When human bodies are found with scales and tails, DNA specialist Kat Crocker is assigned to uncover the cause of the mutations and stop them before they spread.
But her growing visibility makes her a target.
As attacks escalate, the trail leads her to a newly released VR game powered by impossible genetics—and to one man: the mentor who taught her everything, the father she buried years ago.
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The Catalyst by Andrea Goyan was published on 1 July 2026 and is the first book in the Kat Crocker series. As part of this Blog Tour hosted by Rachel's Random Resources, I am delighted to share an extract with you here today.
Extract from The Catalyst by Andrea Goyan
It wasn’t quite dusk, but the yard was lit up by Tiki torches and small, martini-shaped, multi-colored lights strung haphazardly around trees, chair legs, and bushes. I’d seen none of those decorative objects when I’d been there before and checked Blake’s containment system.
Holy hell. That was only yesterday.
Time and space had run amok, and in the center of the patio, was a sight which confirmed things weren’t returning to normal anytime soon—or ever.
Mimi stood in a spotlight on the patio. Stood on hind legs. She held a microphone in her…hand and wore an appalling pink, haltered cocktail dress and lime-green stiletto heels. Tufts of fur peeked out of her dress where the beginnings of cleavage showed. An entirely disturbing spectacle.
She crooned along with a karaoke mixer, a contraption I’d only seen in period movies. I wondered whether Blake found it at the same place where he’d purchased the gaudy statue of a hula dancer covered in Day-Glo plastic leas.
“Aaaa!” Mimi held a long note.
I grimaced.
Blake lay on the ground watching Mimi. The music was loud, or they would have heard me approaching, especially with their sensitive canine ears.
Mimi squeezed the microphone with one hand and held a wine glass in front of her face with the other. Her voice rose in pitch and volume, which I figured coincided with the song’s climax. Maybe she hoped her voice would break the glass. Guess she didn’t realize doing so was a statistical anomaly. The sound was mournful, haunting, almost beautiful, and then, Mimi’s voice cracked. The tone morphed from soprano loveliness to a common canine howl. Blake lifted his head and cocked it. Mimi broke off, glaring at the glass in her hand. She opened her jaw and tried again. This time, she choked out something that sounded neither human nor canine. She looked at the wine goblet one more time before hurling it against the cement. It shattered, and shards of glass scattered. Blake leaped to his feet and Mimi stormed off.
“Pumpkin, it’s vocal strain, that’s all…you’ll be fine tomorrow! I’ll make you some tea!”
“Ah-hem,” I cleared my throat.
Blake whipped around, lips curled revealing pointed canine teeth. As soon as he recognized me, he morphed the snarl into a grin.
“Oh, hey, hey. Didn’t hear you come in…gave me a start…don’t sneak up on me like that.” He sniffed the air, eying me quizzically.
“Did you just growl at me?”
“Well, hey…No! No, how silly, of course not.”
“Yes, you did. You growled at me. I could haul your ass in right now for threatening me.”
I played fast and loose with my abilities. My job description didn’t include arresting people, only citing them. And growling hardly constituted a real threat. But I’d play hardball and hope Blake’s good nature kept him from second-guessing me.
“But I—”
“Sit!” I pointed at the ground.
“What?”
“I said sit.”
Blake plunked his butt down, assuming the consummate, universal sitting dog position.
“That’s better,” I said.
I pulled the mixer’s plug, throwing the backyard into silence. Blake and I stared at each other. One of the tiki torches crackled. Brand-new tennis balls lay scattered about the patio. I picked one up, tossed it over my head, and caught it in my hand. Blake’s gaze followed the ball intently.
“Now,” I said. “You and I need to have a little talk.” I tossed the ball again. Muscles in Blake’s body twitched. He wanted to lunge for the ball. “Stay.” I bounced the ball once against the cement and caught it again. “It’s difficult, isn’t it? Mastering the two parts of yourself. At least you can still manage. Not so lucky for the three dead people we’ve found so far.”
I held the ball over my shoulder so Blake would think I was about to throw it across the yard, but I never released it. Blake lifted his bottom off the ground. “Stay!” He sat back down on his heels. “That’s better, that’s a good Blake.”
Something moved behind me. I turned. Mimi stood by the back door. I tossed the ball toward her. It landed by her feet and came to a dead stop. Mimi squinted and peered at the ball before shifting her gaze to the seated, quivering Blake. She shook her head and went inside, closing the door behind her.
“Girlfriend won’t touch your balls,” I said.
“Why are you being so mean?”
“Because you’ve been holding out on me.” I clapped my hands together, and he winced. “Robert Taft, Blake. Where can I find Robert Taft?”
Blake averted his eyes and said, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t make me call Animal Control because I’ll do it, and they’ll haul your asses right off to the local shelter.”
“You can’t scare me.”
I scoffed. “It’s not you I’m thinking about. They don’t allow high heels in the shelter, and they don’t let the animals wear clothing, much less cocktail wear. How’s Mimi looking naked these days?”
Blake’s jaw dropped. “I don’t… I’ve never…”
I shrugged. “Just saying.”
“All right, I know of a Robert Taft. He’s a designer. Done some great games.” Blake’s tail thumped twice.
He still wasn’t telling me everything.
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called Goat-Girl and Raccoon-Mama.
She is a grateful part of a flock of collaborative Magpie Poets whose first collection, An Illegal Feast, was released in 2025. Andrea also co-hosts MetaStellar Magazine’s “Long-Lost Friends” and “Storytime.”
In her spare time, she walks her dogs and loves to paint, especially animal portraits.
Many of her stories are available for free on her website.
Website Andrea Goyan
Facebook Andrea Goyan Storyteller
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