The Lightning Catcher Read Online Free Page A

in a yellow coat and black rubber boots, and the glorious dream faded in a flash.
    He opened one eye warily and blinked. He was lying on an old sofa with the long coat thrown over him like a blanket. Gudgeon towered above him with a face like thunder. Standing next to him was a woman with short white hair, pale skin, and a bristly mole on her left cheek. She was dressed in a yellow coat identical to the one Gudgeon was wearing. It was buttoned all the way up to her chin.
    â€œLooks like the boy’s waking up now, Principal,” Gudgeon grunted, noticing that Angus had his eyes open. “And about time too.”
    The woman turned toward him, smiling faintly. “Ah, Angus, you’ve had us all quite worried. I’m afraid you’ve been unconscious for some time.”
    Angus sat up slowly, feeling a hard lump on his forehead. It was the size of an egg and throbbed painfully.
    â€œWhat happened?” he asked as the room swayed dizzily before him. “Where am I?”
    â€œI will answer all of your questions in a moment, but first Doctor Fleagal has prepared a special tonic to help you feel better,” the woman said, handing him a tall glass. “You must drink it all while I have a quick word with Gudgeon.” And with one last look, Gudgeon followed her out of the room, closing the door behind them.
    Angus took a sip of the tonic. It tasted like black cherries and cinnamon, and he drank the rest of it down greedily. The last thing he remembered was being frog-marched onto the ferry by Gudgeon, but they could have been at sea for hours, or days even, while he’d been unconscious and dreaming of dragons. So where was he now?
    Angus stared around the room, looking for clues, but it didn’t give much away. It was sparsely decorated, with a single desk sitting in the center. The stone walls were covered with dozens of weather charts and maps of the world. He stood slowly, testing out his legs, a nervous buzzing in his ears. Staring back at him from the other side of the solitary desk was a long row of pickling jars, and inside each jar—Angus blinked and edged closer for a better look—inside each jar there appeared to be collections of newts, frogs, toads, or tadpoles, all suspended in a briny-looking liquid, with wide eyes bulging.
    â€œPlease allow me to introduce myself properly, Angus.” The woman’s voice came suddenly from behind him, making him jump. She had returned to the room alone. “I am Principal Lightning Catcher Dark-Angel.” She shook his hand firmly as she reached the desk.
    â€œH-how do you do, Principal.”
    â€œHow are you feeling now? A little better, I hope?”
    Angus nodded. Thanks to the tonic, the throbbing pain in his forehead was slowly beginning to ease.
    â€œGood. I trust your uncle Maximilian is also well?” she said, sitting down behind her desk and signaling that he should take the chair opposite.
    â€œYou . . . you know my uncle?” Angus asked, almost missing his seat in surprise.
    â€œCertainly. Maximilian has produced many magnificent machines for us over the years. In fact, we were expecting him to deliver his latest invention this week, the automatic steam-powered blizzard catcher, I believe it’s called. Perhaps you have seen him working on it during your stay at the Windmill?”
    â€œEr . . .” Angus thought of the temperamental machine that had knocked him off his feet and that was now sitting in his uncle’s workshop, a twisted blob of melted copper and pipes. He wondered how he could answer without getting Uncle Max into trouble. He was saved from having to explain anything, however, by the principal’s next question—which took him completely by surprise.
    â€œForgive me for asking something so personal, Angus, when we’ve only just met. I’m sure you have many questions of your own, but there is a small matter that I wish to clear up first, if I