“Well,” sighed Mr. Finley, “I’ve got good news and bad news.”

Gabriel, Abby, Pamela, and Somes stood in his study with worried faces. Mr. Finley had been scrutinizing each of the two remaining stones. Finally, he lowered his magnifying glass and dusted off his hands.

“I’m very impressed,” he said. “You solved the monkey’s riddles. If not for your amazing wits and bravery, I would be yelling at the four of you for being so foolish, careless, and oblivious to your own safety.”

“I’m sorry, Dad,” said Gabriel. “But when I heard what Septimus said to you this morning, I had to do something.”

“And going to Pleshette’s shop was my idea, Mr. Finley,” said Pamela. “You can blame me for that, and I’m sorry.”

“And I’m really sorry for suggesting we steal the runes,” added Abby as she probed the bare patch on her scalp where the monkey had cut off her pigtail.

Mr. Finley turned to Somes, the only one who hadn’t apologized.

“Well…sorry, but I’m not sorry,” Somes said. “We set all those creatures free. That was a good deed…and the monkey, well, Abby kicked his butt with each riddle. The only thing I’m sorry for is…if that rock had Gabriel’s mom inside.”

“Please, Mr. Finley?” said Abby. “Tell us she wasn’t in it.”

“No need to be sorry, Somes,” he said, raising an eyebrow at the boy. “I believe Septimus left Pleshette with a bagful of duds. Common rocks, probably.”

“But one of them was real—the dwarf who exploded—I saw that happen,” said Gabriel.

“I’m sure Septimus intended to steal them all, but perhaps he had a difficult time removing that first one and gave up on the others,” said Mr. Finley. “So he gathered some rocks, hoping to bluff Pleshette into buying them. Pleshette probably promised him a fortune for Corax’s rune, much more than he dreamed.”

“Wait a minute,” said Gabriel. “The stork told us that the captives had to be freed with a riddle.”

“A riddle, right!” said Pamela. “That’s the thing I forgot to tell you, Mr. Finley.”

Mr. Finley looked pleased. “This should have been obvious to me,” he said. “It takes a riddle to free a rune. And Septimus despises riddles. You can be sure that he’ll want me and my riddle-solving expertise along when he returns to the Chamber of Runes. The only problem that remains is this Corax business.”

Gabriel regarded his father curiously. “Dad, when the elixir wears off, couldn’t you just agree to help free Corax, but free Mom instead?”

Mr. Finley was silent for a moment. “Gabriel,” he said, “I promise I will do everything possible to free your mother. But I will not risk freeing my diabolical brother. As you know, Corax’s valravens wiped out whole species of birds and dominated and enslaved thousands of creatures in Aviopolis. If he was set free, I could be responsible for the misery and despair of millions of people, too.”

They were all quiet after this. Even Gabriel, desperate as he was, didn’t know what to say.

“On the other hand,” Mr. Finley added, “you may be sure that Corax’s valravens will find a way to pay for his release, and Septimus will come back to me for help.”

“And what will you do?” asked Gabriel.

Mr. Finley heaved a long sigh. “I shall have to think of some clever solution.”

—

As they walked with Somes back to his house that evening, Gabriel and his friends tried to imagine how the valravens could come up with enough money to pay for Corax’s freedom. Would they pay by cash, check, credit?

“They might rip wristwatches from Wall Streeters,” said Somes.

“Pinch coins from parking meters,” chimed Pamela.

“Swipe diamonds from engagement rings,” said Abby.

“Wring gold bling from hip-hop kings!” quipped Gabriel.

“Steal some paintings from a fancy museum.”

“Then charge lots of people a fortune to see ’em!”

“Find the world’s biggest oyster on Rockaway Beach.”

“And pull out a pearl as big as a peach!”

After they had stopped laughing, Pamela wondered aloud if the valravens might simply give up.

“You’d better hope they don’t, for Gabriel’s sake,” said Somes.

“Why?”

“Because his dad needs to find his mom’s rune, and Septimus knows the way.”

“This is so twisted,” said Pamela. “So the only way Mr. Finley can free Gabriel’s mother is to help Septimus free Corax, too?”

“Yeah,” said Gabriel. “But it’s more than twisted. It’s a catastrophe.”

—

A week passed. Gabriel still hadn’t seen any valravens; and though he kept an eye out for Snitcher on his windowsill, the bird did not appear.

Pamela knocked on his door on Wednesday evening, after everybody else had gone to bed. “Gabriel,” she said, “don’t you think it’s strange that you can get Paladin to sleep in your room, but Vyka won’t set foot inside mine?”

“Oh,” Gabriel replied, “I think it’s because I found Paladin when he was just a chick. But Vyka is a wild raven. She’s cautious with people and scared of being caged.”

“Then why isn’t she afraid of me? And why did I become a raven’s amicus when Abby is so much better at riddles?”

Gabriel shrugged. “Who knows?”

“And why can I get the stove to cook, when you, Abby, and Somes can’t?” Pamela continued. “And why was I the only one who could get the writing desk to cooperate? That is, until it ran away from me.”

“I don’t get it, either.” Gabriel paused thoughtfully. “But I bet somebody in this house has the answer.”

Pamela reacted with a start. “Gabriel, it has to be my mom!”

“You’re kidding,” he replied. “She doesn’t believe in magic at all.”

Jumping up, Pamela said goodnight and left his room. A moment later, Gabriel heard her playing the violin, a bold, purposeful tune that seemed to hint she was concocting some plan to get the truth out of her mother.

—

The next morning, Trudy Baskin and Pamela boarded the subway and sat down. They watched the car fill up with passengers at the next couple of stations. Then, when it was crammed as tight as a sardine tin, the train began its long underground trip toward Manhattan.

It was at this moment that Pamela turned decisively to her mother. “Mom, who is my dad, really?”

Trudy fidgeted in her seat. “You’re asking me here? Now?” she said.

“I want to know.”

“I told you, dear.” Trudy lowered her voice. “His name was Ramsey Baskin.”

“Was that his real name?”

“It was the name…he gave.”

“Whatever that means,” said Pamela. “Did you love him?”

“Love him? Of course. I always loved him.”

Pamela’s eyes narrowed slightly. “When did you meet him?”

Trudy blinked nervously. A nun with a trembling chin peered up from her newspaper, eager to hear Trudy’s reply.

Trudy glared at the nun, whose face swiftly disappeared behind the newspaper. She looked at Pamela. “This is a terrible time to ask these questions! I will not say another word.”

Pamela waited about a minute, then turned to her mother again. “I know, Mother. I know what the truth is. I just think it’s time you admitted it, that’s all.” This was a big gamble, because Pamela, of course, had nothing but a hunch.

She continued to wait, eyes locked on her mother’s.

Trudy was thunderstruck. How could Pamela possibly know the truth? she wondered. She had been keeping this a secret for such a very long time. It was embedded in her—almost a part of her body. She feared she might actually fall to pieces if she revealed it now.

She fanned herself and let out a deep sigh, and then she realized that all eyes in the subway car had settled on her. Their intensity was unnerving. Passengers craned their necks in expectation. Then a woman in a leopard-skin pillbox hat gave her a smile. A man with a goatee wearing a vest and an alligator tie clip murmured a soft noise of sympathy. A pair of girls sharing a picture book gave Trudy a nod, as if to say “Go ahead! Tell your daughter what she wants to know.” Even the nun dipped her quivering chin in encouragement.

Trudy took a deep breath. “When I was a little girl, I liked Jasmine’s older brother, Corax,” she began.

“I know,” said Pamela—because she really did know this.

“And he ran away from home.”

“Right.”

“But sometimes he returned very briefly to see me. He would appear on a crowded street and pass me a note that said something sweet like ‘I’ve been thinking of you.’ Sometimes he asked me for news of his family. It was his way of keeping in touch. He was ashamed, you see, but too proud to go back home.

“Those visits were always extremely quick, and months…or years…apart. Until one day he appeared at my door,” Trudy continued. “By now he was all grown up. He told me he’d been studying ancient mythology and rare objects and collecting peculiar pieces of art. He was ashamed of the person he had been as a boy, he explained. Something sad had happened back then, a terrible event that had made him run away. So he’d made a fresh start and changed his name to Ramsey Baskin. I promised to keep his past a secret.”

Trudy paused, and a sweet expression filled her eyes. “You see, I knew that I’d loved him for a long time. We were so happy together that we married. And that was when you were born, my dear.”

Pamela’s mouth fell open.

Around her, the subway passengers looked enthralled. The train came to a halt, and a group of them reluctantly got off—the nun and the man with the alligator tie clip were especially hesitant to leave. Only the girls remained.

“But there’s more, isn’t there?” Pamela asked.

Trudy nodded. “The night you were born, a snowstorm buried the whole city. The ambulance couldn’t get to me, and I had to call Jasmine to help because I was going into labor. I remember that I glanced out the window and there were ravens everywhere. Their bright yellow eyes watched me from the trees, fences, and lampposts.”

Pamela shivered. “Ravens don’t have yellow eyes, Mom.”

Trudy paused. “Why, yes, they do, dear.”

“I think what you saw were valravens.”

“Valravens? Well, whatever they were, I hated them.”

Trudy paused for a moment.

“There was another baby,” she said at last. “You see, I was carrying twins.”

“What?” cried Pamela. “Twins?”

“Jasmine arrived and helped deliver you, and she tucked you into the crib, and then I gave birth to your brother. He was a strange little thing, hardly looked like a baby at all. I remember his terrified little eyes. He was so small and frail, like a little bird….”

“A bird?”

The train stopped at the next station. The two girls were led reluctantly away by their mother.

Now that she had revealed this much, Trudy couldn’t stop. She talked faster. “He looked like a bird because…he was so small and delicate, I mean. Such big eyes. I was terribly tired after his birth, and I fell asleep while Jasmine cleaned him and wrapped him warmly.”

“So I have a brother,” murmured Pamela.

“But later, when I woke, I saw a horrible sight. A huge raven stood before me, with black feathers, big wings, and eyes like yellow beacons, and he was holding my baby boy, and I fainted.”

Trudy blinked and clutched Pamela’s hand. “I never saw my husband or my little boy again.” She paused, turning a ring on her finger. “That raven must have taken them away.”

Trudy drew in a deep breath and looked at Pamela with tears in her eyes. “I knew it made no sense; I was afraid people would say I imagined things and think I was mad. It was better to say that it never happened. Jasmine promised she would take care of us. ‘Family is family,’ she said, and she’s always kept her word.”

Pamela didn’t speak for a moment. Had Corax transformed into a valraven before her mother’s eyes and terrified her? Had he taken the baby—her brother—away? Why? Her mother’s memory seemed so confused, and yet there was sense in what she said. She still loved this mysterious man, and Pamela was his daughter, Mr. Finley’s niece, and Gabriel’s cousin.

Now she understood why she could paravolate and how she had inherited the Finleys’ ease with mojo-mechanisms. But the final fact, the one that horrified her, took a while to sink in.

Pamela repeated it a few times to herself, just to believe it.

My father is Corax Finley, the Lord of Air and Darkness.