With the wind at their backs, Warren and Isosceles soared through the air, moving faster than he ever thought possible. Within minutes they had overtaken the hotel. Isosceles flexed her talons and Warren collapsed onto the old slate roof, the vulture landing alongside him. Thunder cracked overhead and Warren grabbed the old weathervane to steady himself. He knew the roof was the worst place to be in a thunderstorm, but he was glad to be back home.
“Now what?” Warren asked.
“Now we find Annaconda,” replied Isosceles.
Suddenly the hotel stopped, and Warren tumbled to the roof’s edge, nearly falling over the side. A glint of brass drew his attention: The top of the periscope protruded from the chimney, pivoting left and right. The contraption made a ratcheting sound as it turned to face him.
Warren ran over and peered into the lens. Reflected within its many mirrors were the distorted faces of Petula, Mr. Friggs, and Beatrice. They were shouting frantically but Warren couldn’t make out the words.
“What do you see?” Isosceles asked.
“It’s my friends!” said Warren. “They’re trying to tell me something.”
“What are they saying?”
Finally Beatrice removed a card from her deck and held it up to the lens. It was a simple skull and crossbones, the kind you’d see on a pirate flag or a bottle of poison.
Warren said. “They’re trying to say we’re in–”
Warren heard a blood-curdling scream and turned to see Annaconda clambering onto the rooftop. She barreled into Isosceles, knocking her sister onto her back.
“You betrayed me!” Annaconda screamed.
“You betrayed me first!” Isosceles screamed back.
“Let me go, you witch!”
“You’re going to pay for what you did! Scalene is trapped in a bottle because of you!”
Isosceles dug her talons into Annaconda’s neck and lifted her into the storm, soaring above the hotel. It was hard to see them through the pelting rain–soon they were just tiny shapes in the sky. Warren hoped that Isosceles would carry Annaconda far away and he’d never have to see her again.
But then the horizon flashed with purple light.
Annaconda had used her magic to transform into her spirit animal! Her tiny snail shell slipped through her sister’s talons and now she was tumbling down, down, down with the rain. She hit the roof with a crack! and bounced across the tiles. With a final bump, she careened off the side of the building, plummeting to the ground.
Warren let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. She was gone! He couldn’t imagine how anyone, even a snail, could survive such a fall. He crept to the edge of the roof and peered over the side, just to be sure.
A bony hand sprang up at him, clawing at the ledge. The smell of sulfur filled the air and Warren leapt back. Annaconda pulled herself up, her eyes wild and her matted hair plastered to her face. Above them, Isosceles swooped down toward the hotel. “This has gone too far!” she yelled.
Annaconda reached into her dress and pulled out the tooth, now completely covered in carvings. “If I can’t have the All-Seeing Eye, no one can!” she screamed.
“You’re out of spells!” Warren cried. “There’s nothing you can do!”
“Oh, but I can!” Annaconda hissed.
“No!” Isosceles shrieked. She hovered over the roof, beating her giant wings. “The tooth can’t handle any more! If you carve over all those old spells, you’ll destroy us all!”
“Exactly!” Annaconda shrieked. “I’m going to destroy this hotel and everyone in it!”
She began chanting words that Warren didn’t recognize, causing the carvings on the tooth to glow with a supernatural light.
Isosceles gave Warren a pitying look. “Sorry, kid. I tried. It’s too late now–you’re all doomed!” And with that she took off like a bullet, disappearing into the storm clouds.
Annaconda continued chanting in a strange guttural language; as she did so, new carvings lashed the tooth like cracks across an icy pond. A jagged bolt of lightning struck the hotel, but Annaconda didn’t even notice. Electricity lifted her hair, causing strands to writhe around her face like snakes.
“YOU’RE ALL DOOMED”
The tooth glowed brighter, and Warren felt the hotel shaking beneath him. A tearing sound ripped through the air as if the sky was being split in two. Annaconda raised the tooth over her head as lighting bolts zapped it with more dark energy than it could handle. She let out a long, terrible scream and her eyes shone white.
The force of the tooth’s blast was so intense, so blinding, that Warren almost forgot to grab the bottle tucked inside his jacket. He thought he might be too late, but he pulled the cork and a blast of cool air escaped; he could see the crackling halo of poisoned light leave the tooth and rush toward him. Terrified, he nearly dropped the bottle but somehow managed to hold on. The glass burned a molten orange and grew painfully hot, but he would not let go.
CAPTURED AT LAST!
“Noooooo!” Annaconda shrieked. She tried to run but there was nowhere left to go–she had reached the edge of the roof. Warren watched with horror and fascination as Annaconda’s features stretched and melted until she looked like a smear of paint. She was sucked into the bottle with a loud SCHWOOOOOOP!, the tooth clattering uselessly to the ground.
Warren popped the cork into the bottle and then peered through the glass. He half expected to see a miniature Annaconda looking back, but all he could make out was a swirl of cloudy magic.
“Over here!” Warren turned to see Petula calling to him. She was leaning out his attic window and waving. Warren picked up the tooth and ran to join her. Beatrice was there, too; she extended both arms and helped Warren navigate the slippery surface, gently lowering him through the window. He was never so relieved to be back in his tiny room.
“We hurried as fast as we could!” Petula cried. “Where’s Annaconda?”
“Right here,” Warren said, handing the bottle to Beatrice. She inspected it carefully, then slipped it inside her robe and patted Warren on the head. With another fwip! she presented a card depicting a trophy. He blushed with pride.
“You did it!” Petula cried. “Mr. Friggs was so worried, but I knew you could do it!”
“Where is Mr. Friggs? Is he okay?”
“He’s back in the control room. I would make a portal to get us there, but my arm is useless. Let’s hurry and tell him the good news!”
As they made their way down the stairs, they noticed that the sleeping guests scattered throughout the halls were beginning to stir.
“Annaconda’s spell must have broken when you captured her,” Petula said. A few of the guests seemed disgruntled, but many were merely confused. There was no mention of treasure, no talk of the All-Seeing Eye. In fact, most were unsure why they had come to such a dilapidated hotel in the first place.
The barbarian grabbed Warren by the lapels. “Where am I?” he asked. “Who captured me and brought me to this dreary place?”
“You’re free to check out if you like, sir,” Warren said. “I’m heading to the lobby right now.”
In the lobby, Warren found Uncle Rupert stumbling in circles, looking as if he’d just awakened from a deep nap. “What’s going on?” he asked. “Why are the guests sleeping on the floor?”
“It’s a long story,” Warren said. He realized he would have to tell his uncle the truth about Aunt Annaconda. “I have some bad news and I’m not quite sure how to tell you.”
“Out with it, boy! What’s the trouble?”
“Well … Aunt Annaconda is gone.”
Rupert blinked in confusion. “Who?”
“Annaconda. Your wife.”
“My wife?” Rupert laughed, and his stomach jiggled merrily. “What are you going on about, boy? I don’t have a wife!”
Petula pulled Warren aside and whispered in his ear: “That was no ordinary sleep spell! Annaconda must have supplemented it with a memory wipe. She wanted to be extra certain that no one would e
ver find the Eye!”
“Look at all these guests,” Rupert exclaimed, studying the lobby in wonderment. “Where did they come from? What are they doing here?”
There was so much to say, Warren didn’t even know where to begin. In time he would explain everything to his uncle, but for now, it was best to leave it be.
The front doors opened with a crash and Sketchy charged inside, dripping wet. The creature flung its tentacles around Warren, pulling him into a giant hug. Rupert screamed and ran out of the lobby, convinced that his nephew had just been devoured.
“Thank you for rescuing me,” Warren said, patting the monster’s head. “Because of your help, I was able to stop Aunt Annaconda. She’s never going to bother us again.”
Sketchy whistled happily and wiggled around like a hula dancer. The guests stopped grumbling to admire the performance. It was really quite beautiful, and at the end of the dance the onlookers offered a polite round of applause. Warren was enjoying it so much, he almost didn’t see Mr. Friggs hobbling toward him.
“Warren, my boy!” Mr. Friggs cried with relief. “I thought we were doomed, but you’ve saved us!”
“I couldn’t have done it without all of you,” Warren said, turning to Petula and Beatrice. “I know the hotel is bizarre and it’s a bit run-down and there’s a lot I need to learn about the All-Seeing Eye, but I love it here and I never want to leave.”
“And now you don’t have to,” Mr. Friggs said with a wink. “You can see the whole world without ever leaving the comforts of home!”
They walked to the nearest window and looked outside. The storm had finally passed and the clouds parted to reveal a brilliant sun. The hotel had come to rest on a small hill overlooking miles and miles of countryside. Off on the horizon, Warren could see the towers and smokestacks of a distant city.
“The only question left is,” Petula said,
rom the top of a step ladder, Rupert adjusted the wooden sign that hung over the hotel entrance. “Is that good?” he asked.
Warren tilted his head. “Just a little to the right! No, your other right! That’s it!”
With a loud BANG! BANG! BANG! Rupert nailed the sign in place:
Underneath was a smaller sign that said “Vacancy,” but Warren knew it wouldn’t be vacant much longer. They had opened for business just two days ago and already the hotel was drawing attention. Everywhere they went the local newspapers wrote about the extraordinary mechanical marvel. Warren’s favorite headline was: “This Roadhouse Is on the Road! Catch Your Zzzs Here … If You Can Keep Up!”
A seagull squawked overhead as it soared on the wind, and Warren turned to admire the view. On this morning, the hotel was parked at the edge of a rocky beach. The ocean looked far grander than it ever had in his imagination–he loved the way the light and shadows danced across its surface. He had sketched it a dozen times and couldn’t wait to draw it again. Now that the hotel was fully staffed, he had plenty of time for his artistic pursuits.
“Warren!” Petula shouted. He looked up and saw his friend standing on the roof, cleaning the periscope lens. “Mom’s fingers are tingling, so that storm will probably be here soon. We should be on our way!”
“Roger that!” Warren called back. Since becoming the captain of a moving hotel, he was using words he learned from a book Mr. Friggs had given him called The Vernacular of Pilots, Drivers, Captains, and Ploughmen, Etcetera. It made his commands and directions seem much more official.
Warren faced the ocean and waved his arms. “Ahoy there, Sketchy! Come ashore! We’re getting ready for departure!”
His monstrous friend crested the waves and waggled its tentacles happily. Then the monster bounded onto the beach and shook itself off, spraying droplets in all directions.
“I’ll race you!” Warren cried, and Sketchy leapt past him, landing on the porch with time to spare.
“Don’t let that thing track sand inside!” Rupert warned as he hopped off the ladder. “I just polished the floors!”
“Sketchy’s not a thing, Uncle Rupert! It’s a friend!”
Sketchy paused to stick out its tongue, making Rupert cringe. He was still terrified of the creature, and the sight of its purple tongue only increased his discomfort.
Inside, the hotel lobby looked better than ever. The wallpaper had been scrubbed and the marble floors sparkled. Warren and his friends had spent days preparing for life on the go. That meant bolting all the furniture down, strapping books into bookcases, adding extra nails to paintings, and building cabinets to store the many fragile antiques. It was a lot of work but everyone helped–even Uncle Rupert. Once Mr. Friggs explained that only a Warren could control the hotel’s movements, Rupert decided that his nephew deserved full management duties. From now on, Warren the 13th would supervise everything, though of course Rupert would continue to offer advice, between naps.
Warren and Sketchy headed downstairs, where Chef Bunion was busy preparing lunch. “We’re heading out in a few minutes,” Warren said. “Secure the cookware.”
“Aye, aye, Captain!” Chef replied. “Can my junior cook lend a few hands?”
Sketchy’s many tentacles were handy around the kitchen, and the creature had quickly established itself as Chef’s most trusted helper. The monster could strap pots and pans to the racks and latch the cabinets in half the time it would take Chef to do it on his own. Sketchy was rewarded with an extra-large pudding cookie; it whistled happily and gobbled up the treat.
Warren left Sketchy to enjoy his snack and then made his way to the control room, easing himself into the pilot seat. Rupert followed along and dropped into a hammock strung from one wall to the other. Whenever the hotel was in motion, he enjoyed swaying while sipping fruity drinks.
Warren pressed the intercom and announced, “Prepare for departure!”
Petula responded from her perch on the roof. “All clear!”
Warren placed his palm on the control panel, activating the machinery. The hotel rumbled to life amid the clanks of cogs and hisses of steam. Using books from Mr. Friggs’s library, Warren had identified and labeled most of the buttons and levers, and now he steered the vessel with confidence.
As the hotel rose on its mighty arachnid legs, Warren flicked the tooth, which he hung on a string above the controls as a sort of good luck charm. Then he typed in the activation code and gently pressed forward on the thrust. The hotel walked away from the ocean with a loud CLANG! CLANG! CLANG! Nearby beach dwellers peered out their cottage windows, gaping at the enormous building lumbering across the land. For as large and as awkward as it was, the hotel took precise steps, avoiding structures and people as it marched toward the countryside.
Children and dogs emerged from their homes to chase after it, hollering and barking with glee; Petula waved from the rooftop as the hotel departed. The six ravens from the chimney circled over her head, then settled into a new birdhouse that she and Mr. Friggs had constructed especially for them. The birds squawked a happy tune as the hotel clomped along.
A WALK BY THE SEA
Beatrice had taken over the eighth-floor room that used to belong to Annaconda’s sisters. She sat down in a comfortable overstuffed armchair and then reached down for her violin. The ravens were squawking just beyond her window, and she decided to accompany them with her instrument. It was time to take a break from the witch hunting. She plucked the strings gracefully and gazed out at the passing scenery.
In the library, Mr. Friggs looked up from a wall map. He had placed a pin over the rocky beach they just left. Where would they go next? It was anybody’s guess. For years, he’d assumed that his adventuring days were behind him–but now, thanks to Warren, he’d once again see new places.
Down in the Hall of Ancestors, the portraits of Warren’s forefathers swayed on their hooks. As Warren gazed at them now, he certainly thought they all looked pleased, especially Warren the 12th. The All-Seeing Eye was no longer a secret or a weapon. Instead it was being used to bring rest, relaxation, and quality hosp
itality to people all over the world.
A new portrait now graced the walls of the Hall of Ancestors–it was a bit larger than the others, to squeeze everyone in. With confident strokes of smoky charcoal, the artist had drawn the smiling faces of Rupert, Petula, Beatrice, Mr. Friggs, Chef Bunion, and Sketchy–his whole happy family–gathered around him,
is the creator of Warren the 13th, and is an award-winning designer and illustrator. He grew up reading comics and working summers at his parent’s design firm in Wisconsin. He now spends his days designing book covers, posters, and mini-comics, to ensure that he gets as little sleep as possible. He lives in Seattle.
unusualco.com
is a professional comic book writer and artist who has spent the past 10 years writing and illustrating, primarily for a young audience. Her clients include Archie Comics, Dark Horse, and Marvel; she is best known for her work writing and drawing the 42-issue run of Sabrina the Teenage Witch. She lives in Los Angeles.
taniadelrio.blogspot.com
@taniadelrio
I dreamed up Warren the 13th, 13 years ago, and I can’t even tell you how happy I am that his story is now bound together in this book for all to enjoy.
I want to thank my family. Mom, Dad, Ira, Eli, this book is for you.
This project would not have been possible without my amazing and patient partner, Hanh. She’s kept me sane, fed, and focused (and excused me from house chores!) during the intensive rush to illustrate this book.
Countless thanks go to Jason Rekulak for his absolute support of an odd-looking boy and his mysterious home. Thanks also go to the extraordinary team at Quirk Books who I was thrilled to get work with once again. Special thanks to Tim and Mary Ellen!
Warren the 13th and the All-Seeing Eye Page 12
