The Evil Wizard Smallbone by Delia Sherman

he’d had a choice. Most of all, he was mad at Smallbone, who kept him tethered to the barnyard like a straying dog and threatened him with transformation every time he did something wrong.
    Smallbone might call himself an evil wizard, but really he was just a bully, like Uncle Gabe. With magic, which made it worse.
    It was a good, hot, roaring mad. Nick built it up as he helped haul the boat onto the shore and walked back through the woods as the sun moved down the sky. By the time he got to Evil Wizard Books, he was ready to explode.
    Smallbone opened the kitchen door, and the dogs erupted into the mudroom, crazy with joy and a day spent indoors. Jeff reared up, put his paws on Nick’s shoulders, and swiped his tongue across his face.
    “Get down!” Nick yelled, and gave Jeff a kick that sent him tumbling among the boots. He yipped and cringed, his black velvet forehead pleated with confusion. Nick wanted to throw the basket at him, or maybe throw up.
    Smallbone’s glare could have scorched ice. “If I’d known you was the kind of no-good who went around kicking dumb animals, I’d have left you to freeze in the snow!”
    Nick glared back. “And now you’re going to turn me into something horrible, right? Go ahead, then!”
    Now that the worst was about to happen, Nick wished, as he always did, that he’d kept his mouth shut. Still, it was oddly satisfying to make the inevitable happen instead of just waiting for it. It showed he was stronger than whoever was beating up on him. He could push their buttons until they cracked, then take what they dished out without caving in or begging for mercy.
    The words of the spell fell around Nick like a rock slide. His body grew cold and numb. He just had time to regret what he’d done to Jeff before the kitchen faded from sight and sound and his thoughts stopped.
    Nick woke up smelling bacon. At least, his head was full of the scent of something rich and meaty and smoky. A moment later, he remembered that it was bacon, and that the gnawing sensation in his middle meant he was hungry.
    A hot, wet, soft thing slopped over his ear, accompanied by panting and high-pitched whines. He opened his eyes to see worried amber eyes peering at him a muzzle length away.
    The surface he was lying on was hard — a floor, he thought. But what was that warm weight on his hip? He brushed at it. There was a thump and a resentful yowl, and a lean black cat stalked past his face, her tail quivering like an indignant exclamation point.
    “Bacon’s almost done, Foxkin,” a gruff voice said.
    Nick got up slowly and removed the bacon to a waiting plate, then cracked eggs into the frying pan until he ran out of room.
    “Hungry, eh?”
    Nick turned. There was a man sitting at the kitchen table. A name came into Nick’s head: Smallbone, that was who the man was. The Evil Wizard Smallbone.
    He looked like a badly made scarecrow.
    Nick blinked. “You turned me into something, didn’t you? I don’t remember what it was.”
    “Rocks don’t remember much of anything that takes less than a hundred years to happen. Watch it, boy! Them eggs is going to burn.”
    Nick dished up the eggs and sat down. The world was sparkly around the edges, as if he’d been in a dark room for a long time.
    His thoughts caught up with Smallbone’s words. “A rock?”
    “Granite. Handy for drying the kitchen cloths, though I did have to step over you every time I wanted to mend the fire. Hell Cat staked you out as her favorite sleeping spot. Eat up.”
    Nick ate. After he’d absorbed three eggs, four pieces of bacon, and two slices of bread, he noticed Tom sitting beside his plate and gave him a bite of bacon. Mutt and Jeff whined at him in stereo. He fed them, too, and rubbed their heads. Their ears were dense and soft in his hands, their bacon-breath warm on his skin.
    After a while, they went away.
    Nick looked around. Smallbone had gone and Hell Cat was delicately licking the grease out of the frying pan. Nick