The residue of oily black liquid on my father's sword was the first thing I saw when he turned from the freshly slain vampire. My mother wasn't around, off with the other important faes for some 'alignment.' His eyes, usually cold, burned red with fury, a sure sign I was about to get a piece of the hot coal I deserved.

"And you took your sister with you, Do you want her dead?!" His voice was a whip, wickedly domineering, and I cowered, just a little. "I'm sorry, Father."

"I don't think you are, Valerie." He wasn't done, I knew. "If your sister died in the hands of a bloody demon, what do you think would happen?" He continued before I could speak, his words burning me. "It's not like a demon will cherish your blood. Puddled blood."

I kept my smile, at least for Kristy. She was already regretting forcing me into this mess. "She's not at fault." Kristy tried to defend me, but Father cut her off. Kristy, always the sweet, innocent daughter, obeyed like a doll when he snapped, "Never defend her, Kristy."

Our walk home was cold, suffocatingly quiet. Kristy was locked in Father's arms, giggling, making petty talk. It was something I craved, but it was hopeless for me. I couldn't gain his love. Why? Because I was powerless, nothing special. Kristy, however, was the complete opposite. The Fae queen herself prophesied her immense power. At sixteen, she could manipulate weather and heal wounds.

All I had was a next-to-useless premonition I hardly trusted.