Prince of Lies [COMPLETED]

Chapter 15

Knuckles.

Dagger.

Sword.

Morning star.

"Good," Gheorge said. "Now try weapons that will reach beyond arms-length."

Frederick gripped the spear and concentrated.

Throwing knife.

Spear.

Javelin.

Pike.

Sword staff.

War hammer.

Staff shifted and morphed with ease between shapes. A unique weapon in all of the Star, and it belonged to him.

"Excellent," Gheorge said, "but think. What might be the problem with weapons like spears or throwing knives? What would be the problem with ranged weaponry?"

"If I throw them," Frederick said, "I might miss my target, or lose the weapon completely."

Gheorge dipped his head. "You don't want an opponent-especially a vampyre-to retrieve a weapon like Staff. And what other problems might happen if you change Staff?"

Frederick weighted the war hammer between his palms. "Well, for one, I might hesitate and make the wrong shape in a fatal moment."

"Good-"

"And two, if I change it into a weapon for the relevant range, it might not be a weapon I'm familiar with, making handling a problem."

"Excellent, Freddie," Gheorge said. "There's is no point in commanding Staff to be a war hammer if you are not good at wielding it. We will train you to handle a broad range of weaponry-human or vampyre, for you must be adaptable. But stick with the weapons you're confident in using for the meantime. Now, what part of the day are we up to?"

Staff shifted into a sword within Frederick's hands. "Training of the senses."

The smile on Gheorge's face was delighted as he faded. The presence that replaced him weighted thickly in the air. He had come to know that Gheorge felt like mirth, energy, and lightness. This flowed like rain. Wrapped like silk. Crept like midnight. Strong. Predatory. Sensual.

"Gheorge?" Frederick called. Did the presence of vampyres change based on their intent? This ... this felt quite personal.

It came for him, rushing at his side. Frederick swung and missed, the presence vanishing.

Left-

Staff lengthened into a spear. If he miscalculated his opponent's distance, he wouldn't maim him, but he might land a hit.

It sped for him. Nearing, nearing, nearing.

He swung.

He missed.

Frederick stood side-on, reducing Staff to a knife. He waited and waited for the presence to become known.

Back of the room. He'd nearly overlooked it. It wasn't rushing but prowling, edging closer and closer.

Frederick whirled on his heel and launched the knife-

He couldn't make it stop. Couldn't bring it back. It sped through the air, glinting as Arabella caught it between her hands. She held it before her chest for several heartbeats.

Arabella clicked her tongue. "Didn't I just hear Gheorge telling you not to lose your weapon? A being as devious as I would make you suffer for it."