The Art of Flying by Judy Hoffman

Author:Judy Hoffman
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction - Young Adult
Publisher: Little, Brown Books for Young Readers

FORTUNA JUMPED UP and scurried away, just managing to stifle a scream when she slipped on something soft and squishy. Looking down, she discovered Macarba lurking in the shadows, gazing indignantly at a large black feather sticking out from her shoe. “Macarba!” she whispered, picking up the feather in dismay. “What are you doing here?”

The crow cocked his head at her and flew off without a word, disappearing through an open door down the hall. Fortuna sped after him, pulling up short at the top of narrow concrete stairs leading down into pitch blackness. This had to be the basement. Martin’s basement.

“Macarba!” she called softly, feeling in vain for a light switch. Far below in the darkness, she heard a distant caw. Behind her, down the corridor, she heard Selena say something to Ellie as they emerged into the hall on the way to make lunch for their unwanted guests. Fortuna stepped into the stairwell and shut the door, cutting off the only light she had.

“Macarba?” she whispered again, afraid to move off that first step, thinking of rats and mice and spiders. “Should I come down? Is it okay?”

A distant “Brack!” floated back up to her.

“I hope that means yes,” Fortuna muttered. She started down the stairs, reaching out in the dark for each one, gingerly touching the cold, damp walls for balance. “Eleven. Twelve. Thirteen.” Done. Thirteen steps to the bottom.

Beneath a dim light on the wall sat the old black crow, waiting for her. Across from him loomed a huge, metallic gray door—seamless, with no keyhole, lock, or handle. In front crouched the oversize, forbidding shape of Jaggin the Cat. Gleaming and huge like some exotic white panther, he watched them silently with his insolent expression. Fortuna was immensely relieved that Macarba was there.

“He is such a formidable cat,” she whispered to him.

Macarba smirked. “Don’t know what that means, but he is a cat all t’a same,” he answered.

Fortuna smiled. He was right. A cat. She was not going to be bullied by a cat. She straightened her shoulders and marched toward the door. Jaggin rose to his feet. Slowly. The hair on his back stood straight up, puffing him up to twice his size. His thick tail flicked back and forth; this was followed by a low growling noise from the back of his throat. Despite her courageous resolve, Fortuna stopped, not entirely sure what a cat that size, and a witch’s familiar at that, was capable of doing.

Macarba was not to be intimidated by the cat’s wrathful display. He stalked right past Jaggin on his long, skinny legs and knocked boldly upon the metal door with his beak like a woodpecker. But the door was so thick his rat-a-tat-tat turned into a ping.

Macarba turned around and winked at the cat. “Somethin’ special behin’ that door?” he asked innocently. Jaggin scowled at the crow, but the hair on his back settled down and his tail stopped twitching. He scratched himself behind his ear and sat back down.

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