Page 39 of The Slug Crystal
Jake stands a half-step in front of me, as if his body might somehow shield both me and Alex from scrutiny. His shoulders are tense, his hands shoved deep in his pockets—the Jake equivalent of full-blown panic.
Luca, on the other hand, looks completely at ease, casually flipping through his passport while humming something that sounds vaguely like an Italian pop song. His relaxed demeanor should be comforting, but somehow it only heightens my anxiety. Doesn't he understand what's at stake?
Three more groups pass through before us. A businesswoman with a briefcase, stamped through without a second glance. A family with tired children, delayed only long enough to check their documents. A college kid with abackpack who gets a cursory question about how long he's staying.
Then it's our turn.
The customs officer is a trim woman with steel-gray hair pulled back in a precise bun. She beckons us forward with a crisp flick of her wrist. Her name badge reads "Maria," but her expression says "Your Worst Nightmare." Her uniform is pressed to military perfection, and when her eyes land on the terrarium in my arms, they narrow with immediate suspicion.
"Passports," she says, her Italian accent cutting through the word like a knife.
Jake hands his over first, then mine, then Ben's. Luca steps up with his own, offering a smile that would melt glaciers. Maria remains unmoved, her gaze returning to the terrarium with laser focus.
"What is this?" she asks, pointing at Alex with a pen that looks sharp enough to double as a weapon.
"It's... it's my pet snail," I stammer, my voice cracking on the last word. "He's completely harmless."
Maria's eyes flick from the terrarium to my face, then back again. "You bring live animals into Italy?"
"He's just a garden snail," I say, trying for casual and landing somewhere closer to manic. "For... for a science project. I'm studying his, um, shell patterns." The lie sounds pathetic even to my own ears.
"Documentation?" Maria asks, extending her hand.
My heart slams against my ribs. Documentation? For a snail? Is that a thing? My mind races through all the things I didn't Google before impulsively flying to Italy with a terrarium in hand. Why didn’t we just shove him into a backpack? Because Jake has morals and told me it would be wrong.
"I didn't know I needed any," I admit, my voice small.
Jake steps closer to me, his shoulder brushing mine in silent support. "We weren't aware that documentation wasrequired for invertebrates," he says, his tone professional and calm despite the tension radiating from his body. "In the U.S., there are no restrictions on transporting common garden snails."
Maria's expression hardens. "This is not U.S. This is Italy. We have regulations for importing live animals."
Ben leans forward, flashing his most charming smile. "Look, it's just a little snail. Not dangerous, not invasive. Just a harmless pet." He winks, a move that has probably worked on countless women in countless bars. "Surely we can work something out?"
Maria's face could have been carved from stone. "Attempting to influence a customs official is an arrestable offense," she says, her voice dropping to an even more ominous register.
Ben backs off immediately, hands raised in surrender. "No influence intended. Just explaining the situation."
Luca mutters something in Italian that sounds suspiciously like a comment about bureaucracy and small-minded officials. Maria's head snaps up, her eyes flashing.
"What did you say?" she demands.
Luca switches to English, his accent suddenly thicker. "I said it is an unfortunate situation. Perhaps there is a form we can fill out? A fee we can pay?" His smile is strained now, the easy charm slipping.
Maria reaches for the terrarium. "I need to inspect this."
My arms tighten instinctively around the glass. "Please, he's very sensitive to being handled," I plead, knowing how pathetic I sound but unable to stop myself. "The stress could harm him."
"Regulations require inspection of all live animals entering the country," Maria says, unmoved. "Hand it over, or I will call security."
My vision blurs at the edges. This can't be happening. After everything we’ve been through so far, the spell, losingAlex to Ben, the road trip, the private jet, now we're going to be stopped by an airport customs officer? Alex is going to end up confiscated, probably euthanized, and I'll be arrested for... what? Snail smuggling? Is that even a crime?
I glance desperately at Jake, who looks as helpless as I feel. Ben's smile has vanished entirely, replaced by a calculating expression that suggests he's considering making a run for it. Luca is rigid beside me, his earlier relaxation completely evaporated.
"The documentation," Maria insists, her hand still extended. "Or permit for transport. You must have something."
"I don't," I admit, my voice breaking. "I didn't know I needed it. Please, he's very important to me."
"Regulations are clear," Maria says, reaching for the terrarium again. "Without proper documentation, live animals cannot enter the country."
