all too aware of her vulnerable state in an

oversized t-shirt and underwear, and no weapon.

The boy smirked at her, “Oh, did I forget to introduce myself? I’m Peter, Peter Pan,” He spoke softly; the way you would talk to a frightened puppy. In the silver light slipping through the window, she could just make out his features. Wide eyes set beneath a flop of dirty blonde hair, plump lips pursed in a smirk.

“Are you taking the piss?” She should really be trying to get him out of the flat, but she was far too confused by his sudden appearance to think straight.

“What happened to your hand?” He nodded at the bandages.

“I cut it… how the hell did you get in here? You need to leave.” She shook her head to clear her mind and pushed the man towards the door.

He grabbed her hand, trapping it against his chest. Something glittered in the darkness, hard to make out, and a strange tingling sensation travelled through her hand and up her arm. She couldn’t move. As soon as she could, she snatched her hand back, the bandages unravelling to real a perfectly smooth palm. No cuts at all.

“How did you…” She looked up. He was gone.

Spinning on her heel, her braid bouncing against her back, she spotted him straddling the window ledge, “I’ll be back soon. You have to decide.”

“Decide what?”

“If you want to come with me. I can offer you a good life, you just have to accept it.” And with that, he jumped out the window.