“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
Archebold 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.
“Things are in chaos,” Archebold suddenly said. “Now might be the time to make our move.”
Billy scrambled eagerly to his feet. “All right,” he said. “How should we do this?”
He pulled out what looked like a flashlight.
“I've been waiting to give this to you,” he said, handing the light to Billy.
“But I've already got a flashlight,” Billy said, unsnap-ping one of the pockets on his belt and removing a much smaller light. “See?”
Archebold laughed softly. “This is more than a mere flashlight,” he said, showing Billy a dark shape that was painted on the glass lens. “When we shine this down on them, the Owlboy symbol will be illuminated, and I'm betting they'll be so scared that they'll give up without a fight.”
“You think?” Billy asked.
“Trust me,” Archebold said, handing Billy the light. “Get ready to jump down there and accept their unconditional surrender.”
Billy looked at the black symbol painted on the lens of the flashlight, trying to figure out exactly what it was supposed to be. He turned it around a few times, looking at it from different angles, before deciding that he should just trust the goblin and give it a try.
“Here goes,” Billy said, standing up against the railing of the catwalk, clicking on the light and shining it down on one of the factory's dormant machines.
“Come at me, then,” Balthasar Bounder was screaming, hopping from one foot to the other. “And when the blood and smoke have cleared, my wish to be an only child will have at last come true!”
“An only child with all the candy riches, right, Balthasar?” Benny asked, crouching down, ready to fight. “Isn't that what all this is about? You want it all for yourself?”
Bailey jumped between his brothers, sounding a little bit like a talk-show host. “You see? This is what I'm talking about. How are we going to get anywhere in this cold cruel world if we can't learn to get along?”
“He started it,” Benny retorted, pointing a long, clawed finger at Bobby.
“I started it?” Bobby questioned. “How dare you say—”
“Bobby may have started it, but I'm going to finish it!” Bernie screeched, throwing his spindly arms in the air, spittle flying from his mouth.
Billy Hooten Page 13
