By: ThatGuy
Madhuri’s part in the peril about to befall her started with a simple ballgame. Or what would have been a game, if her ride hadn’t been late. If it hadn’t, she would have gone through her day blissfully uninvolved in the strange and literally life-changing events to follow. But apparently there was some kind of mixup, or at least that’s what her boyfriend said. She knew what that really meant: his stupid, worthless car had broken down again, and he didn’t want to pay for a mechanic but also didn’t want her to know about it. She was going to have to tear him a new one later.
She had hoped he would meet her at the stadium in time for the game, and his well deserved roasting. But in the meantime, was forced to catch a bus. The nearest stop was closed due to street repair, so she had to huff and puff up half a mile of steep hill to get to the next one. Then when she arrived she checked the schedule online, only to find that the bus on this line had the nerve to be late! Something about detours, but she didn't care.
With a series of events this convoluted, it was clear neither she nor her boyfriend would possibly make it to the game on time, but she was stubborn and rarely gave up. She would get into that game if it was the last thing she ever did!
She wouldn't and it almost was, but that part comes later.
Storm clouds were gathered overhead, which was just typical for the day she was having. She was going to be tired, and late, and soaking wet. She was probably going to get sick. She would have cursed the universe if she didn’t think it might get her struck by lightning.
Suddenly, someone shouted behind her. “Yoo hoo, young lady!” Madhuri turned and saw that it came from the only store on the hill: a chocolatiers and bakery, called Madame Dulcinea’s. At the front door, a ritzy looking blonde in a frilly black dress - presumably Madame Dulcinea herself - was leaning out into the rain and gesturing for her to come closer. “It seems like you could use a bit of shelter, no?”
“Um…” Madhuri wasn’t much for socializing with random people, nor giving this anyone the opportunity to aggressively sell her things she didn’t need, so taking her up on her offer wasn’t the first on her mind. “I think I’ll be fine!”
“Nonsense! Come on in! I’m just getting ready for opening, is all!” The woman opened the door wide and made way for Madhuri to enter. “And you can even have a free sample…”
That got her. Madhuri liked to keep fit and healthy, but she liked chocolate just as much the next person. Maybe even more, if she was honest.
“Fine…” she murmured. The bus didn’t look like it was coming any time soon anyway. She rushed through the drizzles, into the open door. “Thanks, I guess,” she said to the shopkeeper, who simply gave her a slightly unnerving grin.
“Think nothing of it,” she said. “A pretty young thing like yourself shouldn’t be standing out in the rain. Boy trouble?”
Madhuri frowned. She wasn't the type to broadcast it, but the Indian girl didn’t need some creepy lady to tell her she was rather pretty. Her active lifestyle had toned her frame and limbered up her walk, while genetics had given her smooth tanned skin and - according to her boyfriend’s constant flattery - “the cutest little nose he had ever seen.” She usually punched him at that point, of course. But it would probably be assault to do so now.
But unlike the woman she was talking to, who looked like she just walked off a movie set from the 1940's, Madhuri didn’t care much for fancy looks or presentation. Give her a baseball cap, a jersey and average pair of slacks, and she was alright. She wasn’t here to show off for anyone. And she didn’t like answering to people who judged her for her appearance.
And plus, how dare this woman imply she was only out there because of some guy! Granted she technically was, but that was totally beside the point!
“I was waiting for the bus to the stadium, actually,” she said testily.
“Oh, of course, there must be some kind of sports… game… thing,” Madame Dulcinea replied. The dismissive tone was all too easy to hear. Madhuri was liking this woman less and less. But at least the rain was out there, and there was sweet chocolate in here. She glued her eyes to the sumptuous collection of sweets the shopkeeper was keeping under the counter - fudge pieces, brownies, cookies of all kinds, even a few brands of taffy! It was enough to make anyone’s mouth water.
Madame Dulcinea noticed, and smirked. “I make most of my profit though, let’s say, custom catering. In fact, in the back, I’m working on one of my big pieces. A delicious piece de resistance, if I say so myself! Or at least…” She eyed Madhuri up and down, though the girl was too engrossed by the collection to notice. “… it will be. Want to taste? I promised you a free sample, didn’t I?”
Madhuri frowned. That unease was back. Something about the way this woman acted was seriously off. “Um, I don’t know.”
“Oh, come now. You can even take part!” She said cheerfully, already - if gently - pushing Madhuri towards the back. “Haven’t you always wanted to be a part of gourmet dining?”
Madhuri couldn’t say that she had, and from what she had seen so far “gourmet” was probably pushing it. And the phrasing was really odd, though it wasn’t like she hadn’t already pegged this woman as eccentric. “I-I shouldn’t,” she stammered, though she didn’t fight much against the woman’s soft prodding. “I’ve never made a cake before.”
“Oh, don’t be shy.” The woman giggled. “I’ll make sure you and the batter will make a great mix…”
That seemed innocent enough, and she was curious. So in what would turn out to be the worst mistake of her short life, Madhuri shrugged and let herself be pushed inside. Something about this seemed like a bad idea, but she was stuck here, her boyfriend was nowhere to be found, and she was bored. Plus, free cake batter.
Who knows, maybe she would be a good match for baking after all…
——
Detective Angie DeSine’s stake in all of this started with something a lot less creepy, at least on the surface: a cookie. Or so one would think. Shortbread, to be exact. A free sample that was sent to her office, along with half of the tenants in her building. She never told anybody (it was bad for her image) but Angie had an enormous sweet tooth, and if there was a new confectionary in the neighborhood she was more than happy to give them a try. If it turned out alright, maybe she could take a detour for “a few” sweets the next time she was on the prowl.
Her interest took a nosedive, however, the moment she actually opened the pack of cookies and brought one to her lips. As always she was wearing her amulet, ever vigilant even during a tiny little snack break. When she opened the box, it began to glow without her noticing. It wasn’t until she was just about to take a bite that the magic within fully reacted to the touch of seemingly normal dough, and instead she was bombarded with…
This wasn’t supposed to happen. She was just a volunteer! She didn’t know what was going on! All she asked was if the owner minded her troupe selling their cookies in the area. The crazy lady didn’t have to take it so badly! She had to warn her girls to stay away, but she couldn’t feel her arms… or her legs… or anything! And it was so hot, she could barely think… and getting hotter… softer…
Unsurprisingly, that killed the old sweet tooth. But instead it awoke her hunger for justice, not that she would ever call it that out loud. Transformations by definition replaced the old form almost entirely with new characteristics. By all accounts, this was a delicious shortbread cookie. But no matter how tasty it seemed, Angie now knew in her still empty gut that it used to be a person. And that she couldn’t abide. It was time to go back to work.
However, before she set out to take down the nefarious new threat, she should probably hide this poor ex-scoutmaster somewhere safe. With her habits around sweets, she was liable to absentmindedly munch on her by accident. Her, or the mice who sometimes stopped by. For all she knew this was the last of this poor girl, so that would probably be bad…
——
Something was very wrong in Madhuri’s world, but she couldn’t put her finger on it. She couldn’t, come to think of it, put a finger on anything at all.
She felt thick, and warm... too warm. By all accounts she seemed to be sitting in… something… that was room temperature, but Madhuri felt as though it were wrapped in an oven. Her head was so fuzzy that it hard for her to fully comprehend what was going on.
But the numb feeling was more than just lightheadedness, nor the phantom feeling in her limbs. Her fingers felt as if they would fall off if she moved too much, and in fact she had already lost a couple. She rested instead on the edge of this… bowl? Cauldron? She didn’t know, but she had to keep her head above the thick beige liquid she was laying in. The level was getting higher, and as it did the rest of her felt warmer and even more numb.
This was wrong. Her legs here hooked around the other side, but she couldn’t seem to get them to pull her out. They didn’t seem solid enough to do much either. It all seemed impossible, but she was stuck here. And she had no idea yet just how impossible here fate was.
Madame Dulcinea walked up to the bowl from somewhere in the back, humming to herself. She was carrying what looked like a spoon half a tall as she was, like a churn.
Madhuri called out as she approached. “W-what’s going on? Why do I feel so weird..?” Dulcinea ignored her. Instead, she inspected the bowl for some unseen quality, then thrust the churn into it, driving it right below Madhuri’s bosom. She winced, expecting to feel some pain. But there was barely anything at all.
The confectioner then began to stir, swirling the beige liquid around until it made a thick, creamy whirlpool. And still, Madhuri felt almost nothing. Even as vague as she was, she understood that this shouldn’t have been possible: Dulcinea shouldn’t have been able to do this without doing her some kind of injury. But it went through like there was not waist nor torso there at all. Yet at the same time, Madhuri almost felt like she was... everywhere…
Had she been more lucid, she might have clung a little tighter to the sides and tried to escape again. But it wouldn't have helped.
“Yes… perfect,” Madame Dulcinea mewled. She put a finger into the pot and brought out a goopy drop to her lips. Madhuri could barely whisper out a single “hey!” Personal space! As if that’s what she really needed to worry about. “Absolutely perfect. I knew just from looking at you that you would bring the infusion of caramel I needed.”
Madhuri's sarcastic streak seemed to be a bit too hard for whatever strange effect was liquefying the rest of her. “C-caramel?” she breathed, as she watched her coffee-brown skin melt seamlessly into the like-colored batter: an exact match for any caramelized treat. “I… I feel like I should be offended…”
Madame Dulcinea turned up her nose at her. “Yes, pure caramel. You seem to be far better as that than as a proper young lady. You my dear are helping to make art, not that you would know!” She dipped a smaller spoon into the pot, which was slowly filling with delicious Madhuri-style caramel cake batter. But where was it coming from? Certainly not from those parts of her Madhuri couldn’t feel anymore, could it?
Dulcinea put the whole spoon in her mouth, and her frown was replaced with a childish grin. “Yes, you definitely taste sweeter than you act.”
“S-sweet?” She had never thought of herself as a sweet girl, but her boyfriend had always said so. It felt good to prove him right, somehow. “… th-that’s nice…” She murmured vaguely.
She felt the shopkeeper's hand on the top of her head, and despite her earlier desperation to stay above water, she let herself sink down until she had smoothly mingled into the mixture that had already claimed the rest of her. The last sound she made was a surge of inappropriate laughter. Before, she thought she felt like being in an oven. Pretty soon, she really would be in one…
As what was left of Madhuri melted away into the batter, the Madame Dulcinea quickly sloughed off the part of her legs hanging off the side of the bowl before they got too soft to control. She dropped them into a side pan, where they splattered into a thick slurry of their own. “Must not forget the frosting!” She sang, giggling as she carried the extras to another table with its own set of ingredients.
But that came later. Right now, she had an grand cake to finish mixing. She didn’t want into unsightly clots or clumps in her masterpiece, after all! Dulcinea hummed to herself as she brought her tools over to the bowl and painstakingly went through the process of sifting through the batter by hand - periodically adding extras where her primary ingredient was lacking: cream, spices and so on.
Luckily, with the ex-Madhuri almost completely melted in there, she was set to go from bowl to oven in no time! Dulcinea had picked very well this time: she barely needed any extras after all, and the batter was already coming along quite nicely.
“Oooh! I can’t wait to lick the bowl!” She laughed to herself. “You’re going to be the one to finally put me on the map, dear!”
——
Angie arrived at the confectionary hours later. Nobody else was on the bus as she pulled up. No one got on at the station.
As soon as she hopped onto the curb she was immediately bowled over by a twenty-something guy pacing up and down the block, repeatedly tapping on his phone. He apologized for knocking her over and helped her to her feet, but went back to fiddling with his phone straight away. He put it to his ear, but apparently only got an answering machine because a second later he was back to dialing.
She had more important things to be worrying about at the moment, but Angie couldn’t resist. “Are you okay?”
The guy stopped, but didn’t put away his phone. “Um… yeah. My girlfriend. We’re going to the game tonight. I'm a little late, but last I heard from her she was going here. I thought she took the bus, but it’s been running just fine for a while. She would’ve been there by now.”
Angie glanced at the guy’s car. It looked like it was about to transform into a pile of rust at any moment. She could only imagine what made him late. Her eyes then drifted to Madame Dulcinea’s confectionary, and some very worrying dots started connecting in her head.
He noticed her eyes go to the car and blushed, yet managed to miss the suspicious look she gave the shop. “Er… yeah. I got here as fast as I could, but I can’t find her. I’ve been calling her phone, but…”
“Don’t worry, I’m sure she’s fine,” Angie tried for a reassuring smile. It probably didn’t work. She probably ought to work on those. “But…” she continued, awkwardly. “Just in case, maybe stick around for a bit.”
The young man blink in confusion. “Wait, are you a cop?”
Wasn’t that an interesting question? This guy could be a private eye. “Just… stay here.” She said, and before he could double down on the uncomfortable questions she marched up to the storefront. Hopefully, she could give him something good to ask about later...
——
As she hoped, Madame Dulcinea's special oven made short work of her newest cake. It came out as a delicious caramel creme, several of them in fact, all with a hint of cinnamon for an extra touch. The filling and the frosting were perfectly balanced, a decadent delight from such a rough base. She could barely resist the urge to eat it all herself! And if she was having trouble keeping her tongue off of this treat, she could only imagine how her wealthy clients would react to such a masterpiece.
Such fools, unaware of where Dulcinea’s true skills lay. Thanks to self-indulgent rubes like them, her business was about to skyrocket! She would have to thank that girl for stopping by that morning: she truly was the perfect ingredient.
“Hello? Anybody home?”
A customer! Or better yet, another ingredient! She hurried to the front to see who it was that walked into her clutches now. She liked what she saw.
It was a Hispanic woman in what looked like her late twenties. She was quite attractive: long legs, clear tannish skin, a confident, mature gait. It was a delightful opportunity. A body that rich could disintegrate into quite a haul of brown sugar, if she did it right. Even from the waist down alone, she could be set for weeks! Or perhaps something more apropos, like flan. She had never made flan before…
“Welcome, my dear!” She said warmly, thinking of how wonderful this woman would look mixed into one of her pots. “I’m afraid we’re not strictly open right now, but if you’re interested in a free, preliminary sample…”
“Maybe I am,” the woman replied. “Do you have any… uh… shortbread cookies? I love shortbread!” She casually put her hand on the glass counter, and took a closer look at the goods inside. She practically froze, no doubt with delight at all the options. Obviously this one had quite the sweet tooth. It would make her easier to capture, just like the caramel sweet from earlier.
But what Dulcinea had know way of knowing was that the woman was Angie, and that she was actually frozen in shock from the traces of all the poor souls mixed into pastry bombarding her senses. It took her a moment to compose herself before she ruined the act and botched the sting. Dulcinea stepped closer, and she flinched with what the baker assumed was a broken daydream.
Dulcinea chuckled. Lots of people daydreamed about sweets. So few ever expected to become them. “I sense you’ve had one of my samples already. I baked a whole batch of shortbread and sent them by mail,” she said, and as she expected the woman shrunk sheepishly. Some people were so shy about taking more than one sample. “I suppose you live nearby?” She had wanted to cut down on the number of people she took from the immediate area, but a catch like this was impossible to pass up.
“I…” the woman chuckled nervously, almost exactly like a child caught in the cookie jar. “I work around here. I might have snatched the sample from my boss.”
Even better. Someone so careless obviously would have been fired eventually anyway. “Well, as it turns out I do have a few more of the shortbread batch in the back. Why don’t you follow me and take a look?”
The woman nodded, and obediently went with her into the back room. Dulcinea tried not to let her amusement show. This one was particularly easy. Even the caramel treat had required an initial sample to dull her senses. Perhaps she thought the store was looking for an assistant. Dulcinea chuckled. It was looking for something, all right.
When they hit the back the woman immediately stopped, to marvel at the caramel creme delight. Dulcinea couldn’t blame her. With five layers, the smallest with a two foot radius, and a presentation of frosting art that would make any gourmet drool - and all made from the same source, though few would believe it - it was definitely a sight. It could only fit on the largest, most stable cart Dulcinea owned, which would double as a fine way to present it and all her future successes to any wealthy clientele.
The distraction gave her the perfect opportunity to find something to kick off this woman’s journey to culinary existence. She could just change her with a touch or a zap, but that was difficult to control and would simply make a mess. Plus it was doubtful she could get even someone this foolish into a magical pot without some kind of suggestion spell. But she did have ways of softening her up nice and slowly, as long as she could get her to eat them.
Hadn’t she baked something like that into a cookie at some point? It would only take a moment to check. She left her victim to her sugary imagination, and while she was rummaging around she came to a decision. Definitely flan. It could make for a wonderful new taste on the menu, if she did it right. And this softheaded young waif was just dying to be made into something sweet and gooey…
When she returned, the woman was still by the cake. Worse, it looked like the was about to touch her work of art. “Back away from that, you fool!” She screeched. For the moment, she forgot she was trying to convince her guest to stick around. “That is a very important dish, which needs-“
She stopped. For the first time, Dulcinea took a good look at what the woman was actually doing. She wasn’t looking at the cake, exactly, despite being directly in front of it. Here eyes were unfocused, like… a trance? And there was a bit of something glowing under her shirt. Oh, dear… “Wait a minute… who are you, really? Answer me now!”
The women came out of her fugue. The innocent air she had put on was gone. Instead, there was a determined stare, something grim and a little unnerving. “Just someone who’s interested in the work you do here.”
“A spy!” The nerve! This one was going to melt slow, piece by piece! The tramp wanted her secrets? She would learn them at the most excruciating pace possible!
“Not exactly.” The woman said, scowling. “I’m here to undo what you’ve done to all these people. Starting with this poor girl right here!” In what had to have been a very deliberate dick move, she patted her hand onto the cake’s still unsettled frosting, smudging it into an unspeakably garish swirl. Dulcinea gasped in horror, but the woman was not moved. “You can either save yourself the trouble and do it yourself, or I can make you get out of the way. But I’m not leaving here until they’re all human again.”
“A thief, then.” Dulcinea snarled. “Perhaps being one of my sweets is too good for you. Salt, perhaps. Then I could use you bit by bit, watching you disappear for years to come!” It was a great threat, though of course Dulcinea would never waste such a perfect specimen on none but the finest of tastes. But she found that instead of cowering in fear of her mighty magical intimidation, the fool woman wasn’t even looking at her. She was staring at the cake, of all things. “Hey! Listen to me! I’m trying to threaten you, here!”
She didn’t get any more attention, which was quite vexing, but Dulcinea did hear the woman mutter a “sorry” under her breath. Yet it wasn't to her, as it should have been. Perhaps to the cake itself? What nonsense!
But then, to Dulcinea’s abject horror, she grabbed the cart’s handle and shoved it hard at the closest wall.
“My masterpiece!” Dulcinea cried. In the corner of her eye she saw the woman running at her, no doubt intending to rush her while she was distracted. But she couldn’t worry about some upstart thief now! Her prize work was in jeopardy!
Quickly, she ran after the cart and cast a spell to make the front wall intangible, allowing the cart to pass seamlessly through the solid space. The woman tripped and faltered, not expecting that, which gave Dulcinea enough time to reach the cart and grab on just before it passed through the barrier. Only once she was clear did she give that meddler any attention.
The woman had been right on her heels, or perhaps wheels. But all it took was a wave to dispel the intangibility. A second later, she heard a satisfying thud as her pursuer slammed into solid wood.
She was free! People on the street watched, perplexed as she rolled by. Well, it was only one young man with a grungy looking car, but she didn’t care. She had control of the situation, and if that annoying woman tried to follow her now she would just turn her into salt after all! No softening up, no delays, just a zap and then a laugh as she scattered to the winds!
“Nyahaha!” She laughed uproariously, swinging over the top of the cart while very carefully avoiding upsetting the massive cake atop it. “No one will ever take it from me!”
This is when she realized she was still rolling, over the top of a very steep hill…
——
Since she had to run through the back and loop around the the storefront again, with a hurt nose that only made her madder, Angie had just enough time after diving out of the confectionary to see Madame Dulcinea go rolling down the hill. The bus had nearly burnt out just trying to chug up that monster, it was too steep for Angie to have any way of catching her and what had become of Madhuri on foot.
Luckily, her contingency had actually decided to listen. Not the smartest decision on his part, but a great stroke of luck on hers.
“Hey, does this car actually run?” She said, running up to Madhuri's boyfriend. She had her doubts, having seen it for more than two seconds.
The guy hadn’t seen her leave the store, since he was too busy watching Dulcinea plummet down the slope. Her whipped around with a yelp. The poor guy. This had to be the craziest sight he had ever seen. “W-what?”
“Can you drive this thing?” She said again, gesturing the so-called car. “I’m pretty sure your girlfriend’s humanity, and possibly her life depends on it.”
This seemed to get his attention. He dove into the drivers side and Angie - though a little afraid for her life - joined him on the other side. The seatbelts were in no condition to keep anyone safe, but she would just have to cope. Lives were at stake.
The boyfriend gunned it down the hill, and the car miraculously didn’t fall apart doing so. “Name’s Diego.” He said, shaking Angie’s hand. When he took one hand off of the steering wheel, the entire car lurched. “You said something about Madhuri being in trouble?”
Again with the questions she couldn’t easily answer. “It’s… difficult to explain, but… wait!” Saved by the bell, or by the psychotic baker in this case. Dulcinea was zooming down the street in front of them, holding onto the cart for dear life. Or better yet, trying to keep the cake on the cart for dear life. “That’s her! Follow that cake!”
“Leave me alone, you!” The witch shrieked. She jerked the cart to try and swerve, but there was nowhere to go. All she did was jostle the cake so much that a chunk fell off from the rest. “Nooo! You’re ruining me!”
Angie nudged Diego, completely ignoring Dulcinea’s melodramatic screams. “Look out, flying cake!” As if the ride wasn’t dangerous enough, the chunk hit the windshield head on and splashed all over it. Still holding the wheel one handed, Diego leaned out the window and palmed most of it off the driver's side. His hand came back covered in nice, creamy caramel. The guy looked ecstatic.
“Oh, hey! Sweet!” He whooped and took a taste, much to Angie’s amusement. “Mmm! That’s not bad!”
“I wouldn’t eat too much of that,” She noted. “Pretty sure that’s your girlfriend you’re chomping down on.”
But he had already chomped down the piece, and was licking his fingers when he finally realized what she said. He prepared to ask whether the strange woman who commandeered his car was actually insane after all, but in doing so he took his hands off the wheel.
“EYES ON THE ROAD!” Angie shrieked. There wasn’t anything in the way, but there was a pissed off witch veering dangerously in front of them. Most spells were invisible, but Angie knew it was coming. Diego didn’t think to turn out of the way. He would be hit dead on, and that could mean a crashing end for both of them. She tried to grab the wheel, but then…
… a pigeon flew in front of them. And promptly - ZAP - turned into a statue of solid chocolate.
Diego actually did swerve, finally. “What in the shit?!” The chocolate pigeon bounced off the windshield and left a crack, then broke into pieces when it hit the sidewalk. Poor thing. Angie hoped she remembered to circle back and get it after this was over.
“Drive now, freak out later!” She barked. “Eyes up, there’s our stop up ahead.”
The hill was coming to a stop. There was a large park at the bottom, and while there was a straight walkway inside there was no way anyone would let a car drive through it.
Meanwhile, Dulcinea was still slinging insults and hadn’t seen the bottom yet. “I’ll bake you both into fruitcake!” She screamed. “Everyone hates fruitcake!” She wound up to throw another spell, but stopped when she saw the park. Unlike Diego’s car, neither cart nor cakes had any brakes.
She screamed bloody murder and tried to hold the cart steady lest her precious masterpiece splatter to the ground. Instead, she went flying off as the cart hopped the curb while the cake didn't wobble even once. It was a shame Dulcinea couldn’t hear Angie laughing. But it was short lived, for Dulcinea quickly recovered and pushed the cart further into the park.
“Let me off here!” Angie said to Diego. He swung the car around and she threw open the door. Nearly took it off it’s hinges.
A hand grabbed her before she could run after Dulcinea. Diego eyed her, looking lost. “Listen, what you said about Madhuri and the cake and… what’s going on?”
“Uh…” Again with the complicated questions! “Let’s just say you’re dating a real sweetheart. But I’ll take care of it.”
She whipped her hand out of his grip and ran down the walkway. Dulcinea was still keeping close to her prized cake, so she was easy to catch up to. But once she spotted Angie coming, she shoved the cart away from her. It whizzed out of reach as crowds dove out of its way, though oddly there were less people surprised by a gigantic, five layer cake rolling past them than she thought.
In Angie’s experience, that probably meant they had a reason not to care. She craned her neck a little to get a better look at where the cart was going, and saw these was some kind of event going on in the distance. The cart slowed to a stop right in the middle of the festivities, somehow still without losing any more cake. It was a shame Madhuri never made it to her baseball game, with luck like that her team would have won for sure.
Angie didn’t dare take her eyes off of Dulcinea long enough to get a good look, but she did get a glance of the banner hanging overhead. She didn’t know whether to be annoyed or not, as it was the most ridiculous coincidence she had seen all afternoon. “CITYWIDE CAKE JUDGING CONTEST!!” it said in bold, loud letters.
“What are the goddamn chances…” She groaned. Now she had a time limit. If she didn’t take care of this quickly, Madhuri - or technically the cake made from Madhuri - would be tasted by the judges, then served for free to the crowd. And while that would be a good way to spite Dulcinea’s plot to get rich, she wouldn't want to chance on losing a poor innocent girl in the meantime.
“Sit tight, Madhuri. I’m coming…” Angie muttered, mostly to herself. Madhuri wouldn’t have heard her even if her “body” were in earshot, but it helped her get in the zone. Dulcinea didn’t know it yet, but she was going down.
“None… none of you are worth it.” The witch hissed, so angry she was stuttering out her words. She backed up, but went a different path than the cart. A smart move: now Angie couldn’t go for her and the cake at the same time. “I’ll make everyone here into… into… into filthy piles of sugary sweet syrup, and enjoy the fruits of my genius alone!”
“Uh oh…” Angie squeaked, though she kept it too quiet for Dulcinea to hear. She had to think of a distraction fast, before this psycho had a literal meltdown. “She isn’t the fruit of anyone’s genius, especially not yours!" She shouted. "Maduri was living girl, a human being!” Dulcinea snarled, and Angie sighed in relief. As long as the woman throwing around magic was focused on her, things were safe. “How dare you just reduce her to dessert!”
“Reduce her?” Dulcinea shrieked, insulted. “She has given far more quality to the world as an ingredient than she ever would as a person, and it’s a sign of a true chef that I could bring the inner sweetness out of something that bitter.” She laughed haughtily, and somewhere Angie suspected Diego would be angry on his girlfriend’s behalf. “A uncouth brat covering her beauty up with baseball caps and nasty responses… ugh! A lesser chef would have made pretzel dough out of her and been done with it!”
They had someone gotten high up now, on a ledge overlooking the clearing. Angie could see the caramel cake from here. Someone had rolled it up to the center stage. But she couldn’t get to it, to her. On the upside, neither could Dulcinea.
From below, they heard a pompous voice say something definitive through a megaphone. Someone was sampling a piece of Madhuri. Angie was running out of time. “Well, it’s a little worse for the wear, but this is quite possibly the most beautiful and delicious cake I’ve ever seen!” The judge said. Angie cursed. Scratch that, she was really out of time. And the witch looked way too happy. “Where is the baker… no, the artiste who created it?”
The crowd looked around for some last minute entry. Nobody thought to look up. “You see?” Dulcinea said proudly. She had backed up to the ledge to get a closer look at her victory, an opportunity Angie was going to take. “That ‘girl’ was nothing special, but my baked art is the delight of the world!” She laughed maniacally. “The plebeians can have that one. They’ll have wolfed it down long before you can save ‘her!’” She had a point, they were already getting knives over to cut the cake. Angie would have to do something fast. “I’ll just making more, very soon.”
“Enjoy it while you can.” Angie replied, easing closer so Dulcinea had no way out. It was her or the ledge. “Everyone has their fifteen minutes.”
The most predictable thing about witches is that they always thought of the same way out to every situation. Blast it first, think later. “Oh, I will. But a treat this decadent and sumptuous deserves to be served with something… special.” Dulcinea raised her arm, preparing to hit Angie with a something special. “Something to add that final dollop of sweetness.”
Angie didn’t move. All she said was, “I wouldn’t.”
As she thought, Dulcinea didn’t listen. Screaming in fury, she shot straight at Angie’s chest… which was exactly what the detective wanted her to do. Her amulet glowed brightly, and just as planned the spell rebounded off of her and redirected straight into the dumbfounded face of the one who cast it.
And that was that for Madame Dulcinea.
She didn’t have time to scream. Angie could only watch as the woman was flung from the ledge, wordlessly tumbling in midair as she was undone by her own magic. It was changing her, just as she had meant to change Angie. Her form was lost depth by the second, her human body becoming less solid, more gooey. Her features dulled, until Angie couldn’t make her out any more. There was only a giant, fluffy mass of something that was pure white all over…
The newspapers would go on to say that the annual Cake Judging Contest had devolved into complete chaos when a last minute mystery entrant was suddenly torpedoed at high velocity by a massive and equally mysterious glob of whipped cream, causing it to explode. Splatters had flown everywhere for several yards, and engulfed the entire crowd. Pictures of people waddling away covered in bits of cake and frosting went viral almost instantly, and the mess itself took the better part of a day to clean up.
The parks department went on to deem the whole thing an elaborate prank intended to mock the contest, with the head of the department giving a glowing speech on the nightly news declaring that no matter the threat of humiliation, the city's proud baking community would have nothing to fear in the next year except tighter, safer security... and a higher entry fee.
But in all the confusion, nobody noticed one woman in particular scooping up as much of the the caramel sludge as her jacket could hold. Everyone was trying to grab a bite before the five second rule kicked in, so she fit right in even though she was muttering like a crazy person about “needing enough for a reversal.” Nobody paid attention the nervous man who picked her up at the parkside either, even as he drove her hastily up the hill. They did, however, notice the poor state of the car.
——
“And that’s how it happened,” Angie said to close her amazing story. “Madame Dulcinea’s was closed down, we got most of her victims back to normal... more or less. And I even had time to save that pigeon.”
“… yeah, okay,” said her sole audience member. Quinn, her assistant, was sitting on the edge of the desk across from her. She still needed to get a new chair one of these days. However, though she sat through the entire story she didn’t look any less confused. “But none of that explains why someone baked you this!”
“This” was a cake in the shape of a human arm. For a witch in training who had managed to see and do some pretty freaky things in her short time with the craft, Quinn could be surprisingly squeamish.
But Angie enjoyed squeamish, at least when she was in storytelling mode. “Sure it does. But nobody ‘baked’ that.” She cut herself a nice, thick piece of forearm. “Transformations into things that can be mixed with other things are… tricky. If they get too diluted, they’re hard to undo. And Madhuri got mixed with a lot of things, not the least a few gallons of witch-flavored whipped cream. We could still change her back, but there were… complications.”
“Complications?” Quinn said, now looking at the cake a lot more nervously. “Oh, boy…”
“Her boyfriend called us about it not long after we saved her. Turns out every few weeks or so, part of her starts turning into cake again. Once it starts, it spreads everywhere. She becomes kind of like a…” Angie paused, to think of a way to say it without pantomiming. She was no good at charades. “I guess you could say a cake-person. Maybe a golem. And if she stays like that too long, she could freeze that way and become a lot harder to fix again.”
Quinn’s jaw dropped. “…what?”
“I guess it worked out in some ways.” Angie thought out loud. “I hear she was finally able to make Diego replace that car after getting whiplashed to pieces one time to many.”
“You… you don’t mean…”
“But anyway,” Angie continued, ignoring her assistant’s shock. “Some friends of mine gave her a potion that can undo the the flare up, but she before it works they have to cut off the ‘infected’ parts so her human bits can regrow. You can imagine they have a lot of extra cake laying around, and since they've had enough sweets to last a lifetime already...”
Quinn blanched. She was being overly dramatic, in Angie’s opinion. “You mean that’s actually… euuughh!”
“Don’t knock it, kid.” Angie said, with a mouthful of Madhuri-flavored caramel. “Once, I opened up a box to find her pastry-fied head in there. Now that was freaky. She even had cream-filled brains.” She took a moment to shudder, then happily swallowed another bite. “I swear, you get the strangest gifts in this line of work.”
Quinn, who was now green, pointed an accusing finger at her. “That’s a person! You’re eating a person!” She cried.
Angie rolled her eyes. “Technically it’s not, so I’m not. And if you were to meet Madhuri right now you’d see she has all her pieces safely attached. And most importantly doing this actually keeps a person from facing untimely saccharine doom, so you could say its the most noble guilty pleasure in history. Also, it’s delicious!”
It was a bad idea, and not just because of her waistline, yet Angie cut another piece of arm and dropped it onto a second. “Say what you want about Madame Dulcinea being a psychopath, but she made a damn good sweet. Try it!” She pushed the plate Quinn's way with a cheeky smirk.
Quinn stared at the plate for a long moment, then very deliberately walked to the other side of the room. “… no thanks. Trying to watch my figure.”
Obliviously, or more likely simply uncaring of her assistant’s discomfort, Angie gladly took the plate for herself. “Makes sense. You should see Madhuri’s boyfriend.” She tried to laugh, but she ended up almost choking instead. She really ought to not do that with her mouth full. “He’s really put on the pounds ever since they got married…”
Quinn watched, and wondered just what kind of job she had signed herself up for…