The first time my sister shape-shifted, neither of us knew what was happening. I took one look at Gemma, my big sister, my friend, my beloved tormenter--and ran for it. I know--real heroic, right? Well, give me some credit; I did turn around after a mile or two.

As scared as I was, it was nothing compared to how horrified Gemma felt. When I forced myself to go back to her, she was collapsed on the floor of her bedroom. Stuck halfway between panther and girl, her usually green eyes were tinged orange. Her mouth and nose fused together in a muzzle. Two velvety ears poked out from between her curtain of dark brown hair and her hands curved like claws at the end. I steeled my nerves, crept forward, and patted her shoulder.

"It's ... its okay, Gemma," I said. A low growl rumbled from her throat and she scratched at the wood-bare floor.

"How is this going to be okay?"

"I don't ... I mean. This is kind of cool, right? You have this power. You're like a super-hero or something," I said. Gemma snorted and rolled her eyes.

"Right. A super-hero. What am I, Cat-girl? Fluffy the rodent slayer?" Just minutes later, she had shifted back to usual. This was pure luck because our grandma was coming over for dinner and I didn't think the sight of her granddaughter in panther fur would have been good for her.

When my sister's secret was uncovered, we were dancing at a VIP club in a pre-celebration party for my fifteenth birthday. I wasn't sure if driving to Chicago was such a great idea with her powers still not fully understood, but Gemma insisted on going.

"I'll have to get used to having this freak-power sometime. Besides," she'd argued. "I only start to shift when I get really upset." Judging from the fact that she had first shifted after receiving a phone call from our father, who we had not seen in almost fifteen years, this seemed a valid point.

Despite both of our worries, we had gone out to the club. We might have been okay if we'd gone to The Kitchen, Asylum, or any one of the teen dance clubs, but I wanted to go to The Crimson. My best friend Denise's boyfriend, Dax, told her it was the coolest place. It was a theme bar with scary décor and a row of coffins making up the bar. Waiters dressed as vampires, and punch was served in a cauldron. I had always loved scary stuff, you know, movies and books. Vampires and Werewolves and ghosts, oh my!

The Crimson was supposed to have different types of music, cool strobe lights, and a huge dance-floor. The cover was cheap and the deejays were great. The bouncers were supposed to be lax in the I.D. department, too. It sounded like the perfect place to celebrate my fifteenth birthday and I was psyched. Unfortunately, my perfect night ended with Gemma exposed and the two of us near death.