I slowly returned to consciousness. Light was pouring on my face. I was in a sterile looking white room, on a bed. A hospital bed, I realized. My head still felt fuzzy, like I had a bad flu, and I was fatigued and achy to boot. My normally ravenous appetite was gone too. What the hell had happened to me.

With great effort, I lifted my head up and looked around. I had a couple of tubes stuck in my arm. No new scars as far as I could tell. And nothing particularly hurt, so I probably hadn't been operated on. All my limbs were accounted for. As I took stock, Marissa came in.

"Oh hey, I was hoping I would catch you when you woke up."

"Wha-wha happen?" I asked, struggling to speak.

"Same thing that happened to the people in that neighborhood. Which is to say, we don't know. Whatever it was, you only got a small dose of it, thankfully. Thomas was able to get you out of there and call an ambulance."

"Well shit. I owe him one."

"Yeah, I think at least a gift card and a fruit basket would be appropriate. At any rate, your vitals seem to be coming back to normal, so hopefully whatever this is will pass soon and we can release you."

I nodded, and sunk back down into the bed. As I looked around, I noticed a small collection of flowers, votive plaques, charms, and other signs of well-wishers. Well, at least I was cared about.

****

Sure enough, after a day or two, the fatigue went away, my appetite returned, and I was deemed well enough to finish recovering at home. Daniella picked me up at the hospital and dropped me off at my apartment, but not before leaving me with enough blinis and cabbage rolls to last me a week. No doubt more food was coming-magical folk tend to use it as a sign of love.

Thomas came by after work to check on me. "Hey, thanks for saving my life," I said, wanting to get it out of the way.

"Of course," said Thomas. "I'm sure you'd do the same in my place."

"Still, I owe you one," I said.

"Seriously, don't worry about it. Just doing my job," he replied.

"Any news on the case?" I asked.

"Yeah, nothing good. Whatever it is, it's spreading. Half a dozen more people have gotten sick, and they all live in the suburb across the road from Hearthstone. One of them even warded his house, for all the good that did him."

"Well shit," I said. If this kept going at this rate, the whole town was in danger. And we still had no clue what was causing it.

"Well, I'll get back in the field as soon as I'm healed. Keep me posted in the mean time," I said.

"Sure thing," he said.

I used my recovery time to catch up on work from my practice, mostly mixing up herbal concoctions and the like. After another day I felt well enough to open up the shop and start taking appointments again. Still, I spent every spare moment puzzling over our mystery plague. I was grasping at straws, honestly. Maybe a Gaoth Sidhe, a Fairy Wind? No, they're far too noticeable, and generally only effect one or two people at a time. Perhaps something in the air? But I checked the air quality levels and they'd been fine. We hadn't even had much fog, so that ruled out a Far Liath. At this point I was willing to consider Miasma theory, honestly.

After I got home from the shop, I took off my coat. As I did, I felt something rustle in a pocket. I reached in and pulled out the snake skin, and chuckled to myself. At least we solved one mystery.

Then, suddenly, I had a flash of memory. Snakes. Chickens. Poison. Something tickled the back of my mind, some dreadful abomination that related to all these things. I dropped the coat and snake skin and rushed to the nearest book case. On the lowest shelf, I started pawing through my back issues of Bone and Sickle Monthly (perhaps the periodical of the strange and supernatural). A while back they'd done a bestiary issue, focusing on all sorts of magical beasts. I flipped through it, and there, toward the back, was what I sought: the Cockatrice.

The product of an egg laid by a rooster and hatched by a snake, it was a terribly hybrid of both, shaped vaguely like a chicken but with leathery wings, a toothed mouth, and a long serpentine tail. It breathed an extremely toxic poison, and simply being in the same room as one could be lethal. It had a preference for underground dwellings, particularly wells and cellars. Suddenly everything fell into place. The seemingly random poisonings. The missing pets. The scattered bones. The tracks in the mud. And I was willing to bet good money I knew where its lair was.

I was surprised I hadn't thought of it earlier, but then again apparently the last cockatrice attack was in Cumbria in 1733, so they weren't exactly common.  Its only vulnerabilities were rival cockatrices, mirrors (it couldn't stand its own reflection), and the herb rue. Hopefully I could cobble all this stuff together in time. I called Thomas and told him to get over to the hospital and get a couple suits of PPE, and that I'd meet him there. I then ran to the corner apothecary and herbalist and bought up every ounce of rue they had. I threw the bundles in my bag, grabbed a small mirror off the wall of my living room, and finally pulled a spear out from under my bed. Hey, it doesn't hurt to be prepared. Lugging all this stuff around, I jumped on my scooter (fully charged, thankfully), and headed off to the hospital.

Thomas met me there with the promised equipment (loaned to us by Marissa, another thank you card was in order). I rushed into an explanation of my theory. "A cockatrice? I didn't even think those were real," he said nonplussed.
"I know, no one's seen one in centuries. But think about everything we've seen..."

"No, you're right, it totally makes sense. But are you absolutely sure?
"Only one way to find out."

"Wait, shouldn't we call someone about this? Maybe the sheriff's office?" he asked.

"I don't think animal control is up to this one," I said, tartly.

"Ok, but maybe the National Guard then? This is serious business. If what you say is true, this thing is extremely dangerous."

He had a point. "Yeah, I guess some back-up would be good. Call the sheriff and see who he can round up? We need to act quickly, though. This thing is clearly increasing its range, and it's only a matter of time before it comes into town. We don't need a body count."

He called up pretty much every authority he could think of. The mayor got involved. Of course, they wanted to launch a massive operation, surround the woods, run a dragnet. It would take at least a day to set up.

"We don't have time for this," I said, exasperated. "This critter's gonna leave the woods before we can even start getting it cordoned off. We need to go, NOW."

"Just wait a second, there are only two of us. What do you expect us to do?"

"Oh, I've got a plan."