Magic Forged (Hall of Blood and Mercy #1)(36)

“Over here, Hazel.” Celestina clasped her hands behind her back as she studied the sword collection. “We need to pick a sword that will be appropriate for your height—which might be a bit of a challenge given that you’re petite.”

“You could give me a large dagger.” I stared at the wall with admiration—there was something beautiful about the polished swords.

“No, you need an actual sword,” Celestina said. “It will provide you with extra reach, and range for your magic.”

I blinked, the spell the beautiful weapons had cast on me broken by my spirit of self-preservation. “What do you mean?”

“Oh, that’s right, I never explained. You wizards usually use raw magic, right?”

“We only use raw magic. It’s our only power.”

“Yes, but it is possible to channel it.” Celestina selected a heavily ornamented broadsword off the wall, but held it as if it was as light as a feather. “Which means you can channel your magic up the length of the blade. It gives you a weapon to deal with anyone near, but it also allows for more finesse and control of your powers.”

I rubbed the back of my head as I eyed the sword she held. “I think I learned something like that in my wizard lessons. But wizards haven’t fought like that in ages, and it wasn’t ever exactly common.”

“It requires mastery of magic and your weapon, so I imagine most people wouldn’t bother,” Celestina said. “Particularly given wizards in general are lazy and don’t tend to strive for their full potential.”

“We don’t all have the same potential,” I pointed out. “We’re limited by the amount of magic we can channel.”

“Not quite the way you think.” Celestina put the sword back on the wall. “But you aren’t alone in your complacence. Most supernaturals rely on natural talent and don’t seek to improve themselves.”

Thinking of the expensive weight room in the basement, I guessed, “But not the Drake Family.”

“Not the Drake Family,” she agreed. “We strive to overcome our weaknesses and strengthen ourselves.”

Huh. Suddenly things were making a lot more sense—why Killian got his vampires out of bed during the day, why they had the training sessions, and why his Family was so feared. She was right, to an extent. Magical society isn’t super big on perfection. In all honesty we’re just struggling to hang on as the world changes and magic continues to die out. But apparently Killian wasn’t going to take that threat at face value.

This epiphany suddenly made me about a thousand times more nervous about what he had planned for me.

Celestina frowned as she thoughtfully pulled a rapier from its stand.

“Not that one.”





Chapter Ten





Hazel





Celestina and I turned around to see a vampire standing in the doorway.

Black haired with a vampire’s signature red eyes and pale skin, the new vampire also wore what was apparently the Drake Family standard uniform of a black suit and tie…but the sword strapped to his belt was likely a personal addition. There was something about him…He possessed that deadly air that vampires have—the liquid grace that screams predator. But he didn’t hold himself the same way as his fellow vampires. He was shorter for a vampire, and his shoulders were slightly hunched, and he seemed tired, for lack of a better word.

“Josh—perfect, I could use your expertise in choosing Hazel a sword,” Celestina said.

The vampire, Josh, tilted his head. “Ahh, yes. Selecting a weapon of destruction that feeds on the lifeblood of its enemies and sings the sweet promise of death is a careful process—though a futile one given the fragile existence we eke out on this dying planet.”

My forehead wrinkled as I tried to sort through the vampire’s flowery monologue. I don’t think I’ve ever heard a vampire talking…death poetry. I thought that was limited to especially philosophical humans.

Celestina merely smiled at him, which meant this was probably another one of his eccentricities.

A few moments passed, then Josh shrugged. “With her lack of training, she’d have an easier time with a crossbow.”

“Killian wants her to have a sword. For her magic.”

He crossed the room, intently staring at me, then gazed at the weapons on his wall. “In that case, a chisa katana would be ideal for her—lightweight and shorter in length.” He brushed a few swords, before choosing a Japanese sword with a black hilt wrap. “This one,” he said, almost reverently. “With an original handguard from the Tokugawa era. The hilt is made of wood wrapped in ray skin and braided with silk rope.”

Josh selected a scabbard and sheathed the katana, then offered the weapon to me with a slight bow. “I trust you will take great care of it.”

I started to reach for the sword, until I realized what this meant. “Wait, isn’t this from your personal collection? Are you sure you want to lend it to me?”

Josh shrugged. “It is a gift—unless it is not the right sword for you. Then I will take it back and give you another.”

“But…it’s yours,” I dumbly said. “Isn’t there a practice one I can use?” I asked Celestina.