Billy Hooten (13 page)

Billy didn't have to wonder about the other police officers at the scene; they were all laughing too, pointing and carrying on as if he were the funniest thing they had ever seen.

“Geez,” he said dejectedly. “A guy could really get a complex around this place.”

“Don't pay any attention to them,” Archebold told him. “They won't be laughing for long. Go ahead,” he urged, nudging Billy closer to the body of the large bug. “Show 'em your stuff.”

Billy stood before the dead insect, not sure what his next step should be. The problem, he realized, was that even though he was wearing the costume, he was still thinking like Billy Hooten of Bradbury, Massachusetts. He had to start thinking like Owlboy of Monstros City if he entertained any plans of becoming a real live crime-fighting superhero.

What would Owlboy do now?
he pondered.

Billy reached around, pulling his very first Owlboy comic from the back pocket of his costume, and started to flip through the pages.

“I'd be searching for clues, of course,” he said, closing the comic book and returning it to his pocket. And with a mighty leap that would have made Mr. Pavlis, his muscle-bound gym teacher, green with envy, Billy hopped up onto the stomach of the monstrous insect for a closer look.

“Hmmmmmm, what do we have here?” Billy asked, looking through the lens of the magnifying glass and finding his first clue almost immediately. There were strange swirling indentations pressed into the surface of the roach's body.

“What did you find?” Archebold asked, scrambling up for a better look.

“Some very unusual marks, wouldn't you say?” Billy handed the goblin his magnifier.

“It's almost as if the poor sap has been squashed by something coiled,” Archebold observed.

“Multiple somethings, actually,” Billy said, taking back his magnifying glass. He touched the marks on the cockroach's shell. “And they're sticky, too.” He looked around, hot on the trail of further incriminating evidence.

“What a way to go,” Archebold said with a sad shake of his large head. “You'd think that getting squashed would be the least of your worries when you're this big.”

Detective Oozea and Chief Bloodwart had stopped laughing and were ambling closer to the scene of the crime.

“Marks?” Oozea questioned. “I didn't notice any marks.”

Bloodwart said nothing, watching Billy as he moved about atop the bug.

“Get down off of there at once!” Oozea demanded. “You'll contaminate the evidence. Hey, you, did you hear me?”

“Let him be,” Chief Bloodwart ordered.

Billy felt his confidence rise as he continued with his investigation. He glanced over the side of the roach, noticing something littering the ground below. It looked like wrappers of some kind.

“What do we have here?” he asked, leaping down from his perch to the ground. “Hello there, little clue,” he said, squatting down and picking up what appeared to be a candy wrapper. “What kind of fascinating things do you have to tell me?”

He brought the wrapper to his nose and sniffed it.

“Grape,” he said. “It appears that our perpetrators have a fondness for grape bubble gum.”

“I think a flip through the
Book of Creeps
might be in order, sir,” the goblin said.

“Book of Creeps?”
Billy asked, looking up at Archebold, who was still standing atop the body of the giant bug.

“A reference guide to all the nasty beasts that call Monstros their home,” the goblin answered, reaching into his inside coat pocket and fumbling around for something. “Quite handy, really, and it's in here someplace,” he continued, deciding to check both sides
of his coat for good measure. “Ah, here it is,” he said excitedly, pulling out an enormous book that couldn't possibly have fit inside his coat pocket. The book was bound in leather and covered with a fine layer of dust and cobwebs. Archebold brushed off its ancient-looking surface and opened it. “Any time you're ready, sir.”

Billy stroked his chin with a gloved hand. “If I'm not mistaken,” he said with a certain authority, “our culprits will be of a hopping nature.” He made bouncing movements with his hands. “They'll travel in packs and have a penchant for penny candy.”

Archebold began to leaf furiously through the yellowed pages of the ancient tome.

“Can you stand it?” Oozea boomed. “‘A penchant for penny candy.’ Ain't that the sweetest thing?
Bwaaahahahahahaha!
”

Bloodwart remained silent.

“Am I warm?” Billy asked his friend, ignoring Detective Oozea's raucous laughter.

Archebold traced a pudgy finger down the length of a page, suddenly coming to a stop. “You're red-hot, sir!” he screeched excitedly. “It sounds like we're talking about a pack of Slovakian Rot-toothed Hopping Monkey Demons,” he added, looking up from the book. “Sheer genius, Owlboy.”

“A pack of Slovakian Rot-toothed Hopping Monkey Demons, you say?” Chief Bloodwart asked as he shambled closer. “If I'm not mistaken, the Bounder boys were just released from a twelve-year stint in Kruger Prison three nights ago, and they fit your description to a T.”

“The Bounder boys,” Detective Oozea said, the fluid inside his body turning a darker shade of gross. “They're a terrible lot. We'll need to call in reinforcements if we're to deal with that motley crew.”

Billy adjusted his goggles and puffed out his chest. “No need for that, Detective, I'll handle this.”

He motioned for Archebold to follow him. “Come along, Archebold.” Billy turned from the scene of the crime and headed toward the crowd and the exit from the alley beyond them. “We haven't a moment to lose. Let's find these Bounder boys and put a stop to their reign of terror.”

The crowd had begun to clap and whistle as they approached.

“Go get 'em, Owlboy!” somebody cried. “Glad to have you back!”

“It's about time!” cheered another.

The throng parted to let Billy and the goblin through, clapping their flippers, tentacles and claws as the pair passed.

“How was that?” a smiling Billy asked.

“Most excellent, sir,” Archebold said, the cheers of Monstros's citizens following them out into the street. “It sent chills up and down my spine.”

The monstrous crowd slowly followed them up the alley to the Owlmobile, continuing to cheer, hoot, whistle and growl the whole way.

“You think I should go out and talk to them some more?” Billy asked excitedly from the passenger seat of the car.

Archebold snapped his seat belt into place and put the key in the car's ignition, starting the engine. “Remember, you've got to stay mysterious. Always keep them guessing. And besides, we have more important things to do than giving pep talks to your adoring public.”

“What are we doing now?” Billy asked. He was barely able to get his seat belt on before Archebold put the Owlmobile in drive and screeched out of the parking space into the night.

“I can't believe you even have to ask me that,” the goblin said. “Billy, Billy, Billy, remember, you're Owlboy now. And what does Owlboy do after he deduces who the perpetrators of a particular villainy are?” The goblin waited for his answer.

“He … he goes after the bad guys?” Billy asked. “Bingo!” Archebold exclaimed. “So we're going after the Bounder boys?” “Now you're thinking like an Owlboy.” Billy grinned, rubbing his gloved hands together eagerly. He didn't think the night could get any cooler, but he was wrong.

They continued to drive through the dark, winding streets of the city, and everywhere the yellow owl's-head-shaped vehicle went, monsters—gigantic or tiny, scaled or hairy, winged or multilimbed—let out some kind of cheer as their hero's car passed by them.

It made Billy proud that he had been chosen, and even more determined not to let them down.

“So where are the Bounder boys hiding?” he asked his friend.

Archebold glanced at him quickly and shrugged. “I haven't a clue.”

“You don't?”

The goblin shook his head. “Nope, I'm waiting for you to tell me where to go.”

“How the heck am I supposed to know?” Billy asked.

“Because you're Owlboy now—you're the boss.”

“Oh, yeah,” Billy said, startled by the realization. “I guess I am.”

He gazed out the side window, watching the scenery of Monstros City whip by. His eyes caught something of interest far off in the distance.

In all the comics he had read,
Owlboy
or any other superhero comic book, the bad guys always seemed to set up their hideouts in abandoned factories or warehouses. Gazing out the window, Billy thought he might have found just such a place.

“Hey,” he said, getting Archebold's attention. “Any of those buildings over there abandoned?”

The goblin craned his neck to see. “That's the old factory district,” he said. “Not sure, but I guess they could be.”

“If that's the case, one of those buildings would make a perfect hangout for our Slovakian Rot-toothed Hopping Monkey Demons—what do you think?” Billy asked.

The goblin smiled. “I think you might be onto something, boss. Why don't you check that info with Halifax back at the Roost?”

Archebold pushed a button on the dashboard and a large panel opened, revealing a tiny television screen and a phone. “Just push the red button and wait a minute,” he told Billy.

Billy picked up the receiver and pushed the button. He could hear the phone ringing on the other end.

The small television suddenly crackled to life, and
the image of Halifax wearing a puffy shower cap, his long, dark fur dripping wet, appeared on the screen.

“Hello?” the troll grumbled.

“Hey, Halifax, it's me,” Billy said.

“Me who, and this better be good because you got me out of the bathtub,” the troll growled.

“You've done it now, Hooten,” Archebold scolded, grinning from pointy ear to pointy ear. “There's nothing Halifax treasures more than his bathtime.”

“But you told me to!” Billy exclaimed. “He told me to!” he screeched into the receiver.

“If this is a prank call, I'm going to find out who you are and come to your house and—”

“It's me, Halifax,” Billy quickly explained. “It's Bil … it's Owlboy.”

“Oh,” Halifax said, calming down right away. “Why didn't you say so? What can I do for you, sir?”

“I'm really sorry about getting you out of the tub. It's just that I need some information that Archebold said you'd be able to find for me.”

“And what would that be?” the troll asked him. “The quicker I give you what you require, the faster I can return to my soothing bubbles after a hard night's work.”

“You take bubble baths?” Billy asked in disbelief.

“The information, sir?” Halifax pressed, ignoring the bubbly question.

“Oh yeah, sure,” Billy said. “I was wondering if any of the buildings down near the factory district might be abandoned.”

Halifax scratched the plastic shower cap on top of his head. “This might take me a while,” he finally complained. “So I'm afraid I'm gonna have to call you back.” Without warning, the tiny television screen went dark.

“He said it might take a while and that he'll call us back,” Billy said to Archebold. He was ready to return the phone to its cradle when it started to ring.

Billy pushed the red button, picking up the call as Halifax appeared on the screen again. “Sorry for the wait, sir, but it's just one interruption after another.”

“No problem,” Billy said. “What did you find?”

“There is indeed an abandoned structure in that vicinity.” Halifax read from a printout. “The Stick-It-To-Ya adhesives factory was closed down a little over a year ago.”

“A glue factory,” Billy said, stroking his chin and attempting to put the pieces together. “That could explain the sticky marks on the victim's body.”

Halifax cleared his throat noisily, catching Billy's attention.

“Will that be all, sir?” the troll asked.

Billy nodded. “Yeah, I think that's good. Thanks, Halifax, you can go back to your bubble bath now.”

“Your generosity overwhelms me,” Halifax muttered under his breath, breaking the connection.

“I don't think he likes me,” Billy said, hanging up the phone.

“Join the club,” the goblin replied. “He doesn't like anybody.”

Archebold brought the Owlmobile to a stop at a red light, the engine humming powerfully beneath the hood. A giant spider wearing multiple pairs of Rollerblades was struggling to get itself safely across the street before the light changed to green.

“I think we need to check out Stick-It-To-Ya adhe-sives,” Billy said, watching the spider's limbs slipping and sliding out from beneath its large, furry body. “What do you think of that?”

“What do I think?” Archebold asked as the light changed and he drove the Owlmobile expertly around the struggling arachnid.

“I think you're getting the hang of this hero business.”

CHAPTER 11

A
rchebold turned off the car's lights and engine just before they reached the abandoned adhesives factory, allowing the Owlmobile to glide silently to a stop before the front gate. He didn't want to draw any attention to the fact that they had arrived.

“Here we are,” Archebold said, putting the car in park.

Billy looked out his window at the chained gate and the large, dark factory building beyond it.

“Kind of ominous, isn't it?” Archebold asked.

Billy studied the structure, its multiple windows boarded up, large brick smokestacks reaching up into the moonlit sky.

“It's more than ominous, Archebold,” Billy said in a
serious tone. “The factory resembles some kind of nightmarish plant that has grown up from the bowels of the earth.”

He looked over to see the goblin smiling.

“What?” Billy asked.

“Very good, sir,” Archebold praised him. “I love the whole nightmare plant thing. Very descriptive.”

“Did you like that?” Billy asked. “It just seemed to come to me.”

They both got out of the car and approached the gate.

A big CLOSED UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE. NO TRESPASSING! sign hung by a rusty chain on the front of the entrance.

“Do you think the Bounder boys can read?” Billy asked.

“I'd probably have to say no,” Archebold replied. “Evil is not often represented by the sharpest crayons in the box, sir.”

“So there's a good chance that the sign didn't keep them away.” Billy tensed his legs, preparing for a mighty leap that would allow him to clear the fence and land on the other side. “Let's get in there and show them—”

He felt Archebold's hand on his sleeve.

“Not so fast, sir,” Archebold warned.

Billy turned to his friend. “What's wrong?”

The goblin shook his head. “You're not ready yet.”

“What do you mean, I'm not ready?” Billy asked, confused. “You've been telling me all night that I'm ready to be Owlboy.”

“And you are,” Archebold answered. “But you're not ready to go in there.” He pointed to the creepy-looking factory. “With
them,
if they're actually inside. Not yet.”

“Fine. What do I have to do to get ready, then?”

“So glad you asked.” Archebold was already going through the pockets of his tuxedo jacket.

Those are some pretty deep pockets,
Billy thought.

“One of the first rules of being Owlboy is to always know what you're up against. Know your enemy, my granddaddy used to say.” The goblin removed the large, dusty leather-bound book from his pocket again.

“Let me guess, the
Book of Creeps
?” Billy asked.

“Precisely,” Archebold said. “Everything you'll need to know about Slovakian Rot-toothed Hopping Monkey Demons is right here for your perusal.”

“So what's it say?”

The goblin opened the book, sending clouds of dust roiling up into the air and making him cough.

“Here,” he said, handing Billy the book. “Hold this.” He reached into another pocket. This time, he pulled out a full glass of water, draining it in one large gulp.

“Much better,” the goblin said, clearing his throat
and returning the empty glass to his pocket. “Look up Slovakian Rot-toothed Hopping Monkey Demons and see what it says.”

Billy flipped through the dusty pages, pleased to see that the entries were in alphabetical order. He found the section for the letter
S,
surprised at how many species of creep began with it, and quickly scanned the page until he found what he was searching for.

“Here we go. ‘Slovakian Rot-toothed Hopping Monkey Demons,’ ” he read aloud.

“What's it say?” Archebold asked.

“It says that this particular type of monkey demon is extremely dangerous. They have a four-skull rating out of five.”

“Good to know,” Archebold said, pulling a tiny notepad and pencil from the front pocket of his starched white shirt and writing the information down. “Four skulls.”

“And that they have an incredible hunger for anything made of sugar,” Billy continued.

“Addicted to sugar. Check,” said Archebold.

“Oh, this sounds important,” Billy said, reading on. “It says here that the most deadly Slovakian Rot-toothed Hopping Monkey Demons ever to exist are …”

He stopped short, looking up from the book, the information startling him into silence.

“Bet I know where this is going,” Archebold said.

“ ‘The worst Slovakian Rot-toothed Hopping Monkey Demons ever to exist are the Brothers Bounder. See Bounder Boys for further information,’ ” Billy read.

Archebold winced. “Ouch. That's not good.”

Billy flipped to the front of the book. “Better see what it says about them.” He found the entry and suddenly realized he
really
had to pee.

“Bad, huh?” Archebold asked.

“It says that the Bounder boys are the most dangerous of all the Slovakian Rot-toothed Hopping Monkey Demons and have actually won the prestigious Villains of Distinction award four years in a row.”

“Impressive,” the goblin commented with a nod. “At least they take pride in their work.”

Billy continued, “ ‘The Bounders have held on to their unique place in the annals of villainy due to their invention of the Bounder boots—special footwear of the brothers’ own design, equipped with powerful high-tension coils, enhancing the Hopping Monkeys’ ability to jump upon and squash their chosen victims.’ ”

“That explains the marks found on all the victims,” Archebold said as Billy nodded in agreement. “Does it say anything else? Anything that might be useful, maybe?”

“Yeah,” Billy said, looking up from the
Book of Creeps
and slamming it closed. “It says approach with caution.”

With Archebold riding piggyback, Billy leaped into the air, easily clearing the high metal gate and landing on the factory grounds beyond it.

“Thanks for the lift,” the goblin said, dropping to the ground and adjusting his tuxedo.

“Glad to be of service,” Billy said. “So what's the story with my superpowers in Monstros?” he asked curiously. “I could never jump like that back home.”

“One thing you'll eventually come to understand, Billy, is that Monstros is different. The rules that apply in your world don't apply here.”

“Cool,” Billy said, already wondering about the full meaning of the goblin's words. But his curiosity would have to wait until he completed his first assignment as Owlboy.

It was pretty dark on the property, and Billy reached up to activate his night-vision goggles.

“I'm gonna have to get me a pair of those,” the goblin said, removing a lit candle from one of his bottomless pockets as they moved closer to the darkened factory.

They tried a bunch of doors, which were either chained or just plain locked from the other side. Billy was starting to think that maybe his theory about the Bounders’ hideout might be wrong, when they found a door at the back of the factory that looked as though it might have been tampered with.

Billy held his breath as he gripped the doorknob and gave it a try.

The door clicked open. The heavy chemical smell of glue and something else—something
wild
—wafted out to greet them.

“Do you smell that?” Billy asked, wrinkling his nose as he looked back at his goblin sidekick. “It smells sort of like the monkey cages at the Franklin Park Zoo.”

“That's the smell of evil,” Archebold said, his eyes twinkling in the darkness. “Mixed with a hint of grape.”

“It stinks,” Billy said, pinching his nose closed with his fingers.

“What do you expect evil to smell like—roses? If it smelled good, it wouldn't be all that evil, now would it?”

“I think evil needs to take a bath,” Billy said.

As they entered the factory, a single lightbulb hanging from the ceiling provided a sickly yellow light. They headed down the dingy corridor in search of the Bounder boys and didn't have far to go before they heard voices.

“The sound of evil?” Billy asked Archebold in a whisper.

“In stereo,” the goblin answered softly.

They cautiously continued down the hallway in the direction of the voices.

At the end of the corridor, the room opened up onto the factory floor, and Billy held back, peeking around the corner.

Archebold tugged on his cape, and Billy turned to see the goblin looking up. Billy did the same and spotted a catwalk that extended to the other side of the factory.

Billy gave Archebold a thumbs-up, and they went in search of a way onto the catwalk. They found a ladder, then climbed up to the aerial walkway. The catwalk gave them a perfect view of the entire factory floor, as well as of whoever was speaking.

There were other noises too, wet, gross, smacking sounds that reminded Billy of Randy Kulkowski gorging himself on all-you-can-eat Sloppy Joe day in the school cafeteria.

Squatting at the edge of the catwalk with Archebold right beside him, Billy stared down at the sight of five Slovakian Rot-toothed Hopping Monkey Demons sitting around a makeshift table that had been put together from an old door and an old, rusty metal drum.
The tabletop was covered in their ill-gotten gains, an enormous pile of individually wrapped pieces of candy.

Billy felt a thrill of excitement pass through his body as he observed the creatures going over their sweet bounty. His instincts had been right, and he found himself feeling even more like the costumed hero whom he had come to admire.

“Are you sure you haven't done this whole superhero business before?” Archebold asked with a proud smile.

Billy grinned, feeling ten feet tall, but was quickly beamed back to earth when he realized that he actually had to figure out how to bring these nasty creatures to justice. That would take some careful thought and observation, he decided, peering over the edge of the catwalk and watching the foul beasties in their unnatural habitat. If he had learned one thing from reading all those Owlboy comics, it was how important observing could be.

The Bounder boys were a disgusting bunch, clothed only in bright red vests and deadly-looking coiled shoes. Strangely enough, they were also wearing nametags pinned to their colorful vests, making it much easier for Billy to keep track of who everybody was.

He'd never expected evil to be quite so helpful.

The Bounder boys were arguing.

“You've had enough!” Benny Bounder screeched to his brother, who was busily unwrapping another piece of their loot.

“Come to Poppa, you oh-so-chewable sugary confection,” Bobby Bounder said, ignoring his brother's accusations.

“He's not going to listen,” Bernie Bounder said, dragging a section of the candy pile closer to himself. “And neither is Balthasar.”

Billy noticed that the monkey demon named Balthasar wasn't even unwrapping the treats; he was just shoving them into his gaping mouth, wrappers and all.

Disgusting.

One of the monkey demons suddenly began to shriek, leaping onto the makeshift table and bouncing up and down on a pair of metal-coiled shoes. Billy leaned over the edge of the catwalk a little farther so he could read the upset demon monkey's name.

This one was Bailey, and he didn't seem the least bit happy with his brothers.

“This bickering stops at once!” Bailey screamed, eyeing the four startled Rot-toothed Hopping Monkey Demons. They were all shocked into silence by the explosive outburst; even Balthasar had stopped shoving candy into his mouth.

“We're the Bounder boys,” Bailey said, bouncing in
a slow, deliberate circle so that he could make eye contact with each of them. “Not the
Bicker
boys.”

Balthasar thought that was pretty funny and began laughing uproariously—and then started to choke on the enormous wad of gum and wrappers crammed inside his mouth.

The monkey brothers watched him sputter and cough, none of them coming to his aid. Finally, when it looked as though he might just be done in by the huge chunk of gum, it shot from his mouth, ricocheting off a nearby wall and hitting Benny in the back of the head.

All the demon monkeys except for Benny, who rubbed furiously where he'd been struck with the disgusting glob, went into hysterics.

“You did that on purpose!” Benny spat. “I'll crush you flat for that!”

Benny leaped to his feet, bouncing in place furiously.

“You can try!” Balthasar retorted, now also standing upright and ready to hop into action.

“This is gonna be good,” Bobby said, then greedily began grabbing more pieces of candy and shoving them into the pockets of his vest.

Bernie smacked the wrapped candies from his gluttonous brother's hands. “I'm sick of your greed,” he snarled, baring jagged, yellow-stained teeth. “You'll not have another delectable morsel.”

It looked as if Bernie and Bobby were going to go at it next while Bailey again tried to calm them all, hopping up and down and trying to be heard over their screeching monkey voices.

“One big happy family,” Archebold said disgustedly.

“They seem a little high-strung,” Billy observed. “Maybe they're eating too much sugar.”

“You think?”

The Bounders were all up on their springs now, yelling at one another, jumping in place on their powerful spring shoes, ready to start a Slovakian Rot-toothed Hopping Monkey Demon rumble.