Page 57 of The Slug Crystal

The conversation flows around me. Marco discusses an architectural detail on a nearby building that he noticed while exploring Milan with Jake and Ben the day prior.

The other men listen, seemingly engaged in Marco’s dissection of a decorative beam with minimal function.

After about twenty minutes, the conversation moves in a new direction.

Luca and Jake begin debating the merits of different Italian wine regions.

It should be pleasant, this whole experience should be something I want to savor, but I just… can’t.

Finally, as the waiter clears our plates, I can't hold back any longer.

"So," I say, interrupting Luca's impassioned defense of Tuscan wines. "Did anyone find anything yesterday? Any leads on Sarah?" It’s a topic that we’ve been skirting all day. Every time I try to move to bring it up, a new conversation has been started by one of the guys.

All conversation at the table dies. Four pairs of eyes flick toward each other, like a silent negotiation of who will deliver the bad news. Finally, Jake sighs, setting down his wine glass.

"We tried, Emma," he says, his voice gentle in a way that immediately tells me everything I need to know.

"The crystal shop Marco found? It closed six months ago. The photo was old and we aren’t sure why it was posted.

The owner retired to Sardinia. We tracked down a former employee who remembered Sarah, but.

.." He hesitates, reaching across the table as if to touch my hand, then withdrawing.

"She has no idea where Sarah went after Milan.

Said she mentioned something about 'going where the energy calls her. '"

"We spoke with three other shops in the area," Marco adds, his scholarly tone failing to mask his disappointment. "None recognized her photograph."

"I even chatted up a street vendor selling 'magical crystals' to tourists," Ben offers. "Guy had never heard of Sarah DeMarco, but he did try to sell me a rock that would supposedly enhance my virility." His joke falls flat in the heavy silence.

I nod mechanically, my gaze dropping to Alex's terrarium. Our last solid lead has evaporated. Another dead end. Another city where Sarah DeMarco's trail goes cold.

At that moment, our waiter arrives with our secondi.

He’s carrying delicate fillets of fish for Marco and me, hearty osso buco for the others.

The rich aromas that would normally make my mouth water now turn my stomach.

I pick up my fork, then set it down again, a heaviness settling in my chest that makes it difficult to breathe.

"Emma?" Jake's voice sounds distant, though he's sitting right across from me. "Are you okay?"

Something inside me snaps. "I'm tired of carrying around my ex in a glass box!" The words explode from me, louder than I intended, my voice cracking on the final syllable. "I'm tired of chasing someone who doesn't want to be found. I'm tired of pretending this isn't completely insane!"

Tears spring to my eyes, hot and unwelcome. I swipe at them angrily, aware that conversations at nearby tables have paused, that strangers are turning to stare at the crying woman shouting about her ex in a glass box.

"I'm sorry," I whisper, mortification washing over me in a hot wave. "I didn't mean to?—"

Marco steps away from the table, heading off a concerned waiter who steps in our direction.

Jake rises from his seat, circling the table with calm purpose.

He reaches for the terrarium, lifting it gently from the middle of the table, setting it on the floor, out of sight.

"We've been through worse than this, Emma.

Remember that road trip to Nashville when your car broke down three times and we had to sleep in that motel with the raccoon that crawled into the bathroom? "

A wet laugh escapes me, the memory of that disaster somehow comforting.

"We've got this," Jake continues. “We’ll find a way to fix this. Eventually.”

I wipe my eyes with my napkin, embarrassment fading under the weight of relief.

"Thank you," I manage, looking up to find not just Jake's eyes on me, but all four men watching with different expressions of the same concern.

The waiter approaches cautiously, probably wondering if he should call for psychiatric assistance. Instead, he simply offers, "Perhaps some dessert, signora? The tiramisu is excellent for... difficult evenings."

This time, my laugh is genuine. "Tiramisu sounds perfect," I tell him. "We'll take five."

"And a small one for the snail?" he asks with a perfectly straight face, though his eyes twinkle with gentle humor.

"I think he's had enough for one night," I reply, trying to ignore the slight tightening in my chest.

“As you wish,” he replies, offering a small tip of his lips before walking back to the kitchen.

Thursday, 8:20PM. Back at the hotel, the five of us linger in the sitting area of the suite.

As soon as we returned, Jake tucked Alex into his room.

Like he was taking the idea of out of sight out of mind very seriously.

I didn’t have the heart to tell him that Alex was almost constantly a worry of mine at this point, even if I couldn’t see him.

I didn’t want to spoil his thoughtfulness .

The air conditioning hums softly beneath our voices as we gather to plan our next move, the evening's restaurant drama still hanging over us like a cloud. I fiddle with my phone, trying to get it to connect to the Wi-Fi, wanting to avoid the looming conversation as long as possible.

"We need to consider our options," Marco says, standing by the window with his tablet in hand, his scholarly silhouette backlit by the city lights.

"The crystal shop was our most promising lead.

Without further direction..." He trails off, adjusting his glasses in that way he does when uncomfortable with his conclusions.

"What Marco's trying to say," Ben translates from his sprawl in the room's only armchair, "is that we're completely screwed. Again."

Luca glances at me quickly, then glares at Ben, pausing his pacing between the door and the bathroom, his restless energy confined to the limited floor space. "We're not screwed. We're just... recalibrating."

"It feels a lot like hitting a wall. Again,” I admit.

Jake’s eyes find mine with the steady compassion that's become my touchstone through this bizarre journey. "It's okay to be frustrated, Emma. No one expected this to be as difficult as it has been."

Marco clears his throat, his academic detachment slipping into place like armor.

"I believe we need to reconsider our approach.

Perhaps another short respite from the active pursuit would be beneficial.

" He glances around the room, gauging reactions.

"A period of reflection might yield insights we're currently missing due to stress and fatigue. "

"Are you suggesting we give up?" I ask, a sharp edge creeping into my voice.

"Not at all," Marco replies quickly. "I'm suggesting a strategic pause. Sometimes the solution becomes apparent only when we step back from the problem."

“Didn’t we already step back in Rome?” I ask .

“That was barely a pause. We were still searching for leads, and left immediately as soon as we found one. We could all use a couple days off,” Jake responds, and for the first time, I look closely at him and notice a layer of fatigue he’s been hiding.

Luca stops his pacing, leaning against the wall with calculated casualness that doesn't quite mask his excitement.

"I actually have an idea about that. A family friend that owes me a favor has a villa about thirty kilometers outside Milan.

Nestled in the hills, very private." His gray eyes light up as he warms to his pitch.

"We could regroup there for a few days, away from hotel costs and city noise.

There's a local town nearby with excellent restaurants, a few shops that might be fun to explore. .."

"Another Bianchi family connection to another villa," Ben drawls, though there's less bite in his sarcasm than usual. "How many properties does your side of the family have a connection to, exactly?"

Luca shrugs, a smile playing at his lips. "Enough that I can always offer a solution to our accommodations problem. In Italy, at least."

As they discuss logistics, how to get there, and what supplies we'd need, my attention drifts back to Alex.

Not being able to see him helps a little.

Without the snail to check on, my eyes drift over to the window as an appreciation for Jake flutters through me.

He has always been this way, attending to details others might overlook, his thoughtfulness expressed through action rather than words.

Eventually my eyes start to feel heavy, and I drift to sleep.

Thursday, 10:10PM. Ben wakes me with a gentle shake to the shoulder. My eyes flutter open, and I realize I’m still in the sitting area, fast asleep with a white blanket from one of the rooms draped over me .

Ben offers a soft smile and says, “Hey, I didn’t want to wake you, but we thought you might want to sleep in a bed.”

I glance past him to find Luca, Marco, and Jake lurking nearby, watching Ben wake me up.

“I thought…” Jake starts, then clears his throat. “Thought you might want to say goodnight to Alex?” He sounds nervous as he lifts the terrarium higher and steps towards me, bringing it closer to me. He’s probably scared I’m going to start crying again.

I lean closer to the glass enclosure, frowning as I study its blue occupant. "Does Alex look... bigger to you?" I ask.

Jake pauses, bending to examine the terrarium. "Hmm?"

"Alex," I repeat, pointing to the snail now making his way up the side of the glass. "I think he's getting bigger. Look at how his shell barely fits between these two leaves. Last week, he could slide through easily."

Jake studies the snail, head tilted in consideration. "Maybe he's just retaining water," he suggests, his attempt at humor falling flat as my expression remains troubled. "Or maybe the lettuce at the restaurant was especially nutritious?"

"I'm serious, Jake," I insist, pressing my finger against the glass to trace the outline of Alex's shell. "Something's different."

The men exchange glances over my head. It’s the kind of silent communication that passes between people who share a concern they don't want to voice. Marco approaches, his scholarly curiosity engaged despite his obvious hesitation.

"Growth in adult gastropods is unusual but not unprecedented," he offers, peering through the glass. "Though the rate you're suggesting would be... remarkable."

"Is that a bad thing?" I ask, looking up at him. "If he's growing?"

Marco's hesitation tells me everything his words don't. "It's... unexpected. Given that his transformation was magical rather than biological, any changes could indicate..." He trails off, clearly unwilling to speculate further.

"Indicate what?" I press, anxiety coiling in my stomach.

"It could mean nothing," Jake interjects, straightening and placing a reassuring hand on my shoulder. "Let's not jump to conclusions."

The tightness in my chest expands, making it hard to breathe. What if Alex is still transforming? What if the spell isn't stable? What if he's still changing, becoming something else entirely, something we can't change back?

Ben surprises me by kneeling beside me, his usual sardonic mask replaced by genuine concern.

"Hey," he says softly, his voice gentler than I've ever heard it.

"One crisis at a time, okay? We're all exhausted.

You most of all." His hand finds mine, warm and steady.

"The villa sounds like a good idea. We can watch Alex there, see if there's really a change or if it's just..

. I don't know, a gastropod growth spurt or something. "

"Ben's right," Jake agrees, his fingers squeezing my shoulder lightly. "We all need rest. A few days in the countryside might help clear our heads. Plus, things in the terrarium could have shifted. We’ve been moving non-stop for weeks.”

I look around at the four of them and find them wearing expressions with varying levels of concern.

I force a small smile, glancing back at Alex briefly, then forcing myself to look away.

They’re probably right, I’m just tired. "Okay," I finally agree, my voice smaller than I'd like.

"The villa plan. But we keep looking for Sarah in a few days. And we monitor Alex closely."

"Done," Luca says with immediate certainty. "Our accommodations are set. We can leave first thing tomorrow."

I nod and rise from the couch, suddenly exhausted. "Thank you,” I murmur in Luca’s direction. “We should all get some rest," I add, moving toward the door to the room I slept in last night. No one tries to stop me, though I feel their concerned gazes following my retreat.

At the threshold, I pause, looking back at the terrarium in Jake’s arms. Is he really bigger, or am I seeing problems where none exist? Is my guilt creating phantoms, or is something genuinely wrong?

"Goodnight," I say softly, not sure if I'm addressing the men or the snail or both.

In my own room, I curl onto the bed fully clothed, not bothering to undress.

The sounds of Milan filter through my window.

The noises of distant traffic, snippets of conversation from the street below, and an occasional siren wailing through narrow streets.

I stare at the ceiling, watching headlight beams track across it as cars navigate the roads far below.

Alone with my thoughts, I keep seeing Alex's blue shell, keep imagining it expanding, changing, becoming something we never anticipated. If he's still transforming, what does that mean for our quest? For him? For me?

The questions circle like hungry predators, finding no answers in the shadowed corners of my hotel room. I close my eyes against the city lights, willing sleep to come, knowing it will likely elude me.