Publisher Description

Meet Warren the 13th, a cursed twelve-year-old Victorian bellhop who's terribly unlucky, yet perpetually optimistic, hard-working, and curious. Warren's pride and joy is his family's Warren Hotel, but he's been miserable ever since his evil Aunt Anaconda took over the management. Anaconda believes a mysterious treasure known as The All-Seeing Eye is hidden somewhere in the walls of the hotel, and she'll do anything to find it. If Warren wants to preserve his family's legacy, he'll need to find the treasure first - if the hotel's many strange and wacky guests don't beat him to it!This middle-grade adventure features gorgeous 2-color illustrations on every page and a lavish 2-column Victorian design. It's going to be a real beauty of a book!

Notes

Meet Warren The 13th, a cursed 12-year-old bellhop trying to save his family's hotel from the clutches of evil. Illustrations by designer Will Staehle brings the story to life.

Author Biography

Tania Del Rio is a professional comic book writer and artist who has spent the last 10 years writing and illustrating primarily for a young audience. Her clients include Archie Comics, Dark Horse, and Marvel, and she is best known for her work writing and drawing the 42-issue run of Sabrina the Teenage Witch, which AOL Comics Alliance described as "one of the best and most underrated all-ages comics of the last 10 years." She is the author of the middle grade novel Diary of a Girl Next Door- Betty (Archie Comics, 2014).

Review

"An engaging mystery to unravel, with a few nice twists and surprises along the way. . . . It's a fair bet that for many the main attraction of Warren the 13th and the All-Seeing Eye will be Staehle's lavish illustrations."—New York Times Book Review

"A whimsical mystery with a lot of heart and spine-tingling illustrations, this novel will circulate as soon as children open it."—School Library Journal, Starred Review

"The riveting story had interesting characters, riddles, and lots of drama. Readers will get caught up in the mystery and will want to keep turning pages to find out what happens next."—Nicolas Curry, Kid Reporter for Time for Kids

"Beautifully and amusingly designed and illustrated, featuring a plot filled with twists and riddles, this clever tale of mysterious goings-on at a run-down hotel proves to be an unlikely winner."—Common Sense Media, 4 out 5 stars

"An adventure with echoes of classic children's titles like Raskin's The Westing Game and Dahl's The Witches. . . . Stylish, exciting, funny, and just slightly macabre, this entertaining novel bodes well for Warren's future adventures."—Publishers Weekly
 
"All the delicious chaos of Warren the 13th and the All-Seeing Eye—first of a planned series—is wonderfully cloaked in a Victorian sensibility and design, a bit of Edward Gorey, a bit of Tim Burton."—Shelf Awareness

"Just the ticket for fans of Unfortunate Events in dim corridors and murky subterranean chambers."—Kirkus Reviews

"No amount of care was spared in this truly charming, wonderfully spun middle-grade adventure."—Karin Snelson, Shelf Awareness Pro
 
"Original, funny . . . it reminded me partly of Hotel Transylvania mixed with Coraline."—Joseph, Age 11 

"This story is absolutely enchanting and is a must-have for any child who enjoys adventure and magic, whether this book is read to them or they read it for themselves."—New York Journal of Books

Review Quote

"Just the ticket for fans of Unfortunate Events in dim corridors and murky subterranean chambers."-- Kirkus Reviews

Excerpt from Book

Chapter 1 Warren the 13th tiptoed across the roof of the Warren Hotel, and the old slate tiles clattered like bones. A crisp autumn wind snapped at his back, threatening to knock him off balance, but he kept going. A fall from the top of an eight-story building was the least of his worries. He had a chimney to repair. The ravens screeched a warning from inside the smoke shaft but Warren peered down anyway. As usual, the chimney was clogged with newspapers, fabric scraps, twigs, branches, and other debris. Six black birds stared back, huddled together in a makeshift nest. "Go on now!" Warren shouted. The ravens didn''t budge. "There are plenty of nice trees around here. Shoo!" But the ravens did not "shoo." They seemed to be pretending that Warren was invisible. "I guess we''ll have to do this the hard way," he said with a sigh. Warren had performed this chore dozens of times. At least once or twice a month, he climbed up to the roof and cleared the nest from the chimney before it caused the entire hotel to fill with smoke. But this morning the ravens seemed particularly stubborn. Winter was coming, and they needed a cozy place to ride out the cold weather. "What if I poured water on you?" Warren asked. "How would you like that?" The birds knew he was bluffing. One snapped its beak, but the rest went right on dozing. So Warren creeped over to the ridge of the roof where a crooked weathervane stood. He unscrewed the sharp metal post and poked it inside the chimney. "I''ll use force if I have to," he said with determination. "Get out of there or else!" The ravens didn''t even ruffle a feather. They knew Warren was too nice to hit a bird with a weathervane. It was clear Warren had only one option left. "If you don''t leave now," he said with as much menace as he could muster, "I''ll go get Aunt Annaconda and then you''ll have to deal with her." The ravens exploded from the chimney, squawking and scattering feathers as they rose into the sky. They had been around the hotel long enough to know all about Annaconda, and no one-not even a raven-dared to test her patience. Warren watched until the birds were nothing but dark specks against the dawn''s pale sky. He hated to frighten them, but they''d left him no choice. His gaze lowered and he looked out from his spot high above the ground. The view was nothing special. The Warren Hotel was the only building for miles; perched miserably on a hill in a bleak gray countryside, it was ringed by a forest of equally bleak and withered trees. You could walk for hours in every direction without finding anything interesting. But Warren wasn''t looking at the depressing view. He was looking beyond it, past the horizon, to where the rest of the world existed. He imagined cities and jungles, seaports and deserts, landscapes he knew only from books. All places he would love to visit . . . were it not for the fact that he was twelve years old and heir to his family''s hotel, where he worked as the sole bellhop, handyman, exterminator, room-service valet, and all-around errand boy. Warren the 13th had spent his whole life at the hotel, just as his father and eleven other Warrens had before him. With a sigh, he returned to the grim task of chimney cleaning. Soon his hands were black with soot. He yanked out dozens of sticks and branches and a handful of stranger, more unexpected objects: a lady''s lace bonnet, a rusty nail file, a pie pan, even a bag of marbles he recognized as his own. Warren was trying to figure out how the ravens could have retrieved a bag of marbles from the desk drawer in his attic room when a low growling noise caught his attention. Warren squinted into the early-morning fog. To his astonishment, he saw movement in the forest. Concealed by a canopy of spindly branches, a large dark shape was weaving through the trees. The woods around the hotel teemed with bears and wild boars, but this shape was larger than any animal. It growled again, and Warren''s heart gave a leap. This was no ordinary creature. It was an automobile! He hadn''t seen an automobile since the last guest exited the Warren Hotel, vowing never to return. Five long years had passed without a single customer. Warren''s eyes grew large as the automobile crested the hill. At last, someone was coming to stay with them! The car passed through the once-grand iron gates and slowed to a stop at the front doors of the Warren Hotel. And that''s precisely when Warren remembered it was his job to greet new arrivals and help withtheir bags. He winced as the hotel intercom sputtered to life-its tinny sound echoing inside the chimney shaft-with his uncle Rupert''s panicked voice ringing through the static: "WAAAAARREN!" He had to get to the lobby right away! Warren considered using the chimney as a shortcut, but eight stories was a long way down. Instead, he leapt off the side of the roof, grabbed a rain gutter with one hand, and swung through a window in the attic. He landed with a thump, sprinkling soot all over the small bed and desk that crowded his tiny room. Warren used to sleep in one of the large bedrooms on the hotel''s second floor, but Aunt Annaconda didn''t like having children around and wanted him out of her way. She banished him to the hotel''s topmost floor, eight floors away from the lobby where Warren did most of his work. Dashing to a spot on the floor of his room, Warren raised a trap door, climbed down a wooden ladder, and landed with a thump inside the eighth-floor hallway. He picked himself up and ran to the main stairwell, his mind abuzz with possibilities. Who was this mystery guest? And why had this person come to his hotel? Things had been much different when Warren was little. Back then, the hotel was booked months in advance. Grand automobiles paraded along the driveway all night long; guests arrived in style-men wearing tuxedos and top hats, ladies bedecked in gowns and jewels and pearls. A dozen bellhops in crisp matching uniforms greeted each new arrival, transferring luggage to polished brass carts while butlers swept by with trays of lemonade and cookies. In those days, the hotel had an enormous staff devoted to keeping everything in tip-top shape. Hedges were clipped, carpets were vacuumed, furniture was dusted, and wallpaper was scrubbed. A troop of maids stretched fresh linens across soft mattresses, and tall vases of fresh flowers brightened every corner. But that was long ago, when Warren the 12th was still in charge. He died when Warren the 13th was just seven, too young to take over such a big hotel. Instead, his uncle Rupert had stepped in to fill the job. Unfortunately, Rupert was lazy and disliked work, which meant that things went downhill fast. The staff quit. The lawns became overrun with weeds. Guests cut their vacations short, then stopped coming altogether. Within a year most of the rooms were vacant, and they had remained so ever since. Now the hotel looked more like a haunted house than a vacation destination. Once-shiny windowpanes were cracked or broken; shutters hung crookedly, and the whole building was in desperate need of paint. The interior wasn''t much better. Faded wallpaper was peeling at the seams. Faucets dripped, hinges creaked, floorboards squeaked. No one had used the game room or the tearoom or any of the other common rooms in ages. The pool table was covered in dust. The furniture was shrouded beneath musty old sheets, turning tables and chairs into squat little ghosts. "WAAAAARREEENN!" Again Uncle Rupert''s voice wailed through the intercom, jolting Warren from his daydreams. He set aside his memories and ran even faster down the winding staircase, leaping over the one-hundred-and-third step (since it was, in fact, missing) and narrowly avoiding the hotel snail lurching across the fourth-floor landing. He descended the last two flights by sliding along the bannister and then skidded, breathless, onto the chipped checkerboard marble floor of the lobby. Uncle Rupert stood near a window, peering through the curtains and slicking back his hair. "Th-there''s a car in the driveway!" he sputtered. Warren joined him at the window and peeked outside. A uniformed driver was unloading a small red satchel from the trunk of the car, but the passenger remained

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