Half-Off Ragnarok: Book Three of InCryptid Read Online Free PDF Page B

where I was living. And then my cousin Sarah got seriously hurt saving Verity’s life, and it suddenly seemed like a really good idea for me to take my grandparents up on their offer of a place to stay. We’re family. We stick together.
    “Grandma, Grandpa, I’m home!” I called, dropping my briefcase next to the coatrack and peeling off my light jacket. Not that I needed one for Ohio in the spring, but I grew up in Oregon; I feel naked without a coat. Crow appeared at the head of the stairs, croaking once in greeting before disappearing again, off on some obscure griffin business that didn’t involve coming down for scritches.
    “Alex!” My grandfather emerged from the kitchen. He was grinning widely, and had a frilly apron that read “Kiss the Cook” struggling to remain tied around his waist. “You made it in time for dinner!”
    I smiled. “That was the goal. I have a lot of work to do tonight, so I figured I should spend some quality time with my family.”
    “Good,” said Grandpa. “I look forward to hearing about your day. Now come give your grandmother a kiss.” He motioned for me to follow him. Being an obedient grandson, I did as I was bid, and stepped into the warm, homey-smelling air of the kitchen. Sometimes it’s good to go where everybody knows your name . . . and your species.

    My grandparents have what could charitably be referred to as “a mixed marriage.” Not in the sense that they’re of different religions or races, but in the sense that they’re actually different
species
, and neither of them is a member of the species commonly known as
Homo sapiens
. (Their daughter, my mother, is human. She was adopted.)
    Grandma Angela is a cuckoo, a form of hyper-evolved parasitic wasp with annoyingly strong telepathic abilities. They look like pale, black-haired humans, for reasons that only nature can explain. Nature’s not talking, possibly because even nature realizes that giving perfect camouflage to apex predators is sort of a dick move. Grandpa Martin is a little closer to human—or at least, he started out that way. He’s what we call a Revenant, a construct of formerly dead body parts that has been successfully reanimated through one highly unpleasant mechanism or another. In his case, it was your standard mad scientist bent on denying the laws of God and man in favor of obeying his own twisted muse. The result of that long-dead scientist’s tinkering was my grandfather, a six-and-a-half-foot–tall man who looks, charitably speaking, like he’s wrestled one too many bears in his day. He’s one of the nicest men I’ve ever met, maybe because he doesn’t feel like anything is worth getting too worked up over.
    Grandma married him because he was the first man she’d ever met who wasn’t affected by her telepathy. This is the sort of thing that Internet dating sites never have a field for. Anyway, they’d settled in Ohio and adopted three children: my mother Evelyn, my uncle Drew, whose room I was currently occupying, and my cousin Sarah, who was my age. (Technically, this makes Sarah my aunt, but “cousin” is a better match for our respective ages and actual relationship.)
    Speaking of Grandma, she was taking dinner out of the oven when Grandpa and I walked into the kitchen. She raised her head and smiled. “Alex! You’re home early.”
    I glanced at the clock. “It’s almost six. I need to work on my definition of ‘early.’”
    “But you can’t argue with me, now, can you?” She handed the covered casserole dish to my grandfather, who didn’t need oven mitts to transport it safely to the table. “Give me a hug and wash your hands before you put your nametag on. We’re having shepherd’s pie for dinner.”
    “I love your shepherd’s pie.” I obligingly hugged her before moving to the sink. I couldn’t stop myself from glancing toward the dining room door as I turned the water on. “How is she?”
    Grandma sighed. “It’s not her
best
day,” she