Chapter 10
Tucson’s rock and gem show ran for the better part of six weeks and involved the entire city, from mini venues in hotel parking lots to sprawling mazes at the fairgrounds.
The vendors came from every corner of the world, their wares ranging from dirt-encrusted raw stone to polished gems set in precious metals, and everything in between.
Though the show had once been limited to rocks, fossils, and gems, you could now find exotic fabrics, carved wood…
everything. As Akeem had said, it was like browsing the bazaars of countries I’d never be able to visit.
I’d been before, obviously, though never to find moldavite, and Benedict and I had decided to focus on one of the larger sites with good parking and a few covered buildings.
It wasn’t the weekend, but the foot traffic was heavy all the same, and my hand was cradled lightly in Benedict’s as we strolled under the faultless blue November sky.
Marty hung close, walking a little apart but clearly interested as we inched along looking for a nondescript but costly green glass among the unfinished gems and crystals.
The sun was low, and apart from the occasional beam making it past the tents and people, Pluck could have walked beside me with impunity if we had been on campus, where a ghostly demon dog wouldn’t have been noticed—or at least questioned.
That is, if not for the disgusting amount of dross rolling like tumbleweeds between the tents. Needless to say he was safely ensconced in my pocket to avoid the questions that would require an ether mage to erase.
My fingers went cold as they brushed my pocket, and I wondered, not for the first time, what it would be like if mages and sweepers could freely be themselves anywhere.
Marty had grown up being taught to hide her skills to the point where she couldn’t do anything of note.
I had been, in hindsight, fortunate that my dad had embraced his skills… and mine.
Being different is a path to destruction, fizzed coldly up through my mind, and I made a fist of my fingers. Disparities are not celebrated, they are feared.
“I don’t want to believe that,” I whispered, his opinion bubbling in my mind.
“Believe what?” Benedict asked, and I forced Pluck’s dreary thoughts from mine.
“Nothing.” I swung our hands, determined to not ruin the day.
It was wonderful being out like this shopping, even if the low sun was almost…
painful. “Let’s take a closer look at that stand,” I said as I saw a colorful banner and clearly Slavic name.
“He’s got a lot of stuff mounted in silver, but he’s got raw crystal, too. ”
“And that’s what you want,” Benedict said, making sure Marty was still with us as we angled toward the stand.
She’d been texting all the way out here, getting more and more agitated with each send, but now she was ignoring the incoming pings, her phone in a back pocket.
Clearly eager for a distraction, she studied the multiple display cabinets.
My hand cramped with a sudden cold, and I wasn’t surprised at the tiny, thin snake of dark matter wrapped around my wrist. It doesn’t matter if it’s cut, polished, or raw. Moldavite is moldavite.
I wasn’t sure if asking the vendor if he had any moldavite would get the price jacked up or not, so I strolled down the row of dusty boxes, looking at rose quartzes here, pyrites there. Moldavite was rare, and I doubted the man would have it front and center.
I’m not sensing anything, I thought, and Pluck sourly agreed.
“Petra?” Benedict’s cheerful voice brought my head up to find him with the shop owner standing expectantly before him. “He’s got some.”
Grinning, I looped my arm—the one without Pluck—in Marty’s and came closer. “Cool.”
“They aren’t pretty, so I keep them in back,” the man said, waiting until his daughter, presumably, put her breakfast down and came forward to watch the stand before he set a tray of light green unworked stones before us.
Most were little shards, but there were about four the size of my thumbnail and one as big as my thumb—all five wrapped in wire and ready to wear.
“These are nice.” I reached for the largest, feeling a faint hum pushing against me.
“My cousin lives in the Czech Republic. He gets them from the farmers right from their fields. They’re made from a meteor strike, where they fell to earth and cooled.
Some people think they give off vibrations to cause tumultuous but needed change, so be careful if you wear it. You might get more than you want.”
My fingers curved into a fist to avoid touching it. “Is that so.” I eyed the man, wondering if he knew what they were really good for or if it was just sales patter.
Benedict leaned in, clearly pleased. “Do you see anything you want?”
Me, no, but Pluck was clearly excited, bubbling and fizzing as I studied the smallest of the wire-wrapped nuggets. It was rough, full of furrows and imperfections, but this was the one he clearly liked, and I pointed. “May I?”
The man nodded and I picked it up, feeling Marty’s attention sharpen as I took a slow breath.
The arctic nothing of the glass zinged uncomfortably across my thoughts.
It had potential, but it wasn’t ringing true with the universe.
It needed a shadow to realign it before it could store dark matter and become… perfect.
“Feel that?” I handed it to Marty. “That’s moldavite.”
She jumped, her hands spasming open. Adrenaline pulsed as it slipped from her and my hand flashed out to catch it.
“Oh, my God. I’m so sorry,” she gushed, face red, and I put the piece back on the tray.
“We’ll take that one,” I said, grinning at her. “Why don’t you pick out a piece?”
“Um, aren’t they kind of expensive?”
“Not for what you’re getting,” I said, pleased she’d felt something. She was a weaver. We just had to get her to admit it, become comfortable with her new skin.
Benedict pushed some of the smaller shards around with his finger, clearly sensing nothing. “You got anything bigger?” he asked, and the man behind the makeshift counter set the tray behind him before finding a second.
Relax, we’ll get the small one, I thought as Pluck fizzed and bubbled through me, but it didn’t make any difference, and he swirled, stabbing my wrist with impatience. Marty needs to pick out a lodestone, I reminded him, and he finally settled into a sulk.
“What looks good?” I prompted Marty as she looked over the larger unwrapped stones, her brow furrowed; she was clearly afraid to pick them up.
There were no shards in this tray, and Pluck hummed in impatience as she touched one, then another.
But her gaze, I couldn’t help but notice, kept returning to an almost square one to the side.
“This one,” Marty said, tapping a brownish-green crystal that looked about the same size as the one Pluck had chosen.
“Great, can you add that to my pile?” I said. “And that square one, too. Just because I like it. It’s got a great shape.”
A surge of worry flashed through me, but it wasn’t my emotion. She doesn’t need a stone that big, Pluck protested, but I was reaching for my wallet.
It’s the one she likes, I thought. Not even Ryan would squeal, especially when it might eventually come back to the university primed for a Spinner.
The vendor set the two unwrapped stones next to Pluck’s, carefully taking the price off the bottom of each. “You’re a lapidarist, then?”
“Not really. I just wrap them in wire the way you have and let them be what they are. They are really nice pieces. I’m glad we found you.”
Smiling, the man bobbed his head, his thin brown fingers expertly wrapping each crystal in black paper before putting them in a surprisingly posh black bag with his name on it.
Marty edged away, her brow pinched and her phone in her hand. “Hey, ah, I’ll be over there,” she said, pointing across the walkway to a quiet storefront. “I need to answer this.”
“Okay.” I turned to the vendor. “You take cards, right?”
“Sure.” Sighing, the man got his phone out, head down as he brought up his pay app.
Benedict bumped my shoulder, his eyes on Marty. “Is three enough?”
“We can come back next year.” I handed Ryan’s card over, anxious to have that little black bag in my hands. The memory of Thoth flitted through me, and I stifled a shudder.
“My card is in there,” the man said, his smile so wide I wondered if he knew who I was. “Call me direct next time, and I can mail anything to you. No need to wait a year.”
“Thank you. I might just do that.” Pluck fizzed and bubbled, and Benedict took the bag seeing as Pluck was still wrapped around my wrist.
“You want to grab a coffee for the ride home?” Benedict asked as we left the vendor, and a feeling of rightness suffused me. Whatever happened in the future—today, this very hour, was good.
“That’s actually not a bad idea.” I lifted my gaze to the far side of the walkway to ask Marty if that might be something she’d like…only to find a new worry. “Where did she go?”
Benedict stiffened, his hand slipping from mine as he looked both ways, his height making it easy for him. “She was right here.”
I looked one way, then the other. “Pluck?”
On it, he thought, and I shivered when he spiraled to my fingertips and hazed to the ground, becoming one with the shadows as he vanished under the shelves and tables.
My first thought was that she’d run, but I’d seen her eyes alight when she touched the moldavite. More telling were those texts and the stoically ignored calls. “I’ll check the bathroom,” I said, seeing the low-slung building at the end of the row.
“Good idea. I’ll wait for you at the gate.” He took off, pace fast as he glanced down every aisle with the agitated worry of a parent looking for a wayward child.