by Anne Cameron
“You owe me more than one.” Dougal smiled. “I’ve never done anything so courageous in my life! I’m definitely sticking to books from now on; most of those won’t try to squeeze you to death.”
They helped Angus back onto his feet as soon as Philip Starling’s head stopped spinning around him.
“The weather’s getting worse every minute,” Indigo said, darting over to one of the windows and gazing at the raging storm outside. Several small toads shot past the window as if to prove the point. “The longer we stay here, the less chance there is of our catching Vellum with Crevice and the dragon scales.”
“Isn’t the bone merchant’s close to this statue?” Angus pressed his nose to the cold glass, wondering if he was even staring in the right direction. “Maybe if we just made a run for it . . .”
There was nothing else for it. They raced back down the stairs and out through the door, where they were instantly hit by another shower of razor rain. Great gusts of tumblewind knocked Angus off his feet and sent him toppling head over heels, carrying him straight toward the bone merchant’s. He smashed into a door.
“Ooof!”
Indigo grabbed the handle, and they toppled inside. It took all three of them just to close the door against the fierce winds that were trying to force their way into the shop. Angus collapsed in a heap, no longer caring if they ran straight into Creepy Crevice and a whole gaggle of bone merchants intent on instant mummification.
He brushed some fish scales off his coat and got slowly to his feet. Razor rain scratched at the windows, making horrible screeching noises that set his teeth on edge. He turned away from it to face the labyrinth of shelves and display cabinets covered in thick dust and cobwebs.
“Maybe we’re too late,” Dougal whispered as Indigo shook sand and seashells out of her wet hair. “Vellum probably scarpered ages ago.”
But Angus had to be sure.
“Come on,” he said quietly, walking straight past the ugly collection of animal skull table lamps that Dougal had stopped to stare at the last time they’d entered the bone merchant’s.
The sound of the weather slowly faded as they moved farther into the shop. They crept past the ornamental cows’-rib spoons and the gallery of dangling anatomical skeletons. Angus stared straight ahead, determined not to look into the empty eye sockets or accidentally brush the bony knuckles with any part of his body. There was a sudden clatter from behind.
“Shh! Crevice will hear us,” Angus hissed, swinging around to find out what Dougal had tripped over this time. Dougal, however, had crashed to the floor, where he now lay snoring gently.
“I don’t believe it. He’s been hit by some scarlet sleeping snow!” Indigo knelt down to check his breathing. There were several scarlet drops of water on Dougal’s coat. “There must have been some stray flakes in the tumblewind.”
“He could be asleep for hours. We can’t just leave him here,” Angus said, staring around the dusty shelves anxiously.
They dragged him carefully into a sheltered nook between two large display cabinets and propped him up against a wall at the back.
“Don’t forget his spy camera,” Indigo said as Angus riffled quickly through his friend’s pockets. “We’ve got to get some proof that Valentine Vellum has been helping Crevice.”
They crept between shelves stacked high with jars full of powdered bone. It wasn’t until they reached the end of an eerie alley lined with scrawny-looking rats and weasel bones that they heard the faint sound of voices talking.
Angus pulled Indigo quickly behind a familiar shark’s skeleton and peered through a gap in the rib cage. The withered bone merchant was leaning across the shop counter, talking to a figure in a long black coat.
“You took the dragon scales from the tomb of Moray McFangus as I instructed?”
Angus flinched as Creepy Crevice spoke the name of his ancestor, and he felt a sudden flare of anger.
“I took more than enough and at great personal risk.” The stranger spoke in nothing more than a whisper, placing a small leather pouch on the counter. “If I had been discovered in the crypt, if Catcher Coriolis had seen my face . . . I trust Dankhart will stick to his end of the bargain?”
“I will pass the scales onto Scabious as soon as possible, and you will hear from him directly.”
“But he assured me I would have what I asked for as soon as I—”
“Your bargaining does not concern me,” Crevice said, stuffing the pouch into his pocket. “Our business here is complete. You should leave before the cloud clears and you are seen by one of your lightning catcher friends. Imagine being caught coming out of my shop,” he said with a sneer in his voice, “after all the trouble I’ve caused in the Perilous crypt.”
The stranger hesitated, clearly wanting to say more. But Crevice had already turned away. He slipped into the office behind his counter and closed the door with a snap.
As the figure turned to leave, Angus grabbed the spy camera from his pocket and gripped it tightly. Now was the moment to prove once and for all that Valentine Vellum was a traitor, that he was in it up to his neck with Dankhart and the monsoon mongrels, that he had betrayed Perilous, the lightning catchers, and every weather oath he’d ever taken, for his own personal gain.
He saw the face beneath the hood for a fraction of a second as the figure hurried toward the door. He recognized it instantly; he’d seen the same steely features hundreds of times before within the stone walls of Perilous, but they did not belong to Valentine Vellum.
Angus sank back onto his heels, accidentally dropping the spy camera in surprise. He fumbled around his feet, frantically trying to scoop it up again, but it was already too late. He turned and stared at Indigo in a state of advanced shock.
The thief from the crypt was Principal Delphinia Dark-Angel.
17
A STORM OF ANCIENT FLAMES
“Dark-Angel?” Angus finally said, waiting until he heard the door shut behind the principal as she hurried out of the shop. “It was Dark-Angel? She’s the one who’s been stealing fire dragon scales?”
Indigo shook her head in disbelief. “But she’s the principal of Perilous, the most important lightning catcher on the planet! How could she do this to us?”
Angus swallowed hard. He’d never seen eye to eye with Dark-Angel. There had been times when he’d had serious doubts about her actions. But he’d never believed her capable of such a devastating betrayal.
“What are we going to do?” Indigo whispered. “Nobody’s going to believe a word of it.”
Indigo was right. How would they ever convince anyone else? Angus could hardly believe it himself. In the shock of the moment he’d also failed to take a photo with Dougal’s spy camera, to capture Dark-Angel’s treachery for all to see.
“We’ve to get out of here and find Jeremius,” Angus said. Jeremius was the only person who was likely to believe them without evidence.
He peered through the shark’s rib cage. Crevice showed no signs of emerging from his office.
“Come on!” They crept quietly back through the dusty shelves, past the large jars of powdered bone and dangling skeletons, being careful not to make any noise that would bring Crevice hurrying out to investigate. Again and again the image of Dark-Angel’s face flashed before Angus’s eyes. He’d been so convinced it was Valentine Vellum hiding beneath the coat that he’d never even considered it could be another lightning catcher, someone who was supposed to be above suspicion, someone who was supposed to be totally trustworthy.
He hurried around the edge of a large display cabinet, still reeling with shock, and collided with something solid.
Crash!
A tall figure in a long green coat loomed over them. Angus recognized the goatee and shoulder-length hair immediately and felt his spirits plummet. Somehow, they’d just walked straight into Dankhart’s chief monsoon mongrel, Adrik Swarfe. But Swarfe was not alone. The man standing beside him was tall and stocky with shaggy brown hair and narrow eyes that ga
ve him the appearance of a ferret. Angus had stared at his picture many times in The Dankhart Handbook. His name was Victus Bile.
“Angus, what an unexpected pleasure.” Swarfe smiled as if greeting an old friend, but his eyes remained shrewd and calculating. He studied Indigo with interest. “But tell me, what are you and your delightful friend doing in this shop? I assumed you would be attending the fascinating demonstration by the Galipots with the rest of your Exploratorium.”
“We—we were sheltering from the weather vortex,” Angus said quickly before Indigo could offer a different explanation. “We got separated from the rest of the lightning cubs. The tumblewind . . .”
“Ah, yes, that is a particularly fine weather innovation. I must congratulate you, Victus, on your noble work.” Swarfe turned to the other monsoon mongrel and bowed his head. “But I’m afraid we cannot stand around here chatting, Angus. We have an important appointment to keep with Mr. Crevice.”
Victus Bile grunted. “We’d better move these two away from those windows before someone spots them.” He turned Angus around and shoved him back into the maze of shelves from which they’d almost escaped.
“But what do you want with us?” Angus asked.
“You and your friend, Miss Midnight, will be traveling back to Castle Dankhart with Victus and me,” Swarfe said. “I have exciting plans for your future, Angus.”
Angus swallowed hard. Swarfe’s last plan had involved draining his body of blood to make more lightning hearts. He glanced over his shoulder as Victus Bile hurried them away from the shop windows. Outside, great flashes of lightning filled the square. There was no sign of any search party. Nobody would even realize they were missing until it was too late. He met Indigo’s petrified gaze for a second and knew they had both reached the same horrifying conclusion: Their chances of escaping were virtually nonexistent.
“W-what plans for my future?” Angus asked, desperately searching around the maze, hoping to spot an escape route, a hidden door, an open window.
“As I’m sure you’ve seen by now, Angus, we have been extremely busy at Castle Dankhart over the last few months constructing a magnificent lightning tower,” Swarfe said, leading the way through the dusty shelves. “It has not been easy. We could not allow the lightning catchers to see what we were planning. Under my guidance, therefore, the monsoon mongrels had to engineer a catastrophic weather event so violent and powerful that every lightning catcher on the planet would believe one of our more ambitious weather experiments had gone tragically wrong. I devised a series of perfectly timed weather explosions, masking our true intentions, until the lightning tower was ready to be unveiled. And what better place to reveal our most brilliant accomplishment than in front of a group of so-called weather experts who did not see it coming?” Swarfe said with satisfaction. “What a wonderful surprise for those meddling fools at Perilous.”
Angus glanced sideways at Indigo, wondering if Dark-Angel had known about the lightning tower. Had she schemed and plotted just to help Dankhart keep his secret as he built the terrible tower under cover of the weather vortex? He swallowed, feeling sick at the thought of it.
He stared over his shoulder as they continued through the dusty shop, hoping to see his uncle charging to the rescue with Gudgeon, Rogwood, and half of Perilous in tow. But the rest of the bone merchant’s stood still and deserted. They would have to plan their own escape. Indigo caught his eye, looking frightened but determined. She was not ready to give up yet.
“I don’t understand,” Angus said, playing for time. “W-why have you built the lightning tower?”
“It is quite simple, Angus. We intend to finish what the very first lightning catchers started,” Swarfe explained, as if teaching a group of first year lightning cubs a harmless lesson on weather theory. “We will use the tower to capture the raw power of lightning in its natural state and then to generate storms of untold force. As I’m sure you already know, pure lightning is far more potent than anything we can produce artificially in a Lightnarium because of intangible elements from the earth and air that it contains.”
Angus shivered again, wondering if Valentine Vellum had also played a part in the elaborate plot.
“But this is not just about capturing lightning bolts, Angus. It’s about restoring the balance of power. And with such might we intend to overwhelm the lightning catchers at Perilous and every Exploratorium around the globe. The final piece of the puzzle was getting our hands on fire dragon scales from the tombs of the storm prophets.”
“Those scales don’t belong to you!” Indigo said bravely.
“Nevertheless, Miss Midnight, they were necessary if our plans were to reach completion.”
Angus thrust his hand into his pocket, searching for anything that could cause a distraction, just as Swarfe and Dankhart had done with the weather vortex. All they needed was a few seconds of confusion. His shaking fingers found a crumpled handkerchief. There were several useless candy wrappers lurking at the bottom, but nothing more. He quickly tried the other pocket. His hand closed around the scare-me-not puzzle. He’d been carrying it around for days, and it was now shaking. He shot an urgent sideways glance at Indigo.
“Fire dragon scales contain the very essence of the storm prophet they were taken from.” Swarfe continued, oblivious. “In 1777, it was discovered by the early lightning catchers that when the scales were added to lightning storm particles, it greatly intensified the ferocity of that storm. We intend to create a weather event ten times more powerful than anything the early lightning catchers could have imagined. And if we then add the dragon scales to the deadly seven . . .” Swarfe said, looking excited at the prospect. “Well, can you imagine an ice-diamond storm that would envelop the whole Isle of Imbur? Or a scarlet sleeping snow attack that could cover the entire southern half of Britain? You have left me with very little choice, Angus McFangus.”
“M-me?”
They had finally reached the shop counter. Angus closed his fingers tightly around the scare-me-not, trying to mask the forceful vibrations now coming from his pocket as it got ready to self-destruct.
“Ah, I see that you are puzzled by my words, Angus,” Swarfe said.
“Yes.” Angus leaped on the fortunate phrase that Swarfe had chosen. “I’m really puzzled!” He stared hard at Indigo, desperately hoping she understood the urgent message he was trying to convey.
“Then let me explain.” Swarfe continued. “Scabious and I have sought many other methods to control the weather. Scabious attempted to steal the never-ending storm from the lightning vaults, but he was thwarted by you and your meddling friends. You then thoughtlessly destroyed the lightning heart, a precious Swarfe family heirloom of immense value that would have allowed us to create a whole army of storm prophets. We were forced to think again. That is when my thoughts returned to an archaeologist called Edwin Larkspur and his discovery of the lightning tower remains. I had never considered building my own lightning tower, and yet it suddenly seemed like such a simple solution to our problems.”
Ping!
Indigo’s head shot around in surprise as she heard the faint sound. Swarfe and Victus Bile, however, noticed nothing.
“I could not have designed the lightning tower entirely by myself.” Swarfe continued. “But naturally Scabious and I have made it bigger and infinitely more powerful than the original.”
Ping!
Angus gripped the puzzle tightly, getting ready to seize their one chance of escape.
“It is ironic that the strength of the lightning tower, which defeated Philip Starling and Edgar Perilous in 1666, will now crush the lightning catchers once again.”
P-ting! P-ting! P-ting!
Angus ripped the scare-me-not from his pocket and threw it straight at Swarfe.
BANG!
The puzzle ruptured in midair, showering the shocked monsoon mongrels in scorched scraps and slivers.
“Run!” Angus yelled.
Indigo was already streaking ahead of him, putting a
s much distance between herself and the monsoon mongrels as possible. The effects of the scare-me-not would last for seconds only.
They dodged between the skeletons of rats and weasels. Angus skidded and collided with a huge dinosaur’s rib cage. It wobbled precariously, threatening to collapse and imprison them both in a cage of bones. But it gave him a sudden idea.
“Quickly, drag one of those jars off the shelf and smash it!” he shouted as they approached the containers full of powdered bone.
They heaved a jar to the edge of the shelf together and pushed hard. The container shattered behind them, sending great clouds of speckled white into the air like a sudden no-way-out fog.
“Angus!” Indigo had tripped and fallen in the confusion. Angus doubled back and hauled her onto her feet. But Victus Bile, covered in white from head to toe like a heavy-footed ghoul, was already emerging through the haze of dust behind them.
“Come on!” Angus pushed Indigo onward, through the rows of dangling skeletons, hands, knees, and ribs clattering around them with the hollow timbre of a xylophone. Victus Bile was gaining on them fast. The monsoon mongrel dived, grabbed Angus by his left ankle, and brought him down with a painful thump!
“Get off me!”Angus kicked out hard with his other foot, making contact with the monsoon mongrel’s nose. He scrambled to his feet again and crashed through the skeletons, toppling them over like a set of sinister dominoes.
“We’re almost there!” Indigo yelled as they hurtled past the animal skull lamps and the door came into view at last.
A thick soup of weather still raged in the cobbled square outside, thrashing against the shop windows with the same vigor and might as before. But if they could just make it back to the statue, if they could take shelter until the storm cleared . . .
Angus skidded to a halt suddenly and grabbed Indigo as she went racing past.
“Wait!” His heart was now pounding inside his chest for a different reason. “Dougal! We’ve left him behind! We’ve got to go back!”
