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I turned to the page containing her drawing, then to the first page of mine. The two plants looked almost identical beneath different hands.

“Talking to your grandma?”

I looked up and smiled.

Barrett filled the doorway. Though the new frame stood taller than the old one, he still needed to stoop slightly.

“Sort of.”

He came inside carrying two trays of seedlings. “Where do you want these?”

“Bench three.”

I immediately spotted something unfamiliar in the second tray as he set them down. “What is that?”

Barrett glanced at it. “Don’t know.”

I walked over to take a closer look. Four tiny leaves had emerged from the soil, dark green with an almost metallic sheen, their stems reddish near the base.

“Where did you get it?”

Barrett glanced at the tray. “East ridge.”

I bent closer, careful not to touch the leaves. The seedling wasn’t in any of the beds we’d planned for the east-ridge collection.

“You brought this back separately.”

Barrett hesitated. “Felt important.”

My pulse quickened.

Six weeks ago, I might have reached for gloves, tweezers, sample bags, reference books, and every piece of measuring equipment within ten feet.

Now I simply looked at him. “Important how?”

He seemed mildly annoyed. “Don’t know.”

I wrote BARRETT’S MYSTERY PLANT #6 on a label.

His eyebrows rose. “No provisional designation?”

I stuck the label into the soil. “I’m growing as a person.”

We knew now that Barrett’s abilities reached further than either of us had realized. Karloff had been intrigued by what happened in the caves and profoundly unhelpful about explaining any of it.

There were deeper layers to Barrett beyond the man-bear hybrid activated by the Frankenpunch. We both knew that.

We’d also agreed we didn’t need every answer yet. Some mysteries could stay mysteries for a while. I was learning that too.

“Ready?” Barrett asked.

“For what?”

His expression suggested I’d forgotten something obvious. Then I remembered.

“The bees.” I closed Grandma’s journal and returned it to the cabinet.

Outside, I stopped at the storage locker Barrett had built against the back wall of the lab and pulled out my beekeeping jacket and veil. He didn’t bother with either. Apparently, the fact that the bees liked him had convinced him they’d entered into some kind of permanent nonaggression pact.