Page 29 of The Slug Crystal

"Here we are," Ben announces, sliding open the compartment door and gesturing with exaggerated formality. "Your chariot to Florence awaits."

The compartment is small but private, with two facing bench seats upholstered in navy blue fabric, a wooden table settled in the center, and a large window framing the Venetian landscape as it prepares to slip away.

I settle into a window seat, placing Alex's terrarium carefully on my lap.

Jake hesitates for a fraction of a second before taking the spot beside me, leaving just enough space between us that we're not touching.

"Everyone settled?" Marco asks, ducking his head into the compartment. His dark curls brush against the doorframe, and his hazel eyes, flecked with gold in the morning light, scan the space with academic precision. His tall, lean frame fills the doorway as he waits for our confirmation.

"Just waiting on our resident pilot," Ben says, stroking his scruffy beard thoughtfully. "Probably primping in the bathroom. Man takes longer with his hair than most women I know."

As if summoned by the criticism, Luca appears behind Marco, sliding past him with a grace that belies his broad shoulders.

"Beauty takes time," he says, running a hand through his slick dark hair.

His warm brown eyes catch mine, and the dimple in his cheek deepens as he smiles.

"Some of us prefer not to look like we just rolled out of bed. "

"Hey, this is carefully cultivated dishevelment," Ben protests, gesturing to his entire self, encompassing his scruff and ruffled dark blond hair. "The ladies love it."

"Do they, though?" Jake mutters, just loud enough for me to hear, and despite the awkwardness between us, I can't help the small smile that tugs at my lips.

The train lurches forward, and we're off, Venice receding behind us as we head inland toward Florence.

For a while, we all stare out the window, watching the landscape transform from a maze of canals to a lush countryside.

The silence isn't exactly uncomfortable, but it's weighted with all the things we're not saying, about last night, about our mission, and about what happens after.

The quiet is broken by the crinkle of plastic as Jake pulls a family-size bag of potato chips from his backpack. The sound draws everyone's attention like sharks to blood in water.

"You've been holding out on us," Ben says, green eyes widening with exaggerated betrayal. He leans forward from his seat across from Jake, hands extended like a beggar. "Have mercy on a starving man."

Jake clutches the bag to his chest, his athletic build tensing as if preparing for battle. "Get your own snacks. I packed these specifically for me."

"In what universe is that entire bag just for you?" Ben demands, his scruffy beard quivering with indignation. "That's enough sodium to preserve a small mammal."

"My universe, my chips," Jake retorts, but there's a playful light in his clear blue eyes that I haven't seen since before our kiss. It's reassuring to see him relaxing, even if it's over something as ridiculous as potato chips.

"Children, children," Luca interjects, reaching into his expensive leather carry-on. His designer sunglasses catch the light as he tilts his head, producing a gold box with an elegant bow. "Perhaps you'd prefer something more... sophisticated?"

He opens the box to reveal chocolates nestled in individual paper cups, each one looking like it costs more than my hourly wage. "Handmade by a chocolatier in Turin," he explains, offering the box to me first. "A gift from a grateful passenger. I thought they might come in handy."

"Show-off," Ben mutters, but he's eyeing the chocolates with naked desire.

I select a dark chocolate square, then turn my attention to Alex.

His blue shell glistens in the morning light filtering through the train window.

I reach into my bag and pull out a small container of lettuce leaves I prepared earlier.

Opening the terrarium just enough to slip a leaf inside, I watch as Alex's antennae extend curiously toward the offering.

"He seems to be adapting well to travel," Marco observes, his hazel eyes bright with scientific interest. He's settled in beside Ben, his long legs folded awkwardly in the limited space.

"He doesn't have much choice," I reply, closing the terrarium. "But yeah, he's been surprisingly resilient."

The others continue their snack bartering.

Jake reluctantly surrenders a handful of chips to Ben, Luca offers chocolates with the air of a benevolent king, and I pull out my phone.

I've been meaning to look at Sarah DeMarco's original listing again, hoping to find any clues we might have missed. But my phone is still not working.

“Can I borrow your phone?” I ask Jake.

He nods, tucking the bag of chips behind him and away from Ben.

Then he hands me his unlocked phone without a second glance.

I navigate to witch-webshop.com and log in to my account, finding my order history.

There's the fateful purchase: Vermis Transformo Crystal.

I click through to the listing, skimming past the flowery descriptions detailing karmic rebalancing and spiritual transmutation.

Then I notice something I missed before.

At the bottom of the page, under shipping information, there's an update.

Due to relocation, all orders after April 15 will ship from our new P.O. box in Siena, Italy.

"Guys," I say, interrupting Ben's dramatic plea for more chips. "Sarah's address is actually in Siena, not Florence."

Five pairs of eyes turn to me.

"Siena?" Marco repeats, leaning forward. "That's further south in Tuscany."

"Are you sure?" Jake asks, brushing chip crumbs from his fingers.

I nod, turning my phone so they can see the screen. "Her shipping address was updated to a P.O. box in Siena. We're going the wrong way."

"Not necessarily," Luca says, his warm brown eyes thoughtful. "Florence is a larger city, with more connections. She might live in Siena but work in Florence."

"Or she could have another shop in Florence," Ben suggests, popping one of Luca's fancy chocolates into his mouth. "Witches are entrepreneurial these days."

"We need a plan," Jake says, his blue eyes meeting mine briefly before darting away. "Do we change direction now or continue to Florence?"

Marco clears his throat, his tall frame straightening as he speaks. "From a logical standpoint, we're already on this train. Florence has more resources, more possibilities for research. We could start there, then continue to Siena if we don't find what we're looking for."

"Or we could split up," Ben adds after a moment. "Cover more ground that way."

"Absolutely not," Jake says immediately, his voice firm. A lock of his light brown hair falls across his forehead as he shakes his head emphatically. "We stick together. Period."

The vehemence in his tone surprises me, though perhaps it shouldn't.

After everything we've been through, the idea of fragmenting our strange little group feels wrong somehow.

"Jake's right," I say, stroking the top of Alex's terrarium absently.

"We're stronger together. Let's check Florence first, since we're already headed in that direction.

If we don't find anything, we'll go to Siena tomorrow. "

The decision made, our conversation drifts to other topics.

Like the best way to navigate Florence, where we'll stay, and the sights worth seeing if we have time.

But I keep thinking about that P.O. box in Siena, wondering if we're finally getting closer to Sarah, to answers, to a solution for Alex.

And underneath it all, the memory of Jake's lips on mine, the weight of unspoken feelings, and the growing awareness that finding Sarah might mean the end of this strange journey. And with that, the end of whatever might be beginning between us.

Friday, 10:32AM. Two hours into our journey, the snack negotiations have devolved into a desperate state.

Ben has consumed most of Jake's chips despite Jake's protests, Luca's fancy chocolates are down to the flavors nobody wants, and even my secret stash of granola bars has been discovered and decimated .

"We need reinforcements," Ben announces, patting his flat stomach dramatically. "Someone must brave the snack car."

I exchange glances with Marco, who's been quietly reading a scientific journal while the rest of us bickered like siblings on a road trip.

"I could use a coffee," Marco says, closing his journal and tucking a bookmark between the pages. "I'd be happy to make the journey."

"I'll come with you," I volunteer, suddenly eager for a break from the cramped compartment and the undercurrent of tension between Jake and me. "I need to stretch my legs anyway."

Jake looks up, his blue eyes flickering with something I can't quite read. "You sure? I could go."

"We're fine," I assure him, carefully lifting Alex's terrarium. "Marco can help me carry everything back."

Marco stands, his tall frame unfolding from the seat. "We'll return with provisions worthy of your appetites," he tells the others, his formal speech patterns making the simple errand sound like a noble quest.

The corridor outside our compartment is narrow, forcing us to walk single file. I go first, cradling Alex's terrarium against my chest, while Marco follows close behind. The train sways gently beneath us, the rhythmic clickety-clack of wheels against rails creating a soothing white noise.

"The dining car should be three carriages ahead," Marco says from behind me. "Mind the gap between cars."