When I pull up to a gas station, every sense is on alert. My heart races, adrenaline pumping through me as my feet meet the pavement. I leave my helmet on, but raise the visor so I can hear and see better, taking in every detail around me from the chipped paint on the curb, to the peeling stickers on the pump, and the sole pickup truck parked next to the building. An empty beer can rattles across the parking lot with a stray breeze and the overhead lights buzz, grating against my tired ears.
The other bike rumbles into the lot a few minutes later, and fuels up at the station across from me. The biker doesn’t take off their helmet or gloves, but they turn and give me a chin jerk nod as they fill their tank. I offer a narrow-eyed glare in response, then pointedly turn away. I’m not trusting anyone, no matter how friendly they may appear.
I keep a wary eye out, watching from the periphery and reminding myself that just because they followed me into this station doesn’t mean they’refollowing me.This might be the only gas station for miles, I have no idea.
The other biker strides into the store, and I take the opportunity to leave them in the dust. I kick my bike into gear and take off as quick as I can, finally breathing a sigh of relief as I leave them behind and my paranoia settles.
I knock my visor back down and fall into the peace of driving at night. The stars twinkle above me, their song trickling through me, and my heart aches with a homesick longing I’ll never be able to fill.
It’s impossible to be reunited with my ancestors. My family comes from the stars, though the how and when of it has been lost to time, along with the world’s acknowledgement of us. Everyone knows about vampires, demons, witches, and evenshifters, but for the most part they can be ignored, since there are so many protective regulations and laws in place. To the few people whohaveheard of my kind, for most it’s folklore. A magical bedtime story, but nothing real.
I scoff. If only they knew the truth.
While the world at large might not know about star-chasers, I know all I need to. Between my mother’s rote warnings and my grandmother’s journal, I’ve learned every hard lesson there is. Two of which are all but embedded in my DNA at this point: Don’t trust anyone. All star-chasers go mad.
Unfortunately, I learned even more at the hands of my blackmailer. He’s the one holding my leash, and he’s also the one who taught me what stardust can do. I knew some people valued it, but I didn’t know why. Turns out it doesn’t affect humans, but when used by supernatural creatures… that’s a different story.
My evil overlord reveled in demonstrating how powerful controlling the only stardust supply in Chicago made him. Stardust makes vampires stronger and faster for a short period of time. Appropriately, they call it “juice.” It’s got a bad crash afterwards, though, and they often end up knocked out for an equal amount of time.
For shifters, it’s “blitz,” giving them a euphoric high when ingested. Demons can use it to make their natural magical abilities more potent, normally by rubbing an infused lotion or oil on their temples and neck. I’m not sure what they call it, as I’ve thankfully never met a demon, nor have I heard many people speak about them. I think they’re mostly imprisoned or work for the government.
And witches can use stardust for all sorts of nefarious purposes. None of the common folks know that what they’re actually using is the remains of my ancestors, scavenged from fallen stars. Of course, once hooked on it, those people will do whatever they need to in order to get more.
Even kill each other.
I shudder as the gruesome memories flash through my mind. The ‘games’ the mob boss makes me watch when I don’t fulfill my quota, or when he thinks I need a reminder of his power and control. I shake my head, envisioning the blood and desperation, the screams and the deathly quiet all scattering into the night around me—left far behind as my bike takes me away from it all.
The emotional rush of being on my motorcycle with the air whipping by and the illusion of freedom, in combination with escaping a probably made-up pursuer, has my heart beating erratically. Add to that the apprehension growing in my chest as I sense my destination getting closer has my palms sweating in my gloves and my stomach twisted in knots. The call of the fallen star is getting stronger with every mile that passes.
I dread what I’ll find, knowing however much stardust I collect, whatever magical remains of my ancestors I discover, will have to be sold to a horrible man so I can continue living a pathetic life.
It’s despicable.
It’s my only option.
I hate myself for it.
6
SO CLOSE, YET SO FAR
Ro
There’s a manic grin on my face. It’s the main reason I didn’t take my helmet off when I went inside the gas station. I could tell Alorra was on edge as soon as I pulled into the spot across from her. Her shoulders were up by her ears, and I was afraid her grip was going to break the pump. I don’t want her to be afraid of me, but I can’t deny that the demon loves the chase. The glare she shot me when I tried to put her at ease was adorable, although I think she was trying to put me off.
I shrug, whistling as I walk back out of the store. It’s hard to whistle with a helmet on, but I manage well enough. I snagged some peach rings and watched through the window as she took off into the night, the headlight from her solid black bike spearing the darkness in front of her. I don’t mind if she has a head start. I’ll catch up soon enough.
There’s an undeniable bounce to my step as I skip over to my bike—black with purple accents—and tear out of the lot after her. It doesn’t take long before I see her tail light ahead of me. I turn my lights off, not caring even a tiny bit how dangerous it is.I don’t want to scare her off again, and I doubt she can hear my bike over the sound of her own.
It’s so dark out that as I get closer, her braided silver hair reflects the light of the moon and stars as it whips behind her. It’s like a beacon, a falling star I’d follow to the ends of the earth, if only it would grant my one wish of catching her.
It takes me by surprise when she veers into a hard turn down a dirt road. A cloud of dust billows in her wake, obscuring my view of her and the road. I scramble to adjust my speed and maintain control as I follow her. This woman just keeps getting more and more interesting. I’ve never been out this way before, and I wonder where she’s taking us. Does she have an isolated cabin out here? Maybe she likes camping. Or what if she’s involved in something nefarious?
The demon inside me perks up, liking the sounds of that one. It feels like a pinwheel rolling down my back, prickles of anxious anticipation raising goosebumps on my skin and tripping my heart.
She pulls off into what looks like a small canyon, the landscape out of place in an area surrounded by farm fields. I park my bike out of sight and try to follow her as quietly as I can, crouched low behind boulders and a rim of fresh turned earth as I skirt around the outside of it.
I cringe at the sensation of my inner demon purring in my chest, unreasonably pleased to be doing something this unlawful and unethical. It’s confusing, because the happier my demon is, the more shame I feel. Succumbing to my demonic instincts means I’m not on the path toward being a good person. And if I’m not a good person, there’s only one other thing I can be.
