The Lightning Catcher: The Secrets of the Storm Vortex Read Online Free PDF

swooped down and disappeared into the fires below. He felt a strange, uneasy stirring in his chest, a twitchy feeling in his fingers and toes, as if some hidden part of him that he’d never even felt before had suddenly stirred at the sight.
    And then, in the blink of an eye, it was over. The burned city, devastated, smoldering in a choking haze, lay before him.
    â€œAngus?” Jeremius was gently trying to loosen his grip on the retrospectacles. “It’s over now.”He lifted the goggles carefully off Angus’s head.
    Angus rubbed his eyes and blinked, staring out acrossthe city. He was extremely relieved to see that modern-day London was still standing exactly where it had been just a few minutes before. There were no burned ruins or charred lightning towers, no leaping fire dragons. He’d been looking at a phantom of the past, nothing more.
    â€œI hope you realize how extraordinarily lucky you are to have seen this,” Catcher Tempest said, staring down his nose at Angus.
    Angus wasn’t convinced that “lucky” was the right word. The startling images of a fire-ravaged city had been burned into his memory as if he’d witnessed it with his own eyes, as if he’d stood at the top of the tallest lightning tower in the middle of the very storm that had transformed London into a blackened carcass. His heart was still pounding inside his rib cage.
    â€œYou have witnessed the earliest beginnings of the lightning catchers and the storm prophets, just as Principal Dark-Angel requested. Now, I really must go and help sort out Greenland,” Catcher Tempest said, glancing impatiently at his weather watch. “Good day to you both.”
    He disappeared around the curve of the domed roof without a backward glance.

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CREVICE AND SONS
    A ngus spent the rest of the day in a strange sort of daze. Scenes from the retrospectacles flashed before his eyes as he and his uncle left the museum and stopped off at the cartographer’s, where Jeremius picked up some old maps of Canada, and an antiques shop, where Jeremius rummaged around for rare fossilized hailstones. It was only at the end of a very long day that they finally headed for a private pier to catch a ferry to the Isle of Imbur. After a swift dinner in the ferry’s packed dining room, Jeremius led him straight down to a small, comfortable cabin where Angus fell asleep almost instantly. His dreams were filled with magnificent fire dragons that swooped and soaredabove the roar of ancient flames. He tossed and turned as London burned before him again and again, as something unfamiliar, something that longed to break free and join the creatures in their fiery dance, stirred inside him.
    When the ferry arrived at Imbur early the next morning, he stumbled out of bed and followed Jeremius into the dark, where they climbed aboard an open-topped steam-powered coach. It took them directly to 37 Feaver Street.
    â€œWhat are we doing at Dougal’s house?” Angus asked sleepily as his uncle shuffled him inside. “I thought we were heading back to Perilous?” But Jeremius refused to explain anything at such an early hour of the morning, and before Angus was fully conscious again, he was climbing into another soft bed at the top of the house, where he fell asleep still wearing his socks and shoes.
    When he finally woke up for a second time, feeling groggy, it took him several moments to remember where he was. The cramped ferry cabin had gone; curtains were drawn across a tall window; his socks and shoes had been removed and laid neatly on a chair, and—
    â€œOh!” Angus jumped, banging his elbow on the bedsidetable. Someone was staring at him through a half-open door. Deep green eyes blinked from behind a pair of small, round glasses. Angus recognized the familiar face immediately.
    â€œGood! You’re awake at last!” Dougal came bounding into his room and perched on the edge of the