The air in Fu Dog's chamber was usually thick with the scent of ancient herbs and cheap incense, but today, it was dominated by something far more biological. Jake Long sat slumped on a wooden stool, looking like the weight of the world—or at least the weight of his own mouth—was crushing him.
Fu Dog, wearing a tiny pair of jeweler's loupes, was currently deep in the "danger zone." He used a tongue depressor to pin Jake's tongue down, squinting into the dark recesses of the young dragon's throat.
"Easy with the tongue, Fu! You're gonna hit my uvula!" Jake mumbled, his voice muffled and distorted.
"Hold still, kid! I'm performing a delicate diagnostic here," Fu grunted, pulling at Jake's lower lip to inspect the gum line. After a few more seconds of poking, Fu recoiled so fast he nearly tripped over a stack of old scrolls. He batted the air frantically. "Great galloping gargoyles, Jake! What did you eat? A gym sock stuffed with Limburger cheese?"
Jake snapped his mouth shut, the movement sending a small puff of invisible but lethal vapor toward the Shar-Pei. "I haven't eaten anything weird! That's the problem! It just started this morning. Why does my breath smell like a dumpster fire in a swamp?"
Fu Dog pulled a small atomiser of expensive French perfume from his vest and sprayed it liberally around his nose. "It's not a dumpster fire, kid. It's worse. It's puberty. Specifically, dragon puberty. Your fire glands are maturing, and during the transition, they secrete a concentrated sulfuric byproduct. Basically, your breath is a biological weapon right now."
"How long will it take to disappear?" Jake asked, his mouth covered by his own hand, making his voice muffled.
"Ehh, a week or two to be accurate," Fu Dog replied while scratching his head.
Jake's eyes widened in horror. "A week? Two weeks? Fu, what the fuck! I have school today! And worse—I have a date this weekend!"
"A date?" Fu's ears perked up, his disgust momentarily replaced by gossip-fueled curiosity. "You? With a girl? One that doesn't have scales or a tail?"
"Yes! Her name is Rose. She's new, incredible, and I somehow talked her into hanging out this weekend," Jake said, grabbing Fu by the shoulders and shaking him. A fresh wave of breath hit Fu square in the face. The dog's eyes rolled back in his head. "You gotta fix this, Fu! If I walk within five feet of her like this, she'll think I'm a walking toxic waste site!"
"Alright, alright! Stop shaking the merchandise!" Fu wheezed, breaking free. He trotted over to his cabinet of wonders, muttering about 'the youth of today.' "I can whip up a 'Minty Fresh Dragon-Scale Lozenge.' One pop of that, and you'll smell like a winter wonderland for six hours."
Jake let out a sigh of relief—until he saw Fu's expression sour as he sifted through glass jars.
"Uh oh," Fu whispered.
"What do you mean, 'uh oh'? 'Uh oh' is not a word you use when my social life is on the line!"
Fu turned around with a sheepish grin, holding up an empty jar. "We're out of Phoenix Licorice and Sun-Dried Kelp. Of all the days for the pantry to go bare, it had to be the day your mouth turned into a mustard gas factory."
Jake gave him a deadpan stare that could have melted steel. "You're joking. Tell me you're joking."
"Look, kid, just... keep your mouth shut at school. Literally. Wear a mask, tell 'em you have a cold. I'll head to the Magical Market and grab the ingredients. I'll have the cure ready by the time you get home. Deal?"
Jake slumped his shoulders, defeated. He pulled a black fabric face mask from his pocket and snapped it over his nose and mouth. "Fine. But if I get a reputation for being 'Stinky Jake,' I'm moving to Jersey."
—------
The subway ride was a nightmare for Fu Dog. Being a talking, magical animal in New York was hard enough, but being a dog without a human escort on the a train was asking for trouble.
"Stupid subway... stupid crowded city," Fu muttered, hunkering down beneath a seat as a pair of muddy boots nearly crushed his tail. He'd already narrowly escaped a dog catcher near 42nd Street—an ugly man with a net and a sneeze that sounded like a car backfiring. "What kind of womb do these weirdos crawl out of anyway?"
When the train screeched to a halt at his stop, Fu slipped out between the legs of a distracted businessman. He navigated the alleyways with practiced ease until he reached a nondescript brick wall behind a closed deli. He tapped a specific sequence on the bricks—thump-tap-thump-thump—and the reality of the alley shimmered.
A small, low portal opened, and Fu stepped through.
The Magical Market was a riot of color and noise. Centaurs argued with sprites over the price of enchanted oats, and the air smelled of ozone and cinnamon. Fu made a beeline for a shop draped in silver webbing.
"Veronica! Sweetheart! Tell me you've got the goods," Fu called out.
A towering Arachne—half woman, half giant spider—descended from the ceiling on a silk thread. Her many eyes twinkled as she looked down at the Shar-Pei. "Fu Dog. I thought I smelled cheap cologne and desperation. What can I do for you?"
As Fu began haggling over the price of Phoenix Licorice, he failed to notice a small, hunchbacked goblin leaning against a nearby pillar. The goblin watched Fu hand over several gold coins, his yellow eyes narrowing. Without a word, the creature slipped into the shadows, heading toward a darker corner of the market to report to a higher power.
—------
Back at the Long household, the front door creaked open. Jake shuffled in, his backpack dragging on the floor. His face mask was still firmly in place, though it looked a little damp from a day of breathing into it.
"Jake? Is that you?" his mother, Susan, called from the kitchen.
"Yeah, Ma," Jake grunted, keeping his distance. He saw Haley peek around the corner, her nose wrinkling.
"Why are you still wearing that mask? Did you finally catch that 'loser-itis' I warned you about?" Haley teased.
"Very funny, Half-pint. I just don't want to get you sick," Jake lied, his voice echoing inside the mask. He bypassed them and sprinted for Fu's room. "Fu! Tell me you got it! I can't take another minute of this!"
The room was empty. The jars were still scattered, the perfume bottle sat uncapped, but there was no sign of the dog.
"Fu?" Jake called out, checking under the bed and inside the wardrobe. Nothing. He walked back to the kitchen, a knot of anxiety tightening in his stomach. "Mom? Did Fu come back? I need to talk to him about... uh, a school project."
Susan looked up from the stove, a puzzled expression on her face. "No, sweetie. I haven't seen him since he left this morning. I thought he was with you."
Jake froze. Fu was never late when it came to magical business, especially when gold or food was involved. A chilling thought crossed his mind.
He didn't waste another second. He grabbed his phone and dialed the one person who would know if the magical world was shifting. "Grandpa? It's me, Jake. We've got a problem. Fu is missing."