Animal Magic

By Kater Cheek

11-year-old tomboy Scar loves animals and would give just about anything to be one. She gets her chance when she learns of a group of magic animals led by a cat named Miu. Miu offers to grant magic powers if Scar and her brother Brady agree to perform a task. But the evil Miu betrays them and turns Brady into a cat instead.

Since Scar’s parents don’t believe that the new orange kitten hanging around is their son, it’s up to Scar and her new dog friend Dusty to save him.

Can Scar and her magic animal friends find a way to save her brother and defeat Miu’s cat army before it’s too late?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Kater Cheek
• Release date: Mar 8, 2018
• ISBN: 9781386422815

Book preview

Other Novels by Kater Cheek

KIT MELBOURNE NOVELS

Seeing Things

Treemaker

Dayrunner

Faerie Killer

Changer’s Turf

Hawthorn Hex

Kit Melbourne Compilations

Bindi Magic (Books 1-3)

Dayrunner Magic (Books 4-6)

DESERT MAGES

(Featuring Susan Stillwater)

Alternate Susan

Mulberry Wands

The Heat Stealer*

Coop De Grace (a comic about chickens)

*Forthcoming

Chapter One

IN WHICH I LOSE A PET and gain a promise.

dove

I RUSHED HOME FROM school, even though Jennifer offered me a piece of gum if I’d wait with her. Then she offered me two pieces of gum, and it was so hard to tell her no, but I had to get home right away because of what was waiting for me in a shoebox in my bedroom.

It was late spring, and already hot in the afternoon sun, so I took the alley that had the most shade, and walked along the wall. I always took the alleys if I could. They were only twice as wide as a car, and had walls on either side, so they felt more private. Plus, sometimes people left cool junk in the alleys, and if nothing else, I could peek into people’s backyards.

But not that day. That day I ran until I got tired, then walked, then ran again past the mean dog in that yard with the low chain-link fence. That dog always barked like he meant it, like one day he was going to jump over that fence and then we’d all be sorry. I avoided eye contact and kept running until the alley turned and it couldn’t see me anymore. By the time I got home, I was breathing hard and sweaty, and I thought I had a bruise from where my math book had been knocking against my lower back.

I’m home, I bellowed, then dumped my backpack on the couch. I scampered upstairs, using both my hands and feet. Amanda makes fun of me for doing that, but it’s faster that way. Also, I’m trying to get a lot of practice running on all fours, just in case I get bitten by a werewolf.

My name is Scarlett, but I go by Scar. I love animals. I told my parents and my teachers that I wanted to be a veterinarian, but honestly, that’s a compromise because I can’t be an animal. If I met a werewolf who offered to bite me in exchange for my little brother Brady, I’d probably say yes. I’d feel bad afterwards, but I’d probably do it, because I want to be a werewolf more than just about anything. If I could trade my big sister Amanda in for a werewolf bite, I’d say yes gladly, and I wouldn’t even feel bad about it later. I might even eat her afterwards. Amanda is bossy and never shares her candy.

Of course, I wouldn’t mind being a were-other animal. My current favorite animal was a lynx, though last year my favorite animal had been a wolf, and I thought when I turned eleven I might have a new favorite animal, because when I was nine I liked terrapins and fish eagles after I’d seen a documentary on television. I still liked lynxes, but they had been my favorite animal for a while, and it was time to pick a new one. I was torn between dolphins and scarlet macaws and horses, but not Clydesdales because the hair on their feet looks funny. It was hard to pick a favorite.

When I got to my room, I opened the door quickly and shut it again, to keep Princess from coming in. Princess was the one who had caught the dove in the first place.

I’d known Princess had a bird by the way she purred. Turtle would purr when you pet her, and Soxy would purr when you walked in the room, but Princess only purred when she was maiming something. I managed to get to the dove before it was badly hurt, wrenching open Princess’ jaws with the ease of long practice. The dove had dropped to the carpet, and I scooped it up, then carried it to my room. I had a shoebox I’d bought off my sister, a doll’s salad bowl for water, and a handful of bird seed I’d taken from the feeders that Mom filled every day.

You never knew if a bird was going to pull through or not. Sometimes they did, and sometimes they didn’t. The dove seemed like it had a pretty good chance, since there wasn’t anything wrong with its wings. It was stunned more than anything. Its foot was hurt, all curled up and bloody, but feet weren’t as important to birds as wings were.

Good news. When I peered in the box, the dove wasn’t there. That meant it could still fly. I looked around the room and found it perched on the valence. Now to get it outside.

This was the hard part. Birds were almost as dumb as flies when it came to flying out (rather than through) a window. Also, Mom had a sixth sense when it came to someone opening a window while the air conditioner was on. Usually we’d still be using the evap cooler this time of year, but the evap had gotten a leak or something so we were using the AC until Dad had time to fix it.  

Are you going to let me go?

Gaaah! I whipped around. Did you just talk? You just talked! Say something again.

Let me go.

A talking dove. A talking dove would be the coolest pet ever, much cooler than that hairless dog that Jaime was always bragging about.

How about you stay here and be my pet? I’d take good care of you.

No, that’s okay. I’d rather fly away.

I’m sure I could make a nice home for you. Where could I keep it? Cage, cage, something like a cage. Hmmm. Maybe the laundry basket? I dumped my dirty clothes on the floor and put the laundry basket on my desk. That would keep the cats out. What do you think? This could be your cage.

The dove shivered. If you let me go, I’ll do you a favor.

Like what? If I had a talking dove as a pet, all the other kids would think I was the coolest girl ever. What kind of favor could a dove do that would be better than that?

I can put in a good word for you with the other magic animals.

There are other magic animals?

Oh yes, much better ones than me, the dove said. Maybe they can give you magic powers. Don’t you want magic powers?

Whoa. It was like she read my mind and knew what I wanted more than anything. You have magic powers? What can you do? Besides talk, I mean.

It stretched its foot out and flexed the toes. The blood flaked off, revealing a healed foot. It was healing itself. No wonder it could still fly even though Princess had bitten it.

Please let me go. The dove cooed.

Okay. Just hop into the box, and I’ll carry you downstairs.

No, thank you. The dove shook its head. Open the window, and I’ll fly away.

I was a little hurt that the dove didn’t trust me. I don’t know if I can open it. My mom gets mad.

Please? Try?

Okay.

I started to slide the window open, but it squeaked. If Mom heard, I’d get in trouble. Hm. It needed something to keep from squeaking. I got out my tube of strawberry lip gloss to squeeze in the groove to make the window slide more quietly. That dove better appreciate the sacrifice. The strawberry lip gloss was a present from my aunt who thinks I should be a girly-girl. She keeps giving me presents to make me change. I don’t like make-up, but strawberry lip gloss was something nice to lick when I wanted something sweet and didn’t have any candy (all too often.)

Once I’d gotten the window open about eight inches, I had to get past the metal screen on the outside. Dad had bolted it to the window frame to keep the sun out, and as a security measure because my window opens onto the porch roof where just anyone could climb in. I’d been trying to think of a good argument why Dad should remove it. I told him I wanted to actually see the sky, instead of dirty metal louvers, which was a real reason, but apparently not a good enough one. Dad thought of windows as weak links in the integrity of the house, and couldn’t quite fathom why anyone would want to look out of one.

The other reason why I don’t like the metal screens there was that I wanted to be able to climb in and out, using the porch roof as my own balcony, but I knew without asking that this wouldn’t fly with my parents.

I grabbed my pocket knife and raced downstairs, then out the back door. Our back yard has five-and-a-half-foot block walls around it. I’m just over four and a half feet tall, but I pride myself on being able to scale the walls faster than anyone, including Matt down the street, who’s my own age but sadly lacking in running and climbing skills.

I was in a hurry, so I went to the easy spot, where some old milk crates had been stacked up, making a step to the top of the wall. I scampered up and crawled along. (I don’t mind climbing on roofs, and even jumping off them if dared, but I can’t bring myself to walk on top of the wall like a tightrope. All the other kids can, but it scares me to death. I must be afraid of heights or something.) Once I got to the side gate, I climbed onto the garage roof, and from there to the porch roof, and from there to my window.

At first, I just grabbed the edges of the screen and tried to pull it off, but with the sun beating down on it, the metal had gotten so hot that it burned my hands. Not only that, but it didn’t budge at all. Screws. Using my trusty Swiss army knife, I unscrewed the bottom two screws on the metal screen, though one of them took a long time because it was a Phillips head screw and I only had a flathead screwdriver in my pocket knife.

The bottom ones were out, but the top ones were too high. I glanced around the asphalt shingled porch roof, but didn’t see anything I could stand on. Even on my tippy toes, I couldn’t reach the top screw.

So instead, I stuck my screwdriver blade up under the lower edge of the screen