Billy Hooten (11 page)

At first he thought it was a swarm of bees, but as they got closer, he saw that it was worse.

Much worse.

He guessed they must have been some kind of winged fairies—about three inches high—and there was a whole swarm of them gaining on him pretty
quickly. Within seconds, they were buzzing around his head, an angry cloud that practically blinded him with its assault.

Billy waved his arms around, trying to disperse the nasty creatures.

“Get out of here!” he screamed. “Can't you see I'm wicked close to winning this?” He continued to swat the air, and then he felt the first sting.

“Yeeowch!” he cried. It was a sharp pain in the side of his neck, and his hand immediately shot to the area.

“That hurt,” he said angrily to the tiny creatures buzzing around his face.

The nasty fairies all started to laugh, and he saw that each of them held an elastic band.

“You cut that out!” Billy warned, squinting through his goggles as the fairies started to fire. Even through his costume, the elastics hurt. Billy yelped as he was struck again and again.

“Quit it!” he cried, swatting at his attackers.

The fairies laughed harder. They had formed a large buzzing cloud in the air in front of him, forcing him back from the cart.

Over the annoying buzz of his tiny opponents, Billy thought he heard a strange grinding sound and looked out from behind his hands. The ground in front of his shopping cart was sliding apart to reveal a bubbling pit of molten lava.

“This hero business doesn't get any easier,” he muttered, trying to fight his way toward the cart, but the fairies let even more eleastic bands fly, driving him back.

“You were so close,” Archebold mocked. “But close doesn't cut it when you want to be Owlboy. Too many are depending on you for you to be second best.”

“I'm not second best!” Billy yelled, his body stinging from each new elastic strike. “I almost did it!”

“But almost isn't good enough, is it, Billy?” the goblin asked. “Almost doesn't make you Owlboy.”

Billy lowered his hands to fix his gaze on the tiny attackers.

“No, it doesn't,” he said.

The fairies were pulling back on the latest volley of elastic bands as the shopping cart slowly started to roll toward the open pit. They were clumped in the air together, their insect wings fluttering so fast that they were practically invisible.

Take them out of the air—problem solved,
Billy thought, reaching up to fumble at his throat and undoing the clasp that held his cape on.

Before the fairies could figure out what he was doing, Billy had removed his cape and thrown it over the flying mass. The fairies fell to the street, weighted down by the cape, screaming out in panic.

Billy was proud of his quick thinking, but there was no time for congratulations. The shopping cart full of citizens was teetering at the edge of the opening in the street, about to plunge into the molten lava.

Billy dove at the cart, catching one of the rubber wheels and yanking it away from the edge just as it was about to spill over. Then he picked up the cart again and sprinted toward the safety zone.

Billy didn't know what to expect. He half suspected that Archebold would have something else equally dangerous waiting for him there. But he passed beneath the finish line with no further problems, dropping the cart to the ground and falling to his knees as he breathed a sigh of relief.

Panting like a tired dog on a hot summer's day, Billy suddenly heard the sound of clapping. He looked up to see a smiling Archebold strolling toward him.

“Good job,” the goblin said, removing the #1 Villain hat and tossing it aside. “I knew you could do it.”

“So what now?” Billy asked, gulping mouthfuls of air. “More tests?”

Archebold turned, marching off toward an open doorway. “We're done with tests,” he said, turning around with a grin and a twinkle in his beady eyes as he was about to leave the room.

“Now it's time for snacks.”

Billy sat in the snack room, waiting.

It was a nice room, painted a light shade of blue, the walls covered with framed portraits of the various Owlboys throughout the years. If Billy wasn't mistaken, each of them was holding a plate displaying a dessert.

He got up from his chair for a closer look.

Archebold had brought him to the room right after his Owlboy exam, telling him to relax and that he'd be back with some refreshments. Looking more closely at the items on the portrait plates, Billy wasn't sure if he was all that interested in what passed for snacks in Monstros City.

Is that piece of pie covered in furry red mold?
he asked himself, stepping closer to one of the portraits and squinting behind his glasses and goggles.

“Through the ages, the various Owlboys had one thing in common. They all loved their snacks,” Archebold said, entering the room holding a serving tray loaded with all kinds of stuff. “From what I understand, that particular Owlboy loved his bloodberry pie.”

“Bloodberry pie?” Billy said, wrinkling his nose with disgust. “That doesn't sound too appetizing.”

“No,” Archebold said, setting the tray down on a table positioned between the room's two seats. “It really isn't. Give me hecklefruit pie any day.”

The goblin pointed to a particular dessert on a plate. It looked sort of like a piece of apple pie, but there was an odd color about it, as if it had gone bad.

“That's hecklefruit?” Billy asked.

Archebold picked up the plate and held it out for him to examine. “Do you want to try a piece?” he asked, eyes wide as he licked his lips.

Billy shook his head. “That's all right, I'll try something else. You can have it.”

“Really?” Archebold asked excitedly, grabbing a fork. “I hope it's fresh.” He poked the snack with the fork's tines.

“Hey, is that your face or are you minding it for a monkey?”
asked a tiny voice.

Billy looked around the room. “Did you hear that?”

“I've seen better heads on a mug of root beer,”
said the small voice again.

“Hear what?” Archebold asked, casually looking up from his dessert.

“That voice … the one insulting you.”

“You're so dumb, I bet you think a pigpen is something you write with.”

“That,” Billy said. “Did you hear it?”

“What, my pie?” Archebold asked, holding up his plate.

“When they were passing out brains, you thought they said pillows and asked for a soft one,”
said the dessert.

“Your pie … your pie is talking?” Billy asked in amazement.

“Of course it's talking,” Archebold said happily, using his fork to break off a piece of the dessert and popping it into his mouth. “It's heckleberry.”

“You're so dumb, you bought a donut and brought it back 'cause it had a hole in it,”
Billy heard coming from the inside of the goblin's mouth as he chewed.

Archebold held out what was left of the treat. “Are you sure you don't want to try it?” he asked. “It's fresh.”

“You were so ugly when you were born, your mother said, ‘What a treasure,’ and then your father said, ‘Yeah, let's bury it.’

“No, I think I'll pass,” Billy said politely.

“Suit yourself,” the goblin said, devouring the last bite of the heckleberry pie, and the room was suddenly much quieter.

“Delicious,” Archebold said, smacking his lips and placing the empty plate back on the tray. “Aren't you going to try anything?”

Billy saw what looked like a tray of cookies. “These look harmless enough,” he said, reaching for one. “What are they—oatmeal raisin?”

He brought the cookie up to his mouth, ready to take a bite.

“No, cockroach chunk,” the goblin said casually,
looking over the tray to see what he was going to have next. “They're usually quite good.”

At first Billy eyed the cookie with disgust, then suspicion, but finally he decided that if he was ever going to be the full-fledged hero of Monstros City, he'd better get acquainted with its food. Without further thought, he took a big bite of the cookie and started to chew.

“What do you think?” Archebold asked, helping himself to a handful of candies that looked like tiny eyeballs. “Pretty tasty, eh?”

Billy tried not to taste it, but a tiny crumb tickled the back of his throat, making him cough, and the full flavor of the cookie flooded his mouth.

He was shocked at how good it tasted.

“Not bad,” he said, smacking his lips before eagerly taking another bite. “Not bad at all.”

Feeling daring, he helped himself to two more cookies and then bravely decided to try some of the other strange treats. He had a little bit of everything: a bite of a demon donut, a taste of devil's food cake made from real devils, and something that looked, and tasted, an awful lot like cotton candy. Archebold explained that it had been spun by some of Monstros City's finest spider-chefs.

Finally, feeling stuffed, Billy sat back in his chair, re-examining the paintings on the wall.

“So these are all the Owlboys who came before me?” he asked.

Archebold wiped his mouth with a napkin before answering. “The first right up until the last,” he said.

Looking at the paintings, Billy noticed the changes in the costume design throughout the ages, going from very old-fashioned to not too different from what he was now wearing.

“How did they get to be Owlboy?” he asked, suddenly wondering if they'd gone through a process similar to what he'd endured. “How were they chosen?”

The goblin poured them each a glass of something he called poltergeist potion. It made the glass tremble and skitter across the surface of the table. Billy snatched up the glass before it danced off the edge. The thick steam rising from the warm drink fogged his goggles as he took a sip. It was quite tasty.

“The mantle of Owlboy is passed on from one to the next, and that has been the case going back to the very first Owlboy, who came to Monstros from the shadow passage in the Sprylock mausoleum many, many years ago. But when the last Owlboy disappeared, the title was never passed on, and Monstros was without a protector.”

The goblin smiled, starting to tidy up. “Until now.”

“You came to the Sprylock mausoleum—to where the first Owlboy came from—hoping to find the next?”

Archebold nodded, stacking the dirty dishes. “Monstros was falling into lawlessness, the bad squeezing the life from the good. My family had served the Owlboys through the ages, and I took it upon myself to find the one who was destined to return Monstros to the way it used to be—when good triumphed over evil.”

Billy thought about the day when he'd first heard Archebold's cries for help, and he came to a startling realization.

“That day in the mausoleum—that pig guy—he was trying to stop you from finding the new Owlboy!”

Archebold picked up the tray. “Villainy has been allowed to grow for too long in Monstros. Just the thought of Owlboy's returning fills those who have evil in their hearts with fear. They tried to stop me but failed. This is how it was supposed to be. This was destiny.”

It hit Billy like a hundred pounds of dirty laundry. This wasn't some game he could play whenever he was interested; it was much bigger than that. This was about fighting the bad guys and making people feel safe again.

He wondered if he had what it would take.

He was about to ask Archebold what he thought— whether the goblin believed that he could actually do the job—when a loud, hooting alarm filled the air.

Hoot! Hoot! Hoot! Hoot!

“What's that?” Billy asked, looking around for the source of the sound.

Archebold stood stiffly, the tray clutched tightly in his hands.

“It's trouble,” he said ominously. “Big trouble.”

CHAPTER 9

T
hey returned to the room where Billy had first entered the Roost. The alarm continued to blare as lights flashed like a pinball machine gone wild. Right away Billy noticed that all the monitors seemed to be focused on one area in particular.

“What's going on here?” he asked, walking over to the sets, trying to figure out exactly what he was seeing.

Archebold moved from television to television, adjusting the picture quality on one set before moving on to the next. “Remember, this is where we keep an eye on Monstros,” he said distractedly, giving one of the old sets a solid whack on the side to get the picture to stop flipping.

“But all the monitors seem to be looking at one place,” Billy observed.

“Exactly,” Archebold said, stepping back to join him. “This is where a crime most horrible has been committed.”

Billy felt his stomach jump, as if some of the crazy snacks he'd just been eating were trying to come up for a walk.

“What kind of crime most horrible?” he asked, not really wanting to know the answer.

In the corner of the room, a machine that looked to Billy like an old-fashioned typewriter, only bigger and covered in flashing lights, suddenly came to life, keys clacking noisily as something was printed.

Archebold crossed the room, pulling the paper from the machine as it finished printing. The goblin studied the paper, making strange little clucking sounds.

“Murder,” he said, showing Billy the paper. The word had been typed out in big black letters on the white sheet over and over again.

“Murder?” Billy squeaked.

“Exactly,” Archebold replied, returning to the printer as it spat out another piece of information. “For the last two weeks, Monstros has been plagued with a series of murder-robberies.” He studied the printout. “And from the looks of it, we've got another.”

The goblin walked toward Billy, reaching out to
hand him the two pieces of paper. Billy recoiled as if he were being handed a rattlesnake.

“No, thanks,” Billy said. “I don't think I want anything to do with murder right now.”

“And that's where you're wrong,” the goblin said, shoving the papers into his hand. “This will provide us with the perfect opportunity to show Monstros City your stuff.”

Archebold spun on his heels, marching out of the room. “C'mon, we've got work to do.”

“Do you really think I'm ready for murder?” Billy asked, having to run to keep up with the goblin. “Don't you think it might be a little … y'know, big for me?”

“Nonsense, you handled yourself like a real pro in the training room,” Archebold said. “Murder is just what we're looking for.”

“How about a stolen bike … or a lost dog?” Billy suggested. “I think I could handle a lost dog.”

Archebold spun around and looked him in the goggles. “This will be excellent publicity for you, trust me. And besides, there aren't any dogs in Monstros City. Our pets are a bit more … unusual.” Turning again, he gestured for Billy to follow. “Let's get going before the clues get cold.”

Billy stopped short, watching as Archebold continued down the hall, chattering away. It was one thing to keep a bunch of skeletons from robbing a store, but
murder
was altogether different. It took a moment for the goblin to realize that Billy wasn't with him.

Archebold stopped and turned around again. “What are you waiting for? C'mon.”

“I can't,” Billy said, shaking his head. “I just can't.”

“What do you mean, you can't?” Archebold asked, stomping toward him. “You're Owlboy now, for freak's sake, and it's time to show everybody that you're back.”

Billy didn't know how to respond. His brain sputtered and sparked as he tried to come up with a reason for not investigating, other than the fact that he was afraid.

“I can't because …” And suddenly, he had it, the perfect excuse. “Because I don't have any of the tools I'll need to solve the case. You can't expect me to go out there without the proper tools. I'd look like an idiot.”

“Hrrmmmm,” Archebold said, stroking his chin. “You're right.”

Billy almost blacked out, he was suddenly so happy. He was just not ready for anything like a murder, and by the time they figured out what he'd need, enough time would have passed for him to …

“Halifax!” Archebold yelled.

Again, that name.

“Who's… ?”

A section of a hallway wall suddenly lifted up and
the furry, greasy, overall-wearing creature stepped out to stand behind the goblin.

“You bellowed,” Halifax said, his voice low and rough.

“Ah, Halifax,” Archebold said, spinning around.

“You're the one who was driving the robot legs and feet,” Billy said.

“Can't pull the wool over his eyes,” Halifax said, nudging Archebold with his elbow. “Walter was right about this one, wasn't he?” he whispered, talking through the corner of his mouth seemingly so only Archebold could hear.

“Forget about Walter,” Archebold scolded. “That bug's got a bad attitude. Halifax, Billy; Billy, Halifax.”

Billy waved. “Hey.”

“Hey back,” the furry creature responded.

“Okay, now that we've got that out of the way,” Archebold said. “We need some things to solve a murder. Can you help us?”

Halifax removed a pair of glasses from the front pocket of his overalls and placed them on his furry face. Billy hadn't a clue how the creature could see, the glasses were so dirty. Halifax pulled a small crumpled notebook and stubby pencil from another pocket. “Whaddya need?” he asked.

“Oh, well, um, I'm sure it's nothing you have handy,” Billy said nervously. “I can go back home and get everything I need.”

“Halifax is a troll, great with his hands, thus he's our gadget guy,” Archebold said. “If we don't have it, he can build it … isn't that right?” He looked at the creature proudly.

“On some occasions, I even amaze myself,” Halifax said.

“That's all right,” Billy began.

Archebold stamped his foot. “It's not all right. Our clues are going to be stone-cold if we don't act pretty soon.”

Not wanting to make Archebold any angrier, Billy quickly rattled off a list of things he thought he remembered from the comics he'd read.

“Can't promise you miracles,” Halifax said, walking back to his opening in the wall. “But let me see what I can do.”

The door hadn't been closed behind him for more than a second before it opened again and the hairy creature stepped out, his arms filled with equipment.

Billy's jaw hung open in disbelief as Halifax dumped all the items on his list on the floor between them.

“Sorry about the wait, boys,” he said, scratching his belly. “Coupla the items I had to special-order.”

“Can we go now?” Archebold asked, turning away and continuing down the hallway toward what looked like an elevator.

Billy started to pick up the items the troll had dropped. “Thanks a lot,” he said sarcastically.

“My pleasure,” Halifax replied, disappearing back into the opening in the wall.

“Are you coming or not?” Archebold asked impatiently as the doors of the elevator slid open.

Billy grabbed up all the stuff in his arms and ran to the end of the hall, careful not to drop anything. The doors started to slide closed as soon as he entered.

“Where are we going?” he asked the goblin.

“You'll see,” Archebold said as the elevator quickly began to drop.

That's all I need,
Billy thought, feeling the contents of his stomach rising into his throat.
Another reason to throw up.

“Aren't you gonna put any of that on?” Archebold asked, nodding toward the equipment Billy held in his arms. “That's what the belt is for, you know.”

Billy dropped the armload and picked out the thick yellow belt. It reminded him of the belt his dad wore to hold his tools when doing projects around the house. Billy put all the crime-fighting implements in their special places on the belt.

That Halifax is good,
he thought. Every item on his list was present and accounted for, as well as some things he hadn't even thought of.

Archebold looked him over, nodding his approval. “The last Owlboy didn't use a belt,” he said. “It's a nice touch.”

The elevator came to an abrupt stop, and Billy wondered if it was possible to live with his intestines up in his throat. The doors parted, and he was still collecting himself as Archebold bolted from the elevator.

“C'mon, c'mon, the rate we're going, we'll never catch any bad guys.”

Billy followed the goblin into yet another large room, making a mental note for whenever he had a free minute to ask Archebold how big the Roost actually was.

This room was strangely empty except for a single large object in the center, covered with a gray tarp.

“What's under that?” Billy asked, his curiosity piqued.

Archebold's goblin face looked very serious. “It's been quite some time since this has been used,” he said, laying a hand upon the covered object. “From what my grandpa said, the last Owlboy used to love to take her out on missions every chance he got.”

“What is it?” Billy asked in an excited whisper, but he already had an idea what he was about to see.

Archebold gripped the heavy canvas covering and pulled it away to reveal the shiny yellow vehicle underneath.

“Wow!” was all Billy could say as he looked upon the item he had seen only in the pages of comic books.

The Owlmobile.

The artists hadn't done it justice.

It was the coolest car he had ever seen, shaped like an owl's head: the big, two-sectioned windshield looked like eyes, and the hood of the vehicle tapered to a hooked beak. The car was bright yellow, and in the light of the room it seemed to glow.

“Awesome,” Billy said, walking around the amazing vehicle, taking it in from every angle. “I bet it's fast.”

He placed a gloved hand on the hood, still not believing that he was actually touching the Owlmobile. He couldn't count the times he'd promised himself that someday he'd have a car as cool-looking as this.

Archebold reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a set of keys.

“Would you like to see how fast?” he asked, a twinkle in his dark eyes.

Billy couldn't find words and just nodded like a nut.

“Then let's get going,” Archebold said, approaching the driver's-side door.

“Can I drive?” Billy finally asked.

The goblin made a face. “What, are you crazy? You're just a kid.”

“Not fair,” Billy griped beneath his breath, opening
the passenger-side door and getting inside. “Can be a stupid superhero, but can't drive a stupid car.”

“Excuse me,” Archebold said, leaning over Billy's lap to get at the glove compartment.

He popped open the compartment and removed what looked like a gigantic garage door opener. Pointing it at the circular windshield, the goblin pushed a big red button, producing a spectacular result.

The entire wall in front of them began to slowly rise.

“Oh, wow,” Billy gasped, fumbling with his seat belt as the outside of the Roost was revealed. “It's amazing!” He looked out over the vast view of a nighttime city lit up with thousands and thousands of lights.

“Monstros City,” Archebold said, putting the Owl-mobile in drive and gunning it toward the exit. “The most fantastic city in all the world, and any other place beyond that, if you ask me.”

Billy leaned forward in his seat as the vehicle left the confines of the Roost's garage. He wanted to get a good look at the place—this city he would be in charge of protecting. The first thing he noticed was the road they were driving on as the car descended from the Roost. Billy turned around in his seat to get a look at where they had been and almost didn't believe his eyes.

“Is that what I think it is?” he asked Archebold.

“All depends on what you think it is,” the goblin teased.

The Roost was inside a giant tree—the biggest tree Billy had ever seen. Watching it gradually come into view through the back window, Billy guessed that the tree was at least ten times bigger than the biggest redwood he had seen on vacation with his parents in California a few years back.

This was a
big
tree—the biggest—growing out of the center of a forest of smaller trees that weren't really all that small—just smaller than the biggest tree ever.