Warren the 13th and the Thirteen-Year Curse

by Tania del Rio

  “Almost there!” he hissed.

  Warren resorted to biting Rustyboots’s arm. That seemed to have an effect.

  “YOW! You little brat!” And with a powerful sweep of his arm, Rustyboots sent Warren tumbling off the cage.

  “Aaahhhh!” Warren cried as he fell. Fortunately, Sketchy reached out a tentacle and caught him at the last second, pulling Warren up so he could grab the bottom of the cage. He then attempted to climb up the side, but his hands were sweaty and slipped on the bars.

  The cage shuddered again. The rope was down to only a few strands.

  “We’re going to fall!”

  Warren locked eyes with Sketchy, and he saw his own fear reflected in his friend’s many eyes.

  Sketchy began to whistle a tune. It was so sad and so lovely, just the sound of it made Warren want to laugh and cry all at the same time. Even Jacques Rustyboots stopped what he was doing and stared at Sketchy mournfully.

  Suddenly the air around Warren seemed to vibrate, and his ears rang with pressure. A low rumble erupted from the ocean, and the water began to churn and froth.

  “BRRRRREEEEEEEEEE!”

  Something was coming…

  arren couldn’t believe his eyes. Eight enormous tentacles broke through the surface of the water, followed by an even more enormous bulbous head, blinking with seven eyes. The creature looked like Sketchy—only much, much larger. It was almost as large as the Warren Hotel!

  “BRRRRREEEEEEEEEEEEE!” it bellowed in a deep tone that rattled Warren’s bones. Its eyes flashed angrily. It was furious!

  The fighting froze as everyone stopped and stared. Even Jacques Rustyboots had forgotten about sawing at the rope. He gaped, agog, but then a broad smile stretched across his face and he began to laugh hysterically.

  “The Great Eight!” he cried. “I’ve found it! At last!”

  The Great Eight reached out a long tentacle toward the cage. Rustyboots spread out his arms as though looking for an embrace.

  “Oh, Great Eight!” he said, his eyes shimmering. “I thought this day would never come!”

  “BRRRREEEEEEEEEE!” replied the Great Eight in its deafening baritone.

  The tentacle curled around the cage, engulfing it. A second tentacle bent open the bars as if they were putty. Then a third reached for Sketchy, which crawled onto the enormous arm and embraced it with its own tentacles.

  “Tweeeeeee!” Sketchy chirped happily.

  “It’s…your parent!” Warren said, realizing what was happening. “No wonder you’re so happy!”

  Still clinging to the cage, the Great Eight focused its eyes on Warren and Jacques Rustyboots, and a threatening rumble sounded deep in its belly. “BRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!”

  “O, Great Eight!” Rustyboots proclaimed loudly in his ringleader voice “I’ve searched for you for many long years, sailing in figure eights to prove my dedication and attract your attention. All my previous efforts were fruitless, but now I have earned your favor by bringing you what you seek—your beloved child! I await my glorious reward!”

  The Great Eight’s eyes narrowed.

  “Uh-oh,” Warren muttered.

  With a sweep of its tentacle, the Great Eight tossed Warren and Jacques Rustyboots, cage and all, into its cavernous mouth.

  “NOOOO!” Rustyboots cried.

  Hot air, smelling of rotten fish, overwhelmed them as they slipped around on the Great Eight’s slick tongue. The cage tumbled down its throat, plunging into darkness. Warren did not want to end up in its stomach, so he groped about for something to hang onto, managing to grab hold one of the creature’s sharp teeth.

  “This is all your fault!” Rustyboots snarled, waving his cutlass to and fro. “I should be getting rewarded right now, not eaten! This stupid creature thinks I’m with you! It thinks I’M the bad guy!”

  Warren ducked, dodging Rustyboots’s attack but losing his grip on the tooth and almost sliding down its throat. Somehow he managed to cling to the fleshy uvula dangling at the back of the Great Eight’s mouth, using it to swing onto its giant tongue.

  Warren cried. “You kidnapped Sketchy just so you could use it as bait!”

  Rustyboots charged again and Warren dove once more, avoiding his blow.

  “So what?” Rustyboots snapped. “What matters is that I’ve reunited the Great Eight with its child, so I should be given all the riches that it hoards under the sea! That’s been my lifelong goal, and I won’t let you stop me!”

  Trying to regain his balance, Warren seized another tooth and found it to be wobbly. It popped out neatly in his hand. Now he had a weapon, too! He used it to block three more cutlass blows. But sharp as the tooth was, he wasn’t willing to fight with it—only defend.

  “You can have the treasure for all I care!” Warren cried, parrying more strikes. “I just want my friend back!”

  As they fought, Warren caught glimpses of the action taking place outside, and the picture wasn’t pretty. The Great Eight was going ballistic! It was using its giant tentacles to wreak havoc, smashing ships and ripping apart the Sea Circus.

  My friends! Warren thought, desperately. They’re still down there!

  In his distraction, he dodged a second too late. Rustyboots slashed at him again, managing to knock the tooth out of Warren’s hands. It skittered to the back of the mouth and tumbled down the throat.

  Rustyboots said, raising his cutlass for another blow.

  Suddenly, a portal opened beside Warren, and Petula’s head poked through. “I would have come sooner,” she explained, “but I had to wait until I got a good glimpse of the inside of this thing’s mouth!”

  “Well, you’re here now,” Warren said, gratefully, and he leaped into the portal.

  “Oh, no you don’t!” Rustyboots cried, seizing Warren’s leg. A game of tug-of-war ensued as Petula pulled Warren from one end and Rustyboots yanked on the other. Warren felt as though he might split in two—plus being half inside a portal didn’t help.

  Despite their combined efforts, Rustyboots proved stronger. With a loud grunt, he gave one final pull and both Warren and Petula fell out of the portal, bouncing back onto the fleshy tongue.

  “Ha ha ha—AAAH!!” Rustyboots laughed, but then his boot slipped, and he lost his balance. He slid backward and, with an echoing cry, tumbled down the Great Eight’s throat. Warren heard a distant splash as he landed in the creature’s stomach.

  Warren and Petula scrambled to avoid the same fate, slipping and sliding toward the shimmering portal.

  But just as they were on the verge of reaching it, the Great Eight reared back and released an enormous “ERRRRRRRRRRRRRRRKKK!”

  The belch blasted Warren and Petula clear out of the Great Eight’s mouth, along with a stream of hot, fetid air.

  “AAAAH!” Warren cried as he and Petula soared through the air. Despite his terror, he couldn’t help but notice the damage below. The ocean was littered with the demolished circus and pirate ships. Defeated pirates bobbed in the water, clinging to shards of wood.

  “Hang on tight!” Petula cried, grabbing Warren’s arm. “I’m going to try something crazy!”

  “What?” Warren noticed that they were no longer flying but falling, faster and faster toward the water below. At this speed, they’d be flattened like pancakes upon hitting the surface.

  “Drawing a portal in midair!” Petula gasped, and waved her arm.

  Before Warren realized what was happening, Petula yanked him through and they landed with a hard THUMP! on the lobby floor. The Calm Waves pirates cheered at seeing Warren’s face again.

  “You did it, Petula!” Warren cried in relief. “Thanks for the save!”

  “Anytime,” Petula grumbled, shaking smelly strands of saliva off her hands.

  “And thanks to all of you for defending the hotel,” Warren told the crew. They, in turn, saluted him.


  “Aye, aye, Captain!” Sharky said. “We held ’em off! Oh, how we missed being in a good ol’ fashioned battle. Made us feel useful again!” The other pirates nodded in agreement.

  “I’m so glad but…where are the others?” Warren asked. “Where are Chef Bunion and Uncle Rupert? Beatrice and Mr. Vanderbelly?”

  “They’re safe,” Petula assured him. “They’re down in the control room with Mr. Friggs and Captain Grayishwhitishbeard. Mom was able to get them out of the circus before the Great Eight smashed it to pieces.”

  “Oh, thank goodness!” Warren hurried to the lobby window and peered out. The Great Eight was still thrashing about, destroying every last remnant left in the sea. Only one tiny boat had managed to avoid being smashed; it was now disappearing into the distance as it made its escape. Warren could make out a tiny Sketchy, clinging to one of the Great Eight’s tentacles. Was it scared? Or was it happy to be with its parent despite all the destruction?

  “BRRRRREEEEEEEEEE!” the Great Eight bellowed. It slapped the water with its tentacles, sending debris flying.

  “The Great Eight is still angry,” Warren noticed, “but there’s nothing left to destroy!”

  Suddenly the creature paused, setting its eyes upon the flying hotel.

  “Spoke too soon!” Petula said.

  The Great Eight began swimming toward the hotel at an alarming pace, reaching out with its long tentacles.

  “We need to fly higher!” Warren cried, and he began running downstairs to the control room.

  He burst through the door and saw Mr. Friggs at the controls, surrounded by the rest of his friends. But there was no time for pleasantries.

  “Go up! Up!” he cried.

  “I’m trying!” Friggs replied. “But those pesky circus pirates damaged several of our propellers. We can’t fly as high as we used to.”

  There was a sickening CRUNCH and the hotel jerked as the Great Eight wrapped the entire structure in one of its enormous tentacles. Slimy suckers smothered the glass of the cockpit window.

  “BRRRRREEEEEEEEEE!” it thundered, squeezing the building tighter and tighter.

  Wood began to splinter and pop as the hotel was slowly crushed in its powerful grip.

  “We’re DOOOOOMED!” Rupert wailed.

  Warren was at a loss for words. For once, he agreed with his uncle Rupert.

  His beloved hotel, and everyone in it, was about to be obliterated.

  ere was the ultimate proof that his curse was real, Warren decided. The hotel had survived for hundreds of years, through twelve generations, only to be destroyed on his own watch. The worst part was knowing there was nothing he could do. He couldn’t stop a creature as big as the Great Eight, and he couldn’t communicate with it, even if he wanted to. All he could do was watch everything he loved and worked so hard for be reduced to dust.

  He exchanged sad looks with the rest of his friends…his family. They all shared his pain, and they huddled together in a group hug as they awaited the worst.

  “All good things must come to an end,” Mr. Friggs said softly.

  “One day, someone will write a story about your legacy,” Mr. Vandebelly added. “I’m just sorry it won’t be me.”

  “Arr, you win some battles and ye lose some,” Captain Grayishwhitishbeard noted. “That’s the way of things.”

  “Your father would still be proud of you,” Petula said, and Beatrice and Chef nodded in agreement.

  “Well, I’m not proud of you,” Uncle Rupert blubbered. “This is a disaster! Here I was, just enjoying my day at the circus, and now everything is ruined!”

  Suddenly, a sharp whistle sounded: “TWEEEEEEEEEE!”

  “Sketchy?” Warren said, breaking away from the group. He hurried to the window, but he could barely see past the Great Eight’s tentacle. He ran back upstairs to the lobby and flung open the front door.

  Sketchy was on the porch, holding out its tentacles protectively as it faced the Great Eight, who was looking at it in confusion.

  “Sketchy!” Warren cried. “You came back!”

  But his friend barely acknowledged him. It was focused entirely on the Great Eight.

  “TWEEEEEE!” it shrilled.

  “BRRREEEEEEEE?” the Great Eight rumbled back.

  “Tweee! Tweeeeeee! Tweeeeeeeee!”

  “BRRRRRRRRRREEEEEEEE.”

  Warren couldn’t understand the whistles, but he knew what was happening. Sketchy was stopping its parent from destroying the hotel! It was telling the Great Eight that Warren and everyone aboard were its friends. Gently, the Great Eight released its grip, and everyone on board cheered in joy and relief.

  “You did it, Sketchy! You saved us all!” Warren cried, hugging his beloved friend.

  Sketchy wrapped its tentacles around Warren in a big hug. “Tweeeee!”

  “FIRE!” shouted a familiar voice. Then a BOOM! and a flash of light.

  “BRREEEEE?” The Great Eight whirled around in surprise as an enormous net fell over it, having been shot from a cannon aboard a tiny boat.

  The boat Warren thought had been escaping had doubled back to attack! It was Bonny on board—with her parrot, too. She looked angrier than Warren had ever seen her.

  “BREEEEEEE!” The Great Eight thrashed its tentacles, but only managed to entangle itself more within the netting. Warren winced—it looked painful the way the net dug into the Great Eight’s rubbery skin.

  “Release my grandpa this instant!” Bonny screamed, “or you’re going to pay! I’ll blast you out of the water if you don’t cooperate!”

  “BRRRRREEEEEEEEEE!” the Great Eight bellowed, and Sketchy whistled, too.

  “We’ll save it, Sketchy,” Warren said to his friend. “We’ll return the favor!”

  He raced back down to the control room. The propellers might be slightly damaged, but the hotel could still fly. He could carry out his plan!

  Warren steered the hotel toward the Great Eight, who was still thrashing about, growing more and more enraged by the second. On the boat, Bonny was busy prepping the cannon, stuffing it with sticks of dynamite.

  Warren had to act fast—but he also had to be careful. With practiced skill, he edged the hotel as close to the Great Eight as he could and angled the propellers so they could cut through the rope.

  “Warren!” Petula cried. “It’s too risky! If you make a mistake, the propellers will hurt the Great Eight! Then it’ll be even more angry!”

  “Tweeeee?” Sketchy warbled anxiously.

  “Trust me,” Warren said, gritting his teeth. “I can do this!”

  Just as he was within inches of the rope, a loud BOOM! exploded as the boat’s cannon fired.

  “BRRRRRRREEEEEEE!!!!” The Great Eight ducked to the left, almost smashing into the hotel. Warren yanked on the controls, causing the flying ship to nose-dive out of the way.

  “Whhhhoooooaaa!” Petula cried while Sketchy trilled in fear.

  Fireworks popped in the sky as the dynamite exploded in midair. POP! POP! POP!

  Through the cockpit window, Warren could see Bonny stamping her feet angrily. Her tantrum was short-lived, however. She began stuffing more explosives into the cannon for another attempt.

  The Great Eight was even more enraged, which made it difficult for Warren to pull in close. He had to bob and weave to avoid the flailing tentacles, not to mention the Great Eight’s bulbous head as it swayed back and forth in frustration.

  “Stand still!” Warren urged, even though he knew it couldn’t hear him. Even if it could, he doubted it would listen.

  Sketchy covered its eyes with its tentacles. “Tweeeeeeeee…”

  Warren nudged the hotel close again, aiming just so…

  …and then the propellers sliced through the netting, barely missing contact with the Great Eight’s skin.

  The net fell to pieces and di
sappeared into the waves. The Great Eight was free!

  BOOM! Another blast of the cannon fired. Now free, the Great Eight was able to dodge it easily. It turned its flashing eyes toward the tiny boat and lunged at it. Bonny’s jaw slackened in horror as she realized she could not stop such an enormous beast. It raised a gargantuan tentacle, preparing to bring it down and smash the boat to smithereens.

  “NO!” Warren cried. He steered the hotel as fast as he could toward Bonny.

  “Petula! Your portal!”

  “You want me to save her?” Petula asked incredulously. “After everything she did to you?”

  “Please!” Warren begged. “There’s no time!”

  Petula sighed and waved her hand.

  She stepped through her portal just as the Great Eight’s tentacle came smashing down on Bonny and her boat, obliterating it. Warren gasped. Was Petula too late?

  Seconds later, he heard a SHWOOP! as a portal opened and Petula and Bonny tumbled onto the control room floor. McCrackers McCaw flew in behind them, seconds before the portal closed.

  “RAWWWK!” he screeched, so stunned that he momentarily forget his words.

  Bonny looked equally bewildered. “Why did you save me?”

  “Because everyone deserves a second chance,” Warren said. “Including your grandfather. I’m going to get him back, but violence isn’t the answer.” He turned to Sketchy. “Can you help me? I want to talk to the Great Eight.”

  Sketchy whistled and bobbed its head, and they went up to the lobby and opened the front door. The Great Eight was still thrashing about, smashing what was left of Bonny’s boats into tiny fragments.

  “TWEEEEE!” Sketchy whistled sharply, catching its parent’s attention.

  The Great Eight blinked, seemingly coming out of its blind rage. Its head swiveled around and it reached a tentacle toward the front porch. Warren and Sketchy stepped onto the end.