Key the Steampunk Vampire Girl and the Tower Tomb of Time (9781941240076) Read Online Free PDF

move. Pega explained to Key that this was a great spot for practicing that perilous game – Pundicle.
    “But don’t ask me the rules,” she said, becoming more comfortable speaking with Key (as tense situations often make us forget important rules). “They pass right through me.”
    Having just been released from centuries of imprisonment in the dungeon, Key would have gladly sat in the mouse’s tearoom turret, sipping cheddar cheese tea, if only for a moment. But Miss Broomble did not share Key’s interest in any of those turrets. She was instead looking for a specific kind, one in which there was a door.
    “We don’t need just any door,” she told Key. “We’re looking for a Doorackle Alleyway.”
    Key had read about Doorackle Alleyways in Wanda Wickery’s little book. The shimmering words had formed into images all around her and had showed her all kinds of Doorackle Alleyways. Each looked like a door in a doorframe. But each Doorackle Alleyway was as unique as a person: Some were tall, some short, some were wide, and some were so thin that Key doubted anyone could squeeze through; some had writing, some had wiring, some had carved images, and some had kettles and buttons and ink and monocles; some were covered in gems, some in gold, some in spice, and some in cogwheels and gears and copper pipes gushing out steam.
    Miss Broomble also told Key that Doorackle Alleyways were the most important doors in the Necropolis because, if you used one, it would instantly transport you to another Doorackle Alleyway elsewhere.
    “Where?” Key wondered aloud.
    “It could take you to the other side of the castle,” said Miss Broomble, “or it could take you to the far side of the City.”
    “Or,” Pega added, “it could take you to another Necropolis in another part of the world.”
    This idea amazed Key, and she tried to recall all she’d read about Doorackle Alleyways in Wanda Wickery’s little book. One passage, she remembered, went something like this:

    Doorackle Alleyways are such a precious component to the City of the Dead that they must be guarded at all times. As self-proclaimed Keepers of the Dead, the Necropolis Vampires should be their rightful guards. However, to put it in the words of one particular vampire who shall remain anonymous (though we’ll just call him Galfridus Fish): “Guarding a door is about as insulting as guarding a boar. We didn’t build ‘em. So we ain’t guarding ‘em!” Since the Necropolis Vampires refuse to take on any further responsibility (other than charging brashly through Necropolis streets on zombie steeds or playing Pundicle) they decided that the official guard of all Doorackle Alleyways would be the one Mystical Creature capable of suffering ridicule while also administering similar ridicule to any trespasser. These peculiar Mystical Creatures are known only as the Wicked Watchmen.
    Wicked Watchmen are roughly the same size as Grimbuggle Bedbugs, perhaps slightly shorter. Yet, aside from their small bodies, they have very large hands, much larger feet, and much, much larger heads. No one has ever seen what a Wicked Watchman looks like from their shoulders up due to the extra-large helmets they are required to wear at all times (even in the bathtub). You can only see their glowing eyes through their beaver.
    Now, I should advise you that most knightly helmets used to have a mechanism called a “beaver,” which was not the well-known, semiaquatic rodent at all, but was actually a faceguard with a grill that swiveled up to show a knight’s face, or swiveled down to protect it. Unfortunately, with the Wicked Watchmen, this is not the case. They actually wear broad-tailed rodents otherwise known as “beavers” on the front of their helmet. They believe that this affords them the most protection in battle, considering that real beavers cannot only defend, but also attack, and usually in ways that stupefy both the attacker and the Wicked Watchman. Obtaining these