The Lightning Catcher (25 page)

The closet around them seemed to grow darker as Indigo took a deep, shuddering breath, fixing Dougal with an angry glare. “I'm only going to say this one more time. No member of the Dankhart family has EVER been invited into our home. And before you ask, Uncle Scabious has NEVER been a guest at any of my birthday parties, or dropped round with a sack full of presents at Christmas, okay?”

“Okay, okay, sorry I asked!” said an alarmed-looking Dougal, who finally had the sense to drop the subject.

  
14
  

THE SECRET MAP

“S
hould we tell Principal Dark-Angel what we've found out?”

“I bet you anything she already knows exactly what Dankhart's up to.”

“Yeah, not to mention the fact that she'd probably make us search every inch of the experimental division for specks of storm fluff if we go charging up to her office. Just for knowing stuff we shouldn't.”

“But what about the missing map? Do you reckon the lightning catchers are even looking for it?”

“'Course they are. That was the first thing Principal Dark-Angel asked Angus about when he arrived at the Exploratorium, wasn't it?”

“That's the real reason she brought me here in the first place, you mean.”

“Well, if they have found a map of the lightning vaults since then, they're keeping very quiet about it.”

“If they've found so much as a missing mousetrap, I'll eat Percival Vellum's armpit warmers! Have you seen the look on old Dark-Angel's face these days? That's not the face of a happy principal.”

And so their conversations continued over the next few days, going round and round in endless circles, until all three of them became irritable and snappish and Angus's head throbbed with sheer frustration. He also found himself staring out the windows, hundreds of times a day, half expecting to see another shower of newts or frogs falling from the skies. And he spent hours wondering what section of the Exploratorium Dankhart was planning to search next. Would he break into the sanatorium perhaps, or ransack the experimental division, or even rummage through the entire contents of every lightning cub's bedroom in his desperation to find the missing map? What if he actually found it? All in all, Angus decided that he'd never had so much to worry about in his life.

Philomena Whip-Stitcher's voice was growing clearer by the day, but it was still impossible to work out what she was trying to tell them about the fabled lightning vaults. And Angus was extremely glad that no one had realized yet that the holographic history was missing from the library. In the meantime, their only other option was to search for the missing map themselves—a task that was likely to bring them further problems, as Indigo pointed out one lunchtime, over cheese-and-pickle sandwiches.

“I mean, where would we even start if we did decide to go looking for the map ourselves?” she said, speaking directly across the table to Angus and only glancing at Dougal occasionally.

Dougal had been making an extra effort to be nice to Indigo, following their heated argument in the broom closet. Indigo, on the other hand, was still treating Dougal with caution, as if he might start spouting off about her uncle again at any minute. And a tense atmosphere remained.

“There are hundreds of hiding places all over Perilous,” Indigo continued, “not to mention all the stone tunnels and passageways, and it would be impossible to search every one of them. It could take us years to find the missing map.”

Angus continued to keep a very vigilant eye on the weather, but all showers of newts, frogs, beetles, and storm globes had come to an abrupt halt with not so much as a single tadpole falling on the rooftops. And the skies cleared to a pale wintry blue. New posters announcing the next field trip of the season also appeared in the kitchens one morning, and fog fever gripped the Exploratorium once again.

“I am thrilled to tell you all that the forecasting department is predicting a rare occurrence of midnight fog in five days' time,” Miss DeWinkle informed them with obvious enthusiasm during their next lesson in the weather bubble. Dark clouds had engulfed the ornate glass-and-steel classroom, making it feel like night had fallen several hours earlier than usual.

“Luckily, we will be able to observe this particular variety from the roof of our own Exploratorium. As I'm sure you have already read in your McFangus guides, midnight fog has only ever been encountered at midnight, hence its name. It is as black as a starless night, and it also happens to be one of the most exhilarating types of fog to work in.”

“What's so great about wandering about in the middle of the night in a load of black fog?” Dougal mumbled, sounding less than thrilled at the prospect.

“Working in midnight fog has often been likened to entering an underground cave,” said Miss DeWinkle, as if they were in for the treat of their lives, “and is a very similar experience to walking around with your eyes tightly shut. Without the proper light source, you will be unable to see your own hand in front of your face, or indeed the faces of those around you.

“Flashlights are all but useless in a midnight fog,” Miss DeWinkle informed them cheerfully. “The only way to navigate your way through it effectively is by using candles, torches, and bonfires. Flames can be extinguished quickly in the thickest patches, so you must be extra vigilant. There'll be no maps or courses to follow this time, but that doesn't mean there won't be dangers. Several years ago, two first-year cubs got a bad case of rapid fog disorientation and had to be rescued from the top of a hurricane mast. So listen carefully to instructions, and don't go wandering off. Your fog guides will also play a crucial role.”

Angus quickly slipped his fog guide under his workbook so Miss DeWinkle couldn't see it. He'd been forced to make emergency repairs to the guide after it had fallen out of his pocket in the tropical fog and been severely trampled. It was now covered in sticky tape. Luckily, his mum's letter had come through the ordeal unscathed and was once again tucked safely inside the chapter on contagious fog.

“To get in some practice before the event, we'll be meeting tomorrow evening, in the cloud gardens.”

A loud murmur swept around the room at this surprising news.

“As the occurrence of this fog is so rare,” Miss DeWinkle continued, “we will be joined on the roof by a number of lightning catchers and trainees from other years who, for various reasons, have yet to see it.”

“How will
any
of us know if we've actually seen it?” hissed Dougal.

 

At eight o'clock the following evening, Miss DeWinkle marched them down to the cloud gardens. It was so pitch black, Angus spent several moments rummaging through the pockets in his coat for his gloves before he realized the pockets actually belonged to Indigo.

“Sorry!” He grinned at her in the dark, remembering suddenly that she couldn't see him either.

“This is perfect practice for the midnight fog itself,” said Miss DeWinkle as they stumbled along behind her through the dense gardens. “You must allow your eyes to adjust to the darkness. Let your other senses and your weather watches guide you.”

“The only thing my senses are telling me is that I should have stayed up in the kitchens,” Angus mumbled as he forced his way through a tall patch of sticky grass, which sprang back and whacked him in the face.

By the end of the class, the only person without bruised shins or cut lips was Indigo, who appeared to have better night vision than an owl.

In the days that followed, all conversation at the Exploratorium revolved around the looming field trip and the dangers that might be lurking in the midnight fog.

“There could be real fog phantoms, or ghosts, or giant flying yetis,” Dougal pointed out as they discussed it nervously in the kitchens. “I mean, nobody bothered warning us about fognadoes, did they? So what's to stop them from throwing in another surprise or two this time, just to liven things up a bit?”

Angus, Dougal, and Indigo therefore spent most of their free time in what was left of the library, trying to find anything useful about the tricky fog. It was just as Angus was creeping out of the mist, murk, and drizzle section late one evening (trying to avoid Mr. Knurling), that he bumped into Doctor Fleagal.

“Your mum and dad would both be very proud of the way you dealt with that fognado, young Angus, yes, very proud indeed,” the doctor said, lowering his voice and giving Angus a knowing wink. “I'm sure they will be extremely interested to hear all about it upon their return to Perilous.”

“Er, thanks a lot, sir,” said Angus, somewhat taken aback. No other lightning catcher had ever mentioned his parents directly to him before, except Principal Dark-Angel and Rogwood. In fact, he had a strong suspicion that none of the others actually knew his real identity.

“I remember watching Alabone and Evangeline compiling their famous fog guide, a number of years ago now, scribbling away in this very library late into the night, studying endless samples, consulting complicated droplet charts,” Doctor Fleagal added, smiling kindly. “It was just after they'd returned from a rather adventurous journey to the celebrated fog tunnels of Finland.”

“My mum and dad visited the actual fog tunnels?” Angus asked, astounded, trying to imagine his parents battling their way through the convoluted tunnels.

“Indeed. Evangeline had quite a close call, as I remember. She accidentally smashed her weather watch, got separated from your father, and had to find her way out again using nothing but a long piece of string and some earthworm trails.”

Angus desperately wanted to hear more about this amazing story, but at that moment he spotted Mr. Knurling approaching them with a most unfriendly look on his face, and he quickly decided against asking Doctor Fleagal any questions. Even now, weeks after the incident with the hailstones, Angus wasn't entirely convinced that the librarian had recovered properly from his concussion—for which he seemed to blame Angus and Indigo. Angus said good-bye to Doctor Fleagal and fled in the opposite direction.

 

When the day of the second field trip arrived, no one was looking forward to the experience, especially since Miss DeWinkle had just announced that they would be given an exam on it afterward. Angus, Dougal, and Indigo spent a tedious day up in the experimental division mopping up after a temperamental raindropometer, which kept leaking all over the floor.

“Well, looking on the bright side, at least we're not being sent out into the Imbur marshes again,” said Indigo.

“Yeah, and if we get attacked by a school of piranha mist fish this time, we can just run back inside and barricade the doors,” said Angus.

“It's not the mist fish that I'm worried about,” Dougal mumbled darkly. “Theodore Twill's been telling everyone that midnight fog is famous for harboring giant bats.”

Angus gulped, hoping that they wouldn't run into any—especially as it might trigger yet another appearance of the fire dragon.

Finally, at eleven thirty that evening, Angus, Indigo, and Dougal made their way up to the Octagon, yawning sleepily. Despite their concerns about the midnight fog, it had been an enormous effort just to stay awake, hours past their usual bedtime. They were swept along the corridors on a tide of tired-looking lightning cubs, all dressed for a long session of standing around in the cold.

Even at this time of night, the roof was a hive of activity, and they were led carefully to the far end by an excited Miss DeWinkle. Candles and flaming torches had been lit so that they could see where they were going. A large bonfire was firing orange sparks twenty feet into the air and casting deep, flickering shadows across the roof. Clifford Fugg, who had made a full recovery after breaking his wrist on the first field trip, was standing with a small group of friends. A number of lightning catchers had also gathered. Principal Dark-Angel, Gudgeon, Rogwood, and Catcher Sparks were chatting happily beside the fire, enjoying freshly baked cookies. The kitchens had sent up several trays of late-night snacks for everyone.