I never fully understood my aunt. She had a habit of only telling half the story.

  "Don't let your guard down Runa!" she quipped, dashing at me, knife raised.

  I brought my own dagger up, blocking her strike. The force of her blow made my arms ache, the clang of metal clashing ringing in my ears. Sweat slicked my hair to my face as I gritted my teeth and twisted away, blocking three more strikes. My heart pounded in my ears as I gasped for breath, my body moving without thinking. She was so fast.

  "Attack me! Don't just sit there and block! I haven't got all day," my aunt growled, lunging at me again.

  This time she knocked me to the ground. I hit the thin black mats that covered the concrete basement floor with a thump, wincing. My aunt's blade nicked my arm, drawing drops of crimson blood.

  I brought my knife up, trying to stab the dull blade into her chest. She danced back, letting me scramble to my feet.

  She darted forward again, so fast my eyes couldn't track the movement. She was there one second, in my face the next. I tried to move back, slashing at her arms with my blade, but it was too late.

  My aunt rammed the hilt of her knife into my chest. The force knocked me off my feet, and I hit the floor with a thump. I gasped for air, coughing and sputtering, every inch of my body burning with pain.

  "That's enough for today," my aunt said, leaning over and peering down at me.

  I forced myself to my feet, hissing in pain. "You've only beaten me five times today, Aunt Bree. I can keep going."

  My aunt frowned. "Runa, you know you can't keep up with me. It's been about half an hour, so your time is up."

  "You worry too much," I said, pushing my sweat-soaked hair out of my eyes and shaking out my arms, still tingling from the force of Aunt Bree's strikes. Small cuts and larger bruises covered my arms, but I could not feel them yet. Adrenaline ran through me in waves and my magic pooled around me as I eyed my aunt's stance, preparing for any surprise attack that might come my way.

  Aunt Bree sighed, then held out her hand. "Blade."

  I handed her the practice knife I had been using. Blood had dripped onto the handle, and was starting to dry.

  She took a knife kit from the shelves above the washer and dryer and started cleaning the practice blade in the sink.

  I'm not a child anymore." I gritted my teeth and started up the stairs. "I know my own limits."

  I could hear my aunt tisking at me as I reached the top of the stairs and stepped into the living room.

  If I had normal magic like Aunt Bree, she wouldn't worry so much about my limits. She'd push me hard like she did with her students when she taught classes at the local temple. But while my mother was a wolf shifter like my aunt, my father was fey. Normally, the two magics of my parents would intertwine, creating something new. Or, more rarely, one magic might dominate the other. But I was an anomaly, a "halfling" with broken magic. I got half of each parent's magic, at half the strength of a full-blooded fey or shifter. Like oil and water, the two halves of my magic never mixed either.

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  I stretched my aching arms, then paused in front of the little shrine. Aunt Bree had been burning incense in front of it today, leaving the hallway with a spicy, sweet smell.

  The altar was set up on top of a small bookshelf positioned in the hallway, between Ant Bree and my bedroom doors. The shrine was a simple blue-black box decorated with the moon in all its phases. :Little figurines of Noctarion, the god of vampires, Kaelyndra, the goddess of magical humans, and Solvyn, the god of humans stood on little shelves at the back of the box. A slightly larger figurine of Lunareth, the head god, stood in the front and center of the box, the figurines for Thalyra, goddess of the shifters, and Eryndor, god of fey, set to each side and slightly back. Our religious books and supplies, as well as books on magic and the supernatural lined the three shelves below the shrine.

  I traced a circle around my heart with my finger as I inclined my head at the altar, offering up a small prayer to the gods.

  Please help me get stronger so Aunt Bree doesn't worry so much.

  ***

  I stretched and yawned as I padded through the little house Aunt Bree and I rented. The sun was just cresting over the horizon, though a thick haze fractured the light and made the morning seem dark and cold. The fog muffled the sounds of the world, as if I was in a pocket of another world. A true Minnesota summer morning

  I wonder if this is what the fey realm feels like.

  I paused in front of the fridge, a bright yellow sticky note catching my eye. Aunt Bree had left a chore list before leaving for her night shift at work, apparently.

  I opened the fridge, ignoring it. I had all day to finish. No school! I was finally done for the year!

  I hummed as I studied my breakfast options.

  The front door opened and closed softly. I perked up. "Aunt Bree? Are you back already?"

  I closed the fridge door and turned to face the direction of the front door, just out of view.

  A squelch echoed through the empty house. Soft, sickening, and so, very wrong.

  My heart hammered in my chest as I backed into the counter. I could feel the magic in me tensing for a fight.

  I frantically reached behind me, blindly searching for something, anything. A slithering, slimy sound filled my mind, grotesque and sickening.

  My hand found the knife block.

  A dark, dripping mass the size of a large dog entered the kitchen. The black tar of its body, so dark it seemed to draw in all the light, bubbled. It filled the kitchen with the smell of burning and death. And its eyes. Its eyes, somehow even darker than its body, shone with a bloodlust that froze me in place.

  This creature...

  I shook my head and pulled out the largest kitchen knife from the knife block. I held it in front of me, my hands shaking with adrenaline. My instincts screamed at me to run. To fight. To do anything.

  The creature drew closer, its paws reaching out to me. It muttered in its language, a dark and guttural chant. "Come to me. Come to me," it seemed to say.

  I lunged at the creature, slashing at it with my dagger. It cried out in pain, recoiling as red mist leaked out of the gash I had made.

  I jumped onto one of the kitchen chairs. The monster drew closer. I jumped off the chair and drove the blade into the creature's head. It writhed and screamed, its red mist blood filling the room.

  I drew back, covering my mouth as the room turned red. My head spun, and I fell to my knees.

  I... need... to leave...

  A young man about my age stepped through the fog. He was tall, with wavy dark brown hair, pale skin, and eyes the color of dried blood. He wore dark grey dress pants as well as a matching vest over a white button down shirt, and a cape that matched his eyes and resembled a suit coat.

  The man crouched beside me, studying me with disinterest. My vision was beginning to blur, darkness creeping in on the edges.

  He opened his mouth to speak, revealing a set of small but very sharp fangs. A vampire.

  A small dagger suddenly protruded from the man's right arm. He looked down at his arm, then up past me, his face paling.

  The man scrambled to his feet and ran out the front door, gripping his injured arm.

  "Runa!"

  Aunt Bree pulled me to my feet, hugging me to her.

  "It's ok. You're safe now," she whispered.

  I could feel the rage boiling inside her, like a caged beast desperate to claim its prey.

  "I'm fine," I managed to mumble through the haze.

  I... just need... to sleep...

  My eyes closed, and I let the thick haze drag me into the darkness that clouded my vision, too tired to resist any longer.