“Very good, sir.” Archebold smiled and nodded with approval.
“Owlboy has work to do,” Billy said again. This time the name sounded not like an insult, but like something more—something important. He liked the way it sounded.
Taking a deep breath, he plunged into the gathering, moving through a sea of monsters, chasing his destiny.
Billy pushed his way through the crowd. Archebold followed close behind, holding on to the end of his cape.
“Please move aside, good citizens,” Billy said, careful not to step on anybody's feet, talons or tentacles. “There is evil afoot that requires my immediate attention.”
He said the words in his most grown-up voice, and was surprised to find the residents of Monstros City actually doing as he requested.
“Good one, sir,” Archebold said from the rear. “Very heroic sounding.”
Billy turned to look over his shoulder. “Well, I have been practicing,” he said.
At last they emerged from the throng out into the open, and Billy felt the eyes of the crowd upon him.
“Who the heck is that?” he heard one of them ask.
“I'm not sure, but he called us good citizens,” commented another.
“I think it's Owlboy … but it can't be, he disappeared years ago,” squeaked yet another.
The monsters continued to mutter among themselves, not sure what to make of the costumed boy.
Billy couldn't believe his eyes as he stood staring at the crime scene. He had to keep reminding himself that here in Monstros City, nothing was beyond the imagination.
Lying in the middle of the alley before him was a dead cockroach, and not just any cockroach. This was the biggest cockroach Billy had ever seen. It was about the size of Sammy Dana's mom's new mini-van, and it was lying on its back with its six legs sticking up in the air. To make matters even stranger, the bug was wearing a baseball cap and had a thick handlebar mustache.
“That's the biggest bug I've ever seen,” Billy said, mesmerized.
Archebold shrugged. “I keep forgetting you're not from around here.”
The Monstros City police force was already milling about the giant insect, inspecting the scene of the crime. Billy was amused to see that there really didn't seem to be much of a difference between the police officers back home in Bradbury and those of Monstros City, other than the obvious multiple heads and limbs.
“What do you think happened to him?” Billy asked Archebold.
“Don't know,” the goblin answered. “But it's your job to find out.”
Billy experienced that weird sensation all over again—the one that told him he was doing the right thing. The last time he had felt it this strongly was the day he had answered Archebold's cries for help.
He took a deep breath, preparing himself for what he was supposed to do … but he wasn't exactly sure what that was. He was about to ask Archebold for some tips when the goblin began pointing at one of the pockets on the tool belt around his waist.
“What?” Billy asked.
“In the pocket,” the goblin whispered.
Billy reached down to one of the pockets on the belt and unsnapped it. Inside was a large magnifying glass.
“It's to search for clues,” his sidekick said as Billy looked through the thick glass, noticing how much huger everything appeared.
“Cool,” Billy said, inching closer to the scene of the crime.
“And where do you think you're going?” asked a voice so deep that it must have started from the toes— if the guy who said it had any toes.
Billy gazed up into the dripping face of a tall, slime-covered beast who really didn't seem to have much of a shape at all. His head was sort of round, and through his semitransparent skin Billy could see things floating around inside. It's like looking into a dirty fish tank, Billy thought with revulsion. The creature was also wearing multiple pairs of dark-framed glasses over multiple pairs of eyes. A long gray trench coat buttoned to the top covered his bulbous body, which ended in a short tail that wiggled on the ground and left behind a slimy trail, like a snail.
“I—I—I'm going to investigate the scene of the crime,” Billy stammered, not sure what pair of eyes he should be looking at.
The creature began to laugh, his entire body undulating and sloshing as he swayed from side to side. It reminded Billy of a balloon filled with too much water, and he wondered if the strange beastie might burst.
“This is Detective Oozea,” Archebold whispered in Billy's ear. “Of the Monstros City police force.”
“Got it,” Billy whispered back, returning his attention to the still-laughing police detective. “So, if you would be so kind as to allow me to look for clues, I would—”
Detective Oozea just laughed all the harder.
Billy looked at Archebold. “What did I say that was so funny?” he asked.
The goblin shrugged. “Couldn't say, but something tells me he isn't taking you seriously.”
The detective wiped tears from beneath his multiple sets of glasses. “Thanks, kid,” he said, sounding as if he were speaking underwater. “Haven't had that good a laugh since Jimmy the Pinch got his tentacles stuck in a vending machine down on Lycanthrope Lane.”
“You're welcome,” Billy responded. “I think.”
Another strange denizen of Monstros came up alongside the nearly shapeless detective. This one was dressed in the dark blue uniform of the Monstros City police force, and from the number of gold buttons on the front of his coat, Billy guessed he must be somebody official.
“What do we have here?” the new arrival asked.
“Hey, Chief Bloodwart,” Oozea said. “Get a load of this.” He pointed a fat, dripping appendage at Billy.
Chief Bloodwart looked as though he had been chiseled from stone, his squat, hard body jagged with angles that threatened to puncture his uniform.
“Now would you look at that,” he said, the sound of his voice like two pieces of concrete being rubbed together. “I guess they'll let anyone wear the costume these days.”
He and Oozea both laughed then, a grating symphony of strange noises that made Billy wince.
“I don't think this is going so well,” he said to Archebold. “Maybe if you explained that I was the new Owlboy, they'd—”
“Assert yourself,” Archebold instructed him in a whisper. “Show a little confidence.”
The detective and chief were still yukking it up as Billy cleared his throat. They composed themselves to hear what he had to say.
“If you two fine … gentlemen?”
He looked at Archebold for support. “ ‘Gentlemen’ is good,” the goblin said, giving him a thumbs-up. “You're on fire.”
“If you two fine gentlemen would clear the way,” Billy continued, “I can begin my inspection of the scene, and hopefully bring about the apprehension of the perpetrator, or perpetrators, before the trail goes cold.”
Oozea and Bloodwart were silent, staring down at him through numerous sets of eyes, and then slowly turned their gazes to each other. They suddenly burst out hysterically, laughing harder than they had before.
“Apprehension of the perpetrator!” Oozea squealed, his gelatinous body quivering like Billy's Aunt Gertrude's famous Christmas pudding.
Bloodwart was bent over, slapping his rock-hard knee repeatedly with an equally hard hand. “Two fine gentlemen—can you stand it?”
Archebold grabbed Billy by the elbow and escorted him past the two laughing policemen. “C'mon,” he said, pulling Billy along. “While we've got the chance.”
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.
&nbs
p; 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.”
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