The Rules of the Red - 2nd Edition |✓|

Chapter Seventeen, Part Two - Naked

The Bakery was a small, dingy-looking place. Its name was in faded and peeling lettering across the building's dilapidated front. The glass in the windows and door panels were so thick with grime and dust you couldn't see inside the shop, and the building's frame was so rickety and decrepit, never mind going in–you were scared just looking at the place. It appeared, for all intents and purposes, as just another ugly, grey building in the poorest section of Harbor Village. However, the inside was a different story.

The smells of sugar cookies and chocolate cake and apple pie hit one like the world's nicest slap in the face and my first steps on the black-and-white tiles were like walking on butter, the floors were that clean and smooth. The walls were also covered in similarly designed, pinstriped paper, and glossy, autographed photos of movie icons from the forties and fifties hung in red frames, adding to the glamor of the place. A few round tables and matching chairs were arranged throughout the room, but at the moment all of them were empty. It was really quite a shame though, considering the delicious confections the shop had to offer. At the head of The Bakery was a glass counter top, well-lit by hidden bulbs. They kept the treats beneath lit to enticement; my mouth watered just looking at them. Yet three young women lounged behind the counter, and beneath their sharp, narrow scrutiny I was firmly reminded that now was not the time to be thinking of sweets.

They were Asian, tall, and strikingly beautiful. Each had long, wavy tresses so black the color held a bluish tint. Red lipstick stood out on each of their narrow faces, and heavy, black liner framed slanted eyes the color of deep space. In addition, the women were completely equal in their looks–identical down to their little black dresses and candy-cane-striped aprons. Yet I found it drolly ironic the triplets could base the premise of their decoy business on a cake-baking operation, only to greet customers with not so much as a smile or a hint of sweetness.

"Hi," I said, forcing myself to exhibit confidence, that at the moment, I didn't really have. "I'm Naomi and this is Ethan. Um, we're here to buy a few things that may not be on the menu–if you know what I mean?"

The triplet in the middle exchanged a superior, haughty look with the sister on the right. Meanwhile, the sister on the left remained fixedly focused on her nails, chewing a stick of gum exceptionally loudly.

"We've got muffins." The middle triplet coldly replied.

"So I see," I said, with a well-mannered smile. "But that's not what we came for--"

"Well then, sorry to disappoint you, honey, but you're in the wrong place." The sister on the left spoke, but didn't look up.

"Yeah, except, I don't think I am..."

The triplet in the middle pursed her lips; her nostrils flared at my persistence.

"Look, we know what you're here for, but you're not gonna get it, okay? We don't deal to your kind--not mota and definitely not herb. See, unfortunately for you two, we utilize a "no new friends" policy here at The Bakery. So unless you're interested in buying a slice of freaking pie, then have a nice day."

I refused to pay any attention to Ethan, who was already casting me a strong, sideways look. He probably thought that attempting to buy from the Witches was a fruitless, time-waster of an idea. And I had to admit–a part of me considered buying a muffin and giving up too. I mean really, how difficult would it actually be to turn over the house keys to Paris? I could pack my clothes, and be on the next flight out before morning...

They could all fend for themselves, I thought. Let Paris and Charles devour each other. My problems would be solved.

Then I imagined Tidus' face and his look of disappoint when he realized I couldn't deliver the ring or Claudia's ingredients. No, I couldn't fail him again. I lost the ring, but I didn't have to lose this too.

"Look." I took a tenacious step forward. "We have a mutual friend--Claudia. She sent me because she really needs ingredients for a spell. I need them too."

The triplet on the left unleashed a scream of laughter. Her shoulders heaving, she covered her mouth with one hand and her stomach with the other. Meanwhile, the triplet on the right stared fearfully at the middle sister, who was standing perfectly still yet with the most savage sneer I'd ever seen.

.Ethan and I whirled in reflex as the shop's blinds suddenly, loudly, flipped closed. The room was instantly darkened as we lost our view to the outside world.

"That hood rat," the middle Witch began, "stuck me and my sisters with a six-hundred dollar tab, so pardon me if I'm not really in the mood to do her friends any favors."

"What if I pay her tab?" said Ethan. "Would that do it?"

All three sisters exchanged quick looks. "Sure, let's talk trade. We know you're Wolves," said the sister on the right. "What color is your fur?"

"Come again?" Ethan flashed me a quick look.

"Your fur. The color. What is it?"

"Uh, brown?"

The Witch turned to me next. "And yours?"

"My fur's white, why?"

All three women smiled now. They were positively evil with glee. "Lies," accused the middle sister. "Your fur isn't white."

I rolled my eyes. Had it really turned into one of those conversations? "Seriously? Please tell me this doesn't have anything to do with skin color."

"Naomi..." Ethan stared, wide-eyed. "Is that really true? You have a white coat?"

"Do I have to show all of you just to prove it?"

"White Werewolves can't assume Human form," said the sister on the right. "It's impossible--you should be impossible."

"Well, last time I checked I still exist. Why are you asking about our fur anyway?"

"Werewolf fur is very useful in Magic," she replied.

I sighed. "Alright. Fine." I knew where this was headed. Shoving the warnings in the stranger's note to the back of my mind, I removed my jacket and handed it to Ethan before stopping to unlace the Doc Martens I'd borrowed from Addy.

"What the hell are you doing?" he asked in disbelief.

"What? Like you don't dream about seeing me naked?" Ethan blushed. "Try not to take too much off the top, m'kay?" I sent a nod to the middle sister before releasing my hair from its ponytail.

I took a deep breath. I could do this. I'd suffered worse indignities than standing, naked, in a room full of people, so I didn't cross my legs or cover chest. Instead, I removed the rest of my clothing and stood, unashamed, with my hands resting calmly at my sides.

The change came fairly quickly, as always, but not without pain. During these times–when bones snapped and fur developed–I registered little else but the agony. Sure, you could open your mouth to scream if you could suck down enough air to do it, but that sound you emitted would only morph into a blood-curdling, hair-raising howl of torture and discomfort. It must've been a hideous, stomach-turning, gut-wrenching process to witness–a naked girl falling to her knees, grunting and heaving with the pains of transformation, but it wasn't all ugly. There was some beauty to it, if you had the eye for such things.

* * *