The Lightning Catcher: The Secrets of the Storm Vortex by Anne Cameron Read Free Book Online Page A

he hadn’t considered such an excellent idea before.
    â€œBrilliant! Thanks. I mean, if you’re sure it’s okay with your uncle Max and everything. And speaking of uncles . . .” Dougal checked over his shoulder to make sure no one was listening. “Have you found out anything else about Jeremius?”
    At the end of the previous term, after many doubts about his mysterious new uncle, Angus had discovered that Jeremius spent much of his time trailing monsoon mongrels around the globe, trying to stop them from spreading dangerous storms and hazardous weather. A jagged scar on his chin came from one such adventure at Castle Dankhart.
    â€œHe still won’t tell me anything about Castle Dankhart,” Angus said with a long sigh. “But he can’t have been following any monsoon mongrels around in the last few months; he’s just spent the whole summer at the Windmill.”
    â€œHey, watch out!”
    Dougal dragged Angus out of the way as a herd ofspiky-looking plants went scuttling past, dragging their long roots behind them, followed by an irate-looking shop assistant.
    They spent the rest of the morning exploring bookshops, toffee shops, and bric-a-brac stalls, where they bumped into Mrs. Stobbs, who had just emerged from the fishmonger’s.
    â€œIt’s nice to see you again, my lovely.” She smiled at Angus, patting the soft brown curls on top of her head.
    â€œThanks for the brilliant breakfast, Mrs. Stobbs,” Angus said, suddenly remembering his manners.
    â€œYou’re welcome, my dear. I’m making a delicious fish pie for dinner,” she told them, bundling a very smelly parcel with tailfins into her bag. “But I’ve got to get home to my Albert first. He’s having trouble with his lumbago again, poor dear, and he needs his powdered bone cure from Crevice and Sons.”
    â€œWho’s Albert?” Angus asked as they left Mrs. Stobbs to the rest of her shopping. “And what’s Crevice and Sons?”
    â€œAlbert’s her husband,” Dougal explained. “And Crevice and Sons is a fine-bone merchant.”
    They stopped in front of a dingy-looking shop in another corner of the square farthest away from Brabazon Botanicals. Moss and lichen grew on the cobbles outside the door. There were no decorations, cheerful awnings, or window displays. “The same people own another shop down Feaver Street; you saw it last time you stayed.”
    Angus remembered the creepy-looking shop well. He tried to imagine a similar bone merchant on the high street in Budleigh Otterstone, nestled between the bakery and the post office, and failed.
    â€œThey’ve been around for hundreds of years; Dad won’t tell me what they sell exactly. But they used to be specialists in mummification.”
    â€œMummification? What, you mean, like in ancient Egypt?”
    â€œYeah.” Dougal shrugged. “I don’t think they do it anymore. Although some of the people Dad knows from the Imbur Island Museum look as if they were mummified aeons ago.”
    Angus stared at the dark-fronted shop. Uncle Max had lent him a book about the ancient Egyptians once. It had contained a whole chapter about mummification thatAngus could still recall in all its gruesome detail, including the section about removing all internal organs from the body and stuffing them into jars. The worst part, however, was the long hook used for removing the brains . . . by wiggling it straight up a nostril. Angus felt sick just thinking about it.
    â€œThere was a rumor flying around a few years ago that they had some actual mummies on display inside the shop.” Dougal pressed his nose against the grimy glass. “Maybe if we just take a quick look around . . .”
    â€œEr, isn’t this on your dad’s list of forbidden shops?” Angus said.
    â€œWell, yeah, but it’s not like we’re planning to get ourselves pickled and wrapped up in