The Human Hunter

Chapter 11

(Just a reminder. This is a rewritten version. Old comments are likely no longer valid.) 

Emma had been trying her best not to doze off while waiting for Widow to return. When she heard light footsteps land on the ledge right outside, she looked up, expecting to see him. When her eyes fell upon Legs, instead, she actually felt a small pang of disappointment in her chest.

"You do not seem very thrilled to see me," he said with a faint smile stretching his thin lips as he strode inside.

"I can't train right now. I'll rip Widow's dress doing something stupid," she mumbled as she stood up, her annoyance sneaking into her words as she watched him.

"Ah, well good. I'm not here to train you. And you forgot to call me Master, or ask to speak." His grin, however, made her think that she wasn't in trouble for the slip ups. Why, though, she wasn't sure. If he hadn't come to try and train me, then what is he doing here?

"Widow is late so I will be the one to finish your dress, and if he has not returned by the time I am finished, you will accompany me to the showing party," he replied in a calm tone.

"I thought he normally isn't late?" she asked as she stepped toward him slowly. "And why aren't you reprimanding me for speaking out of turn?" she added while watching him set down a small bag on the partially destroyed desk against the wall. He hadn't missed her mistakes, and her curiosity seemed to get the better of her, making her question him about it.

He began responding as he took out several spools of what appeared to be silk from the bag, then stepped behind her. "I have many things on my mind right now. I would suggest that you keep quiet. Also, pholcids do not spin the same types of silk as widows, so please let me focus. It has taken me a lot of practice to use theirs."

His fingers moved beneath her arms and began tugging at the threads where Widow had left off, fastening the ends of each spool before setting them on the bag he'd brought so that they didn't end up on the floor.

"Hm... he messed up. Odd," Legs mumbled to himself, making Emma want to look down and see what he was talking about.

It had to have been because of the venom he'd let drip onto my neck.

"He got really frustrated when he began drooling on my neck. I think that's why he messed up," she offered.

Legs's fingers stopped abruptly, right before he switched the threads to one hand and grabbed her shoulder with the other, then spun her around to face him.

"What did you just say?" he asked, his voice wary, making Emma wonder if she should have spoken or not.

"He just got a little fidgety and his fingers slipped," she said.

Man, I suck at lying.

He seemed to think so, too, because she soon found her jaw in Legs's vice-like grip as he leaned into her personal space.

"I'm sorry," he said as he got even closer, his strong bleached scent making her nose sting.

I really don't think you're sorry, but that's just my guess that I'm going to keep to myself.

He didn't speak again until they were nearly nose to nose, his veil of long silver hair shadowing his facial features, turning them darker. "I don't believe I heard you correctly."

Emma wanted so badly to reach up and smack his finger away from where they were bruising her jaw, but she knew that could end the situation quite poorly for her. So instead, she bit her tongue and sighed.

"He drooled on me. When he was leaning over, he got venom on my neck and then got frustrated when he realized it."

Legs abruptly straightened back up and took a step away, suddenly deep in thought judging from his furrowed brow and facial expression. Emma really wanted to know why the drool mattered at all, but she held her curiosity back, not wanting to let it accidentally slip that he'd done it before. When Legs began to pace in the small room, she licked her lips and edged her way toward Widow's bed. As she moved, she could hear him whispering random things under his breath, but could only pick up a few pieces of each sentence.