“Good afternoon,” Tammy said as she breezed into George’s apartment around one o’clock the next day. She picked up the lacy hat on the coat hook by the door as she came into his living room. “Anything cool this morning?”
“Just two today. One boring. The other was more interesting. A woman wanted a way to become encased or mummified in plastic quickly. She had brought a smooth stone that I enchanted so she could wrap it in plastic or cloth and imagine herself similarly encased and then when the stone was set down a few seconds later she would be encased. She stipulated the wrapping should be nearly unbreakable. But pulling the wrapping off the stone would instantly free her.”
“That could be cool.”
“Something you would do?”
“I might try it once or twice. Not exactly my thing,” she said, fumbling with her hat.
“What is your thing?”
She put the hat on, “Bon jour, Monsieur, j’aime cleaning.” And she began cleaning the room.
George laughed as he stood up. “Fifi, I’m going out to lunch.”
“Oui, Monsieur.”
George had not been out of the house much the past few days. It seemed to him that he should be around while there were so many people who needed his services. The last two days had had far less traffic and this made him feel like it would be okay to venture out.
George left the building and was heading toward his usual deli when he changed course and found himself outside a Chinese restaurant that he had always intended to try out but had never gotten around to doing so. He entered.
The place was decorated with an American eye toward Chinese decor. The walls had scrolls depicting illustrated quotes of famous Chinese works he thought looked familiar but could not name. The store was half full of guests of various ethnicities.
A cash register and counter was right by the door and he waited to be seated. A young man came out from the kitchen dressed as a waiter and seated him at a table. “Mr. Chin will be with you in a moment?”
“Who?” George said. But the waiter had already turned and left. George looked confused and looked for a menu with which to distract himself but one was not available.
A few minutes later a very old Chinese man entered and stood at the side of the table. “I have been expecting you,” the man said with a slight accent. “Do you remember me?”
George was going to say ‘no.’ until he realized he had a dream about Mr. Chin. “Please sit. Let’s discuss what we can do for one another.”
Mr. Chin handed George a menu and sat down across from him. Mr. Chin was interested in becoming George’s personal chef in exchange for youth. “My wife has been dead over two decades. I am 97 years old and my two sons are also dead. My daughter owns this restaurant and her children are all grown up. I have a dozen or so great-grandchildren who do not really know me. It will be hard on my daughter if I go, but she is in her 70s and I think by now she can survive on her own without me.”
“I’m not familiar with de-aging magic. My magic is more of a physical transformational bent.”
“You have a familiar. The magic would be similar. I would spend most of my time in an inert form and cook for you only a few hours a day. After twenty years of so, I might be young enough to start my life anew. And do not worry. I can cook food that is not Chinese, too.”
“I wasn’t sure how to ask that.”
They finished having lunch together and Mr. Chin led them through the back of the restaurant and up to his room where he collected a few personal belongings. As they chatted about what he would and would not take, an elderly woman said, “You are the one taking my father?”
“Your father asked me to take care of him,” George said.
“You will tell me how he is doing frequently.” It was not a question.
George said, “Do not make demands of me. I will endeavor to visit this place once a month. But, if your father is good at his job, I won’t need to visit a restaurant very often.”
“If that is the case I shall never see you.”
Mr. Chin spoke to the woman in what George assumed was a Chinese language. The woman bowed to him and said, “I am sorry for being so short with you.”
“It was nothing and it looks like Mr. Chin is ready to go.”
“Be well,” she said and gave her father a big hug.
He whispered something in her ear and then kissed her on the forehead. They separated and bowed to one another. “Let us go to your lair.”
“Lair?” George said. “I don’t think I’d call it a lair.”
“No, today it would be a man-cave.”
As the two of them came off the elevator, they could see the door to his apartment was ajar. No sounds came from the doorway. “I will go first,” Mr. Chin said and he moved at a speed that belied his age.
As George followed he heard a woman’s voice say, “A servant. Where is she?” A flash of light followed. As George turned the corner from the entranceway into the living room he saw the old man turned into a mannequin, a crystal statue wearing a maid’s uniform, a cat frozen in place hackles up, and a woman dressed in a long black robe. “Another servant,” she said as she raised her hand in front of her and energy flowed out of them toward George.
Faster than he could think George spoke words of power and energy flew from his hands. The two energy beams met in the middle and clashed with one another.
“Impossible,” said the woman. “A male witch?” Her resolve tightened and her beam strengthened putting the point where the beams met closer to George.
George summoned forth more energy and his beam strengthened inching closer and closer to the woman.
“Impossible,” the woman shrieked again. The beams exploded in front of her. Arcane energy filled the room. George was momentarily blinded. “No, no!” cried the woman, her voice strangled and high pitched. There was a release of energy and George fell backward to the ground.
* * *
“That was some display, Deary,” said an elderly woman’s voice. George felt a bony hand on his forehead. Opening his eyes, he saw an old woman kneeling next to him. He was apparently lying on the floor. He ached all over. He went to sit up but the room began to spin so he stopped. “No, no, it’s too soon. Just lie there for a moment.”
“Who are you?”
“Concerned about me before yourself. Excellent. I’m Prudence, local head witch. And you are?”
“George,” he said.
“George? Really? Interesting. Did Esmeralda call you a servant?”
“You mean the woman who broke in here?”
“I suppose she knocked on the door.”
“Yeah, she said ‘another servant’ and attacked me with magic.”
“And you reacted without thinking, I’m guessing.”
“Yes.” George shook his head. “Why does my voice sound funny?” He tried sitting up again, slower this time and succeeded. The cat, the crystal statue, the mannequin were all where they had been. In the place of the robed woman, presumably Esmerelda, was a stone statue. George looked down. The pants he had been wearing were mostly flat against the floor, his shoes laid far from the ends of his pants. He bent his right leg and an unexpectedly shorter leg, rose inside his pants.
“That ain’t the only thing funny about you I’m guessing,” Prudence said. “It looks like Esmerelda unleashed a youth spell on you. You look about eight years old I’d guess. It’s been awhile since I was around youngsters.”
George rolled up the right leg on his pants and eventually found a small girl’s foot. He wiggled her toes. “Oh, my. I’m so small. And female.”
“That for me is the surprising part. You are a witch, correct?”
“Yes.”
“And before today, you were an adult man?”
“I’m 32 years old and I’ve been a man all those years.”
“Fascinating.”
George rolled the other pants leg up above her ankle and then stood up. The ceiling was so far away. She was eye-height with the back of the couch. She had to hold the waist of the pants up or they would drop to her knees. She grabbed the sleeves and rolled them up until she could see her tiny hands.
“Do you want me to do something about your clothes?” Prudence asked.
“I guess. If you can.”
Prudence spoke a few words and the oversized clothes were replaced by a dark blue petticoat dress, stockings, buckled black shoes and a black purse. “Probably not what you’re accustomed to but far more appropriate for a witch of your age.”
“And gender?”
“All witches are female.”
“I’m not. Or wasn’t.”
“But you are now. I’m guessing when Esmerelda cast the age regression spell on you it was the first transformative magic to affect you. As such it also turned you female because that’s what you should be.”
“That’s kind of sexist.”
“I would argue it isn’t because men can’t cast spells but that is apparently no longer true.”
“So I’m unique.”
“You were unique. Now you are just rare. A young girl with access to her full power is rare.”
“What about them?”
“That’s up to you. You are the sole sovereign of your lair.”
“Even her?” George said, pointing at the stone statue of Esmerelda.
“She invaded your lair. She should have known better.” Prudence stood up and brushed off her robes. “I’m going to leave now. Restore your servants. As for Esmee, you can try to restore her. But I suspect you won’t be able to. Your familiar can explain it to you.”
“Is it normal for witches to just cast spells without training?” George said.
“No, most cannot cast spells at all without training. You have performed highly advanced transformations as a man. You can probably provide training.” She stood up.
“But what about the social rules of being a witch, such as invading other witch’s lairs?”
“There are none. Common courtesy says you shouldn’t do that. Do what feels right.”
“So what is your job?”
“Making sure witches who butt into other witches’ affairs are dealt with. Esmee has been dealt with.” Prudence left the apartment.
George looked at the cat and words for magic came forth. The cat hissed until it saw George then ran off into the bedroom. George followed and found the cat meowing near where he kept her pendant. He paused as he looked at the array of candy-flavored lipsticks and nail polish bottles arrayed on the dresser. Several jewelry boxes were on the dresser. Inside were costume necklaces and braces. The jewelry box she was looking for was toward the back of the dresser. She had to get on tiptoes to reach the box and pull it to the edge of the dresser. Then she opened the box and took the cat pendant in hand.
“Vile busybody,” the cat was saying.
“Esmerelda?”
“She just barges in here like she’s in charge. Was it Esmerelda? Figures.” Margaret finally stops hissing to look at George. “What happened to you?”
“Esmerelda de-aged me. According to Prudence, I was supposed to be female and that magic also changed me so the universe would feel better.” George opened his closet and found a bunch of dresses, blouses, skirts, and jumpers.
“I did say you were unusual. You met Prudence?”
“Yes. She also said I probably can’t restore Esmerelda and that you could explain why.” She checked the dresser and found panties, socks, stockings, tights, and leggings.
“Good. But I don’t know why. Let me go look at her again. If Prudence said I could figure it out, I probably can.”
They returned to the living room and George quickly restored Fifi and Mr. Chin. “If you don’t want to work here any more, I completely understand.”
Fifi was still staring out the window. She removed her hat. “I’m fine with it. What was I made of? The light coming through the window felt like it was going right through me,” Tammy said.
“I believe you were made of crystal, young lady,” Mr. Chin said. “And I would prefer a life of danger over no life at all. Do you want me to start supper?”
“I probably still need to bind you first.”
“Let me see what you have in your cupboards first.”
Tammy turned around and said, “Aren’t you the cutest little thing?” And she cupped George’s face in her hand. “Is this the new you?”
“In theory I won the fight against her. But I’m not so sure.”
“I have to take you shopping.”
“The witch who fixed my clothes fixed all my clothes.”
“Really?” Tammy said as she rushed into George’s bedroom to look at her new wardrobe.
“I will need you to buy me some things to cook with,” said Mr. Chin. “You don’t have a wok. And you only have one pot.”
“I don’t really cook.”
“I will also teach you to cook. You look the proper age now to learn, Granddaughter.”
“Granddaughter?”
“I doubt someone your apparent age lives alone in an apartment without a guardian of some form.”
“I suppose that makes sense,” George said. “Have you considered how you wish to be bound?”
“I have,” Mr. Chin said. He opened the bag he brought with him from his old home and placed a brass pedestal on the table. “You will turn me into a brass figurine a few inches tall, which is how I will spend time de-aging. When I need to cook, I will return to normal height and cook for you.”
“What will this figurine look like?”
“A young woman in a martial arts pose,” he said as he cupped his hands slightly and held his arms loosely, elbows in, hands at eye level, leading with his right hand, legs spread and stable, knees bent slightly.
“A young woman.”
“You will need sympathy in the months and years to come as you discover life as a young girl. I will learn with you. Besides, I’ve been a man for over 80 years. It’s time to spice things up.”
George laughed and began chanting in an unknown language. Mr. Chin resumed the earlier pose and simultaneously started turning brass in color and started shrinking in size. When the spell was complete, Mr. Chin was a five inch tall female martial artist figurine on the brass base.
Tammy said, “That was cool. And I’m glad you’ll have another woman around to help you with your change.”
“It’s all just great, I’m sure.”
“What are you going to call yourself?”
“What?”
“George is not the name of a young girl like you. What’s your new name?”
“Not Georgia,” she said. “How about Geri with a G?”
“Sounds good, Geri.” Tammy looked around the room. “What a mess.” She took the hat she was holding and put it on. “What will you do with this statue?”
“Nothing for now. It looks good where it is.”