“You’lldo.” His voice is cold, nearly as icy as the cruel eyes the probably-mafia-boss turns on me.
“It depends on the stars, I can’t control that?—”
“The stars have been falling for millions of years. If you can’t find it, that’s your problem,” his tone is dismissive.
“There’s no way of finding stardust that has been buried, I’ve tried!”
“Then you better hope the stars start falling faster.”
This strikes me as uniquely tragic, making my heart thump in my chest. But I hold my expression steady, giving no outward reaction to his sneering tone.
“Of course,partner,” I reply.
His eyes narrow and one lip curls up in disdain. I push my luck every time I call him that and we both know it, but I hold his gaze with my own. Defiant, I refuse to back down.
Without me, he has no stardust.
He turns away, barking at his men to finish up, then strides in the opposite direction I came in from. It’s a false win. We both know who has the power in this relationship.
I take it as a dismissal, but the tension in my shoulders doesn’t loosen as I twist away from the remains of my ancestors. I hold my head high, faking confidence as I slip through the plastic sheet and walk back the way I came. My boots scuff against the concrete floor, and I slam the warehouse door shut behind me.
I suspect he has people watching the alley, so I don’t let my resolve crumble just yet, continuing to stalk away with a straight back. There’s a dumpster smoldering like it was recently set on fire, and I glance up and down the alley, wary of anyone who might be ready for more violence. I see no one, but it has my hackles up anyway.
I’m extra cautious as I take the most direct path to my bike, then a meandering ride back to my part of the city.
I know Ro has been following me, having noticed him multiple times the last few days, but I’ve been strangely unbothered by his presence. That in itself is concerning, as I’ve always been a loner and have no interest in getting close to anyone. I’ve never much cared for socializing or friends apart from the occasional hookup, but for some reason his eyes on me don’t feel wrong anymore.
It used to prickle, setting my nerves on edge, but now it sends a heated tingle down my spine when I catch him following or sense him watching me. It should bother me—having a stalker—but I suppose I’ve gotten used to it.
I sensed him earlier, when I made a quick stop downtown, and glanced at the reflection in a window across the street to see him not even twenty feet behind me. Remembering it makes my lips twitch into a small smile. It’s like he wasn’t even trying to be sneaky. When I turned to glance behind me, I saw him ducking around a corner seconds too late, and it was all I could do not to stop and scold him, to tell him how to at least be a tiny bit inconspicuous.
Ridiculous human.
He seems harmless, so I let it go, only ensuring he can’t follow me when I have to check in with my contacts or deliver the stardust to avoid putting him in danger. I roll my eyes at how easy it is to lose him.
Turns out, Ro isn’t that great at stalking. All I have to do is backtrack or loop around, force him to stall and get further behind, then take a couple sharp corners.
He does seem to be getting better, though. It took a little longer to ditch him today than it has previously, and I’m almost proud of the progress he’s making. I shake my head at myself and let my thoughts trail into the wind, my bike taking me to Tempo without my consent.
I decide to allow it, giving myself a couple hours to relax before I go searching for more stardust tonight. I just need to get out of the city, away from the bustle and metal and concrete, even if I don’t have a lead. I want to feel the wind in my hair, and the moon on my skin, and the peace of the stars in a midnight sky.
9
RIDICULOUS IDIOTS AND THE AUDACITY OF MEN
Ro
Work is slow tonight. I’m leaning against the bar with my chin in the palm of one hand, elbow propped on the counter. Out of sight beneath the bar, I’m snapping my fingers with my other hand, causing the hidden flame to pop into being and disappear with each snap.
I sigh, glancing around. There’s no one for me to serve, making it increasingly difficult to keep my mind off Alorra. I roll the conjured flame across my knuckles, savoring the warmth I can feel but not see, then roll and bounce it between my fingers as my eyes start to droop with boredom.
My gaze has started to fuzz as I stare at the clock near the register, the neon numbers blurry, when a presence enters the bar.
I know that presence.
My focus snaps to attention. My spine cracks when I straighten too quickly, and my elbow slips off the bar. I clench my fist, dousing my fidget-flame, and my entire body is pulled toward her. Black jeans, kickass black boots, a dark top baringher stomach, flowing silver hair, delicate line tattoos curling over her fingers while swallows take flight behind her ear.
Alorra eyes me as she saunters up to the bar, tipping her chin higher but not giving any indication of how she feels about seeing me again. I grin in the face of her apathy; I know it’s a mask. She gave herself away the first time when she asked about me, and again by showing up of her own free will tonight.
