Page 27 of The Slug Crystal
We step outside, and the cold air smacks me in the face. A shiver runs down my spine, and I rub my hands up and down to warm up the sudden chill. It’s full dark now, the streetlights humming lowly as they offer sporadic spots of light. Ben’s tapping away on his phone. Jake paces next to the truck, hands balled into fists, his breath fogging in the rain.
I hold the terrarium up to the light, watching the snail slowly unfurl, his blue shell glinting under the sickly glow of the lamp.
“Well,” I say, “now what?”
Jake opens the truck, climbs in, and waits. Ben lingers, then finally shrugs, “We could try the website again? Or… I don’t know. Maybe go to Italy?”
I want to cry, but instead I laugh. “We just drove across three states for a cup of burnt coffee and a rumor. I don’t think that we can justify a trip to Italy based on another rumor.”
Ben finally looks up from his phone and climbs into the truck, adding, “At least it was a pretty good cup.”
I nod, exhaling. The relief is sour, but it’s relief all the same. We’re not any closer to fixing Alex, but for the first time, I’m not sure I want to. I mean, he looks peaceful in there. What if this is just who he’s meant to be now? What if we did all we can do?
Jake rolls down his window and calls out, “You coming?”
I tuck the terrarium under my arm, glance up at the sky, and say, “Yeah. Let’s go home.”
As we pull away, I look back at Dottie’s, at the window bright against the empty street. There’s comfort in the ordinariness of it all. Sometimes you follow magic, and all you get is a cup of coffee and a story to tell.
I try really hard not to think about Sarah moving to Italy, but the more I attempt to push the thought away, the more persistent it becomes. The terrarium in my arms feels heavier with every heartbeat, like Alex is gaining mass just to spite me. Or maybe it’s the ache in my chest, which is now less metaphorical and more like a hot, heavy pulse straight across my ribs that increases as my panic rises. The streets are empty except for us and the dull hum of the power lines.
“What if someone notices he’s gone?” The words jump out before I can lasso them back. I press my palms to my temples, squeezing my skull like it’s a stress ball. “Alex, I mean. What if his job calls, or his landlord? What if they send a wellness check and find his empty apartment?”
Jake glances at me from the driver’s seat, his expression a mix of exasperation and raw concern. He takes a hand from the steering wheel and places it across my thigh. The gesture feels wrong, too intimate for my normally reserved friend.
“Emma.” He says my name once, soft but firm, pulling my attention from his touch.
I squeeze my eyes shut, and when I open them, the world is blurry with tears I didn’t give permission to exist.
He leans in, voice so low I barely hear it over the rain tapping the windshield. “We’ll figure it out. Alina can call his job, say he had a family emergency. She’s good at shit like that. If anyone asks, I’ll back her up. So will Ben.”
I nod, because that’s the only part of my body that still works. For all my drama about revenge, closure, and power, I forgot that other people would notice if a person vanished.That I’m not the only character in this story, and sometimes being a side character hurts more than being the lead.
Jake is still right there, holding my panic in place. I notice for the first time that he’s shaking a little, too. Just enough to let me know he’s as freaked out as I am. He pulls the truck to the side of the road, puts it into park, and turns off the wipers. Then, he looks at me expectantly. His hand still hasn’t left my thigh.
The pattering of the rain slowly becomes a soothing, steady background noise, grounding me better than any breathing exercise ever could. I focus on that sound, letting it pull me out of the spiral long enough to dial Alina.
She picks up on the first ring, and before I can say anything, she’s already mid-sentence. “Did you find her? Did she give you a reversal? Is Jake still alive? Did this Ben guy try to kidnap you for his blog?”
I exhale, shaky. “We found Dottie’s. But Sarah’s gone. Venice, possibly.”
Alina gasps. “Italy?”
“Yeah. Dottie says she’s flighty, essentially. She left a couple months ago. No one knows where exactly.” My voice cracks on the last word, which is humiliating, but I plow ahead. “I can’t do this, Lina. I can’t explain away a missing person. I don’t even know if anyone’s looking, or if it matters, but I just—I can’t.”
There’s a pause on the line, then Alina’s tone shifts to total war mode. “You don’t have to. I’ll call his office, say I’m his emergency contact. Tell them he’s taking care of a family thing in, like, Nebraska. They’ll eat it up. Nobody ever questions a Nebraska trip.”
I sniff. “You think?”
“I know,” Alina says, voice suddenly very gentle. “I’ll make sure nobody panics. I’ll text you my script in five minutes. You’re not alone, Em.”
For a second, I think I might actually be okay. I manage a watery laugh. “You always save my ass.”
She snorts. “That’s why you keep me around. Also, for my cheesecake recipe, but mostly the ass-saving.”
I want to say thank you, but it feels too small for what I owe her, so I just listen as she rattles off a checklist. Call Alex’s work, contact his landlord, cover our own bases, maybe even post a cryptic “taking a break from social media” update on his accounts. Alina is a logistics sorcerer, and I let her spell settle around me until my heartbeat slows back down. The tight knot of panic in my chest loosens.
Jake squeezes my upper thigh, the pressure warm and steady. “See? We’ve got it. No one’s coming for us. Or him.”
