Stardust and spells

the escape

The text burned into my eyes.

We know what you are, Star-Weaver. Hand her over, or we take your mother. V

My hands were shaking so bad I almost dropped the phone.

Mr. Voss. The man from the car. The man with the tablet and the freeze-frame of my red hoodie.

They knew where I lived.

They knew about Mom.

I didn’t think. I ran.

Down the ladder. Through the door. Into the kitchen.

“Mom!” I shook her awake. “Mom, get up. We have to go. Now.”

She was disoriented. Chemo-brain. “Selene? What”

“Please.” I was already throwing clothes into a bag. Hers and mine. “There are people coming. Bad people. They know about me.”

Her face went pale. She knew exactly what that meant.

Grandma had warned us. If they find you, they’ll cage you. Or worse.

“Okay,” Mom whispered. “Okay, baby. I’m up.”

We had 10 minutes.

I grabbed the jar. The last of the starlight inside sloshed.

I grabbed the 2,300 from under the mattress. My phone. Her meds.

I left everything else.

The car. We couldn’t take the car. They’d be watching the roads.

So we walked.

Up the cliff path, in the dark, with Mom leaning on me and the ocean roaring below.

Every 30 seconds I looked back.

No headlights yet. But they were coming. I could feel it.

“Mom, I’m so sorry,” I choked out. “This is my fault. I used it. I”

“Shh.” She squeezed my hand. Weak, but steady. “You saved a boy’s life. You saved me every day by working. Don’t you dare apologize for being magic.”

We made it to the old bus stop 2 miles down the road by 4:30AM.

First bus to the city left at 5:15.

We sat on the bench. Me shaking. Her breathing hard.

And I did the one thing I swore I wouldn’t.

I pulled out my phone and texted him.

Me: They found me. I have to run. Don’t look for me.

Three dots appeared instantly.

D: Where are you? I’m sending the car.

Me: No. They’ll trace it. I’m sorry.

D: Selene. Don’t do this alone.

I turned the phone off.

The bus was empty. Just us and a driver who didn’t ask questions.

I kept Mom’s head on my shoulder. Watched Grayhaven disappear in the window.

I’d lived there 19 years.

Gone in one night.

By 8AM we were in the city. Anonymous. Lost in the crowd.

I checked us into a cheap motel with cash. No ID. The lady didn’t care.

Mom slept. Finally.

And I sat by the window with the jar in my lap.

Empty now.

Because I was too scared to refill it on the bus. Too scared to use it.

My phone buzzed. New number.

D: I know you’re in the city. Please let me help. I’m not asking as Damian Cross. I’m asking as the guy you saved. Let me help you.

I didn’t answer.

Instead I opened my laptop. Logged into the hospital portal.

Balance due: $40,000. Due Friday. That was 2 days.

I stared at the jar.

One spell. That’s all it would take.

Pull luck. Make the money appear. Pay it off.

No one would know.

My hand hovered over the glass.

Just once, that voice whispered again. You’re doing it for her. That’s not wrong.

The door to the motel room creaked.

I spun.

It wasn’t Mom. She was still asleep.

Someone was at the door.

A soft knock.

A man’s voice, muffled. “Room service.”

We didn’t order room service.

I stood up. Heart in my throat. The jar clutched to my chest.

Another knock. Harder this time.

“Ms. Vale? We know you’re in there. Open the door. We just want to talk.”

Mr. Voss.

I looked at Mom. At the window. At the jar.

I had two choices.

Run again.

Or fight.

My palm started to glow.