The Luthor mansion loomed over the party-goers like a stone sentinel. Inside, the air was thick with expensive perfume and the low-frequency thrum of Lex's private security grid.
Jeremy arrived with Chloe, his arm wrapped protectively around her waist. He could feel the Static reacting to the mansion's massive power supply, the massive chandeliers hummed with an electrical frequency that Jeremy could feel in his teeth, and the sheer volume of "life" in the room—hundreds of beating hearts—made his Reflexes twitch.
He moved through the Great Hall with Chloe on his arm. She looked stunning in a dark velvet dress, her eyes bright with the thrill of being at the center of the town's elite. To her, Jeremy was the hero who had "cured" the darkness. To the rest of the room, he was a miracle.
"Lex really knows how to throw a birthday bash," Chloe whispered, leaning into Jeremy's side. "Even if the decor is a bit 'Bond Villain' for my taste."
"It's a fortress, Chloe," Jeremy said, his voice a smooth, low-voltage hum. "A place built to keep things in. Or out."
He scanned the room and saw a bizarre scene near the buffet. Pete looked like he wanted to vanish into the wallpaper. Jodi was standing next to him, her plate piled high with raw vegetables and cocktail shrimp. She wasn't talking; she was staring at the other guests with a wide-eyed, predatory intensity that made the hair on the back of Jeremy's neck stand up.
"She's getting worse," Jeremy whispered to himself.
"Who is?" Chloe asked, following his gaze. "Oh, wow. Jodi looks... intense. Do you think she's okay?"
"She's transitioning, Chloe," Jeremy said, his voice full of feigned sympathy. "The weight loss... it's not natural. I can feel the 'noise' coming off her from across the room. It's a vacuum. She's going to start looking for fat, Chloe. Real, organic fat."
Chloe gripped his arm, her eyes wide with trust. "You mean she's like the others? Like Greg?"
"Worse," Jeremy said. "She's a siphon. If I don't help her, Pete might not make it through the slow dance."
"Jeremy, be careful," Chloe whispered, her eyes wide with that terrifyingly pure devotion. "She looks... hungry."
…
Jeremy stood near the grand staircase, his Apex Senses filtering the room like a thermal map. He wasn't looking at the birthday girl or the sprawling buffet; he was watching the cellular disintegration of Jodi Melville.
To the untrained eye, she was a success story—a girl who had finally shed the weight that defined her. But Jeremy could see the truth: her skin was starting to pucker like vacuum-sealed plastic, and her eyes were wide, yellowed, and devoid of a soul. She wasn't just thin; she was hollow. Her body was a furnace that had run out of fuel, and it was starting to burn the house down from the inside.
She moved toward Pete Ross with a jagged, frantic grace, her fingers digging into his forearm.
"Pete," she rasped, her voice sounding like dry leaves skittering on pavement. "I... I need to be alone. Just for a second. Somewhere quiet."
Pete looked at her, his face a mask of confusion and growing alarm. "Jodi? You're shaking. Maybe we should find a doctor or—"
"No!" she snapped, her grip tightening until Pete winced. "The greenhouse. Please. I just... I need to talk to you."
Jeremy watched them disappear into the long, glass-walled corridor that led to Lex's private conservatory. He felt the Emerald Shard in his pocket vibrate with a cold, rhythmic pulse. Jodi wasn't looking for a private conversation. She was looking for mass. Her mutated metabolism was screaming for lipids, and Pete was the closest thing to a donor she could find.