The Huntress Becomes the Wolf (Complete)

Chapter 53

“Wo, easy there tiger. Who exactly are you talking about again?”

“Vega Throssell,” a shiver went down my back at the name. He knew more than I expected. I had never told him Vega’s last name… does that mean that Dion went investigating while I was unconscious?

“Oh don’t have a hissy fit, Darcy. I was careful. I wouldn’t want to piss a gypsy off if I didn’t have to. What were you thinking getting yourself involved with the Gypsies anyway? Were you just itching for a curse buddy? ‘cause I can get Mhambi back in here… I’m sure she’d whip you up something… tasteful.” It seemed rolling my eyes at Dion had become my new favorite pass time.

“Of course not. Why would I purposely involve myself with someone like that? Even Hunters stay clear of magic unless it’s absolutely necessary. Whether it be Witch or Gypsy magic. We prefer humans above all else.” Dion’s gaze became pointed but he shrugged, letting the argument pass over before it had truly begun.

“Well we can’t just sit here and wait for him to attack again. He knows where we all live. Hell, he could be vengeful enough right now for him to try to assist your sister…we really don’t need more magic on their side.”

“More magic?”

“My sources say that there is a witch working with them right now… someone by the name of Aimerious, Aimeri really.”

“Oh. I’ve heard of him. He’s someone that Lucie knew briefly though Beauregard. They weren’t all that close if I remember correctly.”

“The things you remember about your sister, Darcy,”

“She’s not my sister!”

“She might as well be.” Daring Dion with my eyes was never a good idea, especially when my strength was still sapped from my time with the Sirens. Instead of letting my current thoughts overwhelm me, I leaned down, grabbing the woven basket that held my clothing. I pulled out the leather jacket that I had grown accustomed to over the last few weeks, and then pulled out a shockingly red v-neck t-shirt to go underneath.

“The girls thought it was time to liven up your wardrobe,” from the cocky expression Dion was sporting it wasn’t hard to guess that Dion played a part in it as well.

“I’m sure they did,” I said as I grabbed the clothes and started to put them on. About half way through getting dressed I noticed something peculiar. Dion had stepped out after I had pulled my shirt off so instead of calling him back in I stumbled out of my tent, fisting my jacket in my hand.

“So you’re gonna try to rock the same pair of pants for the sick day in a row? I know that some girls here find you attractive for some reason, but wearing the same clothing for a sixth day in a row is just plain gross, and that’s coming from someone who lives in the woods.”

“Whatever Dion, I obviously stopped getting dressed before coming out here,” I said, lifting up my jacket that I still had fisted in my hand.

“Oh well is there something you need? If the red is throwing you off I can have the girls go scrounge up a blue one for you…,”

“Why do I smell like soap?”

“Soap?” Dion said slowly, his eyebrows furrowed as he tried to piece together my question.

“Soap. Why do I smell like I just took a shower if I’ve been unconscious for the last five days?”

“Oh that… well, some of the girls insisted on giving you a sponge bath…,”

“A sponge bath? Are you kidding me? What girls? Please tell me it wasn’t-,”

“Oh Darcy, of course it was. Who else would voluntarily scrub a halfway lucid guy who kept moaning every thirty seconds? I’d say, I’d never had an erotic dream before-,”