The Lightning Catcher Read Online Free

street toward them.
    â€œNobody you need to worry about, boy. And by the time I’ve finished with the great useless pair, they’ll be wishing they’d picked another ferry port to go prowling about in!”
    Gudgeon took a small glass ball from his pocket, clutching it tightly in his weathered hand. Angus recognized the glittering storm globe instantly. It was the same one he’d seen through the spy hole in his bedroom floor, and he felt his pulse quicken.
    â€œKeep that hood pulled down low,” Gudgeon warned again. “And stick close to me. This isn’t going to be pretty.”
    Suddenly the ferry’s whistle blew, making Angus jump, and all along the pier passengers began to dash toward it. At the exact same moment, Gudgeon raised his hand high above his head . . . and smashed the storm globe hard on the ground, where it shattered into a hundred tiny pieces.
    Angus leaped back as a thin curl of gray mist rose instantly from the broken sphere. The mist snaked its way upward, gathering swiftly into a small, fluffy-looking cloud, which hovered twenty feet above Gudgeon’s bald head. The cloud grew thicker and darker until it looked as if it was about to burst, and then . . . Angus almost jumped out of his skin as a small rumble of thunder echoed around the quayside. He stared up at the cloud in disbelief—not even his uncle had ever made it thunder before.
    â€œThat should keep those two mongrels busy for a bit!” Gudgeon growled, grabbing Angus by the elbow and marching him hastily toward the ferry.
    Ten seconds later, the cloud finally burst, releasing a spectacular, monsoonlike deluge. Huge, angry drops of rain bounced off the ground with a deafening noise, like a bag of marbles being dropped from a great height.
    People scattered in all directions, running headlong into one another as they slipped and skidded, desperate to escape the vicious storm. And the two shadowy figures disappeared from view, swallowed up in a wet and dizzy blur.
    Angus stared over his shoulder, wondering if he was in the middle of an extraordinary dream. Nobody could create their own weather. Nobody could whip up a thunderstorm just because they felt like it. It was totally impossible. . . .
    â€œStop gawping, boy, and get on that boat!” Gudgeon barked in his ear, forcing him up the gangway between the last of the stragglers.
    Angus was jostled along the ferry’s deck, his feet sliding hopelessly on the wet wooden boards, and he groped around for something to hold on to. Somebody shoved him from behind, and he lurched sideways.
    â€œWatch it, boy!” Gudgeon yelled, making a wild grab for his arm, but it was already too late.
    Angus tripped on the hem of his own coat and fell headfirst, his skull making extremely painful contact with a solid-looking post—
    CRACK!
    And suddenly everything went dark.

   3   
    DARK-ANGEL

    â€œA nd the boy’s been unconscious since you left, you say?”
    â€œHaven’t heard a peep out of him, Principal. He’s been twitching like a rabbit, tossing and turning, mumbling some nonsense about dragons.”
    â€œDragons?”
    Voices drifted toward Angus like a whispered story on a cool evening breeze. He’d been having the most amazing dream: he’d been riding a dragon over monstrous gray waves, swaying groggily as the fiery creature soared and plummeted with a violent pitching motion. He was now lying perfectly still, however, and his head was aching like he’d just been hit with a baseball bat, several times.
    â€œWell, Doctor Fleagal isn’t overly concerned.” Somewhere close by, the voices started talking again. They sounded impatient. “He says Angus will wake up in his own time, but this really is most inconvenient, Gudgeon. I had hoped to talk to the boy as soon as he arrived. . . .”
    Gudgeon? Angus had a sudden vision of a gruff-looking stranger dressed