Pure Dead Wicked Read Online Free PDF

want me to see if I can get it back?”
    â€œGreat,” said Signor Strega-Borgia bitterly. He replaced the receiver in its cradle and turned to glare at Ffup and Knot. “You two have just added another zero onto the end of our hotel bill.”
    â€œWhat hotel?” said the dragon belligerently. “What bill? Nobody mentioned anything about a hotel to
me
. No one ever tells
me
anything.”
    â€œâ€™S not fair,” added Knot.
    â€œOne of these days you two will realize that the whole world doesn’t revolve around you—in the meantime,
we
are going to live at the Auchenlochtermuchty Arms while the roof here is mended.” Signor Strega-Borgia smiled. “And you beasts are booked into the adjoining stables, hot and cold running slops and as much straw as you can eat—”
    â€œWHAAAAAT?” Sab, the griffin, staggered downstairs from Titus’s bedroom, his leathery forelegs piled high with clothes. “But I thought you’d booked us a suite,” he complained. “You know—white towels, free shower caps, en suite tea and coffee—that sort of thing.”
    Tock appeared at the front door with a carrier bag full of lily pads from the moat clamped between his jaws. He deposited these on the doorstep and pointed behind himself with an extended claw. “Taxis are all here.”
    Bumping slowly down the drive came a fleet of black cabs, one for each beast and a spare for the family, Mrs. McLachlan, Tock, and Latch.
    Panic ensued. Suddenly, the great hall filled with flying dust, shouts and screams, loud crashes as cabin trunks were slid hastily downstairs, and the resultant wails as they made painful contact with shins. Suitcases and bags multiplied until the hall looked like a baggage claim, but then, miraculously, ten minutes later, everything had vanished into the interiors of the waiting taxis. The family, staff, and beasts stood shivering on the steps of StregaSchloss.
    â€œI’m sure I’ve forgotten something important.” Signora Strega-Borgia climbed with difficulty into an overloaded taxi. Tock leapt in behind her, his bag of lily pads dripping in his wake.
    â€œYour son, perhaps?” inquired Signor Strega-Borgia, snapping the clasps shut on a computer packed into an aluminum flight case and handing it through the taxi window.
    â€œTitus!” called Pandora. “Don’t worry—you’d
hate
it anyway. May as well stay put.”
    Mrs. McLachlan, halfway into the bulging interior of the taxi, turned round and shot her a look.
    â€œSorry, I just couldn’t help myself,” Pandora said, walking back into the great hall.
    â€œCOME ON, TITUS!” she yelled. “Get your rear in gear—we’re going. NOW!”
    â€œComing,” came a faint voice from the depths of the house.
    Pandora folded her arms and waited. The great hall already had an air of abandonment about it. The carpet had been rolled up and put away for safekeeping, along with vast paintings, suits of armor, and rusting shields that had adorned the walls of StregaSchloss for as long as Pandora could remember. The grandfather clock, shrouded in dust sheets, and the crystal chandelier hanging over the stairs were all that remained. The hall echoed to the sound of approaching footsteps. Titus appeared at the end of the corridor leading to the kitchen. Pandora noted that his hands were clutching several laden cake boxes.
    Seeing her expression, he explained. “Seemed a shame to leave all this food for the rats. . . .” His voice trailed off weakly.
    â€œMultitudina!”
wailed Pandora. “I’ve forgotten her!
And
Terminus—oh, no! I must find them. . . .”
    â€œThey’re
rats,
Pandora. You can’t take rats to a hotel—anyway, they’ve probably got millions of their own.”
    Outside, the taxi sounded its horn. Pandora was stricken. My pet rat, she thought, stifling a small sob. And her