Seth opened his eyes. His cheek pressed against the floor, something warm and wet pooling against his skin. The scent of copper flooded his nostrils. Blood. Where was he? Back at his apartment?

Something pressed into the back of his neck. His headphones, which still hummed with the Signal's static. Seth drank in that wondrous sound, and he tried to think. How did he end up on the floor?

A loud click caught Seth's attention. It was from across the room, over by his desk. He glanced over and saw nothing at first, but then his computer shifted. One of the cords snapped out the back, all on its own. Then another.

That's right, the invisible man. That bastard had slit Seth's throat and left him for dead. Seth didn't know how long he'd been out, but it seemed his healing ability had eventually caught up to the blood loss. Now it looked like the invisible man was trying to steal his computer. Why would he do that? It didn't make any sense.

The shotgun was nearby, close enough that Seth could brush it with his fingertips. He needed to wait for the perfect moment, then blast the invisible man with a hail of buckshot. Though he had to be careful. This adversary was completely invisible, and he could have other powers as well. Hopefully, he didn't have a wish that made him bulletproof.

Once all the wires were disconnected, the computer lifted in the air. His prize in tow, the invisible man walked across the living room, heading for the exit. Along the way, he had to step over Seth's body.

He stopped for a moment. Nudged Seth with his foot.

It took all of Seth's willpower to stay still, to act dead. The invisible man stood over him for agonizing seconds, but he eventually moved on, toward the door.

Now was his chance.

Seth stood up, grabbed the shotgun, and wheeled on the invisible man. He pulled the trigger.

The computer exploded, plastic and metal shrapnel spraying over the living room. Unsatisfied with that, Seth fired again, and this time he was rewarded with a splatter of blood across the walls. The invisible man grunted in pain, and blood dripped from an invisible wound as he stumbled to the side, back toward the kitchen.

Seth's heart thudded through his ears, and his arms trembled, but he couldn't help the smile on his face.

"I got you."

. . .

Arthur Griffin was a fool. Slitting the boy's throat? What had he been thinking? One couldn't underestimate the hosts of these parasites. Especially one of the primes. Would Griffin treat Grace or Owen so lightly? Probably not.

Slitting the boy's throat? They weren't supposed to be killing him anyway. Straight foolishness, and look what had happened?

Lucille Perkins watched from atop the fridge as blood dripped across the kitchen floor, leaving a crimson trail. The shotgun had made a bloody mess of the place, and though Griffin was alive, Lucille didn't know how injured he was.

Which meant the mission was up to her. Lovely.

She rolled her shoulders, and crouched low, ready to pounce. Her current form was light and nimble, and it allowed her to fit in small spaces. It was not, however, the best choice for combat. Not that she'd had combat in mind when she'd asked for it.

When the parasite had first spoken to Lucille, she hadn't even known what it was. At the time, she'd been a clueless pawn of Grace, one of her Charmed. So when the parasite had granted her a wish, Lucille had asked for the ability to speak with her beloved cats.

Instead, the wish allowed her to morph into a cat at will.

The ability had its uses. There were many benefits to being a cat, and it did fulfill her original request, in a roundabout way.

Grace hadn't been satisfied with that. A member of her exclusive Pantheon ought to have better powers, so Grace had used her Diagnostic Report to analyze Lucille's ability. It turned out, the powers of these parasites weren't so rigid. There were ways to manipulate them, to tug at the waves of cosmic energy. In doing so, Grace had found a way to modify the transformation. To reverse it in some ways, to emphasize its traits in others.

Lucille bounded from the top of the fridge, and she initiated her transformation. As she shifted, Lucille manipulated the energy, just as Grace had taught her.

The resulting form was a hulking beast, twice Lucille's normal size. She landed on the floor with a heavy thump, her claws punching through the vinyl and scratching the plywood underneath. She stood up on her back legs, and her muscles coiled into a thick bulge. The resulting transformation was humanoid in form, but Lucille kept her fur and her tail and her claws.

Grace had aptly named it: the Werecat.

"What the fuck!" Seth watched from the living room, his shotgun held across his chest. "Even the cat wants to kill me?"

Lucille growled. One of the downsides of this form was that it increased her aggression, and she had trouble forming words. Not that she'd be able to convince Seth to come along quietly. Maybe Griffin had the right idea after all. Violence was the only way to capture the boy.

The shotgun barrel swiveled down as Seth dug two new shells from his pocket and slotted them inside. He quickly wrenched the barrel closed, then pointed the gun at Lucille's chest.

A loud bang shook the windows. Pellets slammed against Lucille's fur, and she grunted at the impact. Her skin stung. The shot would leave a nasty bruise, but the pellets failed to penetrate her fur. This might be easier than she'd thought.

Lucille dug her claws into the floor and leaped over the counter. She sailed toward Seth, arm reared back and ready to slash his shotgun in two.

The boy saw her coming, and he rolled to the side. Lucille streaked past him. She landed on all fours, claws tearing deep grooves in the floor. Her momentum sent her crashing against a couch, but Lucille quickly recovered and she bounded across the living room in a wide arc. Another storm of pellets rattled off her fur. That gun was like a toy to her. Nothing more than an annoyance.

Before Seth could reload, Lucille pounced on him. She slashed at his chest, her claws whistling through the air. Seth dodged under them in a blur. His speed surprised her. His Reflex must be near her own, which was impressive, considering how new his parasite was.

Lucille growled, and she grabbed at his throat. The boy tried to dodge again. This time she saw it coming and she whipped her tail around to block off his escape. Seth stumbled against her tail, and his eyes shot wide as her claws reached for his neck.

Seth grabbed Lucille's wrist, halting her advance. Jesus, the boy was strong too. Her muscles coiled against her fur, and she growled as she tried to inch her hand forward. Somehow, Seth managed to hold her back, his muscles trembling, veins swelling, sweat dripping down his forehead. If he'd drop his shotgun and use his other hand, his strength would easily overpower hers.

She reached out her index finger, and her claw barely reached the boy's collarbone.

That slight touch was all she needed.

The Werecat form had an odd synergy with Lucille's Reflex stat. Not only did she have the physical attributes of a cat: the fur, the tail, the claws, but these attributes were supercharged to the extreme.

Lucille retracted her claws. The lengths of sharpened keratin slid back into her fingertips, and from there, cosmic energy gathered behind them, ready to spring the claws out as if they were bullets fired from a gun.

Once the energy reached its crescendo, she extended her claws. The nails shot out so fast that a sonic boom shook the windows. Her claw punched into Seth's collarbone, shattering it, and the force sent the boy flying across the room.

Seth crashed against the far wall, denting the plaster. He slumped to the floor. His eyes darted about the room, and he struggled to draw in a breath. Still, he held his shotgun. His eyes settled on her, and the cloudiness disappeared. Seth reached into his pocket for more shotgun shells. He came up empty.

Aw, was the boy out of ammo? So sad.

Lucille growled, the muscles in her thighs coiling into a dense spring, and she launched herself at her quarry.

To the boy's credit, he recovered from his wounds quite quickly. As Lucille rocketed toward him, he rolled into a crouch, then dove between her legs. Lucille crashed into the wall, obliterating the drywall and cracking the timber frame underneath.

Now behind her, Seth tried to gain some distance. Not on her watch. Lucille snapped out her tail and wrapped it around the boy's midsection. She lifted him in the air as if he were a doll, then whipped him into the kitchen counter.

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Seth's ribs cracked against the faux marble, and he cried out. His eyes were wild now, black veins spiraling out from his pupils. He stood tall, his muscles tense, his tattered sweater swaying against his lean frame.

After all that, the boy still had plenty of fight left in him. This was getting ridiculous. What would it take to put him down for good? Slitting his throat hadn't worked. And incapacitating the boy? Forget it.

Where was Griffin hiding? Lucille could use his help about now.

She crouched down, preparing to pounce. It was the only thing she could think to do. Just keep up the offensive and hope she could eventually whittle him down.

Lucille charged, and Seth met her halfway. She slashed at him, claws screaming, but he ducked under them and punched her in the ribs. A shockwave radiated from his fist and rippled across her fur. The force knocked a burst of air from her nose with a loud hiss.

Seth punched her again, and again, faster and faster until his fists fell on her like a torrential downpour. Each punch hit harder than his shotgun had, and Lucille staggered under the assault.

Pain bloomed across her chest, her shoulder, her stomach. A stray fist hit her cheek and rattled her sharp, needle-like teeth. She toppled onto her back, the bloody floor staining her fur red.

Lucille growled. That was enough, boy.

She snapped her arm out, catching Seth's fist in her palm. Her hand was double the size of his, and she wrapped her fingers tight around his fist, holding it in place. Seth continued punching with his other hand, but Lucille caught that one as well.

His assault halted, she gasped for air, every breath sending a burst of pain along her ribs. That was a good try, but Lucille had known she would get the upper hand. In a close-quarters fight, her Werecat form would always come out on top.

Seth struggled to escape her grasp. He planted his feet on the floor, trying to secure leverage. And though Lucille was twice his size, Seth nearly matched her in strength. If he kept pulling, he'd eventually break free.

So Lucille leaned into his strength, allowing him to pull her off the floor. She climbed to her feet, and the boy shrunk back as she towered over him. Once her footing was secured, she snapped out her tail, wrapped it around his midsection, and lifted him in the air.

His arms were restrained, his feet off the ground. Without any leverage, there wasn't much he could do.

Seth flashed her a wicked smile.

Lucille almost wilted under his black gaze. Something was happening to the boy. His arms bulged, his muscles hardening until they were as dense as iron. And even held in the air, with no leverage, he managed to pull away from her, his strength seeming to double out of nowhere. Had he been holding back this whole time?

Her heart thudded in her chest, and she knew he'd break free any moment now. And when he did, he'd beat her into a bloody pulp.

Lucille retracted her claws, then extended them again.

The sharp nails speared out and cut clean through his wrists, severing both of his hands. She felt the spray of blood before the sonic boom hit her ears, loud as a gunshot.

Seth screamed. He squirmed against her tail's grasp, and it took all of Lucille's effort to stop him from waving back and forth. Even without his hands, the boy remained a threat. She needed to take care of him, here and now, or he would be a constant thorn in Grace's side. Perhaps even worse than Owen.

Lucille held out her arms, one on top of the other, and pressed her palms against Seth's chest. She panted for air, her lungs burning. This was it. The end of Seth Mayhew, and the black parasite that lived inside him.

She retracted her claws, then extended them.

The nails slipped into his chest, knifing through flesh and punching through bone. The force rocked him back, and he'd go flying if it weren't for her tail holding him in place. She retracted her claws, then extended them again. In and out and in and out. Speeding up faster and faster until they sounded like a machine gun.

Lucille raked her hands up and down his body, ripping free plumes of blood that splattered against her fur. Her claws stabbed into him like a needle sewing crimson threads. A sewing machine of death.

She growled, which heightened into a roar, and then a feral scream as her claws ramped into a bloody blur.

She kept going until her nails dulled into smooth nubs. A pained gasp burst from her throat, and she fell to her knees, releasing the boy in the process. Seth thumped to the ground, a bloody mess.

Lucille glanced over. The boy wasn't moving, and he didn't seem to be healing either. His chest was caved in, chunks of flesh missing, and blood welled up in the deep holes her claws had carved. Was he truly dead? She didn't want to make the same mistake Griffin had.

Where was Griffin hiding? She called out for him, but it came out as a warbled growl.

Blood dripped against the kitchen floor. So that's where he was. Of course, Griffin didn't say anything. The man was practically a mute, and with his social aversion, it was no wonder he'd wished to be invisible.

Lucille's ears twitched. A speaker popped from near Seth's body. She turned back to the boy, or what was left of him. He had a pair of headphones around his neck. The band had cracked in half, and one of the speakers hung by a loose wire.

"Bluetooth disconnected," a robotic female voice said from Seth's laptop. "Resuming playback."

Static crackled from the laptop speakers. It was the Signal, but… Jesus, it felt amazing. Lucille had spent hours conditioning herself to the Signal's splendor, however, this version left her frozen in shock. Her fur stood on end, and she found herself walking toward the laptop, as if in a trance.

It was no wonder Grace was interested in the boy. This laptop had improved Owen's Signal tenfold, making it seem amateur in comparison. Perhaps the sound crackling from Seth's laptop was what the Second Shadow would sound like.

The mission had changed. Lucille and Griffin had been sent to the boy's apartment for reconnaissance. They hadn't even expected Seth to show up. Andrews and Upton were supposed to be taking care of the troublesome college students.

But this laptop changed everything. It would finally give Grace the confidence to go after Owen. They could infiltrate his farm, steal the rest of the meteorite fragments, drop the Second Shadow, and the Final Shadow after that.

The world was about to change, the biggest leap since the Industrial Revolution.

A dark shadow flickered in the corner of Lucille's vision. She whipped her head around, eyes snapping wide.

Oh no.

Black slime boiled out of Seth's chest. A dark mass that shivered and undulated, incomprehensible shapes swirling under the surface. It was the parasite, but in a form Lucille had never seen. Larger. Unstable. Ready to evolve.

The sight of the parasite nailed Lucille's feet to the floor. She couldn't move. Couldn't think. Even the improved Signal faded to the background, inconsequential compared to the malice that radiated from the parasite.

It was a mistake to treat one of the primes so lightly. Lucille had chastised Griffin for underestimating the boy, but she'd fallen into the same trap.

She needed to run.

The slime extended a thin tendril, which quickly snapped off from the main mass. The smaller piece rolled into a ball and bounced across the floor. At first, Lucille thought it was coming for her, and her heart seized in fear. But no, the ball stopped near the shotgun. It sat still for a moment, dark reflections glancing off its oily surface, then it uncoiled into a worm and plunged into the shotgun's barrel.

Lucille stared at the shotgun, and her veins ran cold. The gun's appearance didn't change, but it radiated a dark aura that drove the breath from her lungs. It felt like the shotgun was laughing at her. Or screaming. Perhaps a mix of the two.

Try as she might, she couldn't look away. But from the corner of her eye, she saw the boy getting up. Seth's chest was torn open, ribs hanging loose like he was a piece of roadkill. Even so, he got up, a wicked grin on his face. His wounds started to heal, closing around the parasite, hiding that terrible beast in a cocoon of flesh.

The boy was a monster.

Owen had warned Grace that, before the Final Shadow fell, a devil would walk the earth. And with his Prophet ability, they'd been fools to ignore him. In the end, Owen was right. The devil was here, the beast whose eyes burned black.

Seth walked over to the shotgun, picked it up.

Finally, Lucille was able to look away, the spell broken. She held her breath and eyed the boy. Seth wasn't paying her any mind, his sole attention on his new weapon. The window was just behind her, the fog blowing across her fur. Only a few steps, and she could make her escape.

Seth held out his shotgun and aimed it at the coffee table. He pulled the trigger.

A black slug snapped out of the barrel like a snake lunging from its den. The slug ballooned out into a giant mouth, and it chomped a massive bite from the table. Wood splinters sprayed out, and the slug struggled to swallow them all, its size inflating even further. Impossibly, the slug squeezed its meal tight, condensing the wood until it could slither back into the shotgun.

What the hell? The whole thing happened in less than a second, and Lucille wondered if she'd even seen it properly. What had the boy wished for?

Seth flashed Lucille a knowing smile, then he turned to the kitchen, where blood dripped from an invisible wound. He flicked out his shotgun and pulled the trigger.

This time, a tornado of wood screamed from the barrel. Jagged spears streaked through the air in a huge cone, a much larger spread than the old buckshot. Nothing could have escaped its carnage. A wave of blood exploded from the kitchen, where Arthur Griffin had been standing. It was like popping a water balloon.

When the red mist cleared, Lucille stared at the horrifying aftermath. The kitchen was studded in splinters. They stuck from the drywall, from the counter, from the cabinets, most of them stained red.

Seth leaned back and laughed. A true monster.

He danced over to the counter. It was only a few strides, but he moved in a blur. Lucille blinked, and when his figure resolved, he was holding the shotgun out to the faux marble. Again, the slug emerged, and it took a massive bite from the counter.

It was then that Lucille understood. During her fight, Seth had run out of shells for his shotgun. Now, whatever the slug ate turned into the gun's payload. Seth would never have to worry about ammo again.

The boy had obliterated Griffin with only a few bits of wood. Lucille dreaded what the gun would do with a mouthful of rock or plastic or epoxy or whatever the fuck that counter was made out of.

A storm of electricity surged down Lucille's veins, her muscles shivering in response. She turned around and ran as fast as she could. At the same time, she initiated her transformation and began turning back into a normal cat. Her bones shortened, her skin tightened, and she quickly shrank down to a tenth of her previous size.

The window was right there. Lucille leaped for it, and she sailed into the mist. A moment later, the shotgun went off.

Shrapnel cut through the fog like forks of lightning. Most of it shot overhead, as Lucille had already begun her descent from the third-story apartment. But one piece sliced through her back leg, punching clean through.

Lucille yelped from the pain. If she had remained in the apartment, that blast would have turned her into Swiss cheese. Even with her toughened fur and reinforced skeleton.

Her paws slammed to the concrete, the impact strumming up her bones. She took a step, and her wounded leg almost gave out. Lucille couldn't let that happen. If she stopped now, Seth was going to kill her. So Lucille darted into the shadows, running in no particular direction. As long as it was away from that monster.