The Lightning Catcher: The Secrets of the Storm Vortex (21 page)

“But how?” Indigo asked, wrapping her sweater sleeve around her hand at the mention of her uncle's name. “We still haven't got a clue where it is.”

“There is one thing we haven't tried,” Angus said, a new plan suddenly forming in his mind. “We could ask Winnie Wrascal. I mean, she's always being sent to Vellum's office to apologize.”

Dougal stared at him openmouthed. “That's a brilliant idea! I can't believe we didn't think of it sooner. I bet she knows it like the back of her hand by now.”

The following morning, however, they hurried into the weather archive only to discover Catcher Wrascal sniffing loudly. There were dark circles under her eyes, and
her usual cheery smile had been replaced by a trembling bottom lip.

“Er, is everything all right, miss?” Angus asked warily.

“No,” she sobbed, shaking her head. “Catcher Killigrew's threatening to strip me of my lightning stripes and move me to the k-k-kitchens!”

“I hope Catcher Killigrew's only joking about the kitchens,” Dougal mumbled as Catcher Wrascal blew her nose loudly into a pink handkerchief. “Can you imagine what would happen to the food in this place if Winnie Wrascal got her hands on it?”

“What happened, miss?” Indigo asked kindly, steering her over to a large glass jar that had been rolled onto its side so the catcher could sit down.

“It's Catcher Vellum,” Winnie Wrascal sobbed. “I delivered two forecasts to him this week for blizzards in Albania that he didn't ask for.”

“But you're always giving him the wrong forecasts,” Angus pointed out as nicely as possible. Catcher Wrascal, however, hadn't finished yet.

“Catcher Killigrew sent me to apologize again,” she
said, dabbing her eyes with her handkerchief. “But while I was waiting in his office, I-I accidentally smashed a storm globe that was sitting on his desk. I only picked it up for a quick look!” she wailed. “But it slipped through my fingers, and a horrible lightning s-s-storm appeared.”

Angus stared at Dougal and Indigo horror-struck.

“I tried to waft it out through the door before it got too violent,” Catcher Wrascal explained. “And that's when a bolt of lightning struck Catcher Vellum's desk! The whole thing went up in flames!”

“Flames?” Dougal said, alarmed. “You mean, you've incinerated Valentine Vellum's office?”

Catcher Wrascal nodded, looking utterly wretched. “It was an accident! I only went in to apologize.”

“Did Catcher Vellum manage to rescue anything from the fire?” Angus asked hopefully.

Winnie Wrascal shook her head. “Everything was burned to a crisp! Catcher Killigrew says it'll take months to repair the damage. He says it's the worst fire at Perilous since a dozen storm vacuums backfired in 1908.”

For several minutes they tried to console the distraught lightning catcher until she was finally forced to leave the
weather archive in search of a fresh supply of tissues.

“What do we do now?” Angus said as soon as she was out of earshot. “I mean, if Vellum's office has been destroyed, if any documents from 1777 were in there at the time . . .”

“Then we're never going to find out what really happened,” Dougal said, looking resigned.

Over the next few days an unpleasant smell of smoke drifted through the stone tunnels and passageways of Perilous, and more details emerged about the fire in Valentine Vellum's office.

“Edmund Croxley overheard Catcher Sparks telling Miss DeWinkle that the fire melted Vellum's entire collection of lightning-shaped belt buckles,” Dougal reported in the library late one afternoon. The weather had taken a sudden turn for the wintry, and fresh flakes of snow were beginning to fall on the glass roof above. “Croxley said Vellum's been stomping about the Exploratorium, yelling at everyone and threatening to have Winnie Wrascal sent to the London office for a disciplinary hearing.”

“Poor Winnie,” Indigo said, biting her lip.

“Poor Winnie nothing!” Dougal said. “She's like a secret
deadly weapon. We should send her straight into Castle Dankhart. She'd have the monsoon mongrels fleeing for cover in seconds.”

Angus couldn't help smiling.

“But that's just the tip of the iceberg,” Dougal said, leaning in closer. “I think there's been more trouble in the Perilous crypt.”

“What?” Angus said, startled. “How do you know?”

“Creepy Crevice got summoned to Dark-Angel's office yesterday evening, and they had a blazing row, according to Theodore Twill,” Dougal told them both.

“How does Twill know about the crypt?” Indigo asked.

“He doesn't,” Dougal said quickly. “He got sent up to Dark-Angel's office for starting another water fight, and he overheard Dark-Angel and Crevice shouting at each other. Twill says Dark-Angel was yelling something about a man in a long dark coat and about Catcher Coriolis's being kicked in the shins and tackled to the ground.”

Angus stared at Dougal. It could mean only one thing. The Perilous crypt had been broken into once again.

“Then Crevice stormed out of Dark-Angel's office with Valentine Vellum following close behind. Twill says
Crevice isn't allowed to go anywhere in the Exploratorium now without someone watching him.”

“Principal Dark-Angel's made Vellum his guard?” Indigo asked, surprised.

Angus frowned. “But if those two really are in it together, if Vellum is hiding under that coat, I mean, Dark-Angel might just as well hand Crevice her own keys to the crypt and tell him to help himself to dragon scales whenever he feels like it.”

“I still don't understand why Vellum's so interested in stealing a bunion cure in the first place.” Indigo frowned.

“That's easy. Valentine Vellum
is
a bunion.” Dougal grinned.

Angus reluctantly returned to his homework after they'd discussed the latest crypt break-in thoroughly. By the time he finally closed his books half an hour later it was already growing dark outside. He was just about to pack away his pencils when Indigo's hand shot out to stop him.

“Don't! Wait!”

“What's wrong?”

“Your bag—it's shaking!” Indigo warned.

She edged her chair away warily as Angus's bag began to hop across the study table with a loud, clunking noise.

“Something must have crawled inside it,” Indigo said, “or—”

“It's my scare-me-not puzzle!” Angus leaped up, suddenly remembering that he'd left the puzzle in his bag.

He grabbed the strap before the whole bag bounced off the edge of the table. He opened it carefully and rooted around under books, pens, and something sticky that felt like an apple core until his fingers closed around a familiar shape. He dragged the puzzle out of his bag before it could destroy his other possessions.

Ping!

Just as he'd feared, the puzzle was now shaking and vibrating.

Ping!

“It's about to self-destruct!” Angus said. There was no time to make a run for it. He looked around desperately for somewhere to throw it instead.

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

Angus lobbed the puzzle high over the top of the nearest bookshelf, hoping there was no one sitting on the table behind it. He ducked, sticking his fingers in his ears and scrunching his eyes tightly shut.

Bang!

Bookshelves swayed dangerously above their heads, causing several volumes about blizzard spotting to fall onto the floor around them. But there was no time to survey the damage. Thunderous footsteps were already closing in on them fast.

“Quickly!” Indigo dragged Angus and Dougal around the back of the nearest shelf. They crept silently along behind it, peering through small gaps in the books until they spotted the table where the puzzle had exploded. Miss Vulpine arrived on the scene two seconds later with a face that could wither poisonous stinkweed.

“What on earth is going on here?” she bellowed as two stunned-looking lightning cubs crawled out from under the scorched table where they'd clearly taken shelter.

“I don't believe it,” Dougal whispered quietly. “You chucked the puzzle straight onto the Vellums! Excellent throw!”

Pixie emerged first, looking shocked and dazed. “We were just doing our homework, miss,” she tried to explain.

“It wasn't our fault.” Percival scrambled to his feet beside her. “Something landed on our study table.”

But the librarian had clearly decided they'd been caught red-handed. “Cradget's self-destructing puzzles have been banned from this library since the great dictionary explosion of 1872! Who is your master lightning catcher? I will be recommending the most severe punishment!”

“What appears to be the trouble, Miss Vulpine?” Valentine Vellum appeared from the left.

Dougal nudged Angus in the ribs. “He must have been sitting close by. Maybe he's using the library now that his office has been Winnie Wrascaled.”

Indigo stared at Dougal, her eyes suddenly bright. “Then this could be our best chance to search through Valentine Vellum's stuff!”

Dougal frowned. “Have you completely lost your marbles? Why on earth would we want to do that?”

“Because Vellum might have had some of those documents from 1777 with him when Winnie Wrascal set fire to his office. Some of them might have survived,” Indigo whispered.

Before Angus or Dougal could point out the risks of riffling through Valentine Vellum's possessions, Indigo turned and began weaving her way in and out of the
bookshelves closest to the scene of the explosion. Most of the study tables were occupied by whispering lightning cubs, all of whom had heard the commotion and were now listening to the unfolding argument. There was one private study area, however, enclosed on three sides by towering shelves. A cup of half-drunk tea sat abandoned on the table along with a pair of tinted safety goggles, commonly worn in the Lightnarium.

“This must be it!” Indigo said, checking that the coast was clear before sneaking in between the shelves.

A heap of singed documents had been piled up on the table.

“Vellum must have rescued something from his office after all!” Angus said, feeling his hopes rise. “Quickly, see if any of those files mention explosions or vortices hanging over Perilous.”

He grabbed a dog-eared copy of the
Weathervane
. The date on the front was the seventeenth of March 1777. His heart began to thud inside his rib cage. The stiff pages crackled with age as he thumbed swiftly through the magazine.

“I shall be speaking to Principal Dark-Angel about the
totally unacceptable behavior of your children, Catcher Vellum!” Miss Vulpine's irate voice suddenly rose above the bookshelves and echoed around the library. “They will clear this mess up before leaving my library, and if I ever catch them in here again with anything they've purchased from Cradget's . . .”

They had only a few moments at best before Valentine Vellum came back and caught them rummaging through his stuff.

“There's nothing in this
Weathervane
.” Angus placed it carefully back where he'd found it.

“This one's had some of its pages ripped out, look!” Dougal showed them the jagged tears scattered throughout the magazine. Other long passages had been deliberately blacked out so nobody could read them. “All the
Weathervane
s are the same,” Dougal said as he finished flicking through the last one on the table. “Anything interesting has been removed or blacked out.”

“I think I've found something!” Indigo said suddenly.

Angus glanced back over his shoulder, his pulse beginning to race. He could now hear sounds of chairs scraping. They had seconds before Valentine Vellum returned.

“What does it say? Quickly!”

“It looks like an accident report . . . from 1777,” Indigo said, urgently turning through the pages. “It talks about some investigations into an incident that occurred after some ‘dangerous experiments caused a weather vortex to appear over Perilous.'”

“What sort of experiments?” asked Dougal, sounding shocked.

But there was not time to investigate any further. Footsteps were already heading in their direction.

Indigo stuffed the report into her bag, and they sneaked back out through the shelves. Angus had heaved his bag onto his shoulder, getting ready to make a quick getaway, when something grabbed him by the collar and yanked him backward.

“McFangus! I might have guessed.” Valentine Vellum towered over all three of them, his face puce with rage from his encounter with Miss Vulpine. “Give me one good reason why I shouldn't throw you and your friends into the Lightnarium as storm bait?”

  
13
  
INDIGO'S CONFESSION

“E
xplain yourselves! Why were you snooping around my papers?” Valentine Vellum demanded, his face now turning a violent shade of purple.

“We weren't snooping, sir,” Indigo said quickly. “We were looking for books on storm pickling procedures. We didn't realize we'd wandered into your office.”

Catcher Vellum folded his arms across his chest. “Are you trying to convince me, Miss Midnight, that while the rest of the library has been listening to exploding puzzles and the remonstrations of Miss Vulpine, you three have been diligently doing your homework?”

Indigo stood motionless, like a frightened rabbit caught
in the headlights. Dougal's ears turned pink with guilt. Angus stared at the lightning catcher, trying not to blink.

“Turn out your bag, McFangus!” Vellum instructed suddenly. “We'll soon see if you've been looking for books on pickling storms or stealing valuable papers that do not belong to you.”

Angus unzipped his bag slowly, hoping there was nothing incriminating inside, like a receipt from Cradget's proving he'd recently bought a scare-me-not puzzle. He turned it upside down. Pencils, homework books, and apple cores scattered across the library floor. Valentine Vellum bent down to inspect the pile, his lip twitching with obvious disappointment.

“Empty your bag, Dewsnap.” He stood up and turned on Dougal angrily. “You, too, Miss Midnight, unless you've got something to hide.”

Angus felt his stomach lurch as neatly ordered notes, pencils, and
The Dankhart Handbook
tumbled out of Indigo's bag. There was no sign of the document she'd just taken. Indigo's face remained impassive, giving nothing away. Angus held his breath as Valentine Vellum rummaged through the notes. He stood up a moment later, scowling.

“Clear up this mess, and don't let me catch you three snooping around this section of the library again. And as for the rest of you!” He swung around abruptly, startling a small group of curious third years who had gathered to watch the latest commotion. “Return to your own tables, and get on with your homework!” And he disappeared back into his temporary office.

“Let's get out of here,” Angus said, quietly scooping up the contents of his bag, “before Vellum changes his mind.”

They left the library at a sprint and reached the Pigsty a few minutes later. Dougal dropped his bag on the floor, looking drained.

“That was way too close for comfort! I thought we'd had it. It's a good job Vellum didn't make us turn out our pockets as well.” He pulled his last remaining scare-me-not puzzle from a pocket in his pants. “He would have blown a gasket if he'd seen this. Here.” He chucked it across the Pigsty to Angus. “You'd better have a go at cracking it before that one self-destructs, too. I can't concentrate on anything until they announce the results of the Cradget's competition.”

Angus stuffed it into his own pocket, wondering if they should have bought one of Cradget's less volatile puzzles.

There was a scraping sound from above a moment later, and Indigo descended the ladder from her room to join them.

“What happened to the accident report you took from Vellum's office?” Angus asked as soon as her foot touched the floor.

“Vellum made you turn your bag out first, so I slipped it up my sleeve when he wasn't looking,” Indigo said, pulling a rolled-up document from her sweater with a grin.

“Wow!” Angus said, impressed by her sheer nerve. Dougal let out a long low whistle. Indigo quickly laid the paper out on the floor where they could all see it. But the rest of the report had been blacked out.

“You mean, we went through all that for nothing?” Dougal said,
glaring at the thick black lines.

Indigo sighed, resting back on her heels. “It's like the whole of 1777 has been wiped out of Perilous records.”

“At least we know what caused the weather vortex now,” Angus said. “The lightning catchers were doing some dangerous experiments.”

“Yeah, but experiments with what?” Dougal said, frowning. “You don't get explosions and weather vortices from studying fluffy snowflakes.”

Indigo nodded. “It must have been something really risky, something Gudgeon doesn't want us asking questions about.”

“And I bet you anything it helps explain what's really going on at Castle Dankhart,” Angus said, more certain of his theory than ever. “We've got to search through Vellum's stuff again. We've
got
to find out more about those experiments!”

“Have you completely lost your marbles?” Dougal said, looking thoroughly alarmed at the prospect. “You heard what Vellum said: If he catches us again, he'll have us catapulted straight into a storm full of lightning tarantulatis, or worse!”

“Then we'll have to make sure we don't get caught,” Angus said, determined.

When they returned to the library the following day, however, it was clear that Valentine Vellum had moved his temporary office to a different location. There was no sign of him in the reference section on the balcony or at any of the other study tables in the library.

“I don't believe it. We're right back to square one again,” Angus said as they left the library in a very despondent mood. “What are we going to do now?”

In the weather archive, Winnie Wrascal remained subdued, sniffing and blowing her nose at regular intervals. Catcher Killigrew was now checking up on her several times an hour, in an effort to prevent any more catastrophes from occurring. A few days later he also set Angus, Indigo, and Dougal to work ferrying some poorly pickled storm jars out into the Octagon. The contents of the jars had congealed and disintegrated over time and had now been earmarked for thorough decontamination.

“Ew! This one looks like it's got melted boogers at the bottom,” Dougal said, inspecting a small jar where a lumpy green residue had stuck to the sides. “I'm glad
we're
not cleaning them out.”

Some of the jars contained nothing but dried-up storm husks. Others had been contaminated by slivers of storm, dust particles, or cobwebs and looked fractured and worn out.

“I didn't realize weather could curdle.” Indigo wrinkled her nose at a rancid-smelling specimen. She carried it at
arm's length as they left the forecasting department for the tenth time that afternoon with the latest batch of jars. “I really don't think we should—”

She stopped suddenly as they entered the Octagon. The Vellum twins were blocking their path, with arms folded.

“I want a word with you, Munchfungus,” Percival said, stepping forward and poking Angus hard in the chest with a thick finger.

Angus put his own jar down and, feeling his hackles rise, pushed the twin away. “What are you going on about now, Vellum?”

“You and Dewsnap have been messing around with those stupid Cradget's puzzles for weeks and then somebody threw one onto the table where me and Pixie were sitting and now Vulpine's making us dust the entire reference section, book by book!”

“You're barking up the wrong tree. My scare-me-not hasn't even exploded yet, see,” Angus said, taking the last remaining puzzle from his pocket and holding it up as evidence. “And Dougal's went off weeks ago.”

Percival scowled, momentarily confounded. “I don't care, Munchfungus. I know you, Dewsnap, and Midnight
had something to do with it, and now me and Pixie are going to make you pay.”

Percival headed straight for a large collection of storm jars that Angus, Indigo, and Dougal had already carried into the Octagon and arranged neatly on the floor in order of height. He picked the largest one. It still contained visible traces of an angry storm.

“What would you do if I let this weather out, storm boy?” he said with a calculated look on his face. “Would you set a storm of fire dragons on us? Or start breathing fire? Or turn into an overgrown bat and flap around our heads?”

“Leave those jars alone, Vellum. Even you wouldn't be that stupid,” Angus said.

“It might be worth it just to see how much of a freak you really are.”

“Just ignore him!” Indigo said. “He's trying to get you into trouble, too.”

“I know!” Angus snapped, wondering what he was supposed to do about it. He could feel the fire dragon stirring inside his chest. But he couldn't lose control this time. Not when they were surrounded by so many old and angry
storms. He tried to shove Percival away from the storm jar, but the twin refused to budge.

“You're such a mutant, Munchfungus.”

“Yeah, you don't belong here.” Pixie snickered, nudging the jar with her foot until it wobbled dangerously.

“Is that why your parents haven't come home yet? Maybe they'd rather stay in their dungeon than admit their son's a freak.”

“Shut up about my mum and dad!” Angus tried with all his might
not
to picture the fire dragon chasing the storm and Percival Vellum across the Octagon,
not
to imagine how satisfying it would feel to scare the pants off the sneering twin. But the fire dragon was now smoldering inside his rib cage, threatening to burst free at any second, overwhelming his self-control.

“It's about time everyone at this Exploratorium knew exactly
what
they've been sharing their living quarters with.”

Percival glanced around the Octagon to check that they were alone. He stretched out an arm toward the storm jar.

“What is going on here?”

A door flew open behind them, and Catcher Sparks appeared from the experimental division.

“I've got some fourth years trying to reassemble some very tricky snow-shuffling machinery, which requires absolute silence, and all I can hear is you five arguing!”

Percival Vellum swiftly moved away from the jar and stood beside his sister. Angus felt the flames of the fire dragon slowly cooling inside him again.

“Midnight!” Catcher Sparks rounded on Indigo. “Explain what you're doing with these storm jars.”

“Catcher Killigrew told us to bring them out here, miss,” Indigo muttered.

“And did Catcher Killigrew also tell you to stand about arguing with these two idiots?”

Indigo shook her head.

“Then I suggest that you, Dewsnap, and McFangus continue with your duties. And as for you two,” Catcher Sparks said, circling the twins slowly, “you're already skating on very thin ice. Do not give me a reason to follow Miss Vulpine's example and make you dust the entire experimental division as well.”

Percival Vellum scowled over his shoulder at Angus as
he and Pixie slouched off, disappearing down the stairs.

“Vellum was bluffing,” Dougal said as soon as Catcher Sparks had retreated to the experimental division again. “He never would have pushed that storm jar over in a million years.”

But Angus wasn't so sure. What if the terrible twin really had smashed the storm jar? Would he, Angus, have sent the contents charging after him? What if he'd been unable to control the fire dragon or the powerful feelings that had once again been stirred up inside him? Percival Vellum would have felt the full force of the storm and would now be lying in the sanatorium with some very serious injuries.