The Lightning Catcher: The Secrets of the Storm Vortex (7 page)

“Needless to say, by allowing you access to the Inner Sanctum and a great deal of sensitive information, I am placing you in a position of enormous trust.” Dark-Angel continued. “I must therefore have your solemn promise that you will tell no one about these private lessons or describe anything you might see in the Inner Sanctum.”

“I-I promise, miss,” Angus said.

“And try not to draw too much attention to yourself in the meantime,” she added, giving him a stern look. “The last thing we need is for everyone to start asking awkward questions.”

Angus nodded and, ready to leave the office, half turned away from her. But it seemed Dark-Angel hadn't finished with him yet.

“Before you return to your friends, there is something else I wish to speak to you about.” She paused for a long moment, shuffling uncomfortably in her chair. “I'm afraid we have received some very upsetting news in the last few days. A series of reports has been sent from Catcher Plymstock and Catcher Knapp via mechanical messenger,” she said, taking something that looked like a squashed pigeon from a drawer in her desk. A small canister was attached underneath its wing with a ragged-looking note poking out one end. “I'm sorry to say there has been a terrible accident at Castle Dankhart. It appears that a weather experiment has gone catastrophically wrong, causing untold damage to the castle and possibly killing a number of monsoon mongrels.”

Angus felt his insides freeze. The office seemed to shrink around him. “An a-accident? But my mum and dad, are they—”

“Do not fear, Angus.” Rogwood placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “As far as we can tell, your mum and dad are alive and well. The accident appears to have occurred in upper reaches of the castle. A violent explosion expelled a large debris cloud, which has formed itself into a swirling weather vortex. This vortex is now hanging over the castle, making it almost impossible for us, even in the dirigible weather station, to get close enough to understand the truth of the matter. However . . .”

“We've got another theory,” Gudgeon said, picking up where Rogwood had left off. “We think it's possible that Dankhart might have created an explosion on purpose.”

Angus frowned. “I don't understand.”

“We think that this so-called accident is nothing but a clever ruse,” Gudgeon explained. “We've managed to collect some samples from the outer edge of the vortex, and they contain fragments of glass, stone, metal, and all manner of materials you'd expect to find if there had been a real explosion in one of the experimental rooms. But
we believe Dankhart is trying to lay a false trail, to disguise the fact that he's up to something much bigger that he doesn't want anyone else to know about.”

“But what is he trying to hide?” Angus asked, still struggling to take in the shocking news.

Gudgeon glanced sideways at Rogwood and Jeremius.

“We simply don't know yet,” Jeremius said, not quite meeting Angus's eye.

“But it could be anything, with that maniac,” Gudgeon added quickly to fill a sudden awkwardness. “Some new kind of diabolical weather he's been working on or a powerful machine.”

Jeremius nodded. “We're trying to find out, but it isn't easy. It's impossible to get news in or out of the castle at the moment. All of our usual sources have gone quiet.”

“So why are you telling me?” Angus asked, puzzled. Normally, he was the last person to know anything important about his parents, Dankhart, or the monsoon mongrels.

“Rumors have already begun to circulate,” Dark-Angel explained. “We did not want you to hear whisperings about an explosion and fear the worst for your parents.”

Angus stared at the principal, stunned. Dark-Angel had never been so honest with him before. And yet he also got the distinct impression that none of them was telling him the whole story.

“Very well, McFangus, you may go,” Dark-Angel said, checking her watch and bringing the meeting to an abrupt end. “I will inform you if there is any more news.”

“If you could wait for me outside,” Jeremius said quietly as Angus turned to leave, “I would like a quick word before you rejoin Dougal.”

Angus left Dark-Angel's office, closing the door behind him, his head suddenly spinning. What if Gudgeon, Rogwood, and Dark-Angel were wrong? What if there had been a real weather catastrophe and his parents were in terrible danger? Trapped in a dungeon, injured, abandoned by fleeing monsoon mongrels, or worse? Would it be possible to rescue them from such a violent weather vortex? Would anybody even try?

“Did you know about the explosion?” he asked Jeremius urgently as soon as his uncle joined him again a few moments later.

Jeremius nodded. “I got word the night we caught the
ferry back to Imbur, but I didn't want to alarm you with wild rumors and speculation. I arranged this meeting with Principal Dark-Angel so she could tell you everything.”

Angus nodded, suddenly understanding the hushed conversations with Mr. Dewsnap back at Feaver Street. He felt grateful that his uncle was no longer keeping him in the dark.

“Principal Dark-Angel, Gudgeon, and Rogwood will do everything they can to find out what's going on and what it means for your mum and dad. In the meantime, we must assume that they are as safe and well as can be expected. Try not to worry. Your parents are both true survivors,” he said, gripping Angus by the shoulders. “Did I ever tell you about the time your dad got trapped in a storm full of dark snow and got lost on a mountain in Peru? It took him three days to find his way out again.”

Angus smiled sadly, wondering if any of the stories Jeremius had told him about his parents were true. Or were they simply more tales retold from the
Weathervane
, an attempt to lift his spirits?

“This is where I must leave you,” Jeremius said as they entered the poster-ridden entrance hall once again.

“Oh, right, yeah. I-I'll see you later, then,” Angus said, still feeling shaken.

“I'm afraid it will be a bit longer than that. I'm leaving Perilous.”

“What? No way!” Angus burst out. “Why?”

“There is important business that I must attend to,” Jeremius said, checking his weather watch and tightening the buckles on his leather satchel.

“Has it got something to do with the weather vortex?” Angus asked, determined to find out something before his uncle left.

“I'm afraid I can't tell you any details, but there is nothing more important at the moment than working out what's going on at Castle Dankhart. I will return as soon as I can, I promise.”

“When?” Angus asked.

“In a month or two, possibly, if all goes well. In the meantime, if you have any worries or problems, you can go straight to Rogwood or Gudgeon. I have asked both of them to keep a special eye on you in my absence. So be warned,” he added with a grin. “If you, Dougal, and Indigo go chasing off after monsoon mongrels again, I will hear about it!”

Angus smiled glumly. He'd got used to having Jeremius around over the summer. Perilous wouldn't be the same without him striding about the stone tunnels and passageways in his snow boots and furs. It had also been very comforting indeed to have another member of the McFangus family to talk to. Almost like having his dad back again.

“Right, I'd better be on my way. Dirigible weather stations and rogue storms wait for no one!” Jeremius pulled him into a brief tight hug. Then he swept through the front doors without a backward glance.

Angus stood for several moments watching the space where his uncle had disappeared. Then he walked slowly into the kitchens, feeling dazed. The kitchens at Perilous were vast, with long serving tables set against the far wall, groaning under the weight of freshly baked cookies and sandwiches. A gaggle of cooks was busy baking potatoes and slicing bread next to the roaring open fires.

The tables were already buzzing with the excited chatter of returning trainees. Angus dodged quickly past Jonathon Hake and Nigel Ridgely, two lightning cubs from his own year, without stopping to hear what they'd done in the holidays.

He found Dougal sitting at their usual table under one of the large fake palm trees that stretched all the way up to the vaulted ceiling, the scare-me-not puzzle lying on the table in front of him. Dougal, however, was not alone.

“Angus!” Indigo jumped to her feet as he approached, looking deeply concerned.

Indigo was private, fiercely loyal, and painfully shy at times, and Angus was extremely pleased to see her again. Her horse-chestnut–colored hair was pulled back off her face, revealing a strong resemblance to her older brother, Geronimo Midnight. Germ, as he preferred to be called, was training to be a doctor in the sanatorium. Unfortunately, Indigo also looked like her uncle, Scabious Dankhart.

“I've just told Indigo about Creepy Crevice and his stinking shop,” Dougal said, explaining the shocked look on her face.

“I can't believe you went into the bone merchant's when your dad and Jeremius told you not to!” she gasped.

“Yeah, well, I wish we'd listened to them now,” Dougal said with an involuntary shiver. “Is Jeremius still with Dark-Angel?” he added, peering over Angus's shoulder.

Angus shook his head and sat down next to Indigo. “He's gone. He won't be coming back to Perilous for months.” He repeated what Jeremius had just told him in the entrance hall.

“Oh,” Dougal said, disappointed, picking up the scare-me-not puzzle and fiddling with it absently. “I thought he might be staying at Perilous again, you know, in the Rotundra.”

“Is that why Principal Dark-Angel wanted to see you?” Indigo asked, wide-eyed with curiosity.

Angus had already decided to ignore the promise he'd just made to Dark-Angel. News of this magnitude had to be shared with his two best friends. He swiftly told them everything he could remember about the explosion, the debris cloud, and the weather vortex that was now hanging over Castle Dankhart.

“You're kidding!” Dougal spluttered as soon as Angus had finished. “Me and Dad felt it. There was this strange sort of thunderclap about a week ago. It made all the teacups in the kitchen rattle.”

Indigo nodded. “Germ and I heard it, too. We thought there'd been an accident in the experimental division.”
Explosions were a frequent occurrence in that dangerous department and had been known to shake the whole Exploratorium to its very core.

“Rogwood and Gudgeon think it's all a clever ruse to fool us. They think Dankhart's trying to disguise something even bigger,” Angus explained.

“I can't believe the maniac's at it again,” Dougal said, still sounding shocked. “Why would anyone fake a massive explosion? Even your dear old uncle Scabby can't be that mad.”

Indigo squirmed in her seat, looking highly uncomfortable at the mention of her uncle's name.

“But what about your mum and dad?” she asked.

Angus swallowed hard. “Rogwood and Gudgeon think they'll be okay. They think the explosion happened in the upper reaches of the castle. But how can they know for sure? We've got to find out more about that vortex!” he said, feeling a wave of anxiety sweep over him once again. “Something strange is going on. They were all being really careful about what they told me . . . as if they were hiding something.”

Dougal and Indigo exchanged surprised glances.

“In that case, I bet those feathered messages from Catcher Plymstock and Catcher Knapp are full of important stuff,” Dougal said, a thoughtful look crossing his face. “If we could just find out where Dark-Angel keeps them.”

“And what about the samples taken by the weather station?” Indigo added.

Angus nodded at his friends, grateful. He'd need all the help he could get if he was going to get to the truth.

“That wasn't the only reason Dark-Angel wanted to see me.” He leaned across the table, lowering his voice. “She's sending me for storm prophet lessons . . . in the Inner Sanctum.”

Dougal dropped his puzzle with a clatter. Indigo clutched her face with her hands. Nobody spoke for several seconds; then:

“That's the best news I've heard in months!” Dougal said. “You'll be the only lightning cub in the whole of Perilous who knows what's really going on behind that door, and then you can tell us!”

Despite everything, Angus couldn't help smiling. Dougal had been fascinated by the mystery of the Inner
Sanctum ever since they'd first arrived at Perilous. Before they could discuss the subject any further, however, Dougal's scare-me-not gave a small ping.

“That's odd,” Dougal said. He picked it up and turned it over in his hands. “It doesn't usually make any noise except when you're trying to—”

Ping!

Dougal's face blanched as the scare-me-not suddenly began to shake and vibrate.

“What's happening?” Indigo asked, scooting her chair away from it.

“I think it's about to self-destruct! They only start to shake when your time is—”

P-ting! P-ting! P-ting!

“Look out!” Dougal dropped the scare-me-not and dived under the table for cover. Angus leaped out of his chair, dragging Indigo away from the puzzle, which was now shaking so violently that it rocked the whole table back and forth.

BANG!

The puzzle finally ruptured, bursting apart in a spectacular shower of frazzled fragments, which then drifted to
the floor, smoldering. Several lightning cubs sitting close by yelped with surprise and stood up for a better look.

“Whoa!” Dougal scrambled out from under the table as soon as it was safe. “When they say these puzzles self-destruct, they really mean it.”

“There's nothing left except a scorch mark,” Angus said, poking at the blackened table with his finger.

He quickly decided to lock his own scare-me-not puzzle in an empty drawer, where it couldn't destroy his other possessions.