Billy Hooten (12 page)

“Okay, the Roost is in a giant tree,” he said in disbelief, trying to convince himself of what he was seeing.

“Where else would a roost be?” Archebold responded. “And in case you ever get lost, the tree is in the middle of the Wailing Wood.”

Turning back in his seat, Billy took notice of the ramp they were traveling down into the city and realized that they were driving within an enormous furrow that had been cut inside one of the great tree's heavy, low-hanging branches.

After all the stuff he had seen since coming to Monstros, this had to be the one thing that would fry his noodle for sure.

But then he got a good look at the city. A really good look.

Billy had never seen a city like it. He had been to Boston, and New York a few times, and even Los Angeles once, but none of them could compare to this. If a crazy person was put in charge of building a city, Billy imagined that it might look something like Monstros.

Archebold slowed a bit as they continued down the tree limb's passage, so that Billy could get a good look. Billy stared in amazement at the bizarre skyline. There were all kinds of buildings, and they mostly seemed to be made from the stuff you'd expect: wood, brick, concrete, steel and glass. But then there were the structures that looked as though they could have been made from something that might have, at one time, been alive. One building, glistening white in the light reflecting off the other buildings, looked as if it was made entirely out of bones—bones of every conceivable size and shape. Another building looked as if it could've been sculpted from green Jell-O. Billy could actually see through the gelatinous structure; he watched the people—
monsters?
— moving around inside as they did whatever it was that monsters who work in buildings made of green Jell-O do.

“Is that green Jell-O?” Billy asked, trying to sound casual.

Archebold snickered, shaking his malformed head as he drove. “Green Jell-O,” he scoffed. “That's the Amoeba building; it was grown last year.”

“You grow your buildings?” Billy asked, amazed.

The goblin looked surprised. “Yeah, some of them. What's the big deal, doesn't everybody?”

Billy didn't answer, leaning back in his seat and letting the wonder of Monstros wash over him like a wave. They were getting closer to street level, and now he could see some of the smaller, more intimate structures, the stores, restaurants and apartment buildings. Everything seemed normal at first glance, but on closer inspection, it wasn't. One building on the right looked like a gigantic clamshell; another beside it Billy could swear was covered in fur. Further on, yet another looked as though it had been chiseled from a block of ice.

At first it all seemed scary and insane. But soon Billy realized that it was no scarier than going to any new place. Really, it was just like visiting any other city for the first time.

This one just happened to be populated by monsters.

“Well, what do you think?” Archebold asked, gazing out the window with a proud look on his face. “Ain't she a beauty?”

“I think I'm gonna like it here,” Billy said.

CHAPTER 10

T
he Owlmobile rounded the corner at Banshee Boulevard, its headlights like two blazing eyes illuminating the street before it.

The car's thick tires slid across the road with a screech as the vehicle continued down the dark and curving side street. Pulling up to a curb, the car came to a sudden stop, its powerful engine revving momentarily before falling silent, the twin headlights winking out.

“Did I park close enough to the curb?” Archebold asked as he opened the driver's-side door.

Billy had climbed out on the other side. “You're good,” he assured the goblin. “This ride is sweet,” he added, pulling his attention from the cityscape back to
the car as his goblin sidekick joined him on the sidewalk. “When do I get to drive it?”

“One thing at a time, Billy,” the goblin said, adjusting the jacket of his tuxedo. “There'll be plenty of opportunities for you to drive later. Right now our main focus is to let the denizens of Monstros know that you're back. Remember, they've been waiting for this— for you—for an awfully long time.”

Archebold removed a monocle from his jacket pocket and placed it over one of his beady little eyes. “Now, let me take a good look at you.”

The single piece of circular glass magnified the goblin's bloodshot peeper to gigantically gross-me-out proportions.
I guess it helps him to see better,
Billy figured. Archebold stepped back, motioning with one of his stubby arms for Billy to turn around.

Billy did as he instructed, slowly spinning in a circle for the goblin's inspection.

“Not bad,” Archebold said, rubbing his nubby chin. “A little shorter than the usual, but not bad at all.”

“Does it make my butt look big?” Billy asked, trying to look over his shoulder at his costumed behind.

“You look fine,” the goblin said, quickly turning to leave, his coattails flapping behind him. “Let's go.”

Billy followed tentatively. “So, this will be a murder scene?” he asked.

“Exactly,” Archebold said, not bothering to slow down or turn around. He waved a stubby finger in the air for effect. “And it's up to Owlboy to set things right.”

Billy stopped short. “You want me”—he gulped— “to solve the murder?”

The goblin was already on the other side of the street, moving toward a muffled commotion. “You're the guy in the Owlboy costume, aren't you?” he shouted.

“Yeah, but I have a hard time with word problems— what makes you think I can solve a murder?”

“C'mon, you'll be great.”

Billy chased after the little goblin, making sure to look both ways before crossing the street. After some of the things he'd seen in Monstros City, he didn't want to take the chance of getting run over by a dinosaur passing by, or maybe even a UFO.

Billy caught up with Archebold as the goblin was preparing to head down an alley. “I can't do this,” Billy said, reaching out with one of his gloved hands to yank on his friend.

Archebold turned. There was a huge crooked smile on his wide, ugly face. “Of course you can,” he said with the utmost confidence.

But Billy felt none of the goblin's certainty. “How do you know?” he asked, gazing down the alley at the crowd ahead. “I'm only twelve years old, for Pete's sake.”

“ 'Cause you've been
chosen,”
the goblin said. “You are Owlboy.”

Billy felt a little sick to his stomach. “Chosen,” he repeated. “I've been chosen. You keep saying that, but what does it really mean?”

Archebold placed a hand on the front of his white shirt. “I've chosen you.” He lifted his hand and waved it around in the air. “This place has chosen you. For hundreds of years it has been my family's job to serve the one who has taken on the mantle of Owlboy, and trust me, I'd know if you weren't the one.”

He turned away from Billy and started down the alley once again. “And besides, the costume fits you.”

“No, it really didn't,” Billy protested, still not feeling any better. “I had to make a lot of alterations.”

They were closer to the crowd now, and he could hear the strange voices of the monsters that were gathering as they chattered among themselves, clamoring for the sight of something beyond the alley.

“Cryin’ shame,” said a monster that looked kind of like a praying mantis, only it was wearing a blond wig, a halter top and a miniskirt.

“Just keeps getting worse and worse,” another monster replied, this one bright green and resembling a stalk of asparagus with multiple spindly arms and legs. It was eating an ice cream cone covered in what looked like
sprinkles—only, the sprinkles Billy knew didn't squirm around all over his ice cream. “I remember when this part of town used to be safe,” it continued between eager licks. Its voice was high-pitched, like the screech of a rusty screen door.

Archebold turned to Billy. “Did you hear that?”

“Yeah, but—”

“No more buts,” Archebold warned with a shake of his gourd-shaped head. “Monstros needs you.” He gazed lovingly at the buildings around them, and then at the gathering of monsters.
“They
need you.”

It was as though those words flicked a switch somewhere in Billy's head. At last, he began to understand.

“They need me,” he repeated quietly, allowing the words to rattle around inside his skull. He felt a bond with Monstros City then, and with the creatures that lived there. They needed him to be something more than just a sixth-grade kid—something more, even, than what he believed himself to be.

“Billy, hey, are you all right?” Archebold asked.

“I'm fine,” Billy said, adjusting the chinstrap on his leather helmet and straightening the goggles that covered his glasses. “But now I have work to do.” He tugged on the cuffs of his mother's gardening gloves, wiggling his fingers around for a better fit.

“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.”