The puppy—an exact miniature replica of his own transformation—looked back at him with familiar yellow eyes. Baba Yaga had called it a "minor magical echo" when Sam started sneezing magical residue that materialized into this canine doppelgänger. Minor to her, perhaps. To Sam, it was yet another reminder that magic always came with unexpected side effects.
Worst of all was the collar. A purple monstrosity Delilah had picked out, covered in rhinestones that caught the afternoon sun like tiny disco balls. He'd tried removing it three times this morning alone, but it kept reappearing. Another "minor" enchantment.
"Is that your doggy?"
Sam looked down to find a small girl with pigtails and mismatched rain boots staring up at him. She couldn't be more than six.
"Not exactly," he said, awkwardly shifting his weight. Children were not his area of expertise. "I'm just... watching him."
"He looks like you," the girl observed, tilting her head.
Sam stiffened. "What do you mean?"
"Same eyes. Same grumpy face." She demonstrated by pulling her features into an exaggerated scowl that was disturbingly accurate.
"I don't make that face," Sam protested, making exactly that face.
"Were you a doggy before?" she asked, completely unfazed.
Sam glanced around, hoping for rescue. The park was mostly empty except for Elder Thornberry feeding the ducks—which would have been normal if the ducks weren't floating three feet above the pond.
"No, I'm not always a dog," Sam finally answered. "Only on special occasions and full moons... and when I sneeze near magical residue... which happens more often than you'd think in this town."
The girl nodded solemnly. "My mom turns into a lizard when she gets too hot. Dad says it's her 'cooling mechanism.'"
Of course. In Assjacket, this was a perfectly normal conversation.
"Why's your doggy wearing such a fancy necklace?" She pointed at the rhinestone abomination.
Sam tugged at it fruitlessly. "Because my partner has a terrible sense of humor."
"Your girlfriend?"
"Business partner," Sam corrected automatically, then paused. "And... other things."
"You should get her flowers," the girl said with absolute certainty. "Mom always forgives Dad when he brings flowers. Even when he accidentally turns the bathtub into jello."
Before Sam could respond to this relationship advice, Mayor Grimble strolled into view, today's hat featuring a miniature dog park complete with working swing sets and tiny dogs that yipped when he nodded.
"Investigator Wolfe!" The Mayor tipped his hat in greeting, causing the miniature swings to creak. "I see you're exercising your... magical byproduct."
"Just trying to tire him out," Sam replied, noticing how the Mayor's shadow seemed to stretch toward him before snapping back into place.
"Excellent, excellent. The town council is most pleased with your new establishment. Very professional. Adds legitimacy to our supernatural tourism brochure."
As the Mayor spoke, his shadow briefly separated from his feet again, stretching toward Snowball, who growled low in his throat.
"Did you see—" Sam began.
"Must dash!" Mayor Grimble interrupted, suddenly anxious. "Municipal matters await! Dog license inspections! Very important!"
As he hurried away, Sam watched his shadow carefully. It moved normally now, but for a moment...
"Your doggy doesn't like that man's shadow," the girl observed. "My mom says you should always trust animals about shadows. They see things we don't."
Sam looked down at her with new interest. "That's very good advice."
Snowball was still growling softly, eyes fixed on the Mayor's retreating form.
