Gabriel Finley and the Lord of Air and Darkness Read online

  This morning he braced himself for Trudy’s first words.

  “Oh,” she said, noticing Paladin on his shoulder. “You brought that filthy bird downstairs.”

  “He’s not filthy,” Gabriel replied.

  “He’s full of germs.”

  “We’re all full of germs,” countered Gabriel. “That’s a fact.”

  “It’s a filthy fact.” Trudy sniffed.

  Gabriel uttered a soft sigh, which earned him a sympathetic smile from Pamela. She understood his special relationship with Paladin. As one of the three friends who had helped Gabriel rescue his father from Aviopolis, Pamela knew all about paravolating and valravens and the power of the torc.

  Pamela most envied Gabriel because of the Finley family history of bonding with ravens. She wished she could be a raven’s amicus and fly, as he could.

  “Well, I must be off,” said Aunt Jaz, finishing her coffee. “I have a new teacher to welcome at school today. Gabriel, are you coming?”

  Gabriel had just plucked his toast from the toaster, so he waved to Aunt Jaz and explained that he would walk with his friends.

  “Okay. Have a nice day, everybody!” said Aunt Jaz.

  As the front door slammed, Pamela gave a wistful sigh. “I wish my school were just down the hill instead of a long subway ride away.”

  “My dear child,” said Trudy. “Your school is superior to Gabriel’s school. You have a scholarship, music lessons, and a fine future ahead of you.”

  Gabriel tried to defend himself. “There’s nothing wrong with my—”

  “Oh, look at the time!” interrupted Mr. Finley. “I should be off. By the way, you should all go ahead and have dinner without me tonight. In all likelihood, my research will keep me late.”

  “Really, Dad?” Gabriel exclaimed. “Are you going to find out where ‘disappeared’ things go?”

  “Disappeared things? What on earth are you talking about?” said Trudy suspiciously.

  “Like…socks,” said Gabriel hurriedly. “Dad’s socks disappeared and he needs to find them.”

  His father smiled and headed upstairs to the front door.

  “Oh, look! There’s a robin at the window,” said Pamela.

  The scarlet-breasted bird was jumping up and down with great excitement on the other side of the window. However, the moment Gabriel turned to see it, the bird fluttered away.

  “Oh, what a pretty little fellow!” said Trudy. “I love robins. They’re such sweet birds.”

  “Actually, they’re not sweet at all,” Gabriel said. “And they’re stupid.”

  “What an ignorant thing to say about such an innocent creature,” said Trudy. “You couldn’t possibly know anything about robins!”

  “It just so happens I know…” But with one look at Trudy, Gabriel realized it was hopeless to argue. “Oh, never mind!”

  —

  Outside the Finley house, the exuberant robin had landed on the high branch of a magnolia tree. He couldn’t contain his excitement, flapping his wings and chirping.

  “Did you hear what he said, Eminence? Where disappeared things go!”

  Indeed, replied Corax. I’ll wager that Adam Finley is looking for a lost soul of his own—I believe the boy’s mother vanished by the torc’s magic, too. I shall profit from his endeavor. Quick, we must follow him.

  “But I’m hungry!” the bird whined. “I must eat first.”

  Control yourself, Snitcher! scolded Corax.

  “Oh dear, if I don’t eat I might faint,” muttered the robin to himself. “I wish I had something to eat right now.”

  At that moment, the torc began to glow a pale blue upon the robin’s scarlet breast, and its sudden warmth startled him. “Ooh!” cried Snitcher. “Something is happening!”

  What did you just do? cried Corax.

  “Nothing. I just…wished, and now the torc is burning hot!”

  Then it isn’t broken, declared Corax with a note of triumph.

  “What’s it going to do?” chirruped the robin.

  The answer to that question didn’t come immediately, although both Corax and the robin sensed that something momentous was about to happen. Would the torc simply grant the robin’s wish, or would it respond in some strange, catastrophic way?

  Gabriel stepped outside and slung his backpack over his shoulder. The air felt oddly charged, like the moment before a thunderstorm when the sky darkens and the wind picks up. A thick cluster of clouds had swept over the bright azure sky, and a fierce gust whipped leaves and twigs into swirling eddies along the sidewalk.

  “Something’s weird around here,” said a voice that made Gabriel spin around.

  “Oh, hi, Abby,” he said.

  Abigail Chastain’s frizzy blond hair was arranged into twelve short pigtails across her scalp, and she wore cat’s-eye glasses and mismatched clogs (one red, one green). She had been a vital member of Gabriel’s group during the rescue of his father and was, like Gabriel, a riddle fanatic. Abby had no mild opinions—she either loved or hated things. Some people found her annoying for this reason, but Gabriel considered her a great friend, especially in times of danger.

  “There’s something in the air. Do you feel it, too?” asked Gabriel.

  “I feel magic,” said Abby with a giddy smile. “Hey, look up there!”

  Gabriel looked skyward. A cluster of clouds seemed to turn in a slow circle—like cream in some vast overhead mixing bowl.

  “Magic,” said Abby. “It’s the only explanation. Let’s see if Somes agrees.”

  Somes Grindle was the fourth member of their group. His house was a gray clapboard building just two blocks away. Gabriel and Abby walked with breathless steps up to the front door and knocked. A shingle that read GRINDLE swung wildly in the wind as a tall man stepped out, wearing a white baker’s uniform and carrying a lunch box. He looked at the kids and yelled roughly inside, “Somes, your friends are here!”

  “Good morning, Mr. Grindle,” said Gabriel.

  Mr. Grindle answered with only a sigh. Then he winced and rubbed his hand.

  “Did you hurt yourself?” asked Abby.

  “It’s that blasted pain in my hand,” he muttered. “I’ve had it for years, but it’s bad this morning for some reason. Must be the weather.” He looked up at the spiraling thunderclouds. “Somes is late, as usual. Maybe you two can get him to school on time.” With that, Mr. Grindle nodded goodbye and hurried down the street.

  Now a tall boy with a thick thatch of brown hair and black-framed glasses emerged from the house. Somes looked like his father, but he was lankier. His worn jeans were loose on his frame, he wore no socks, and each canvas sneaker was held together with a single frayed shoelace. After locking the door, he kicked a battered backpack down the stoop, then lazily threw it over his shoulder. Somes hated homework, and this was his way of showing it.

  “What’s up?” said Somes. Like Abby and Pamela, he had been with Gabriel on the journey to Aviopolis to rescue Gabriel’s father.

  “We think there’s something in the air,” said Abby.

  Somes sniffed suspiciously. “Yeah, something. That smell. It’s not electric, but—” He interrupted himself to point upward. “I’ve never seen clouds do that.”

  The clouds were slate gray and churning in a swift spiral directly overhead.

  The three friends began walking hurriedly downhill toward school.

  “It smells like magic!” Abby’s eyes lit up as she turned to Gabriel. “I told you.”

  An explanation popped into Gabriel’s mind. The clues were obvious—strange atmospheric activity, magic, and the appearance of the robin on his windowsill. “It must be something to do with the torc.” Gabriel told them about the robin he had spotted earlier that morning.

  “Why didn’t you try to catch it?” asked Somes.

  “Yeah, why?” said Abby.

  Now Gabriel felt annoyed with himself. “Well, because my dad said the torc couldn’t do much harm around a stupid bird’s neck.”

&nb
sp; The three friends were on the last block before school. The clouds directly above were whirling in a furious gray froth.

  “That robin might wish for anything,” said Somes.

  “Actually, I think it would probably only wish for a few things, like food, or—ooh!” Abby looked up with surprise. Little white flakes were falling through the air. She held out her hand. “Snow!” she said.

  “But it’s not cold,” said Gabriel.

  “And it’s not snow,” said Somes. “It’s—”

  “Birdseed!” said Abby. She had licked a few of the particles that had landed on her hand.

  “Canary seeds? Sesame seeds?” said Somes.

  “Sunflower seeds, too,” murmured Gabriel.

  By this time, they had arrived at the steps of the Alfred Grimes Academy, a stately old building with scrolled sandstone carvings above the windows and doors. The most prominent was of the head and shoulders of an elderly man with a patch over one eye. He peered down with a wry smile at the students. This, apparently, was Alfred Grimes, and his sardonic countenance might have had something to do with the school’s motto: Vita Mysterium, or Life Is a Mystery.

  Several teachers raised their collars and waved students hurriedly inside as particles whipped and spun in the air around them. Nobody else seemed to notice that the flakes weren’t snow. Aunt Jaz stood beside an unfamiliar figure, a man in his fifties with receding hair and a dark beard.

  “New teacher,” Gabriel said to his friends. “Aunt Jaz told me.”

  Suddenly, Aunt Jaz uttered a high, tumbling laugh.

  “Seems like your aunt likes him,” observed Somes.

  The wind was blowing wildly now, and the particles were everywhere—in students’ hair and all over the sidewalk.

  “Children! Come in, come in!” instructed Aunt Jaz.

  Reluctantly, the three merged with the crowd entering the building, their shoes crunching on freshly fallen canary seed.

  Meanwhile, a group of frenzied pigeons swooped down to investigate this blessing from the skies.

  —

  The math teacher was late, so Gabriel laid his books on his desk and peered through the classroom windows at the street below. The clouds had pulled away like a curtain to reveal a perfect blue sky. There was no indication of the bizarre weather except for hundreds of birds darting about, pecking up seeds from the gutters and pavements.

  “Definitely magic,” whispered Abby.

  “Positively,” added Somes, joining them by the window.

  “The robin made a wish,” Gabriel said. “That’s the only explanation.”

  Abby’s forehead creased with worry. “But if he can wish for something like this, maybe he’s not so harmless.”

  At that moment, the teacher entered. It was the man they had seen talking to Aunt Jaz. He wrote his name on the board.

  There was a collective gasp as the students read the name: Mr. Coffin.

  “That’s right,” the teacher said. “My name is Coffin, and I’ll be your substitute for a few months until Mr. Delgado recovers from his juggling injuries.”

  Abby’s hand shot up. “Was it knives again?”

  “No,” replied Mr. Coffin. “Live animals…porcupines, I believe.”

  After a buzz of chatter, Mr. Coffin called for silence and rolled up his sleeves.

  This drew more surprised gasps, because his forearms were covered with tattoos. But instead of words or pictures, they were mathematical formulas.

  “These are my favorite equations,” he said. “And they come from Newton, Euclid, and Descartes. You might say that those men are my heroes. Because of them, we can calculate a planet’s orbit, or the path of a rocket, or the surface of a sphere. Perhaps they’ll become your heroes, too.”

  Somes groaned and slumped down, resting his chin on his desk.

  Mr. Coffin noticed his reaction. “You, sir, what’s your name?”

  “Somes Grindle.”

  “Mr. Grindle? Can you tell me how to define a circle?”

  “It’s, um…” Somes looked helpless for a moment, but then he seemed to surprise himself with an answer. “A shape where all the points are the same distance from the center.”

  “Very good. Indeed, it’s a bit like your group of friends,” said Mr. Coffin, his eyes darting from Gabriel to Abby to Somes. “Yes, all the same distance apart, held together by something. What? Magic, perhaps?”

  This remark startled all three of them.

  —

  “Magic. What did he mean by that?” said Gabriel later.

  They were in the cafeteria at lunch, huddled together, talking in low voices.

  “Maybe he noticed the birdseed,” said Abby.

  “Or he knows something about us,” Gabriel suggested.

  “That’s the first time I ever answered a class question correctly,” Somes told them. “There’s definitely magic in the air.”

  “Well, I think he’s interesting,” said Abby. “You can’t go around with a name like Coffin without being a little mysterious.”

  “You just love a mystery,” said Somes.

  “Nothing wrong with that,” Abby replied.

  —

  Not far from school, a robin alighted on the gutter of a tall house and began gorging on the sunflower and canary seeds that lay at his feet. His little black eyes were bright with triumph.

  “I’ll never be hungry again! I can wish for whatever I want!”

  Snitcher, I hope you haven’t forgotten me, said a menacing voice.

  The robin felt an unpleasant tightness around his neck. He wriggled slightly, but the necklace grew taut until he could barely breathe.

  “Eminence,” he gasped, “I could never forget you. I was just so hungry!”

  Do not disobey me again, or you will be sure to regret it, Corax replied.

  The necklace squeezed again, and the suffocating robin uttered a frantic chirp. “But I only wanted a bite of—”

  We have lost a chance to follow Adam. I want you to return to the Finleys’ windowsill and stay there.

  “Yes, Eminence,” the robin croaked.

  As the necklace loosened around his throat, the relieved robin obediently spread his wings and took flight.

  “Oh, gosh!”

  Pamela was very disappointed to have missed the birdseed blizzard. She had returned from school to find the others talking about it in Gabriel’s kitchen.

  “Well, it proves one thing,” said Somes.

  “What’s that?” asked Gabriel.

  “You can be dumb and still be dangerous. What if that robin wished to be ten stories tall and went on a rampage across the city, crushing buildings under its feet like King Kong or something?”

  “It only wished for birdseed,” said Abby. “That’s pretty logical for a bird.”

  “Yeah, but remember those robins in Aviopolis?” said Pamela. “Corax made them his jailers; they controlled all the locks and cages. They liked being more powerful than the other birds. Snitcher perched on Corax’s shoulder and repeated his commands.”

  “For sure,” said Gabriel. “Snitcher is no ordinary robin.”

  “So why do you think he’s hanging around your house?” asked Somes.

  Nobody had an answer for this.

  Abby stroked Paladin, who was perched on Gabriel’s shoulder. “Any ideas, you beautiful bird?”

  The raven bowed to her, dipping his beak low and extending one foot, but he did not speak.

  Abby frowned. “Gabriel, why won’t Paladin talk to me?”

  “He’s just shy,” Gabriel explained.

  “He speaks French to your aunt,” Pamela reminded Gabriel. “But she’s kind of a weird bird herself.”

  Abby turned to the raven. “But you know me, Paladin.”

  He nuzzled her cheek with his beak to show that he didn’t mean to offend her. Abby gave a sigh. “It’s my birthday in a week, and the only thing I really, really, really want is—”

  “I know,” Pamela said.

  “Me to
o,” added Somes. “You want to be a raven’s amicus.”

  “Exactly!” Abby cried. “I want a raven friend like Paladin, a friend who understands my deepest thoughts. And I want to fly.”

  “Yeah. Flying,” agreed Somes. “Every time my dad loses his temper, I could just step outside with my raven and take off.”

  “Tell the story again, Gabriel. How did you find Paladin?” asked Pamela.

  “I heard his thoughts in my head,” Gabriel explained. “Just talking. I couldn’t see him. For a while, I knew someone or something was near. And then the night that his mother was killed by valravens, I found him on my windowsill, shaking, and that’s when he asked me a riddle.”

  Abby turned bleakly to Paladin. “How can I find a raven, Paladin?”

  The raven stared off for a moment, then turned to Gabriel.

  “He said it’s like making friends,” explained Gabriel. “You can’t predict when you’ll meet one; it just happens. My dad said it runs in our family.”

  Abby looked downcast. “In other words, there’s no chance it’ll happen to me.”

  “No chance for me, either,” said Somes glumly.

  “Or me,” said Pamela. “Hey, speaking of your dad, Gabriel, he started to tell me something weird this morning….”

  “What?”

  “He said your stove would cook me oatmeal if I asked it. Then my mom came in, and he stopped talking.”

  Gabriel turned to the antique iron stove. It was an odd contraption with curved legs, a broad black surface, and six circular lids. The front had cream-colored hatches, dials, and a row of four black holes above them. “Weird,” he said. “My aunt never told me it could cook by itself. Sometimes it does make strange knocking noises, and she tells it to be quiet. I always thought she was just kidding around.”

  “What if we could get it to cook for us?” said Abby.

  Gabriel peered at the griddle, squeezed the knobs, and twisted the bar that opened the oven hatch. “Hello,” he said.