A PLAN IS MADE
Warren’s heart leapt a little. Perhaps, indeed!
“I’ll go right now!” Warren said. “With any luck we can fix the hotel and reach Pineycones by the end of the day. If we catch up to the guests, I’m sure I can convince them to give us another try.”
Petula turned to her mother. “Can I go with him?”
Beatrice riffled through her deck of cards again—fwip!—and held out a card engraved with a caution sign: Be careful.
Petula patted the pocket where she kept a perfumier bottle, her tool for capturing a witch. “Don’t worry, Mom. If anything happens, I’ll be ready.”
Sketchy tried to follow his master to the exit, but Warren urged him to stay behind. “Sorry, Sketchy,” he said, “but I’m not sure if this store allows pets. It’s best if you stay here.”
“Come on, Sketch,” Chef Bunion called, “back to the kitchens! There’s still lunch that needs preparing! And if you’re good, maybe Warren will bring you back a piece of candy.”
Sketchy whistled happily and clapped its tentacles as it followed Chef Bunion back toward the kitchen. Uncle Rupert turned to Warren with a pleading look. “Will you bring me back a piece of candy, too?”
Warren sighed. “I’ll try.”
Gravity kept Warren from exiting through the front door, so instead he opened a window near the back of the hotel, climbed outside, and dropped the five feet to the ground below. A moment later, Petula magically appeared beside him.
The land outside the hotel was desolate. The guests were gone, already traveling on foot or by car to Pineycones. Wide-open prairie stretched as far as the eye could see, waving with dry grass and spotted with pale and thirsty trees. Random clusters of boulders sat piled here and there, as though dropped by a careless giant. Miles ahead loomed the Malwoods, dark and menacing. Warren shivered every time he looked at the forbidding line of trees that marked its border.
Warren and Petula walked quickly along the road, and soon they came to a thicket of hedges and a wooden hand-painted sign that read:
“Emergency and cosmetic dentistry?” Warren said.
“Seems like an odd specialty,” Petula agreed.
As they passed through the hedges, the building revealed itself. It looked charming enough, with a log-cabin facade and a rustic porch that held a variety of comfortable rocking chairs. There was even a barrel with a checkerboard on top, the game pieces arranged for a new set of players.
Warren and Petula clomped up the wooden steps to the screen door that served as the shop’s entrance. When they pushed it open, bells jingled merrily.
The shelves were so full of merchandise that there was scarcely enough room for Warren and Petula to step inside. The Sundry Shoppe seemed to carry everything a traveler might need: giant cans of food sat alongside hammers, cookware, and rain ponchos. On the floor were sleeping bags and canvas tents, canteens and grappling hooks, not to mention an entire section full of wind-up toy monkeys.
Petula studied them. “Why would travelers need a—”
“Hello there!” cried a cheerful voice, and a kindly old man tottered over to greet them. “Welcome to the Sundry Shoppe! Can I help you find something?”
A HELPFUL SHOPKEEPER
“Any chance you have Dr. Stickler’s De-Stickifier?” Warren asked.
“Of course I do!” the shopkeeper said. “Right this way!”
The man led Warren and Petula through a maze of aisles. Eventually they arrived at a glass case filled with De-Stickifier, more than a hundred bottles in all different sizes. “You have so many!” Warren exclaimed.
“It’s very popular round these parts,” the shopkeeper explained. “Because of all the sap, you see.”
“What sap?” Warren asked.
“The Malwoods are full of pine trees,” the shopkeeper explained. “Thousands of trees, maybe tens of thousands. During peak season, the sap was everywhere. Heck, I used to harvest it for recipes. Tastes just like cotton candy!”
Warren’s stomach rumbled. After a morning spent working on the rooftop and refunding money to angry guests, he realized that he had completely forgotten to eat lunch. “That sounds delicious,” he said dreamily.
“Unfortunately, we have a shortage right now,” the shopkeeper continued. “About six months ago, for some mysterious reason no one knows, all of the pine trees went dry. So suddenly I’ve got plenty of De-Stickifier!”
“Lucky me,” Warren said, grabbing three bottles.
“I’m not sure if you’ll be interested,” the man continued, “but I also have some sap candy.”
“Candy!” Warren and Petula exclaimed in unison.
They followed eagerly as the shopkeeper led them across the store and into yet another aisle, where an assortment of confections and treats was displayed in enticing and colorful rows. Warren and Petula rushed forward. Their eyes were drawn to a chocolate bar called Choco-Sap Crunch and a packet of cookies called Sappy-Chip Cookies and a fruity-looking taffy called Happy Sappy Taffy.
“Go ahead. Try a piece!” the shopkeeper said.
Warren unwrapped a piece of squishy chocolate called Sap-Mallow Surprise and popped it in his mouth. Sugary sweetness flooded his senses. “It really does taste like cotton candy!”
“Oh, yes, it’s heavenly,” the shopkeeper said. “The only downside is that it rots your teeth so quickly.”
Warren asked, still chewing.
“Yes, something toxic in the sap; it’s very hard on the tooth’s enamel. Melts the bone like acid. But no worries! I happen to be a professional dentist, so I can solve the problem lickety-split.”
“Couldn’t you have warned us?” Petula asked. “We have a hotel to fix!”
“It won’t take long, young lady. A mere ten minutes. You’re welcome to wait here while I treat your friend to a cleaning.”
Warren shook his head. He finished chewing and swallowed hard. “There’s no time. Petula, why don’t you take the De-Stickifier back to the hotel, and I’ll catch up when we’re finished.”
“Oh, fine,” Petula said, glaring one last time at the shopkeeper. “But you really should put a warning label on those sap candies!”
The shopkeeper smiled kindly, then put a hand on Warren’s shoulder and ushered him toward the back room. Warren had never seen a dentist’s office before; it resembled the hotel’s infirmary, with cabinets of medical supplies and a single large reclining chair in the center.
EMERGENCY DENTISTRY
“Go on now,” the shopkeeper said. “Take a seat and I’ll strap you in.”
“Strap me in?” Warren asked, easing himself onto the chair.
“Oh, yes, mustn’t be too careful,” the man said, laughing merrily. He pulled strap after strap over Warren’s chest and legs, yanking them taut and buckling them into place. “We can’t have you thrashing about when I perform the extraction!”
“Extraction?” Warren asked. “I thought you said this was a cleaning!”
“They’re practically the same thing,” the shopkeeper said.
He closed the door to the shop and then stepped to the nearest window. Out on the path, he saw Petula walking back toward the hotel; she curved around a cluster of trees, vanishing out of sight. Satisfied, the shopkeeper turned back to Warren.
“Now there’s no need to worry,” he said. “I just need one tooth. I’ll even take it from the back of your mouth, so no one shall ever notice!”
“What are you talking about?” Warren asked. “You said I needed a cleaning! Because the sap would ruin my teeth!”
“I’m afraid that was an exaggeration. Your teeth will be just fine,” the shopkeeper confided. “But if I’m to mimic you properly, I need to borrow one. That’s how my magic works.” And with that the shop-keeper reached for a pair of metal forceps. “Once my transformation is complete, I will walk back to your hotel and seize control. Then I’ll deliver the hotel to the Black Caldera, where Queen Calvina has promised me an extraordinary reward!”
�
��No!” Warren cried. He wrestled against the leather bindings, but it was no use. He was trapped!
“Open wide,” the shopkeeper said, clicking his forceps.
Warren braced himself for a terrible pain, but to his surprise, the shopkeeper tugged gently and the tooth popped out of his mouth without the slightest pain. The man raised the forceps to the sunlight streaming through the window, and the yellow tooth shone like a prized jewel.
THE EVIL EXTRACTION
“Excellent!” he rasped. Then he took the tooth in his fingers and pushed it inside his mouth. Warren’s disgust was quickly replaced by astonishment as the shopkeeper’s form flickered and faded amid a swirl of shadowy magic. Within seconds, the elderly man was transformed into an exact clone of Warren the 13th!
“Who are you?” Warren asked.
laughing in a voice that sounded exactly like his own. “But it will be best if you don’t say anything. Just sit tight and relax.” And before Warren could say or do anything, the mimic stuffed a wad of cotton balls into his mouth. “I must be off. I’m going to take your hotel for a little stroll!”
“No!” Warren tried to cry out, but the word was muffled by his mouthful of cotton. Worrin walked out the door of his shop. Seconds later, Warren watched as the impostor passed by the window of the dentistry office, heading up the road toward the hotel.
Toward my hotel, Warren thought. And though he struggled and thrashed to break free once again, the bindings refused to budge. There was no escape.
s Worrin approached the hotel, he realized he didn’t know the best way to enter. Going through the front door wasn’t an option, not with the building still toppled on its side. Instead he approached the nearest first-floor window, pushed it open, and climbed through.
Unexpectedly, he found himself in some kind of pantry. Dozens of wooden shelves had collapsed onto the “floor.” Everywhere he stepped were cans and jars and boxes of food, as if the room’s contents had been scrambled by a tornado. Worrin hoisted open the door, then dropped down into the hallway below. The corridor was strangely deserted.
If this hotel is so popular, he thought, then where are all the guests?
Worrin walked quickly down the hallway, hopping over the occasional doorway, until he encountered a big-bellied man with slicked-back hair and a dazed expression.
RUPERT’S HOTEL TOUR
“There you are, Warren!” he exclaimed. “Did you bring back any candy for your dear Uncle Rupert?”
The very clever Worrin did not miss a trick. “Of course,” he said, fishing into his pockets and removing a piece of sap-water taffy. “Here you are, Uncle. I know how much you love taffy!”
Rupert quickly unwrapped the candy and popped it into his mouth. “Itsh shticky!” he said, chewing loudly. “Do you have any more?”
“Yes, but first, it’s extremely important that I get to the control room,” Worrin said. “Unfortunately, I bumped my head climbing back into the hotel, and everything feels so topsy-turvy. I’m a little woozy. Could you help me?”
Uncle Rupert puffed out his chest. Clearly he was flattered by the request; he had so few chances to feel useful anymore. “Why, of course!” he said. “Right this way, my boy. I’m happy to show you the way!”
It soon became clear that Rupert was even more disoriented than Worrin, but it didn’t really matter, because Rupert ended up giving Worrin an extended tour of the hotel. They visited the ballroom, the kitchen, the lobby, even a few guestrooms. Along the way, Worrin prompted Rupert with questions, rewarding him with a taffy after every answer. It was rather like training a dog. Rupert lamented that all the guests had fled the hotel, and Worrin did his best to look disappointed as well. “Yes, it’s really too bad,” he said, but inside he rejoiced. Perfect, he thought, fewer people to worry about! Worrin learned that someone named Mr. Friggs was in charge of hotel navigation [that will have to change, Worrin thought] and there was a perfumier named Beatrice who lived on the eighth floor [I will have to watch out for her, Worrin decided].
Eventually they found themselves standing at a closet underneath a staircase, and Rupert began showing Worrin the latest additions to his collection of sarsaparilla bottles. Worrin was pretending to be awestruck when a girl suddenly materialized in front of them. The mimic recognized her from the Sundry Shoppe.
“There you are!” she exclaimed, taking Worrin by the hand. “Where have you been? Chef Bunion and I finished cleaning the control panel and we think it’s ready to go.”
“Of course!” Worrin said. “I’m sorry to keep you waiting. Lead the way!”
Petula looked at him oddly. “Are you feeling all right?”
Worrin hesitated. “The dentist gave me some laughing gas,” he said.
“And he bumped his head,” Uncle Rupert added helpfully.
Petula frowned but didn’t say anything as she led Worrin through the hotel. Inside the control room, Worrin tried not to gawk at all the wires and cables and lights and buttons. With a twinge of anxiety, he realized he didn’t know the first thing about piloting a hotel. Delivering the building to the Black Caldera might be more challenging than he had thought.
A burly man in a greasy apron was waiting for them. Worrin gathered from Rupert’s remarks that this must be Chef Bunion, the hotel’s head cook and all-around handyman.
“It’s as good as new!” Chef Bunion said, slapping the top of the control panel with his meaty hand. “Turn it on and we’ll see if that De-Stickifier did the trick.”
“All right,” Worrin said. He thought it would be a good idea to sit in the pilot’s chair, but it was currently sticking sideways out of the wall. Worrin decided to climb up onto the control panel instead. Petula and Chef watched from below, while Rupert busied himself with his broken hammock.
Worrin stared worriedly at the controls. Everyone was watching him, waiting, as the seconds ticked by. It was getting awkward. Just do something, he said to himself. So he reached out tentatively and pushed a large green button.
Nothing happened.
“You have to use the activation panel first,” Petula said, pointing to a flat square area lined with tiny light bulbs. “Remember?”
“Of course!” Worrin said, slapping his hand on the panel. Without delay, all the lights blinked on and a hum filled the room. Then the entire building began to sway—Worrin felt the floor rising under his feet as the hotel righted itself. He fell back into the pilot’s chair as Petula and Chef Bunion grabbed at wires and cables to steady themselves. The giant structure rumbled as it rose on its enormous legs, and light flooded in through the large windows. Worrin stifled a gasp and tried his best not to look as astonished as he felt.
“It works!” Petula said. “We fixed it!”
“Well done!” Chef Bunion said. “Now let’s get moving!”
Worrin pressed on a lever, assuming it would make the building step forward—but nothing budged.
“You forgot the passcode,” Petula said.
“The what?”
“The hotel won’t move unless you enter the code.”
“Right, of course!” Worrin said. “I can’t believe I forgot to enter the passcode!”
Now he was truly stuck. How will I figure out the passcode? Fortunately, he didn’t have to. With a sigh, Petula reached past him, placing her fingers on typewriter keys installed in the side of the panel. She proceeded to type, and the panel answered with a cheerful bell tone as the lever unlocked. Worrin again pressed it down, and this time the hotel obeyed, stepping forward with ease. His heart was pounding with excitement, and he couldn’t help but release a triumphant laugh. This was too easy! He’d deliver the hotel and collect his reward in no time at all!
Petula noted her friend’s strange expression. “Warren, are you sure you’re okay?”
WHAT’S THE PASSCODE?
“Yes, I’m fine,” he said reassuringly. “Just a little crazy from all the excitement.”
“Then, to be safe, let’s put the hotel on autopilot, okay?”
Again, Petula stepped in and showed him the proper switch, reminding him that the hotel was set on a course for the nearest town–Pineycones.
“Yes, yes, of course,” Worrin said. “Thank you for being so patient. I’m quite embarrassed.”
“Don’t be,” Petula said, waving him away. “I’m sure the laughing gas will wear off soon.”
“You just need some food!” Chef said. “That will set you right again!”
“Good idea,” Petula said. “With all the excitement, we missed lunch.”
“Ooh, lunch!” Uncle Rupert said. “Yes, let’s eat!”
Worrin followed them out of the control room, stopping once to stare longingly at the control panel. He needed to find a way to change the hotel’s course for the Black Caldera without anyone noticing. I can worry about that later, he decided. His stomach was rumbling, and a meal sounded rather appealing.
They reached the kitchen, which was filled with fragrant and spicy aromas. As soon as they entered, Chef Bunion went right to work, chopping parsnips and acorn squash with impressive skill and speed. “Help yourself to some pudding cookies,” he said, opening a canister and passing it around. Petula eagerly grabbed three cookies, handing one each to Worrin and Rupert.
Worrin bit into his cookie, and gooey chocolate pudding oozed out. He closed his eyes in bliss. The cookie was even more delicious than sap candy!
“Lunch will be ready in ten minutes,” Chef said. Then he raised his voice and called, “Sketchy, where are you?”
Warren the 13th and the Whispering Woods Page 3