The Night Sister

“Anywhere,” she told him. “Anywhere but here.”


“I know the feeling,” Fenton said. He got two mugs down and carefully poured the cocoa into them. He put a cup right in front of her. She wrapped her hands around it, fingers soaking up the warmth.

“Do you?” Rose asked.

“Sure. I mean especially now, things being the way they are. The motel, the whole town, it’s all in pretty bad shape, right? You’ve gotta wonder if we all wouldn’t be better off someplace else.”

Rose nodded and took a sip of her cocoa. It was perfect: sweet and chocolaty and just what she needed.

“Sylvie wants to go to Hollywood,” Rose said. Her sister had covered her side of the bedroom with pictures of movie stars cut from magazines. Above her bed, she had a drawing Fenton had done for her of the Hollywood sign up in the hills.

Fenton nodded. “I know, and she will one day. I’m sure of it.”

Fenton drummed his fingers on the table. He took a sip of his cocoa, then pushed the cup away and reached into his shirt pocket for his cigarettes. He shook one out and lit up, squinting at Rose through the smoke.

“Rose,” he said, “there’s something I want to talk to you about.”

His voice was as serious as serious gets. Was it about Lucy? About how crazy Rose had been acting? Maybe he was going to give her hell for ruining Sylvie’s birthday cake—everyone else already had. Maybe it was more about Daddy and Vivienne. About how her parents’ marriage was in rough shape, just like everything else around here.

Whatever Fenton was going to say, she was sure she didn’t want to hear it. She wanted to do the little-girl trick of sticking her fingers in her ears and singing loudly so she wouldn’t hear. But she wasn’t a little girl anymore.

“What?” Rose asked, setting down her mug. Suddenly the cocoa was so sweet it made her teeth ache.

Fenton took another drag of his cigarette. The smoke drifted out of his mouth like blue-gray fog.

“About what you saw last night.”

The words hit Rose right in the stomach, knocking the wind out of her.

“What I…saw?” she stammered once she had her breath back.

Fenton nodded, looked her right in the eye. “Out in the tower. After you followed your sister there.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Rose said, pushing herself up and away from the table. She backed up on shaky legs.

“Don’t play games,” he said, rising, stepping toward her. “This is serious. Do you know what could happen if people find out?”

“Find out?” Rose croaked, backing farther, feeling for the door behind her, remembering her sister, how she hadn’t been simply Sylvie anymore, but some sort of hideous monster—something with extra arms and wings.

What would happen if people found out?

And how was it that Fenton knew? Had he known all along, been in on her secret? Was he one of them, too? Another monster?

“Rose,” he said, “I need you to promise me that you won’t tell. If you did…” His eyes flashed with a strange rage Rose hadn’t expected. They had a reddish glint in the dim light of the trailer.

“I have to go,” she said. She turned and pushed the door open, jumped down the steps, and started heading across the field.

“Wait!” Fenton called. “Don’t you want a ride to school?”

Rose didn’t answer. She ran back to the house and up the stairs, past her mother doing dishes in the kitchen.

She got to her bedroom and locked the door.

Fenton knew. Fenton was Sylvie’s protector. Had she turned him into a monster, too? Could mares do that? She couldn’t recall Oma ever mentioning it—but, then, she hadn’t known just how closely she should have been paying attention to Oma’s stories.

How far would Fenton go to keep Sylvie’s secret?

Rose flung herself down on her bed to think. She pulled the covers up over her head and shut her eyes as tight as she could, trying to bring on darkness.