The Secret Of Cacklefur Castle

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The Secret Of Cacklefur Castle Page 1

by Geronimo Stilton




  Dear mouse friends,

  We

  lcome to the world of

  THE RODENT’S GAZETTE

  EDITORIAL STAFF

  Geronimo Stilton

  A learned and brainy

  mouse; editor of

  The Rodent’

  s Gazette

  Thea Stilton

  Geronimo’s sister and

  special correspondent at

  The Rodent’s Gazette

  Trap Stilton

  An awful joker;

  Geronimo’s cousin and

  owner of the store

  Cheap Junk for Less

  Benjamin Stilton

  A sweet and loving

  nine-year-old mouse;

  Geronimo’s favorite

  nephew

  New York Toronto London Auckland Sydney

  Mexico City New Delhi Hong Kong Buenos Aires

  Scholastic Inc.

  THE SECRET OF

  CACKLEFUR CASTLE

  All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright

  Conventions. No part of this publication may be reproduced, transmitted,

  downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced

  into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by

  any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter

  invented, without the express written permission of the publisher. For

  information regarding permission, please contact Atlantyca S.p.A.,

  Via Leopardi 8, 20123 Milan, Italy; e-mail [email protected],

  www.atlantyca.com.

  eISBN 978-0-545-39217-4

  Copyright © 2003 by Edizioni Piemme S.p.A., Corso Como 15, 20154

  Milan, Italy.

  International Rights © Atlantyca S.p.A.

  English translation © 2005 by Atlantyca S.p.A.

  GERONIMO STILTON names, characters, and related indicia are

  copyright, trademark, and exclusive license of Atlantyca S.p.A. All rights

  reserved. The moral right of the author has been asserted.

  Based on an original idea by Elisabetta Dami.

  www.geronimostilton.com

  Published by Scholastic Inc., 557 Broadway, New York, NY 10012.

  SCHOLASTIC and associated logos are trademarks and/or registered

  trademarks of Scholastic Inc.

  Stilton is the name of a famous English cheese. It is a registered trademark

  of the Stilton Cheese Makers’ Association. For more information, go to

  www.stiltoncheese.com.

  Text by Geronimo Stilton

  Original title Il segreto della famiglia Tenebrax

  Cover Larry Keys

  Illustrations by Larry Keys, Blasco Tabasco, and Toffina Sakkarina

  Graphics by Merenguita Gingermouse

  Special thanks to Tracey West

  Interior design by Kay Petronio

  First printing, August 2005

  ON A CHEESY

  AUTUM

  N AFTERNOON

  Let me introduce myself. My name is

  Stilton,

  Geronimo Stilton

  . I run

  The

  Rodent’s Gazette,

  the most

  famouse

  newspaper on Mouse Island. My office is in

  17 Swiss Cheese Center.

  That is where I was when this terrifying

  tale began. It was a

  beautiful

  autumn

  afternoon at the end

  of October.

  “What a lovely,

  peaceful day!” I

  said out loud.

  I spoke too

  soon. All of a

  T

  H

  E

  R

  O

  D

  E

  N

  T

  ’

  S

  G

  A

  Z

  E

  T

  T

  E

  sudden, the walls started to shake.

  A loud roaring sound filled

  my offi ce. My

  desk began to tremble. The pencil cup that

  my aunt Sweetfur gave me for my birthday

  tumbled to the floor.

  “Holey cheese!” I cried.

  The roaring got louder. Then a mouse on a

  motorcycle rode through my door. It was my

  sister, Thea, of course.

  “Thea!” I squeaked. “How many times do

  I have to tell you not to ride your motorcycle

  into my offi ce!”

  “I’m worried about you, Geronimo,” Thea

  said. “You have not written a new book in a

  long time. What’s wrong?”

  Thea is a special correspondent for

  The

  Rodent’s Gazette.

  Still, I did not appreciate

  her sticking her snout into my business.

  I pointed to the pile of papers on my desk.

  “I am too busy to

  write

  ,” I said. “There is

  lots of other work to do around here.”

  Thea frowned. “This is not like you,

  Geronimo. You always had time to write

  before!” she scolded. Then she peeled out

  of the offi ce, her tires

  squealing

  .

  I sighed and sat down at my desk. What

  could I do? I had to do my paperwork.

  My tail had just hit the chair when the

  3

  door flew open a

  second time. This

  time my cousin

  Trap burst in. He held

  a triple-decker cheese

  sandwich in one paw.

  “Gero

  nimo, you have

  become

  lazier than a

  mouse

  with an automatic cheese

  slice

  r.

  You

  must write something new!

  ” he

  yelle

  d.

  “I need to be inspired before I can write,”

  I huffed. “I can’t just pluck an idea out of

  my whiskers.”

  The door flew open a

  third

  time. Pinky

  Pick,

  my very

  young assistant

  editor, bounded

  T

  r

  a

  p

  S

  t

  i

  l

  t

  o

  n

  P

  i

  n

  k

  y

  P

  i

  c

  k

  in. “Hey, Boss!” she said cheerfully. “I am

  organizing a

  PARTY

  for your next book.

  It’s going to be

  fabumouse

  !”

  My tail twitched. I was starting to get

  annoyed. “But I haven’

  t even written it yet!”

  I squeaked.

  The door flew

  open a fourth time. It was

  my favorite nephew, Benjamin, on his way

  home from

  school

  . “Hello, Uncle,” he said.

  “My friends are all asking when your next

  book is coming out!”

  I felt embarassed. I hated to


  disappoint Benjamin. He gazed

  up at me with his sweet

  round eyes. “It will be out

  soon, Benjamin,” I said.

  “I promise.”

  Trap, Pinky, and Benjamin

  left me to my work. I finished

  B

  e

  n

  j

  a

  m

  i

  n

  S

  t

  i

  l

  t

  o

  n

  5

  I looked out over New Mouse City.

  7

  the stack of papers on my desk. But I could

  not stop thinking about what everyone had

  said. What would my next book be about?

  The beautiful autumn afternoon turned

  into a beautiful crisp evening. I looked

  outside my window and gazed out over NEW

  MOUSE CITY. A c

  old wind blew up and lifted

  the cheddar-colored leaves off the ground.

  I watched them float and

  swirl in the night air.

  I needed an

  idea

  . But I didn’t have any!

  I had to think. I sat down at my desk. . . .

  A few hours later, I was still thinking.

  I had no ideas. Nothing. My mind

  was as dry as a stale slice of cheese.

  Feeling helpless, I started to

  sob

  . “It is no

  use!” I moaned.

  “

  M

  y

  w

  r

  i

  t

  i

  n

  g

  d

  a

  y

  s

  a

  r

  e

  o

  v

  e

  r

  !

  A MYSTERIOUS

  PHONE CALL

  The phone rang, drowning out my sobs.

  Riiiiing! Riiiiing! Riiiiing!

  I wiped the tears off my whiskers. Then I

  picked up the phone.

  “Hello,” I said sadly. “Stilton speaking,

  Geronimo Stilton

  .”

  “Is that you, my little cheese nip?” a sickly

  sweet voice asked.

  My fur stood on end. I knew that voice.

  It was

  CREEPELLA WON

  CACKLEFUR!

  I first

  met Creepella last

  October. She

  is not like

  other mice. She has shiny

  gray fur. Her eyes are

  S

  i

  g

  h

  !

  9

  as green as p

  oisonous snakes. She

  wears a long purple gown and matching

  purple pawnail polish.

  Creepella’s father, Boris, lives in a funeral

  parlor at 33 Dark Grave Drive. Creepella

  lives in a crypt in the cemetery. Her mouse

  hole is filled with cobwebs and dead

  fl o wers.

  All that is pretty spooky. But here is the

  scariest part of all: Creepella wants me to

  be her boyfriend!

  “Hello, Creepella,” I said nervously.

  “I need you, Geronimo,” Creepella said.

  “My grandfather Professor Frankenstein

  has died. His will is being read tomorrow

  night. I need to leave for

  CACKLEFUR

  CASTLE

  right away. It’s in the Valley of

  the Vain VAMPIRES. I need you to come with

  me, my little bat wing.”

  10

  Cacklefur Castle? The Valley of the Vain

  Vampires? I hate things that are spooky!

  But Creepella was not fin

  ished yet. “It will

  be wonderful, Geronimo,” she said. “I’ll

  introduce you to my family.”

  Her family? I had already met her father,

  and he was creepy enough. I really

  did not want to meet any more

  Cacklefurs

  .

  “I’m sorry,

  Creepella,” I said quickly.

  “I can't

  go with you. I am busy .

  .

  .

  um

  .

  .

  .

  working on my next book

  !

  ”

  “Really?” Creepella asked. She sounded

  suspicious

  . “What is it about?”

  I di

  dn’t know what to say. “Um . . .

  it’s a

  secre

  t!” I lied.

  Creepella didn’

  t buy it. “Your book can

  wait, my little toadstool. I will be at your

  office with my hearse faster than a spider can

  CRE

  EPELLA

  VON CACKLEFUR

  Who Is She? She is a special effects designer for

  scary films and haunted houses. Her father is Boris

  von Cacklefur. Creepella is an enchanting and

  mysterious mouse with a pet bat named Bitewing.

  Her Secret: She has a crush on Geronimo Stilton!

  BORIS

  VON

  CACKLEFUR

  Who Is He? He runs Fabumouse Funerals, a

  funeral home at 33 Dark Grave Drive. His hobbies

  include writing romantic poetry and painting

  graveyard scenes.

  His Secret: He is in love with Tina Spicytail,

  Geronimo’s grandfather’s cook!

  spin a web!

  SO GET READY

  .”

  Then she hung up.

  I had to do something. My whiskers were

  quivering

  with fright!

  I did

  not

  want to see Creepella! I did

  not

  want to ride in a hearse! I did

  not

  want

  to go to Cacklefur Castle! I did

  not

  want

  to meet Creepella’s family!

  I quickly thought up a plan. I put on a pair

  of dark glasses, a hat, and a raincoat. Then I

  scurried to the back door. I opened it . . .

  and

  someone tripped me! I fell

  right

  on my

  snout

  .

  I looked up into Creepella’s

  green eyes.

  “I know you so well,

  my little pumpkin,” she

  said, smiling. “I knew you

  would put on a disguise

  13

  and try to escape out the back!”

  Creepella picked me up and shoved me

  into her hearse.

  I shrieked. “I’m being mousenapped!”

  I was in trouble.

  Big

  trouble

  .

  Creepella slid into the driver’s

  seat. “How

  do you like my hearse?” she asked. “Of

  course, it doesn’t normally carry living mice.

  But I’m sure you’ll be comfortable.”

  “Putrid cheese puffs, get me

  out of here!” I screamed.

  Creepella just smiled. “You can’t escape,

  Geronimo,” she said. “You might as well get

  comfortable!”

  “

  H

  e

  e

  e

  e

  e

  e

  e

  e

  e


  e

  e

  l

  p

  !

  ”

  “

  L

  E

  T

  M

  E

  O

  U

  T

  !

  ”

  How could I be comfortable in a hearse?

  With Creepella?

  I yelled.

  Creepella winked at me. “You are going

  to love Cacklefur Castle, my little ghostie-

  whostie.”

  Then she began to sing a little tune.

  I sighed and put on my seat belt. There

  was no escape.

  Only one thought comforted me. If I

  ever

  did

  get home, I would definitely have

  something to

  write

  about!

  15

  “

  W

  e

  a

  r

  e

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  o

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