“Of course, Alex,” said Grandma, who was seated at the table across from Shelby. Grandpa was at the stove, stirring a pot of what appeared to be milk. No one was bleeding or even visibly injured, and the mess from our first aid adventure had been cleared away. All good signs. Grandma smiled encouragingly, motioning for me to take the chair next to Shelby. “We didn’t shoot her or threaten her or anything.”

“Your grandfather’s making us more cocoa,” said Shelby, sounding faintly stunned. “He’s heating the milk for it now.”

“Grandpa makes really good cocoa,” I said, trying to be reassuring. I turned back to Grandma. “I talked to our Covenant expert, and he confirmed that they don’t have any Australian recruits. We may not be able to reach the Thirty-Six Society directly, but the odds are good that she’s not Covenant.”

“That’s nice, dear,” said Grandma. “Sit down and have some cocoa.”

I eyed her as I slipped into my chair. “Does the fact that she’s not Covenant and we’re all having a second round of cocoa mean you’ve decided not to threaten Shelby anymore? Because seriously, that is not the way to help me have a healthy relationship.”

“We’ve come to an agreement,” said Grandma. “She doesn’t attempt to kill anyone who lives in this house, I don’t arrange for her sudden disappearance. Largely because you’d be a suspect, and I’d rather not get you taken in for police questioning.”

“Angela.” We turned to my grandfather. He was standing with his hands on his hips, scowling at his wife. “The young lady explained her reasons for being here, and even you have to agree that they were good ones. Your species does a lot of damage. No one knows that better than you do. Now stop tormenting the poor kids. Alex has already been punished enough for having company over without permission, what with the whole, ah,” he gestured vaguely at his face, “eyes getting turned to stone business.”

Grandma sighed. “I’m sorry, Martin. I just don’t appreciate having my house rules violated like this.” And there was the glare I’d been expecting.

I put up my hands. “I would never have invited her over if there hadn’t been a petrifactor at the zoo—which brings us back to the cockatrice, if you don’t mind talking about something other than how much trouble I’m in or how much you’d like to be allowed to kill my girlfriend.”

“How sure are you that it was a cockatrice?” asked my grandfather.

“I took a direct hit,” I said, letting my hands drop to the table. I leaned back in my chair, feeling suddenly tired. “The lighting and the circumstances meant that I didn’t get the best look at it, but when we prepared the treatment, I used the cockatrice antivenin.”

Now it was Grandma’s turn to blink. “You didn’t use the general gorgon? But, Alex—”

“I was sure it was a cockatrice! Well, almost sure. Eighty percent sure. If we’d used gorgon antivenin, my eyes would have remained partially petrified. I couldn’t risk it.” There’s no place in the field for a cryptozoologist who can’t see. Oh, I’d have opportunities for work—if nothing else, I’d be better equipped than anyone in the world to continue my basilisk studies—but I’d be removed from active duty for the remainder of my life. That wasn’t something I’d been willing to let happen. “So I told them to use the cockatrice antivenin, and it worked.”

Shelby looked at me, horrified. “You mean you were guessing?” she demanded.

“You got almost as good a look at the thing as I did, Shelby, and you didn’t contradict me.” I shrugged. “That seemed like a good sign.”

“Of course I didn’t argue, you idiot! There are no cockatrices in Australia!” Shelby grabbed the front of my shirt as she shouted at me. “You could have been killed! You could have been turned to stone, and it would have been my fault, you—you—you Price!”

“I can see why you like her,” said Grandpa, putting a cup in front of each of us. “She’s enthusiastic about her work.”

“And definitely understands that you’ve been bred to take idiotic risks in the name of science. That’ll serve her well,” said Grandma, accepting her own cup. The liquid inside was a toxic-looking orange rather than brown.

“The key word here is ‘science,’” I said, scowling at both of them. “I made a determination based on what I had observed, and I was correct. My eyes are fine.”

“Better yet, we know what probably killed your coworker,” said Grandpa. He walked back to the counter, picking up his own cup of cocoa. “I doubt we have two petrifactors running loose in this town.”

I froze in the act of reaching for my cocoa. “Say that again.”

“I said that I doubt we have two petrifactors running loose in this town. Not counting the local gorgons, of course. They’ve been good neighbors for decades. They’ve got no reason to stop now.”

“But we’re miles from the zoo.” I stood. “The average cockatrice has a range of less than a square mile. They’re not migratory, and they don’t like to move too far from their dens.”

“Alex . . . ?” said Grandma.

It was Shelby who realized what I was saying first. She reached for her gun, saying, “Either this isn’t the same cockatrice, or—”

“Or someone brought it here,” I finished grimly. “Somebody brought it here and set it loose in our backyard. This wasn’t a random encounter. This was an attack.”

There was a long moment of silence before my grandmother said, uneasily, “You can’t be sure of that.”

Cuckoos aren’t fighters. They weren’t built that way, unlike us monkeys, who were basically born to defend our territory. To my surprise, it was once again Shelby who spoke first. “Are they clever things, these cockatrices?” she asked.

“Not particularly,” I said. “Why?”

“Back at the zoo, Andrew’s body was pushed into the bushes. There’s no way he was that well-covered from just falling,” said Shelby. “Whatever turned him to stone could have been a dumb animal, but he was moved by someone who was smart enough to know what they were doing.”

I paused. “Are you sure?” I’d been so focused on the unusual circumstances of his death that I hadn’t been looking for signs that anything else was involved.