THE CAPTAIN IS SEASICK
But the sound revealed itself to be Captain Grayishwhitishbeard dragging his trunk through the hallway.
“Ahoy!” the captain called.
“Where are you going at this hour?” Warren asked in surprise.
“Alas, I be feeling seasick,” he replied. “It’s best I go back to me boat.”
“Seasick?” Warren repeated. “But we’re not at sea.” In fact, the nearest ocean was more than a hundred miles away.
The captain shook his head. “No, but the sea be my home, and where ye might be homesick, I be feeling seasick!”
Warren supposed his logic made sense, though he was still disappointed. “But you just got here,” he said. “What about the All-Seeing Aye?”
“Yar, there be too much competition and too little benefit. I be feeling cooped up here, and I’d rather seek me fortunes on the open water.”
“Then let me help you with your trunk,” Warren said. He didn’t relish the idea of carrying the chest back down to the lobby, but as the hotel’s only bellhop, he knew it was the right thing to do.
“Don’t ye worry about it, lad!” the captain said. Grunting, he hoisted the chest onto his back. “Say, why don’t ye come with me?”
“What? You mean right now?” Warren said.
“Yar! It will be a grand time! Ye can meet the rest of me crew, and we can set sail for any place ye want to go! Grecko, maybe? Or the Malwoods? Or even the frozen seas of Frostbjorn?”
Warren’s heart beat faster as he imagined sitting in the crow’s nest of a grand sailing vessel, peering through a pair of binoculars and yelling “Land ho!” Perhaps he could even have his own talking parrot, like McCrackers the macaw from his beloved Jacques Rustyboots books. Captain Grayishwhitishbeard’s offer certainly sounded more appealing than a fruitless search for a missing journal, managing a run-down hotel, and serving an endless stream of ungrateful guests.
“Do I need to decide on the spot?” Warren asked.
“I be leaving right now,” the captain replied.
As Warren walked down the stairs, past the ripped-up floorboards and peeled-back wallpaper, he wondered if all his hard work was worth it. Everything seemed to be a lost cause. If the All-Seeing Eye was found by Aunt Annaconda or any of the guests, the hotel would no longer stand. Maybe it was best if he got out now, so he wouldn’t have to see his beloved home fall.
Let’s face it, Warren thought glumly, the hotel will never return to the way it was when Father was in charge. I’ve let everyone down. Maybe it’s better if I go.
Warren and Captain Grayishwhitishbeard reached the ground floor. Rupert was fast asleep, snoring loudly on the couch. The captain threw open the lobby doors with a grand flourish. “Well, lad? What say ye? Ready for a life of adventure?”
Outside, the forest beckoned and, somewhere beyond it, the sea. Warren’s heart was racing. Could he really run away and abandon his home?
“Is there time for me to say goodbye?” Warren asked. He thought about those he’d be leaving behind: Uncle Rupert and Chef Bunion and Mr. Friggs. Even his new friends Sketchy and Petula.
“Sorry, me lad, but the sea waits for no man. Will ye answer the call?”
Warren looked down and saw the hotel’s snail trailing across the floor. It was the third or fourth time he’d seen it that day. He didn’t know why the creature chose to live indoors; it had shown up some four months earlier and had been creeping around ever since. It lived in a cracked purple shell with yellow spots and a wobbly spiral–not exactly the prettiest, most perfect home, but the tiny mollusk carried it with pride. Warren knelt down and scooped up the snail, speeding its travel across the porch. Then he looked to the captain and announced his decision.
“I wish I could go with you,” Warren said. “I’ve always wanted to see the rest of the world, and you seem like a kind and able captain. But this hotel is my home and I have to take care of it. My ancestors are counting on me.”
“I understand, lad,” the captain said, ruffling Warren’s hair. “Ye can always change your mind. I’ll be back this way in, oh, another fifteen years.”
Warren’s heart sank. “Fifteen years?”
“Maybe fourteen,” the captain said with a wink. “If there’s wind in me sails.”
Warren watched the captain depart, dragging his trunk through the gates and pulling it deep into the forest, until the evening fog obscured him. His best chance for a better life was walking away. Warren hoped he’d made the right choice.
A DIFFICULT DECISION
fter hours of tossing and turning, Warren finally managed to sleep, but his dreams were dark and muddled with visions of pirates, tidal waves, and snails in purple shells.
He awoke as the sun was beginning to rise; tiny beams of light leaked through the cracks in the attic walls. Warren let his eyes roam over the sketches he’d taped to his bedroom walls. He used to be able to draw trees and clocks and frogs and any other things that took his fancy. Now his sketchbook was bursting with a log of hotel repairs, and he had a cruel and vicious aunt who was up to no good. Warren wondered if he would ever have time to draw anything fun again.
Warren got dressed and brushed his yellow teeth. He was looking in the mirror combing his golden curls when he noticed something curious reflected in the glass. Three cards, facedown, had been slipped through the crack of his trap door.
Warren went to investigate. He instantly recognized the backs of the cards; they were from the same deck that Paleface carried. So he was still in the hotel after all!
Warren picked up the cards and turned them over one at a time. The first one showed a pair of dentures; the second one depicted a cane. Warren immediately thought of his tutor, Mr. Friggs. Then he turned over the third card and gasped. It was illustrated with an engraving of the journal!
Warren was so surprised, he nearly dropped the cards. What was Paleface trying to tell him? Was it possible that Mr. Friggs had somehow stolen the journal?
SEARCHING FOR PETULA
Was Mr. Friggs after the All-Seeing Eye, too?
Warren’s stomach churned. He refused to jump to conclusions. He needed to talk things over with Petula, but he realized he didn’t know her room number. Come to think of it, he’d never met her mother, either.
Warren headed downstairs and searched the dining hall, but there was no sign of his friend anywhere. He went to the kitchen and found Chef Bunion stirring an enormous pot of porridge. “It’s going to be boiled oats for every meal until these guests learn to appreciate my cuisine!” He paused to reach into a jar. “You, on the other hand, get a giant pudding cookie.”
Warren smiled and accepted the treat. “Thanks, Chef. I wish I could stick around and help, but something important has come up. Do you think you can manage on your own?”
“No problem, my boy! I’ll just carry the pot out and let the guests serve themselves. See how they like that!”
“Great, Chef. Thank you.” Warren turned to leave but then a thought occurred to him. “Oh, one more thing,” he said. “Remember when I asked you about the old book? You said a man wearing bandages was reading it?”
“Of course I remember,” Chef said. “It was only yesterday!”
“Do you remember what the book looked like?”
Chef shook his head. “I was too busy staring at the reader. He was really quite strange. As for the book, I didn’t even notice the title. It was just a big red leather-bound book. Why do you ask?”
“No reason,” Warren said, and he turned and walked away. The missing journal was small and blue, not big and red. Paleface never had it in the first place!
Warren left the kitchen and searched for Petula in all the common areas. He peeked into the lobby, the sewing room, the grand ballroom, and the game room, all to no avail. He even went down to the boiler room, but there was no sign of her [or Sketchy, for that matter]. Finally, Warren went out to the hedge maze. As he threaded through the passages, he lamented all the broken branches and
crushed leaves left behind by careless guests. He didn’t hear any screeches or chattering from the wildlife that usually called the shrubs home. Warren imagined they had all fled in terror. Maybe they would never return.
When he reached the center of the maze, Warren was surprised to see Petula sitting serenely on the bench in front of the fountain. Surrounded by morning fog, she looked even more ghostly than usual, save the dark circles under her eyes. She must not have slept well, either.
“There you are,” Warren said. “I’ve been looking for you!”
“I had to get out of the hotel,” she replied. “It’s all just too much.”
“I have something to show you.” He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out the cards. “I think Paleface slipped these into my room last night.”
Petula furrowed her brow. “I don’t understand. What do they mean?”
“I think Paleface is trying to tell me that Mr. Friggs has the journal!”
“Your tutor?” Petula straightened. “Are you sure?”
“Well, Mr. Friggs uses a cane and has false teeth. Who else could it be?”
“But why would Mr. Friggs keep the journal from you? Wasn’t he trying to help you find it?”
“He said he was,” Warren said. “Only now I’m not so sure. I think we should go to the library and ask him.”
Petula flashed Warren a curious look, her clear blue eyes sparkling with intensity. “Oh, we will,” she said, but her voice sounded strange and hollow. Warren felt a prickle at the nape of his neck, a sensation that something was very wrong. Petula hopped off the bench and waved a hand in front of her face; in an instant, she was wearing a dark robe that concealed her face. Warren’s mouth dropped open, but he made no sound except for a startled croak.
Warren tried to pull away, but Petula reached for his arm. With her other hand, she twirled a finger through the air, opening a portal. Petula stepped through the shimmering opening and pulled Warren after her. His stomach turned as the world buckled and warped around him like a fun-house mirror.
The next thing he knew, they were standing in Aunt Annaconda’s room. The Triangle Coven was lying in wait, their predatory smiles consuming their faces.
WARREN’S HEARTBREAK
“Look who it is!” Annaconda said, clasping her hands. “My young apprentice. And she has brought my dear nephew along as well!”
Warren was aghast. He turned to Petula, but her face was hidden beneath her black cowl and she refused to meet his eyes. Warren’s heartbreak was intense–almost as sharp as when his father died. He truly believed Petula was his friend. But he had been taken for a fool.
“Why?” he asked her softly.
Petula bowed to Annaconda. “We’ve located the journal.”
Annaconda shrieked with delight. “Excellent! At last!” She whirled to face her sisters. “You’ve been surpassed by a little girl! She’ll make a most powerful ally when I retrieve the All-Seeing Eye!”
Isosceles and Scalene did not share their sister’s enthusiasm. Scalene glared at Petula with a murderous look, and Isosceles stuck out her tongue like a spoiled child.
“Where is it?” Annaconda said to Warren. “Give it to me now!”
“I don’t have it,” Warren said, fighting to steady his voice.
“Then show me where it is!”
WARREN’S REFUSAL
It was the first time Warren had ever refused his aunt–and he’d shouted the word “No!” at the top of his lungs. It felt tremendous! After four months of eating porridge and sleeping in the attic, after four months of suffering through her cruel and unusual punishments, Warren just couldn’t take it anymore.
Annaconda’s eyes widened and her bony hands tensed into claws. “What did you say?” Her face was white with fury, and Warren realized he was seeing a whole new side of his aunt, a side bordering on insanity.
Trills of terror ran down his spine, but he forced himself to stand tall. He wouldn’t back down, no matter what. “You heard me the first time,” he said, raising his voice. “I said no. I am not going to help. You may have tricked Uncle Rupert into getting married, but you haven’t fooled me. You’ll never find the All-Seeing Eye, not if I can help it!”
Warren knew he was being reckless. He knew Annaconda would punish him worse than she had ever punished him before. At any moment she was going to transform into a hideous snake, wrap her coils around his waist, and squeeze the life out of him.
But Petula intervened, cutting short the conversation. “Mr. Friggs has it,” she said. “And that’s not the only thing. We discovered that the All-Seeing Eye is hidden in a secret room. I think Mr. Friggs is guarding the entrance.”
“Of course!” said Annaconda, stroking her chin thoughtfully. “I always wondered why the old fool spent all his time in the library. He’s been sitting on the Eye the whole time. But today we take it back!”
arren turned to run but Scalene and Isosceles grabbed his arms. Annaconda kicked open the door. “Let’s go,” she ordered.
The sisters proceeded to drag Warren across the hallway and up the stairs. “Uncle Rupert!” Warren yelled. “Chef Bunion! Somebody! Anybody! HELP!”
“Shut him up!” Annaconda snapped, and Scalene clamped a sweaty hand over Warren’s mouth. Her palm smelled like moldy cheese and he chomped on it with his teeth. She yowled in pain.
“You wretched little brat!” she said, shaking her hand.
“Silence!” Annaconda shouted. “Do you want to attract the attention of every person in this hotel?”
Where were all the guests when you needed them? Warren realized with frustration that they were still finishing breakfast in the dining hall, too far away to hear his cries. His only hope was to appeal to the one person he believed was his friend. Petula was following closely on Annaconda’s heels, her head bowed under her hood.
“Why would you do this?” Warren whispered to her. “You were being so nice. I thought you really liked me.”
The girl’s shoulders stiffened, but she said nothing.
They reached the library and found it locked. Annaconda pounded a bony fist against the thick oak door. “Open up!”
“Go away!” came Mr. Friggs’s muffled reply. “I’ve had enough of people destroying my library!”
Annaconda nodded to Petula, and the apprentice stepped forward and drew a portal onto the door. It wavered eerily, like the rippling reflection on a pool of water. Petula and Annaconda stepped through first, followed by Scalene and Isosceles, tugging Warren after them. He felt another sickening wave of disorientation as he passed through.
They arrived to find Mr. Friggs waiting behind a barricade of the library’s thickest almanacs and heaviest encyclopedias. He was dressed in his old military uniform and battle helmet, but he still needed his cane to stand up. With a wave of her hand, Annaconda knocked his books aside like toy blocks, scattering them to the floor.
“Where is the journal?” Annaconda demanded.
“I won’t hand it over!” Mr. Friggs cried. “I’ve been entrusted to guard the hotel’s secrets! And that’s how it shall remain!”
Annaconda and Warren said at the same time.
“I’m sorry, Warren,” said Mr. Friggs. “I’ve been concealing things for your own good. Your ancestors never wanted the All-Seeing Eye to be found. All twelve generations have kept its location a secret.”
Warren thought of the portraits in the Hall of Ancestors. “But if all the other Warrens knew, why didn’t anyone tell me?”
“Your father was waiting until your eighteenth birthday, but he died before he could explain things to you–or to me. He had to keep the secret. He couldn’t risk letting the Eye fall into the wrong hands. It’s simply too powerful!”
Annaconda took hold of Mr. Friggs’s shoulders and shook him like a rag doll. “Listen to me, you doddering fool! You don’t need to tell Warren anything–but you must tell me! What is the All-Seeing Eye? Where is it? I need answers!”
“I don’t know its location,” Mr
. Friggs insisted. “I only know that it is a kind of weapon. Constructed to protect and aid Warren the 1st through many battles. But once the wars were over, the Eye was hidden away so that no one would abuse it. That’s why–”
“Enough with the history lesson!” Annaconda interrupted. “Just give me the journal! I’ll figure out the rest for myself.”
Mr. Friggs shook his head. “It belongs to Warren! It’s his birthright!”
Petula turned to Annaconda with a devilish grin. “Use the tooth, Your Darkness! Cast a spell on this foolish man and make him turn over the book!”
Annaconda removed the tooth from her pocket and held it before Mr. Friggs, who cowered at the sight of it. “I see you’re familiar with my Malwoodian manticore tooth. Surely, then, you are aware of its extraordinary powers! Do I need to summon my last spell, or will you obey me willingly?”
“Use the magic, Your Darkness!” Petula exclaimed. “Take no chances!”
The color drained from Mr. Friggs’s face. “Do your worst, you vile witch,” he said. “I’m too old and tired to fight anymore.”
Annaconda grabbed him by the arm, raising the tooth over her head–and for a moment Warren thought his teacher was truly doomed. But then the journal fell from inside his coat. Annaconda sprang forward, snatching it up greedily.
“At last!” she exclaimed. “And I didn’t even need to waste my last spell!” She threw her head back and let out a joyful cackle. Scalene and Isosceles released Warren from their iron grip and joined their sister’s celebrations, dancing and cheering around Annaconda. Warren rubbed his arms and looked over at Petula. She wasn’t celebrating. Instead, she stood silent and stiff, her hooded face a mystery.
Warren the 13th and The All-Seeing Eye: A Novel Page 8