Billy started toward her, but stopped. There was still Victoria to worry about.
“Oh, go on.” His mother waved him away. She smiled, leaning on the large box. “This'll still be here when you get back.”
Billy didn't want to go, but there wasn't any choice.
Victoria needed him.
CHAPTER 10
The alarm was even louder than the fire alarm at school, and that was enough to make Billy's ears bleed.
He reached the door at the end of the dark passage. Using the special owlhead key Archebold had given him, he let himself into the Roost. The door opened into the Roost's observation room, and it appeared to be in total chaos. The clanging alarm seemed to be even louder in here, and Archebold and Halifax were running around in what seemed to be a total panic.
“What's with that racket?” he asked, putting the funky key into a pocket on his utility belt.
Archebold was standing by an ancient printer which was spewing out reams of paper. “Thank goodness you're here,” he said, looking up. “The city is in turmoil.”
“It's terrible,” Halifax said from where he stood. Multiple old television sets were stacked, row after row, from floor to ceiling, behind him. He was holding a remote control in one of his furry hands.
“What's happening?” Billy asked.
“All over the city,” Halifax grumbled, never taking his eyes from the screens. “It's chaos.”
Billy had to agree. Everywhere he looked he saw scenes of destruction. Buildings had toppled into rubble; cars were burning; there was panic in the streets as the citizens of Monstros hopped, flew, slithered and skittered to safety.
“What did this?” Billy asked, looking away from the TV screens.
“Every report says the same thing,” Archebold replied, holding the latest information up to his monocle-covered eye. “Things were fine, and then suddenly everything went crazy. Something bad has come to Monstros City, Billy. Something really bad.”
Billy was about to ask what he should do, when he caught himself. He was Owlboy; it was up to him to figure it out. Victoria would have to wait until the city was safe.
“Do we have any clues at all?” he asked, looking back at the different screens. “What's up with the destroyed buildings?” He stepped closer to the sets for a better look. “Hey, wait a minute—Monstros City Savings and Loan, Five Coffin Savings, Vampire National—these are all banks!”
Archebold dug through the printouts. “Yeah, you're right.”
“I sense criminal activity.” Billy stroked his chin with a gloved hand. “Are there any witnesses?”
“It says here that the police are questioning eyewitnesses at the Monstros City police headquarters,” Archebold said, waving one of the printouts.
“So that's where we need to go,” Billy decided.
Archebold dropped the printouts, while still more continued to flow from the machine. “Very good, sir.”
“Halifax, you stay here and continue to monitor the situation,” Billy instructed the troll.
“Right,” Halifax responded with a salute.
Billy spun around, feeling his feathered cape flow behind him as he headed for the door that would take him to the Roost's garage. What he said next was something he'd been waiting to say since first putting on the costume of the mysterious crime fighter.
And the words were just as exciting as he imagined they would be.
“To the Owlmobile, Archebold!”
Then he dashed from the room.
* * *
Rubber boots squeaking as he came to a stop in front of the vehicle storage garage, Billy headed for the Owl-mobile.
Archebold had just caught up, searching for his keys as he slid to a stop on the driver's side, when a voice from the loudspeaker interrupted them.
“Excuse me,” Halifax said. “Just got a look at the traffic report, and you're not getting anywhere anytime soon. The city's tied up in knots.”
Archebold stamped his foot. “I should've thought of that,” he grumbled. He ducked inside the car and pulled a map from the glove compartment. “Maybe I can find a way around the chaos.” He spread the map across the top of the hood and placed his monocle over his right eye.
“Let's see.” The goblin began to study the intricate multicolored squiggles that represented the city's elaborate road system.
The map made Billy's eyes cross, so instead he focused on the machines parked around the garage. There were trucks of all sizes and shapes, as well as motorcycles, and something else that squatted in the far corner. Even though it was partially hidden by a tarp, he could still make out what it was, and knew that it was the best solution to their current predicament.
“Hey, Archebold,” Billy said.
“I'm very busy here, sir,” the goblin answered. “I need complete concentration so that—”
“Who said we had to drive?” Billy said.
“Excuse me?”
But Billy was already crossing the room to the covered vehicle. “Who said we had to drive?” he repeated, grabbing handfuls of the tarp and pulling them away to reveal a bright yellow helicopter in the same bird's-head design as the Owlmobile.
“When we could fly.”
Archebold smiled and started to fold up the map.
“Oh yeah, I forgot we had one of those.”
The Owlcopter swooped low over the city.
“It's awful,” Billy said, face pressed to the bubble glass of the craft's tinted windshield. “It's like something carved a path of destruction through the streets. But what coulda done it?”
“That's what we've got to figure out,” Archebold said, piloting the humming craft through a plume of thick black smoke that snaked up from a burning building below them. “Before this gets any worse.”
The copter suddenly leaned to the left, and began to quickly descend.
“Hold onto your intestines,” Archebold announced. “I'm putting her down on the roof of police headquarters.”
He landed the Owlcopter with little difficulty, and without a second's hesitation, they hit the stairs, descending into the station.
Billy went through the door first, entering into a sea of confusion.
“It's just as bad in here,” Archebold observed.
The station was filled to the gills with every kind of creature imaginable, all of them attempting to speak at the same time. The police officers were doing their best to listen, but it was just too much.
Billy looked around, certain that somewhere inside the room there was somebody—or something; he was in Monstros, after all—that could help them put a stop to whatever was responsible for the devastation in the city.
Bringing a hand to his mouth, Billy coughed loudly once, and then again. It was on the third try, when he added an equally loud throat clearing, that he finally got their attention.
They were all very freaky, but what did he expect in a city of monsters? Sports Illustrated swimsuit models?
“Say something,” Archebold whispered out of the corner of his mouth, elbowing him in the side.
“Hey there.” Billy gave them all a little wave. “Pretty crazy out there, huh?”
A white-furred beast wearing a very ugly Hawaiian shirt, shorts and sandals was the first to speak. “It's him,” he growled. “It's Owlboy.”
And it started to spread like wildfire; each of the ghouls, ghosties and long-legged beasties repeating his name as they all began to realize who he was.
“Quiet!” ordered a voice that sounded like mountains being smashed.
The squeaks, shrieks, buzzings and clickings immediately fell silent, and this time all eyes, including Billy's, who had to climb on top of a desk in order to see, turned to the back of the room and fell upon Chief Bloodwart, standing outside his office. The chief looked as though he'd been chiseled from a piece of solid rock, his large body full of angles so sharp that they threatened to tear through the material of his dark blue police officer's uniform.
“It's bad enough that I'
ve got chaos in the streets, I'm not going to have it in here. Do I make myself clear?”
The creatures quieted down.
“Hey, Chief!” Billy called out, waving from atop the desk.
“Well, well,” Chief Bloodwart rumbled. He walked across the room, his footfalls like little bolts of thunder. “If it isn't our newest Owlboy.” He stopped before the desk, eye level with Billy. “I've been hearing lots of good things about you.”
“Thanks, Chief,” Billy answered, feeling himself blush. “I'm just trying to do my best.”
The rock creature slowly nodded. “And with that attitude, it seems to me that you're on the right track.”
Archebold elbowed Billy's side. “Ask him about the witnesses.”
“Oh yeah.” Billy looked back at the police chief, doing his best to give off an air of authority. “I was wondering if you could use my help with your current situation.”
The chief rubbed a stony hand across his chiseled jaw; it sounded like sandpaper rubbing on concrete. “Me and some of my officers have already talked to a few witnesses, but we didn't really get all that much information other than one minute everything was fine, and the next everything went kablooey.”
“That kablooey is a problem,” Billy said knowingly.
“I was just about to question the last of them,” Bloodwart said. “If you'd like to take a crack, be my guest.”
Billy hopped down from the desk.
Chief Bloodwart stared down at him, tiny pinpricks of red glowing from deep within cavelike eye sockets. “You seriously think you might be able to help?”
“I'll do my best,” Billy answered, crossing his arms and puffing out his chest.
The chief started to laugh—a weird sound, like rocks being dropped on piles of spaghetti. “I bet you will,” he said, walking back through the still quiet crowd.
Billy and Archebold followed the chief, and Billy could feel the eyes of those gathered in the station house staring as he passed.
“Do you think he can do it?” he heard one of the citizens ask. “He does seem sorta young.”
“I don't know what it is, but I think the kid has something going for him,” said another of the monsters. “If he was running for mayor, I'd vote for him.”
“I think he's kind of cute. Wonder if he's married,” said a voice whose words made Billy blush again.
“Guess I've got a way with the ladies, eh, Archebold?” Billy said to his companion, an extra bit of macho swagger in his step.
Archebold glanced over his shoulder at the crowd. “Lady? If you say so.”
Billy didn't want to ask, deciding to place all his focus on Chief Bloodwart, who had just opened the door to the interview room next to his office and was gesturing for them to enter.
The room was small, containing a single table. A giant spider with a drawing pad and pencils in each of its hands sat on one end of the table, and a really old-looking werewolf sat at the other end.
“Can I go home now?” the werewolf asked, fanged dentures suddenly flying out of his mouth and landing on top of the table. “Darn things,” he grumbled, snatching up his teeth and shoving them back into his mouth.
“How are we doing?” Chief Bloodwart asked the spider.
“Not so good,” the arachnid's high-pitched voice squeaked. “He says he doesn't want to think about it because it was too horrible.”
Bloodwart then turned his attention to Billy. “This is our sketch artist, Bugsy,” the chief explained. “He's been trying to get a description of our culprit from Mr. Lupo here… isn't that right, Mr. Lupo?”
The werewolf snarled, folding his spindly arms across his chest. “Don't want to talk about it anymore. I just want to get home and forget about the whole horrible thing. When you get to be my age, you can't deal with things the way you used to.”
Lupo's teeth flew out again, but this time the old-timer caught them before they could hit the ground.
“Darn things,” he growled again, moving them around before they slid into place.
The werewolf had the look of somebody who'd just about had it, and wasn't about to do anything they didn't want to do. Billy had seen the look before, especially from his Aunt Tessie, who was wicked old too. Billy wracked his memory, trying to remember the trick of how his parents got Aunt Tessie to do what they wanted.
Suddenly it came to him.
“Excuse us,” Billy said, taking Archebold by the arm and leading him into a corner.
“What'd I do?” the goblin asked, near panic in his voice.
“Nothing,” Billy answered. “Do you have any candy on you?”
Archebold looked shocked at first, and then his eyes started to dart around, looking everywhere except at Billy.
“No… no, I don't have any candy…and…and if I did, I…I would certainly give you—”
“Knock it off,” Billy barked. If there was one thing he'd learned about goblins, it was that the little green guys loved their treats. “I need a piece of candy if we're going to get Mr. Lupo to talk to us. Cough it up.”
Archebold slumped. “Oh, all right,” he grumbled. “But I was really looking forward to this cockroach crunch bar.”
The goblin reached into his pocket and pulled out the candy, which Billy eagerly snatched. “Don't worry, I'll buy you two of these later.” He turned his attention back to Chief Bloodwart. “Chief, would you mind if I spoke with Mr. Lupo?”
Bloodwart smiled. “Be my guest.”
Billy approached the table.
Mr. Lupo folded his arms and snarled. “I ain't talking to you, either.” Then he leaned forward, looking Billy up and down. “Who are you supposed to be anyway?”
“I'm Owlboy,” Billy answered. “Y'know, the super-hero?”
Lupo leaned back, making a face. “Owlboy? We ain't heard hide nor hair of you for years and years. Where ya been?”
“Oh, I've been around. I was sure hoping you could help me out by describing what you saw on the street today.”
The werewolf turned his head, refusing to listen. “I ain't talking,” he stated.
Billy held the cockroach crunch bar in his gloved hands, wrinkling the wrapper noisily.
The werewolf slowly turned his head, his black snout twitching wetly as he sniffed the air.
“What you got there?” he asked.
“Oh, this?” Billy asked. “Just a little snack I was hoping to share with somebody who could help me out with some information.” Billy paused, holding the candy bar up in front of him. “You wouldn't happen to know anybody like that, would you, Mr. Lupo?”
The werewolf licked his chops, sucking his teeth in before they could slide from his mouth again. “Is that a cockroach crunch bar?” he asked, thick, slimy drool dripping from the sides of his mouth.
“Why yes, I believe it is.” Billy ran the candy under his nose and sniffed deeply.
The werewolf reached a clawed hand toward it, but Billy quickly yanked the candy away.
“Not so fast. This is only for somebody who's willing to help us here.”
Mr. Lupo pulled back his hand. “It was horrible, and I'd rather not talk about it.”
“That's fine.” Billy tore open the wrapper. “I guess I'll just have to eat this whole cockroach crunch bar all by my lonesome.”
The thought of eating the cockroach-filled candy bar was enough to make Billy hurl, but he had to convince the old werewolf he was serious.
He brought the candy bar up to his mouth, trying to ignore the spindly, chocolate-covered legs and antennas.
He was just about to take a bite, when Mr. Lupo spoke.
“I'll talk if you give me half,” the old werewolf said, wiping a thick trail of spit from his mouth.
“Deal,” Billy said, removing the rest of the candy bar from its wrapper. He started to hand it to the eager wolf, then yanked it back suddenly.
“Why don't you start by telling us what you remember,” he said.
Mr. Lupo looked frustrated, and also sort of scared. “Al
l right, here goes,” he said, getting his courage up. “I was out for my walk, goin' to get myself a bite to eat, when I seen this van pull up in front of the Monster Central Bank.”
The room was eerily quiet, except for the old were-wolf's raspy breathing. “There was nothing special about the van, and I probably wouldn't've given it another look, except that the doors flew open, and these really nasty looking characters—ogres, I believe, a man and a woman—got out and headed for the bank. They nearly knocked me down trying to get to the front door.”
“Ogres?” Billy asked.
“Yeah,” the werewolf responded. His eyes had become glassy as he looked out across the room, remembering what he had seen. “They had bad news written all over them, and that was when I noticed that there was somebody else with 'em.”
The werewolf paused, and Billy could see that he had started to shake.
“I think I might need some of that candy bar now,” the werewolf told him. “To keep up my strength and all.”
Billy broke the candy bar in half and handed him the larger piece.
Mr. Lupo eagerly bit into the cockroach bar, closing his eyes as he chewed. Billy half expected his teeth to go flying, but they managed to stay in place.
“So these two ogres,” Billy said to get him started again. “They had someone else with them?”
The werewolf's eyes grew wider. “Not someone— something,” he stressed. “It was the most horrible creature I had ever seen, and I've seen me some pretty wild creatures in my years, let me tell you.”
“Could you describe this…this horrible creature?” Billy asked.
Archebold immediately broke out the Book of Creeps, and Bugsy hunched over his sketchpad.
“Not sure if I'll be able to,” Lupo said with a meaningful glance at the candy bar. “Still feeling a tad weak.”
“Would the other half of the cockroach crunch bar give you the strength you need?” Billy asked.
“Y'know, it just might,” the werewolf said, plucking the candy from Billy's hand and shoving the entire thing in his mouth.
“Go on, Mr. Lupo,” Billy said.
The werewolf took a deep breath. “It was small, about your size,” he said, pointing to Archebold. “Its skin was pink, with weird antennas that stuck out from the side of its round head, and its eyes were big and round.”
The Girl with the Destructo Touch Page 8
