Ric thanked his lucky stars he had bookmarked the page with which he and Josh had accidentally changed Mr. Mendes into a two year-old; it had seemed like the
sort of thing that could be useful.
With an angry man bearing down on him, obviously looking to do him physical violence, it was definitely proving useful.
Before the man was halfway to Ric, he noticed that he was looking up at Ric—and that his clothes were far larger. “Que?” he asked in shock—but it was too late.
He was already at 6, physically, and was growing far younger. His clothes dropped away, and he stood there shakily, a male toddler of 2 years of age.
So, Ric mused, it wasn’t just a youth spell—it was specifically designed to make someone 2 years old. Either that, or this man and Mr. Mendes were the exact
same age, which he doubted.
“Wha—wha’ you do to me, bad nino?” he pipingly asked, angrily.
“Oh, I don’t think little boys should talk to their elders that way,” Ric said breezily.
This enraged the toddler. “I da elda’! I a MAN!”
The wedding-dress lady looked at the shrunken man—her father, Ric was certain she had called him her father—with a mixture of astonishment and shock.
“What—what did you do to my Poppa?”
“Where?” Ric made an exaggerated show of looking around. “I don’t see your father anywhere around here, Miss. I just see your foul-mouthed, bad-mannered
little nephew—who, if you don’t mind my saying so, Miss, could stand some discipline.”
Cassandra caught on quick. “Of course—my nephew. Come here to Auntie Cassie, little Artie.”
“NO!” the little boy shouted. “I you pop-pop! You no auntie, you my daw-ta! I you daddy! You make bad boy fix me, or I—I—”
Cassandra’s mouth set in a firm line. “Little boys shouldn’t backtalk to their elders, or threaten their aunts,” she said coolly. She walked over to her little father and
plucked him up.
“Put me down!” he shouted, as she walked over to a chair and sat down, sweeping her dress with one hand so she could sit. “You bad, Cassie! You—” In his
baby voice, he cursed her as all the things he had before.
He was cut off suddenly, as she took him over her white-laced knee and began spanking him soundly—not too hard, since he was so young, but hard enough.
“Little-boys-don’t-talk-back!” she punctuated each smack.
Ric smiled. Idly, he wondered if this lady, who looked a little over 30, could handle this rambunctious youngun’. He casually cast another spell.
As she spanked her infant father, Cassandra grew younger, until she looked barely 21 years old.
Ric went over to claim the basket with the infant Mr. Mendes. He realized, with an uncomfortable feeling, how much he was beginning to depend upon the book.
He had cast a spell on the older man when he could have simply kept his mouth shut and snuck out before insulting him, or apologized. Granted, from what little he
had seen of the man, he deserved to be zapped—but he had only known him for less than 90 seconds. He had used the power of the book, really, for no better
reason than simply the fact that he could.
And Cassandra—well, probably she would be happy with her transformation into a young woman. But he hadn’t even asked her before casting the spell on her.
And what if her groom didn’t recognize her like this? What if he was upset (after all, he might not want to appear to be a cradle-robber?)
He decided to leave things as they were, for now. He made a mental note to tell Josh that he would have to look up this young woman and see if she was satisfied
with her transformation, and that of her father—after all, he was the one who had changed them without consulting either of them, and if Cassandra suffered
because of how he had zapped her father and her, he would in essence be responsible.
He found a spell to return him and little Mr. Mendes to his house, and cast it.
Fortunately, once again, it worked, with no ill effects. Josh and Rosie (who was still young, and still lingerie-clad,) were there waiting for him.
He and Josh consulted, while Rosie cared for the infant Mr. Mendes (but this time, she bottle-fed him!) They decided they had to let Rosie in on the secret of the
book; she had been impregnated with Mr. Mendes, and clearly had not forgotten—she kept giving the baby funny looks, and asking all sorts of questions of Josh
and Ric.
They told her everything—even about her not really being young. She pursed her lips, nodded. “I had this horrible, half-remembered memory of being old, tired,
aching and in pain—I thought it was a bad dream.” More and more memories were clearly coming back to her; she looked like she remembered everything. She
put out her hand. “Give me the book.”
Josh and Ric gave each other doubtful looks—but handed it over.
Rosie recited a spell …