“Turn around slowly, dearie.”
I do as I am told.
The elderly lady who served me earlier is now holding a large gun directly at me. She is wearing a nightcap, a nightgown, and a dressing gown, all in pink. Her eyes are covered by big round spectacles, and she is looking at me with a twinkly-eyed stare that doesn’t bode well.
I glance toward the open door. Maybe I can escape.
“Dearie, if you move, I am going to put a hole in you so big you’ll be a human donut,” she says.
She thinks I’m a human. She doesn’t know I can turn into a wild animal at will. I don’t know that her discovering that fact will work in my favor, though. I suspect that she’ll shoot the hell out of me if I turn into a wolf right now.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “These were just all so delicious. I didn’t…”
“You broke into my house, dearie. You took what didn’t belong to you. That will all have to be paid for, you know.”
“My mates will pay anything you need,” I say, putting them on the hook. “I’m sorry I couldn’t wait until morning. It’s just that your candy is so very good.”
“Come here,” she says, waving the gun at me.
I don’t really like this. There’s something a little strange about her. She doesn’t seem angry or scared. If I had to say what she was feeling, I’d guess it’s closer to excitement.
“I, uh, I need to go. I can get you some money. My mates have a lot of it!”
“No, no, that’s quite alright,” she says. “You just come with me.”
I follow her, or rather, I allow myself to be threatened into obedience. I tell myself I can still make a run for it. Maybe I can talk her into being nice to me. She seems like a nice person. Only a nice person would make so many sweet and lovely things, surely.
She takes me back into a kitchen full of copper pots and pans and a big oven. She reaches out and lowers the door of the oven, then gestures to the interior with the barrel of the shotgun.
“Get in,” she says.
“Get in the oven?”
“Yes.”
“No,” I say. “Obviously not. I took some candy. I’m not going to let you cook me.”
“Then I’ll shoot you.”
I’m not sure what to do about this situation. I just stare at her, wondering if she’s serious.
“It was some candy,” I say.
“But it wasn’t your candy, was it? And now I’m missing my stock and goods,” she says. “You say your mates will pay, but they’re not the ones who came to knock my door down in the middle of the night and feed on my treats like an animal. You deserve to be cooked, you do.”
This seems like an overreaction, but I know pointing that out will not do anything for my situation.
“Don’t move a finger,” she says. “I know your type, I do. The tricky type. You talk like you come from the mountains. No good comes from there. It’s an evil place.”
“Hello?”
I have never been so happy to hear Krall’s voice.
He walks into the shop behind me, and comes and stands next to me, pushing me back behind him in one smooth movement.
“I’m sorry about her,” he says. “She has absolutely no self-control when it comes to sugar.”
The little old lady puts her gun up immediately.
