We both know we aren’t partners.
After all, it’s hard to be partners with someone who is blackmailing you.
Especially when they’re also your only source of income. It’s my fault he figured out that I’m a star-chaser, a rare descendent of the stars. I don’t know of any others besides my mom, and most people think we’re a myth—that’s how uncommon we are. We’re ruled by the curse in our blood to retrieve the remains of fallen stars.
I wasn’t careful enough when I sold the stardust I found, taking the quick and easy way of making money by selling to my ‘partner’ repeatedly instead of finding other buyers.
Stardust, it turns out, has magical properties that few people know about.
I mentally kick myself again for being such an idiot in the past. I know not to trust anyone. It’s one of the only things my mother was ever consistent on: never trust anyone, ever. Yet here I am, blackmailed by a mob boss because I forgot the most important rule of star-chasing and sold to him a few too many times.
Now I have no other choice.
It takes me the better part of the day, but eventually I scrounge up enough information from NASA on a couple leads and wonder how my ancestors did this. I know how to follow the urge when I get close enough to a fallen star to find the stardust—the remains of my ancestral beings—but I need to at least know what direction to go in first. How did they survive this buzzing without the internet to tell them where they needed to go?
In the end, I guess they didn’t. That’s the one other thing my mother consistently warned me of: my fate.
Star-chasers go mad. Always.
Every.
Single.
One.
I decide to check out the leads tomorrow since it’s already late afternoon, and the urge to move, to find, togo,settles a bit now that I have a plan mapped out. I won’t be able to resist it for long, but I’ve learned the hard way that it’s better not to go out unprepared. The last thing I need is to get lost again, or caught in a tornado on my bike. I make a mental note to check the weather before I head out tomorrow.
The cat scratches at the table leg across from me and I scowl down at it.
“Stop that.”
It turns narrowed green eyes on me, then slowly extends one paw and digs its nails into the wood of my second-hand table. I groan and flop back in my chair. This cat is impossible and I have no idea why I keep letting it inside.
Seemingly satisfied with its destruction of both the table and my will, the cat hops onto the kitchen counter in search of food.
My phone rings from the other room, and I point a finger at the cat as I walk past it.
“Keep your claws to yourself. I’ll find you some food in a minute.”
I swipe up my phone, then freeze when I see the words ‘Partner AKA Evil Blackmailing Boss Man’ on the screen. I brace myself for the threats before answering.
“Hello?” I say.
“Alorra.” His voice is gruff and angry, which is exactly how he always looks in person too.
“Yes, hi.”
“I expect good news. When will you be dropping by?”
“Ah, yeah…” I chew my lip, trying to figure out how to tell him I don’t have any stardust yet.
He tsks, clicking his tongue against his teeth.
“Okay, so I don’t have any right now,” I rush to keep talking. “But I have a lead! A couple leads to follow up on. I’ll have more soon.”
“You have two weeks to get me double.”
“Wait, double?” My voice rises with alarm, an octave too high, but there’s no answer.
