Warren the 13th and the Whispering Woods

by Tania del Rio

  “We can’t turn back now,” Warren said, and he leapt forward to the almost-open door and flung it open.

  “AHHH!” screamed an oily voice.

  Warren frowned. That screaming sounded awfully familiar.

  “Sly?” Warren said. “What are you doing here?”

  The man was frozen in place, his pockets bulging with jewelry and silver. All the drawers and cabinets were opened and askew.

  “Well, kid,” Sly said, pocketing another handful and straightening himself, “I went through a heap of trouble to get onboard this behemoth without being seen, and now I’m just paying myself back for all the damage you did to me and my business.”

  SLY RETURNS

  “But I saved your life!” Warren cried. “If anything, you owe me.”

  “Po-tay-to, po-tah-to,” Sly said, flopping a hand in the air. “The point is, I need to start over. I already checked the hotel safe, but sadly that was empty. So here I am, improvising.”

  “You’re a thief!” Petula cried. She held out a hand to zap him, but then remembered that Calvina had stripped away her powers.

  “A handshake, eh?” Sly grabbed her outstretched hand and shook it vigorously. “Call me Sly. Pleasure to make your acquaintance, darling.”

  Petula drew back as though he were a snake. “Don’t touch me! And don’t call me ‘darling’!”

  “My, you have a temper!” Sly said with a chuckle. “I used to have an oil for that. Sly’s Soothing Snake Balm. Imbues the user with complete and utter relaxation. A calm mind and spirit. In fact, I used to have a great many oils. But thanks to your little friend here, now I have next to none.” He opened his blue satchel—the one he had saved from the quicksand—to demonstrate. “Now if you’re in the market for a little something different, I do have—”

  Another scream floated up from downstairs, this time loud enough to rattle the door hinges.

  “What was that?” Sly said, the color draining from his face.

  “You don’t want to know,” Warren replied.

  Meanwhile, Petula had begun to root around the room.

  “You messed everything up,” she said accusingly. “I can’t find my mother’s bottles!”

  “She’s coming,” Warren said. “Hurry!”

  Petula dug into an overturned drawer.

  “I’m looking!” she cried. “You need to stall her! Hold her off!”

  Stall. Stall. Warren looked around frantically for something he could use, then his gaze fell on Sly’s satchel.

  “Got it!” Warren snatched the satchel.

  “Hey! That’s mine!” Sly yelped.

  Warren ignored him and tore out into the hallway, just as Calvina reached the eighth-floor landing.

  “There you are!” she snarled. “You’ll pay for making me run up all those stairs!”

  “Why didn’t you just make a portal and save yourself the trouble?” Warren asked.

  The queen scoffed. “I can’t portal to someplace I’ve never been before, you little fool!”

  “Really?” Warren blinked innocently. “I thought you were the most powerful witch in the world.”

  The queen’s violet eyes flashed with fury. “You dare mock me?”

  “Not so fast!” Warren said, holding up the satchel. “If you destroy me, you’ll also destroy these!” He flipped open the satchel to reveal the amber bottles within.

  The queen’s eyes widened with hunger. “Give those to me at once!”

  “Only if you promise to leave the hotel and never come back!”

  “I’m not going to bargain! If you won’t give me the bottles, I’ll take them by force!”

  She raised her glowing hands, poised to cast another spell.

  A SINGLE BOTTLE

  “What are you doing? Those are mine!” Sly burst into the hallway behind Warren and snatched the satchel from his hands.

  “Sly! No!” Warren cried. But Sly had already bolted down the hallway and disappeared around a corner.

  “Come back here!” the queen shrieked, and she went racing after Sly to retrieve her prize.

  Petula popped out of Beatrice’s room, and Warren rushed over.

  “Petula, quick,” he said. “The satchel—”

  “I found one!” Petula held a small bottle aloft. “But just one.”

  Warren let out a breath. “Hopefully one is all we’ll need.”

  Petula brightened. “Do you have a plan?”

  Sort of, Warren thought. “Yes,” he said bravely, “but we have to get downstairs. Fast!”

  arren and Petula burst into the ballroom, where the others were cowering under the long dining table.

  “Warren!” Mr. Friggs cried. “Is the queen gone?”

  “Not yet,” Warren said. “And we’re going to need everyone’s help to defeat her.”

  Mr. Vanderbelly was huddled under a chair, reading aloud as he wrote on his notepad: “Young Warren appeared from the trenches of battle to seek our aid. We had no choice but to summon our bravery and hear his plan. How would this saga end?”

  “Listen,” Warren said. “We don’t have much time. Everyone, split up, grab all the mirrors you can find, and bring them to the lobby. Can you do that?”

  Chef Bunion, Uncle Rupert, and Mr. Vanderbelly exchanged quizzical looks. Only Mr. Friggs was quick to agree.

  “Of course! Come on, everybody, let’s join the fight!”

  With that, they all rushed to and fro, fetching mirrors from storage closets, powder rooms, and guest bedrooms. Even Uncle Rupert carried a small handheld mirror to further the cause. Soon the lobby was cluttered with looking glasses of every shape and size: oval vanity mirrors, tall dressing-room mirrors, glimmering decorative mirrors, even a few fun-house mirrors that Chef Bunion had discovered in the back of a closet.

  MIRROR, MIRROR

  A furious scream reverberated through the hotel, shaking the walls.

  “Sounds like Calvina just realized the bottles were fakes,” Petula said grimly.

  “Thanks for your help, everyone!” Warren said. “Now hurry to the control room and lock yourselves in! Beatrice is there, but she’s trapped. See if you can find a way to free her.”

  “Aye-aye, Cap’n!” Chef Bunion saluted Warren, who blushed. He really did feel like a general!

  “I just hope this bottle works,” Petula said. “She really is the most powerful witch I’ve ever encountered. What if somehow she’s able to resist it?”

  Warren said nothing. They just had to hope that wasn’t true.

  Out on the stairs came the sound of harried footsteps. Seconds later, Sly tumbled into the room, a terrified look upon his face. His hair was singed with black soot, and his suit was in tatters. Smoke rose from his lapels, which were burnt to a crisp.

  “She’s crazy!” he wheezed. “She can have my oil bottles for all I care! Get me offa this hotel!”

  “Go downstairs to the control room,” Warren said. “There’s a trap door and a ladder that will let you out.”

  “Thanks, kid,” Sly said, and then he gave him an odd look. “Say, why aren’t you making a break for it? You can’t possibly stand up to her. If I were you, I’d get as far away from this place as possible.”

  “This is my home,” Warren said, “and I’m never letting it out of my sight again!”

  Sly’s mustache twitched. “Suit yourself. I’m outta here!”

  The lights in the hotel flickered and dimmed, and a bitter chill coursed through the air.

  “I’m tired of these games.” Calvina’s voice reverberated through the halls. “This ends right now!”

  A whirling portal snapped open in the center of the room, and Petula and Warren ducked behind their shield of mirrors just in time. Through the gaps, Warren watched as the queen stepped through the portal and into the lobby. Her entire body was radiant with power, her violet eyes ablaze with brilliant light. Scared as he was, Warren had to admit that she was beautiful—more beautiful than anyone he’d seen in his whole life. He stared transfixed as t
he queen’s light reflected off the myriad mirrors, scattering rainbows across the room.

  “Don’t look at her directly,” Petula whispered, tugging at his arm. “It’s like staring at the sun.”

  Warren blinked, the trance broken, just as the queen noticed the mirrors.

  “Oh!” Calvina cried, enthralled by her own reflection. She gazed at herself in one mirror, ran her fingers through her hair, and then turned to gaze in the next. She turned, and smiled, and turned, and curtseyed, and turned again, admiring herself from every possible angle.

  “I’m…so beautiful!” she gasped, turning again and then turning some more.

  Warren’s mirror trap was working—just as he had hoped!

  “I can’t catch her until she casts a spell,” Petula whispered, gripping her bottle.

  “Here comes your chance,” Warren said, and then he stepped out from his hiding place to face the queen. “You may be beautiful, Your Royal Darkness, but I wonder what your true self looks like.”

  “What?” The queen whirled around, eyes snapping with rage.

  At the sound of the magical word, all the mirrors shimmered. Suddenly the reflections changed from that of a beautiful queen to an ugly, skeletal, twisted creature, its gray skin pocked with scabs and spots and a lashing rat’s tail. Its eyes drooped out of their sockets, and its head bristled with tiny horns where hair should be.

  “Nooooo!” the queen howled. She turned in circles, desperate to avoid seeing the horrible creature in the mirrors, but everywhere she looked, her true self stared back.

  “My beautiful hair! My perfect skin! My captivating eyes!” she cried, raking her hands over her body as she writhed in agony. “This cannot be!”

  With a mighty crash, she slammed a fist into the nearest mirror, then the next and the next. Hundreds of shards showered to the ground. But there were too many mirrors to count, and Calvina cut herself on the broken glass. She fell to her knees, rocking in pain.

  “No!” she gasped. Her fists tensed and her whole body flickered as she tried to transform into her spirit animal. But at the first whiff of sulfur, Petula was ready. She leapt out from her hiding spot, with bottle uncorked.

  “Got you!” Petula cried. Emitting an ear-piercing scream, the queen was sucked toward the bottle. She clawed at the floor, trying to save herself, but the magic was too strong; her body stretched like taffy as the bottle drew her in.

  “Careful!” Warren cried.

  “I’ve got it.” But Petula’s hands were trembling as she struggled to grip the bottle.

  “Here.” Warren rushed to her side and placed his hands over hers. “Don’t…drop…it.”

  With gritted teeth, they both held on tight and watched in morbid fascination as the last wisps of Calvina spiraled away into the belly of the vessel.

  And then it was over. The queen was captured!

  Petula shoved the cork into the bottle, sealing it for good. “We did it!” she said in elation. “It worked! And look!” She raised her hand, where another rose tattoo formed opposite the first. “My color is back! The binding has been broken!”

  “That means Beatrice is free, too!” Warren said.

  “Of course!” Petula said.

  Broken glass crunched under their feet as they scurried downstairs to the control room.

  “We did it, everyone!” Petula cried as they burst in. “The queen is—”

  But something held her back—a loose wire on the floor tripped her up and stopped her short. The bottle flew from her hands, spinning madly in the air, arcing toward the ground, sure to shatter if it hit…

  Suddenly a rubbery tentacle whipped out, catching the bottle mere inches before it crashed to the floor. Sketchy exhaled a series of relieved chirps.

  “Phew,” Warren breathed. “Good catch, Sketchy!”

  “Sorry,” Petula blushed, her naturally pale face turning a rosy hue. “I guess I should be a little more careful.”

  Beatrice, her lightning cage now gone, pulled her daughter into a hug and ruffled her hair affectionately.

  “I see the headline now!” Mr. Vanderbelly said, spreading his fingers wide. “Brave Children Save Forest of Sap-Squatches, Defeat Most Powerful Witch in Malwoods!”

  “Is it time for lunch yet?” Uncle Rupert complained. “Being so heroic has worked up quite an appetite!”

  “I think this calls for a special feast,” Chef Bunion said.

  “It certainly is cause for celebration,” Mr. Friggs piped up. “But I’m afraid we have another problem.”

  Everyone stopped to stare at the elderly man, who gestured out the window.

  By this time, the sap had almost filled the caldera, completely swallowing the village it once contained. In fact, the sap had risen so high that the amber liquid now reached the bottom of the cockpit window.

  “The legs,” Warren said, his heart sinking fast. “We can’t walk through this sticky goo. If we were stuck before, we’re even more stuck now.”

  He pressed his palm against the glass and looked outside. Hundreds of sap-squatches were celebrating, swimming and playing in the sap as the remaining witches looked on miserably.

  Warren exhaled and squared his shoulders. A manager had to make the best of any situation, and that’s exactly what he was going to do.

  “Now that the queen is gone, maybe this isn’t such a bad place,” Warren said slowly. “Instead of the Black Caldera, we’ll call it the…the Sap Caldera! The world’s first resort for sap-squatches?”

  Everyone exchanged worried glances. It didn’t seem like an ideal situation, or even a reasonably good one. But then the hotel shifted beneath their feet.

  “Earthquake!” Rupert cried. “Was that an earthquake?”

  “I’m not sure,” Warren said, alarmed. The last thing he needed now was more damage to the hotel.

  The control panel lit up, its many buttons blinking and flashing all at once. Outside, a horn bellowed—

  —as if warning that the hotel was ready to self-destruct. It was so loud, even the sap-squatches could hear it; they stopped playing their games and stared. Then, with a mighty shudder, the Warren Hotel heaved forward.

  “We’re moving!” Petula cried. “Wait—we’re moving?”

  With not a moment to waste, Warren rushed to the periscope and turned the crank, trying to glimpse parts of the hotel he couldn’t see through the cockpit windows. The river of sap had risen to tremendous heights, and it now carried the hotel out the eastern entrance of the caldera—and straight to the ocean!

  “We need to stop,” Warren said. “If we walk into the ocean, we’ll sink. Quick, somebody help!”

  Mr. Friggs scanned the control panel. “There are plenty of ways to stop the hotel from walking,” he said, with panic in his voice, “but nothing to keep it from being carried along in a river of sap!”

  “You mean…,” Chef Bunion began.

  “We’re doomed!” Rupert howled.

  “Doomed!” Mr. Vanderbelly wrote on his notepad.

  Everyone screamed and clung to one another as the hotel floated out of the Black Caldera. Trees and trails whipped by the cockpit windows as they cascaded downhill, hurtling toward the ocean like a barrel spilling over a waterfall.

  Warren sank to the floor and closed his eyes. After all this time, after all his hard work, his beloved hotel was about to flow out to the ocean and sink like a stone.

  Warren opened his eyes.

  “What was that?” he said. But his friends just looked at one another and shrugged. Right, Warren remembered, I’m the manager. Answering questions is my job. He rushed over to the periscope.

  “I—I don’t believe it!” he said.

  “What is it?” Mr. Friggs cried in alarm. “What do you see?”

  “The hotel…,” Warren said. “It seems to be…transforming!”

  “Transforming?” Chef asked.

  “Its legs are…retracting!”

  “Retracting?” Petula repeated.

  “Yes! In fact, I think w
e’re turning into–a ship!” Warren squinted again into the periscope. It was extraordinary: at the first touch of seawater, the hotel’s enormous appendages had started to draw into the bottom of the building. He saw two plates sliding over the holes, forming a sort of hull.

  “Look!” Petula pointed out the windows. A giant sail emblazoned with the letter “W” had extended from the roof.

  Beatrice pulled out a series of picture cards: Fwip! Fwip! Fwip!

  THE WARREN TRANSFORMS

  “Mom says the saltwater must have triggered the transformation,” Petula explained.

  “What genius!” Mr. Friggs cried, clapping his hands with delight. “Warren the 2nd definitely had some tricks up his sleeve! What a surprise!”

  The building wobbled and bobbled some more as it adjusted to the waves, but finally it settled and the hotel-turned-boat sailed upon the ocean. Sketchy let out a shrill whistle and danced about, tentacles wiggling. If there was one thing the creature loved, it was water.

  Warren could hardly believe it. Through the cockpit window, he could see curious fish and seahorses flitting by and strands of toffee-like sap being washed away. The building rocked gently from side to side as it was carried along with the tide. Back at the periscope, Warren could see the Malwoods and the volcanic shape of the caldera grow smaller and smaller as they drifted away.

  “Warren,” Petula said, her eyes shining, “do you realize what this means?”

  Warren met her look with a grin. “We can travel anywhere we want!”

  “New cuisines to try!” Chef Bunion cried.

  “And new adventures to report!” Mr. Vanderbelly added, waving his pencil in the air.

  “Oh, dear,” Mr. Friggs said, looking as though he might faint.

  “Cheer up, Mr. Friggs!” Warren said. “We’re not just a world-famous traveling hotel anymore. Now we’re a world-famous, world-traveling hotel!”