The Night Sister

“Margot?” Piper called again.

“Piper!” It was Margot’s voice—somewhere in the dark woods. Then a guttural groan.

Piper broke into a run.

As soon as she left the ring of light cast by the outdoor floodlights, it became impossibly dark. She blinked, willing her eyes to adjust, but could make out only the vague outline of trees close by. And darkness. Pure darkness. The rain pelted down on the canopy of leaves above, a percussive din that seemed to drown out all other sound.

She heard a low moan up ahead and to the left.

“I’m coming!” Piper called. She was doing an awkward stumble-run now, a zombie shuffle, with her hands outstretched in front of her. Her own breath was loud in her ears.

At last, she saw a form in a clearing ahead, a pale shape there on the ground. Margot in her flannel pajamas. She was curled on the forest floor in a fetal position, arms cradling her pregnant belly.

“Margot!” Piper cried, moving through the trees faster now. She dropped into a crouch beside her sister. It was brighter in here, the cloud-filtered moonlight illuminating everything with a bluish glow. “Jesus, are you okay? What are you doing out here?”

Margot was breathing hard and fast. But it wasn’t just Margot that Piper heard. Something else was breathing, too. Soft, snorting breaths coming from somewhere not far behind them. Twigs snapped. Something was moving among the trees, just out of sight.

Margot was shaking her head, huffing and puffing. “Something’s wrong with Lou. She…she changed. Into an animal or something.”

“Are you hurt?”

“No, but I’m in labor, and the phones…I just wanted to get away from her. I thought maybe I could cut through the woods to the road….”

Even in the dim light, Piper could make out enough of Margot’s face to see that she was terrified.

“Let’s get you to the hospital,” Piper said in the most confident voice she could muster. She slipped an arm under her sister’s shoulder. “Can you stand?”

Margot shook her head again, hopeless.

“I’m too dizzy. When I sit up, everything gets blurry. You need to go. Find Jason.”

“I’m not leaving you,” Piper said firmly, just as a terrible snarl tore through the darkness behind her.

It was close—close enough that she could smell it now, its dank, musty animal scent. Slowly, Piper turned, keeping herself protectively in front of Margot as she braced herself for the sight of a horrible nightmare creature. She was almost relieved to see it was an animal she recognized, not something out of a horror movie. About ten feet away from her, a black panther crouched low, watching Piper. Its coat was black and sleek from the rain, and its pale eyes glinted in the moonlight.

“Hello, Lou,” Piper said, hardly believing this animal was the little girl she’d left just hours ago, but somehow knowing it to be true.

The panther snarled, bared its teeth.

Piper took a half-step back, then stopped, determined to stand her ground and protect her sister.

“I don’t want to hurt you.” Piper raised her hands up in a gesture of surrender. “And I don’t think you want to hurt me and Margot, either, do you?”

The panther watched her, seeming to listen, to consider what Piper was saying, as it held itself perfectly still. It could have been made of obsidian.

“I’d like to help you, if you’ll let me. I helped your mother once, when we were girls. I didn’t understand what was happening then, but I do now.”

Suddenly the panther’s head swiveled, eyes locking on the darkness behind Piper. Something was padding through the woods. Piper turned around to see a huge, shaggy black dog step out of the trees. It had a big blocky head with a shortened, graying muzzle, and small upright ears. Under other circumstances, in the dim light, Piper might have mistaken it for a small bear. Piper remembered Amy’s story of the ghost dog that visited her while she slept. Now she understood.