Chapter 12
Delilah stared at Baba Yaga, struggling to process her sudden appearance through the fireplace. The ancient witch lounged in Sam's chair like she owned it, examining her nails with casual disregard for the tension she'd interrupted.
"The Collector," Delilah said, finding her voice. "You know who they are."
Baba Yaga waved dismissively. "Know is a strong word. Encountered, yes. Defeated temporarily, also yes. Vanquished permanently? Unfortunately, no."
Sam crossed his arms, wincing slightly from his still-healing injuries. "And you're just mentioning this now?"
"I mention many things at many times. Not my fault if people don't listen." Baba Yaga stood with fluid grace, surveying the cabin. "Need space. Move furniture."
Mac returned, freezing in the doorway at the sight of the legendary witch. "Um, did I miss something?"
"Only the most dramatic entrance since Fabio's revival of 'Cats' at the community theater," Delilah muttered.
Baba Yaga snapped her fingers, and the furniture slid toward the walls with a screech of protest. Sam's meticulously organized case files scattered like startled birds.
"Hey!" Sam lunged to catch a falling lamp.
"No time for tidiness," Baba Yaga declared, pulling various pouches from seemingly nowhere. "Collector uses paired magic—finds magical resonance between compatible practitioners, amplifies it, then harvests it. Very nasty. Very efficient."
Delilah felt her cheeks warm. "We're not—I mean, Sam and I aren't—"
"Spare me the denial dance," Baba Yaga interrupted, sprinkling purple powder in a circle. "Map responds to your harmony. Plants bloom when you argue. Classic resonance phenomenon. Ancient texts call it 'emotional catalysts.' Boring name for interesting magic."
Mac leaned against the wall, arms folded. "Like what happened with Ivy and Rafe?"
"Similar, but stronger." Baba Yaga's eyes flickered to Delilah. "Your visions, his enhanced senses—complementary abilities. Greater than sum of parts."
Sam's living room was rapidly transforming into a magical workshop. Herbs hung from invisible strings, bottles arranged themselves in precise patterns, and something that looked suspiciously like a chicken foot stirred a cauldron that definitely hadn't been there five minutes ago.
"What exactly are you doing?" Sam asked, eyeing the expanding ritual with growing alarm.
"Protection spell. Disrupt Collector's ability to track magical pairs." Baba Yaga tossed something that smelled like cinnamon and wet dog into her mixture. "Stand in circle. Both of you."
Delilah exchanged a glance with Sam. His yellow eyes reflected the same wariness she felt, but he nodded slightly.
"If it helps stop that vision from coming true," he said quietly.
They stepped into the circle together. Mac watched from a safe distance, phone suspiciously ready in his hand.
"Now, breathe deeply," Baba Yaga instructed, waving aromatic herbs that filled the room with a pungent, earthy scent.
Sam's nose twitched. His eyes widened in alarm.
"I'm allergic to—" He didn't finish before an explosive sneeze erupted.
The spell ingredients swirled violently. Baba Yaga ducked as her cauldron contents shot upward, forming a sparkling cloud that descended directly onto Sam.
A blinding flash filled the room.
When Delilah could see again, Sam was gone. In his place sat a fluffy white puppy with familiar yellow eyes and an unmistakably grumpy expression.
"Sam?" she gasped.
The puppy growled, a sound adorably unthreatening coming from such a small, fluffy body.
Mac's laughter shattered the shocked silence. "Please tell me someone has a camera!"
The puppy—Sam—lunged for Mac's ankle, tiny teeth sinking into his jeans.
"Ow! He bit me!" Mac couldn't stop laughing even as he tried to shake Sam loose.
Baba Yaga examined her spell components with mild interest. "Hmm. Interesting reaction. Smaller target is harder to hit. Working as intended!"
"Working as—" Delilah spluttered. "You turned him into a puppy!"
"Temporary side effect," Baba Yaga said, though she didn't sound entirely convinced. She backed toward the kitchen, a swirling portal suddenly appearing inside Sam's refrigerator. "Spell will disrupt Collector's pairing magic. Very effective camouflage."
"Change him back!" Delilah demanded.
Baba Yaga tossed a weathered spell book onto the couch. "Instructions inside. Probably. Coffee stain might be a problem." She stepped halfway into the refrigerator portal. "Good luck with puppy. Remember, no chocolate!"
And with that, she vanished, the refrigerator door swinging shut behind her.
Puppy-Sam sat in the middle of the circle, yellow eyes blazing with unmistakable fury.
"Well," Mac said, wiping tears of laughter from his eyes, "this is going to be interesting."
* * *
Morning sunlight streamed through Sam's cabin windows, illuminating dust motes dancing above the disaster zone of scattered spell components.
Delilah rubbed her bleary eyes, having spent the night alternating between frantically searching Baba Yaga's coffee-stained spell book and watching Sam pace in tight, furious circles.
Sam sat at attention on the kitchen counter, yellow eyes narrowed with the same intensity they'd had in human form. The effect was somewhat undermined by his fluffy white fur and the fact that his tail kept twitching involuntarily.
"So," Delilah said, pouring coffee into a mug shaped like a wolf howling at the moon. "This is... not ideal."
Sam barked once, sharp and decisive.
"At least we agree on something." She slid onto a kitchen stool, studying him. "We need a system. One bark for yes, two for no, three for 'that's a terrible idea and we'll probably die.'"
Sam immediately barked three times.
"I haven't even suggested anything yet!"
His canine expression somehow conveyed both exasperation and amusement.
Mac pushed through the front door without knocking, carrying a paper bag that smelled like Fabio's cinnamon rolls. "How's our little fluffy investigator this morning?"
Sam growled, hackles rising.
"Still has his sunny personality, I see." Mac set the bag on the counter and scratched behind Sam's ear. Sam snapped at his fingers, missing by millimeters.
"We're working on communication," Delilah explained, diving into the bag. "Though I'm not sure how we're going to track magical artifacts with Sam in this condition."
Sam jumped down from the counter, trotting to the living room where his case files lay scattered. He pawed at a specific document, then looked up expectantly.
"I think he wants us to read that," Mac said.
Delilah picked up the paper. "It's about the thefts. Pattern analysis showing..." She squinted at Sam's meticulous handwriting. "Wait, you suspected paired magical signatures were being targeted weeks ago?"
Sam barked once, then twice, then pawed at another document.
"Yes and no? Oh—you suspected but weren't sure." Delilah flipped through the pages. "These notes are incredible, Sam. The way you've mapped the resonance patterns between theft locations..."
Sam's tail wagged slightly before he caught himself and forced it to stop.
Mac leaned against the counter, watching them with growing amusement. "You know, this might actually work in our favor. The Collector's tracking magical pairs, right? Well, you two aren't exactly the same magical signature anymore."
Sam tilted his head, ears perking forward.
"He's right," Delilah said, excitement building. "Baba Yaga said the spell would disrupt the Collector's pairing magic. Maybe this ridiculous puppy situation is actually camouflage."
Sam tapped his paw twice on the floor, then three times in rapid succession.
"Two for no, three for terrible idea..." Delilah translated. "You don't think it's camouflage?"
Sam pawed at the case file again, then at a map of Assjacket, then stood on his hind legs in what appeared to be an impression of Mayor Grimble.
"The Mayor?" Mac guessed.
Sam barked once, then mimed digging frantically.
"Something hidden?" Delilah tried.
Sam's ears flattened in frustration, then he ran to the kitchen, returning with a wooden spoon in his mouth. He dropped it at their feet, then stood up straight, holding the spoon like a wand.
"The silver-haired witch!" Delilah exclaimed.
One enthusiastic bark, followed by Sam running back to the Mayor's location on the map.
"You think the witch is connected to Mayor Grimble?" Mac asked.
Sam barked once, his expression eerily human despite the canine features.
"This is actually working," Delilah marveled. "Between the ear positions, paw taps, and strategic growls..."
Mac snorted. "Only Sam Wolfe could maintain his detective skills while being adorable and fluffy."
Sam growled, but the effect was diminished by his size.
"Don't worry," Delilah said, fighting a smile. "We'll figure out how to change you back. But in the meantime..." She reached down to scratch behind his ears, and to her surprise, Sam leaned into her touch. "We might as well use this unexpected camouflage to our advantage."
* * *
Delilah hurried across the town square, Sam trotting beside her with as much dignity as his tiny paws could manage. They'd hoped to slip unnoticed to the library archives, but in Assjacket, "unnoticed" was an aspirational concept at best.
"Is that—?" Mrs. Pendleton squinted at Sam, then at Delilah. "Did you get a dog, dear? Or is that...?"
"Just dog-sitting," Delilah said quickly. "For a friend."
Sam made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a snort.
They'd almost reached the library steps when Mayor Grimble emerged from the municipal building, his latest hat resembling a miniature town hall complete with working clock tower that chimed the hour—ten minutes slow.
"Miss Hart!" he called, waving frantically. "And is that—good heavens—Investigator Wolfe?"
Sam froze mid-step, ears flattening against his head.
"What? No! This is just a—"