Gabriel Finley and the Raven’s Riddle (11 page)

Trudy held a small object between her trembling thumb and forefinger—as if it might suddenly explode.

“Oh! That's just a caramel,” said Gabriel.

“I know very well what it is,” she snapped. “It's also a
dentist's best friend. A few of these and Pamela's beautiful teeth will be ruined.
Utterly ruined, thanks to you!
”

“Every kid should know what a caramel tastes like,” Gabriel replied.

“Every kid?” sputtered Trudy. “Don't you
dare
give my daughter these horrible things to eat again. Do you understand me? I've kept her healthy since the day she was born!”

By this time she was shouting and red-faced. Gabriel had backed away, his knees buckling.

“Go to your room and don't come down until I call you for dinner!” she said.

Gabriel glared at the bubbling pot. “No thanks,” he replied. “I'll just go straight to bed.”

Lying there, Gabriel could hear his stomach rumbling with hunger. Still, he was determined not to go back downstairs.

About twenty minutes later, he heard footsteps, and his aunt's silhouette appeared at the doorway. She was still wearing her coat and held a shopping bag in one hand.

“Good heavens!” she said. “What on earth happened in this house tonight? I came home and Trudy was in the most furious temper. She says you poisoned Pamela?”

“It was a caramel,” he replied.

Aunt Jaz gave a half laugh and sighed. “Oh, how ridiculous.”

She reached into the bag and produced a small white carton of chicken lo mein and a pair of chopsticks.

“Hungry?”

“Starving,” he replied.

“Eat,” she said.

Gabriel sat up and began gobbling golden lumps of chicken and snow peas from the carton. When he was full, he cast a thoughtful look at his aunt.

“She liked your brother Corax, didn't she?”

Aunt Jaz nodded. “Oh, yes, she fell head over heels for him.”

“She doesn't like me.”

Aunt Jaz sighed. “It's because of your father, Gabriel. Corax was very jealous when his brother was born. He felt ignored by our parents. Trudy took his side. When he left, she was sure it was because of Adam. She didn't know about ravens, or any of that business.”

“So, how long does she have to stay?”

“Oh, I think it will be many months. I could never turn her out. They have no home.”

Gabriel nodded glumly. “Thanks for dinner.”

After his aunt wished him a good night, Gabriel's thoughts returned to the writing desk. How could he possibly catch this piece of furniture if it insisted on hiding in Trudy Baskin's bedroom?

How to Capture a Writing Desk

“W
hat an amazing house!” Abby said as she looked around Gabriel's hallway. She patted the gargoyle carved on the front of a dresser and made a monkey face at a big oval mirror.

“Wait until you see the desk,” whispered Gabriel. “It has legs like a bird's talons.”

“Do you really think it
runs
around?” said Abby. “I'm just wondering
how
to catch it, you know?”

“We could tackle it,” Gabriel suggested.

“Maybe lassoing it with rope would be better,” Abby replied.

Pleased to have Abby's help, Gabriel asked her to wait in the hall while he tiptoed down to the kitchen to see if Trudy was there. When he saw no sign of her, he remembered that she always went to Pamela's Wednesday violin lesson. This meant that they had at least an hour to track down the desk. He took a clothesline from the basement and returned to the landing.

“We'll trip its legs with this,” he said.

Abby frowned. “I thought you said it had wings, too.”

“Yeah, but they're shrimpy—too small to fly.”

“Excellent,” said Abby. “So, last time it was in the study?”

Gabriel led her toward the study door. “Maybe we can surprise it,” he whispered.

As they entered, Abby gasped at the painting of Corax. “Wow! How can she sleep with that gross picture staring at her all night?”

“She called him handsome,” said Gabriel.

“No way!”

An ironing board stood in the center of the room, skirts were draped on the furniture, underwear was stacked in a pile on the armchair, and socks fringed the laundry basket. They were startled by Trudy's nightgown, which hung in the corner. In spite of its rose pattern and lacy collar, its attitude seemed hostile, as if it wanted to shoo them off.

“Well, I don't see the desk,” whispered Gabriel. “Let's start on the top floor and work our way down. One of us will search while the other watches the hall in case it—”

“Runs away?” giggled Abby.

They tiptoed upstairs and Abby readied herself in the hall while Gabriel searched.

“Nothing,” he told Abby when he came out of the last bedroom.

Confused, they went down the stairs.

“Let's check the study again,” suggested Abby.

There was still no sign of the writing desk. But something
had
changed.

“Gabriel,” whispered Abby. “That nightgown with the roses. It's missing.”

She removed her glasses and polished the lenses, something she always did when she was thinking. Suddenly, she smacked her forehead with her hand. “I know. It disguised itself!”

“The
desk
disguised itself?” said Gabriel skeptically.

“Well, wouldn't you if you were trying to hide?” she replied.

So, looking for a desk wearing a nightgown, Gabriel checked his aunt's bedroom. Abby peered into the bathroom, then immediately darted out and waved for Gabriel's attention.

“What?”

Abby pointed emphatically inside. Gabriel tiptoed to the bathroom doorway and spied a dark shadow standing behind the pale blue shower curtain.

Should he turn on the cold water? This seemed like an unfair thing to do, even to a desk. So Gabriel counted to three and drew the shower curtain back.

The nightgowned desk leaped out of the tub and butted Gabriel square in the chest. He collapsed backward. Abby let out a scream. Flapping its pink sleeves, the desk vaulted over
her and galloped down the hall. At the base of the staircase, it skidded to a halt, whirled around the banister, and thundered upstairs.

Stunned, the two helped each other up.

“That was close!” said Abby. “It almost stomped us to death.”

“Yeah,” agreed Gabriel.

“Do you think it'll give up if we keep chasing it?”

“I hope so.”

The two shared a wary glance, then advanced up the stairs. Gabriel made a lasso of the laundry line, holding it ready.

Gabriel's bedroom door was closed; they padded toward it. Then they heard the sound of coat hangers bumping together in his closet. The children braced themselves.
Bang!
The door burst open, but this time the desk wore a yellow rain slicker. Waving its arms, it charged toward them.

“It changed its disguise!” said Abby.

Gabriel threw the lasso, snagging the desk around its middle. Struggling like a roped steer, the desk dragged Gabriel along the hall on his elbows. He ducked as one taloned leg tried to kick him.

“Hold on tight!” cried Abby.

The desk suddenly stopped, pivoted on its clawed feet, and pulled the rope, sending Gabriel clear over the banister.

Abby let out a cry. “Gabriel!”

There was a terrifying silence. Abby peered over the banister.

Gabriel was dangling between the floors, holding on to the rope for dear life.

“Are you okay?” she cried.

“Fine,” he said weakly. “Just tie the desk's legs together so it can't run. Then I'll swing onto the staircase.”

Since the desk was held tight against the banister by Gabriel's weight, Abby quickly fastened its legs together with twine. Gabriel clambered nervously to safety. His palms were raw from clutching the rope. He wondered what his aunt would have written on his tombstone if he had died from the fall:
HERE LIES GABRIEL FINLEY, KILLED BY A DESK
.

With its feet bound, the desk wriggled helplessly before the children.

“Poor thing,” said Abby. “It looks like it wants to roam free across the open range.”

“Poor thing?” Gabriel grumbled. “It almost killed me.”

Its keyhole looked just right for Gabriel's key. When he touched the desk, it shook violently and fluttered its small wings.

“It's okay, Deskie,” Abby whispered soothingly, but the black wings still responded with small, frantic motions. “You must have a very important secret tucked in here.”

It was only when Gabriel drew the key from the string
around his neck that the desk appeared to relax. The wings settled. The taloned feet stopped flexing and seemed to stiffen.

“Look at that!” said Abby. “It
knows.
”

Gabriel put the key in the lock and opened the lid.

Ask

“I
don't believe it!” said Abby.

“After all that fuss?” murmured Gabriel.

The four compartments inside the desk were completely empty.

“If it wasn't hiding anything,” Abby said, “why would it be running away from us?”

Gabriel stuck in his fingers and wiggled them.

“It's a dead end.”

“It can't be,” replied Abby. “Your father gave you that key for a reason.” She breathed on her glasses and rubbed them again. “I'm thinking,” she said. “I'm thinking as hard as I can. Gabriel, lock the lid again!”

He closed the lid and turned the key.

“Now open it,” she said.

He opened it again. There was still nothing inside.

“Wait!” cried Abigail, raising a finger. “Close the lid.”

When he closed it, she pointed to the dull black wooden surface. In its very center, there was a small indentation, which she traced with her finger.

“It's a word.”

Gabriel peered closer. Carved into the wood with small decorative swirls and just barely visible was one word:
Ask.