Gabriel Finley and the Lord of Air and Darkness

by George Hagen

  The transformation ended with a jolt.

  In that instant, they took to the air. The rooftops of Brooklyn spun away beneath them. Sirens, honks, and the noisy roar of the city softened and became as faint as the rustle of leaves on a blustery fall day.

  It was like coasting on an endless wave. Pamela rose and dipped, sometimes with immense speed, sometimes as gently as a feather before a faint breath. Great swells of air lifted her high, then cast her off into smaller, more vigorous streams. Now she understood the joy of the lark and the giddy delight of a flock of seagulls. Flying was bliss.

  The sky, however, was not a quiet place that evening.

  As they flew higher, a tumult of furious air currents wailed and howled around them. Yet there was almost nothing to see but the star-filled sky. Presently, a vast cumulus cloud drifted toward them, hundreds of feet high, layered with soft peaks and fluffy canyons. The shrill wind quieted, leaving a damp, majestic silence. Then the great cloud passed, the whistling winds and moaning breezes resumed, and the raven dropped altitude in search of a more peaceful area of sky.

  Below them, the city lights glowed in a soft, sleepy haze. Pamela saw a lonely ferryboat chug its way across the bay. They veered toward Manhattan and flew over glittering clusters of skyscrapers and the tiny headlights of cars weaving down streets in orderly processions.

  But the quiet was interrupted by sirens wailing on Fifty-Seventh Street. Vyka swooped down to see what the commotion was about. She landed on a large clock marked with the name TIFFANY & CO.

  Outside this famous jewelry store, police cars skidded to a halt, their bright lights flashing. Yellow tape reading CAUTION was stretched across the sidewalk. Police officers tried to restrain a crowd of curious onlookers while reporters swarmed the store’s entrance.

  An important-looking man with white hair stepped out from a cluster of detectives. He dabbed his forehead with a handkerchief as a boisterous crowd of reporters surrounded him.

  “Any information on who stole the diamonds from Tiffany’s, Commissioner?” one reporter asked.

  “As a matter of—”

  “Is it true that the doors sprang open as if by magic, Commissioner?”

  The commissioner tried again. “In fact, it—”

  Another reporter shouted, “What about suspects?”

  Furious, the commissioner raised his hands for silence. “For buttered bagel’s sake, will you please let me talk? This robbery was conducted by…ahem…birds.”

  “Birds?” laughed a reporter. “Puh-leeze!”

  The commissioner turned red, and looked for his deputy chief. “Inspector Ramirez, will you explain?”

  A short woman wearing a gold badge stepped forward. “That’s right, sir. Birds were seen leaving with diamond jewelry dangling from their mouths—er, I mean, beaks. The perps were birds.”

  “That’s the craziest thing I’ve ever heard,” said yet another reporter. “Do you have any evidence?”

  “Plenty,” said the commissioner. “All the security cameras show them.”

  “Seriously? What kind of birds?”

  “Ravens!” barked the commissioner, and he hurried into the building.

  At that very moment a reporter looked up and noticed Vyka. “Hey, there’s one now. Maybe it’s come back for seconds!”

  “Arrest it, Officer!” joked another.

  Inspector Ramirez called for her officers to steer the reporters back behind the barricades.

  “C’mon, Officer,” said a third reporter, laughing. “Time to start rounding up witnesses. Start with that bird!”

  Immediately, Vyka took to the air, and soon she and Pamela were soaring high above the city again.

  Vyka, would ravens really steal diamonds? asked Pamela.

  Absolutely not, the raven replied. My cousins, the jackdaws and crows, love glittering objects, but none of them are thieves. I’ll bet they were valravens.

  Of course! said Pamela. I have to tell Gabriel right away.

  A swift air current bore them across the East River toward home. Fog circled the Finley house that morning as Pamela sprang free in the backyard. She invited Vyka to come inside, but the raven reminded her that she was wild, and preferred to see the sky above her. I will always be near, she told Pamela as she spread her wings and took off.

  Pamela waved goodbye, entered the house, and dashed upstairs to Gabriel’s room. “Wake up!” she whispered, shaking him. “I have something amazing to tell you!”

  “What? What happened?” he murmured.

  “Well, first of all, I’m Corax’s daughter! We’re cousins, Gabriel. My mother married him when she was younger, and had twins. Corax took my brother away because he looked like a valraven.”

  Confused, Gabriel rubbed the sleep from his eyes. “You’re Corax’s daughter? You have a brother who’s a valraven? What?”

  Next, Pamela explained about the memory elixir that Aunt Jaz had given her mother. “Corax left with my brother before my mom understood what he was. Aunt Jaz thinks she could remember the truth if she wanted to.”

  Gabriel sighed. “So Aunt Jaz has known all this for years? Y’know, it’s ridiculous how many secrets there are in this family.”

  “Oh, Gabriel, all families have secrets,” Pamela replied.

  “I guess,” he admitted. “How does it feel? I mean—to have a valraven brother?”

  Pamela looked uneasy. “Aunt Jaz didn’t think he survived, until I told her what we saw in the snow globe. I wonder where he is now.”

  “Aviopolis, I bet.”

  “Poor guy,” said Pamela. “I mean, to grow up in a world without sky. Without light. I wish he knew about me.”

  “Maybe he does.”

  “Gabriel…” She hesitated. “Do you think he could be evil?”

  “You’re not evil,” Gabriel replied quickly.

  Pamela went quiet after this. What was his name? she wondered. Did he look human, or was he a cursed, shabby-feathered ghoul like the valravens she had seen in Aviopolis?

  At that moment, Gabriel’s alarm clock rang.

  “Oh,” said Pamela as he switched it off, “there’s a part I forgot to tell you. I flew with Vyka for the first time, and saw the police and a huge diamond robbery. We think it was done by valravens.”

  Gabriel sat up when he heard this. “Diamonds!” he said. “The perfect way to pay for Corax’s rune.”

  “Which means they’ll go to Pleshette to try to buy it. The only problem is that Pleshette doesn’t have any runes….”

  At that moment, Paladin arrived at the windowsill. Guess what! he said, hopping excitedly up and down. The sparrows say there’s been an enormous diamond—

  “Robbery?” said Gabriel. “Yeah, we know.” He quickly explained that Pamela and Vyka had paravolated to the scene of the crime.

  “Paladin, why were you out so early this morning, anyway?” Gabriel asked.

  I wanted to spread the news that Pleshette’s runes were fake, said Paladin.

  After Gabriel told Pamela this, she grew excited. “I guess now Septimus will be scurrying off to get the rune from the Chamber of Runes so that he can exchange it for the diamonds.”

  Gabriel sprang to his feet. “I have to tell my dad!”

  Taking the steps three at a time, Gabriel caught up with his father on the way to breakfast and told him about the robbery.

  Mr. Finley scratched his beard thoughtfully. “So the valravens are ready to pay. I must call Septimus—”

  He stopped talking as footsteps came down the stairs.

  It was Aunt Jaz. She had arranged her hair differently this morning. Auburn ringlets framed her face, and she wore a turquoise necklace and a beautiful deep-green silk dress.

  Mr. Finley was surprised. “Jasmine, you’re all dressed up,” he said. “Are you going to a funeral?”

  Jasmine’s smile vanished. “No, Adam. As a matter of fact, I’m going out tonight.”

  “Oh, beachcombing? Skull collecting?”

  “I happen to
be going on a date. Is that so hard to imagine?”

  “A date?” said Mr. Finley. “Have I met this person?”

  “No, you have not.”

  “I think you look awesome, Aunt Jaz,” interjected Gabriel.

  “Thank you, my dear,” his aunt replied. “A funeral. Really!”

  Mr. Finley fled into his study, followed by Gabriel. He was about to dial a number on his phone when he noticed his son watching him from the doorway.

  “What’s up?”

  “Hey, Dad,” Gabriel began. “If Septimus needs you to go with him to the Chamber of Runes, can I go, too? What I mean is, I want to help you bring Mom back. I know it’s dangerous—”

  Mr. Finley interrupted him. “Better get some breakfast, Gabriel.”

  “You might need help.”

  “You’ll be late for school if you don’t eat now,” his father replied, and gestured for him to close the door on his way out.

  —

  While he ate his cereal, Gabriel told Pamela that he thought his father was going to see Septimus. Big things were surely about to happen.

  “Don’t go anywhere without me!” Pamela whispered as she scrambled off to school.

  Mr. Finley showed no sign of being aware of his son’s concern when he entered the kitchen. He calmly poured his coffee and munched on his toast. Gabriel stole furtive glances at his father, accidentally spilling milk over the rim of his bowl. As Mr. Finley looked down at the newspaper, Gabriel sensed that he wasn’t reading it.

  Gabriel threw on his coat and fussed with his shoelaces. It took five minutes to tie them, a record. Finally, he turned to his dad. “I think I’m getting sick.”

  “No fever,” replied Mr. Finley, feeling Gabriel’s forehead. “If it gets worse, tell the nurse and she’ll call me. Better hurry, you’re going to be late.”

  Gabriel nodded and trudged up to the front door, dragging his backpack. He noticed Paladin preening his feathers on the banister. “I thought you were still upstairs, asleep,” he said.

  How could I sleep with all that’s going on? replied Paladin.

  Gabriel glanced downstairs and decided to speak telepathically. Paladin, could you keep an eye on my dad? I’m afraid he and Septimus are going to Aviopolis without telling me.

  Of course.

  This assurance was the only thing that propelled Gabriel out of the house.

  He found Somes and Abby waiting for him at his gate. As they hurried to school, he shared the news about Corax, Pamela’s brother, and the jewel theft.

  “So Corax attacked my dad to get flesh to feed his baby valraven?” Somes said. “That’s why my dad has been so messed up all these years? A tiny bite from the tip of his pinkie finger? Who knew a valraven bite could drive a person crazy.”

  “Your dad isn’t crazy, Somes,” said Gabriel. “He’s friendly to us—sometimes.”

  “Trust me, you can be crazy and friendly,” Somes replied. “Not to mention mean, angry, nasty, and horrible, especially to your own kid.”

  As they walked downhill, Somes strode ahead of his friends. He kicked a trash can, then thumped a garden gate. At the next intersection, he struck the pole with his fist, then winced with pain.

  Abby spoke softly to him. “Aren’t you glad to know what happened, at least?”

  Somes nursed his fist. “I guess. And he’s been better these days, but…” He stopped talking as his eyes welled with tears. He removed his glasses and wiped his eyes with his sleeve.

  The three friends stood quietly for a moment. Somes blew his nose and glanced wearily at Gabriel and Abby. “I’m okay now,” he whispered. “Thanks, you guys.”

  Somes knew that he could count on them not to laugh or make fun of him.

  “I hope I never run into that valraven kid,” Somes said. “For all the stuff I’ve been through, I’d have to teach him a lesson.”

  By now, they had reached school. Gabriel felt another pang of anxiety as he thought about his father. Even the statue of Alfred Grimes, one eye concealed by a patch, seemed to regard him with foreboding.

  At the top of the steps, Gabriel noticed Aunt Jaz chatting with Mr. Coffin. He paused, and heard a chorus of gravelly squawks from above. A large flock of black birds was flying in close formation over the trees. Were they ravens or valravens? he wondered.

  —

  During math class, Mr. Coffin walked behind Gabriel and stopped.

  “You’re very unfocused, Mr. Finley. Something wrong at home?”

  “No, Mr. Coffin.”

  “You’ve drawn a man with a beak and wings on your worksheet.”

  Gabriel was startled to see that he’d drawn Corax in the margin.

  Mr. Coffin examined the sketch more closely. “Who is that?”

  “Nobody,” Gabriel answered quickly.

  “He looks like a nightmare,” said Mr. Coffin, picking up the paper. “One has to conquer one’s nightmares, or they haunt you for the rest of your life.”

  Gabriel stared at Mr. Coffin. Then he saw a tattoo on his teacher’s wrist that he’d never noticed before.

  It was a raven in flight—a silhouette, no bigger than a penny.

  —

  Paladin was true to his word: he perched in the hall, watching Adam through the doorway of the study. When the doorbell rang shortly after lunchtime, a tall gentleman with snow-white hair, a tweed suit, and a snappy silk scarf greeted Adam at the front door.

  “Septimus Geiger at your service!” he said.

  The raven hopped down the banister rail so that he could hear their conversation.

  The stove swiftly produced a bubbling potion in a copper pot. Moments later, there was a loud SHAZZAP as Mr. Finley and Septimus Geiger were bathed in a flash of light.

  “Delicious!” Septimus issued a loud burp and patted the smoke from his shirt and trousers as he sat down. “Well, Adam, that was a fine toddy indeed. And I’m glad you’ve changed your mind. So you’ll free Corax?”

  “I didn’t say that, Septimus,” Mr. Finley cautioned him. “Remember, we can speak only the truth here, and I know the runes you left with Pleshette were duds, so tell me where the real ones are.”

  “If I must, I must,” Septimus muttered, wiping his forehead nervously with a handkerchief. “There’s another entrance to Aviopolis in Coney Island. It leads to the Chamber of Runes through a maze somewhere on the eastern rim of the great cavern. There, the runes sit on a pedestal surrounded by blue fire. I could only get one off the pedestal. There are three left.”

  “Ah, so you did try to sell fake runes to Pleshette?”

  Septimus shrugged. “That was Burbage’s idea.” He looked cautiously at his pant legs, but they didn’t smoke. “Definitely Burbage’s idea,” he added. “Pleshette’s very angry with me, not to mention upset with your son for freeing his animals. That boy has a fine talent for thievery. I could get him started on a wonderful career.”

  “As a thief?” Adam looked furious. “Absolutely not!”

  “Suit yourself.” Septimus looked indignant, as if this were the most generous offer in the world. “But that reminds me of a riddle. How do you turn a thief into a chef? Can you guess?”

  Adam paused for a moment. “I haven’t a clue,” he said.

  “Like this,” said Septimus. “Take his eye, steal his tea, and start him off at sea.”

  “What? That makes no sense at all,” replied Mr. Finley.

  Septimus raised an eyebrow. “I hope you’re not losing your touch, Adam. The answer is simple. If you take ‘i’ and ‘t’ from the word thief and begin it with ‘c,’ you’ve got chef.”

  Adam raised an eyebrow. “Did you solve that riddle when you first heard it, Septimus?”

  “No, I couldn’t solve a riddle to save my life.”

  Adam sat up straight, as if he had just had an inspiration. “Look, old friend,” he said. “I have bad news for you.”

  “What?” Septimus glanced at his trousers in case they were on fire again.

  “You cannot free Cora
x from his rune without answering a riddle. So if you wish to let this monster back into the world, you will have to sharpen up your riddling skills.”

  Septimus’s snowy-white head sank between his shoulders. “More blasted riddles,” he groaned. “It’s not fair. All those diamonds, just waiting for me!” Then he glanced cunningly at Adam. “I remember your wife’s rune. Such a pretty little silhouette. Imagine her, waiting all these years to be rescued. Poor lady. Seems a pity that you’ll never find her.”

  Mr. Finley didn’t reply.

  Septimus leaned closer. “Adam, consider my offer: answer the riddle for Corax’s rune, and then free your wife and live happily ever after.”

  Mr. Finley gave a dramatic shrug. “You’ve made your point, Septimus. I’ll go with you.”

  Septimus looked startled. “Really?”

  “Yes.”

  “And you’ll answer the riddle to free Corax before you try to free your wife?”

  “I shall,” said Adam.

  “Promise?”

  “If I were lying, my pants would be on fire,” Adam replied.

  Septimus scrutinized Adam’s trousers with surprise. “Very true. Then we’d better hurry. I have a suspicion that Pleshette is going to try to beat me to it.”

  “But how would he find his way there?”

  “Burbage,” muttered Septimus. “Pleshette bribed him with a cageful of mice.”

  As the two men threw on their coats, Paladin quickly retreated upstairs to Gabriel’s room. The window had been left ajar, just in case he needed to slip outside.

  —

  Little did the two men know that a robin had also been eavesdropping on their conversation from the kitchen windowsill. His beady black eyes darted back and forth from Septimus Geiger to Adam Finley, until their last words confirmed what he wanted to hear. Now he began hopping up and down like a windup toy, gleeful and triumphant.

  “Your Eminence,” he chirruped, “they’re going to the Chamber of Runes!”

  I can hardly believe it is true, replied the voice in the robin’s head. It surprises me that my brother, Adam, would free me, and I am even more doubtful that Septimus Geiger has the courage to do it. We must warn the valravens not to release a single diamond until my spirit and body are reunited.