The Flock of Fury Page 3

  “And I hate you,” the Ghost responded, his smoky body changing color with this declaration.

  “I’m not fond of any of you, really,” Sireena said, pulling a small mirror from her handbag and checking her makeup.

  Vomitor rolled his large, circular eyes.

  “Wait a minute,” Sigmund said, getting up from his chair. “Can’t we just behave ourselves for a little while . . . to hear what the Monarch has to say? It’s the least we can do for the one who set us free.”

  The villains grumbled.

  “When did you get so rational?” Sireena snarled.

  “I’ll show you rational,” Sigmund growled, raising his fist to his sister.

  “Children, children, you play nice, now,” Mother Sassafras warned. “Or I’ll rip both your heads off and use them for bowling.”

  “I hate bowling,” Vomitor bellowed, his tiny fist clenched in rage.

  The Bounder boys began to bounce higher and higher.

  Suddenly, an earsplitting shriek filled the air and the villains grabbed their heads in agony.

  The Monarch held a small microphone-shaped device above his head.

  “Are we ready to behave?” the king of villains asked.

  They calmed down and he turned off the wailing device.

  “Very good,” the Monarch said, peering out at them from within the darkness of his hood. “I want you all to use that hate seething inside you on the correct enemy.”

  An eye-shaped television monitor dropped down from the ceiling with a hum.

  “Are we going to watch a movie?” Bobby Bounder asked his brothers. “I hope it’s Jurassic Pork. I love movies about giant killer pigs.”

  Mukus cleared his throat. “We’re not showing Jurassic Pork,” he announced, then turned to his master. “Right?”

  “Correct,” the Monarch said.

  Scenes of the busy streets of Monstros appeared on the screen—all manner of ghoulie, ghostie and long-legged beastie moving about the sprawling city.

  “I thought we were going to see what we should be using our hate on,” Sireena said, watching the city scenes with an ugly scowl.

  The Monarch pointed to the screen.

  “That is your target,” he proclaimed.

  The villains stared, their mouths hanging open stupidly.

  “I don’t get it,” Vomitor announced with a low and rumbling voice.

  The Monarch stepped in front of the eye-shaped monitor.

  “I want you to pounce on the city. Let them know that you are no longer locked away behind the bars of Beelzebub Prison. Total chaos is your game.”

  The villains were silent, some attempting to see the screen around the shape of the Monarch.

  “But if we do that, wouldn’t it alert Owlboy?” the Gaseous Ghost asked.

  The Monarch nodded.

  “Exactly, and then he’ll be right where we want him.”

  The villains thought about that for a moment, and most nodded in understanding.

  The Monarch was starting to get through to them.

  “I thought we were going to watch Jurassic Pork,” Mother Sassafras suddenly said.

  Well, some of them, anyway.

  Billy’s mother called that night’s supper “surprise, surprise,” because she couldn’t ever remember what ingredients went into it. She knew most of the vegetables, but couldn’t remember what kind of meat. It could have been mastodon, for all she knew.

  Billy sometimes worried that his own memory might get bad, but then other things in his rather complicated life would come along, and he figured that a poor memory would be the least of his problems.

  The hot meal could have tasted great . . . or not, but Billy didn’t know, because even his taste buds were distracted by his predicament at school.

  “Everything all right, pal?” his mother asked in between mouthfuls.

  He’d probably taken two or three bites of his supper before his mind drifted off, the grotesque faces of his science project team floating before his eyes.

  “Sure,” he grumbled. “Everything’s just awesome.”

  “Troubles at school?” she asked. “Anything I can help you with?”

  He dropped his fork and started to talk, all his pent-up frustration spilling out of him in one steady stream as he explained what had happened that day in science class.

  Running out of air, he barely managed to finish off his last sentence with a squeaking final two words. He gasped for breath and slumped back in his chair.

  He expected his mother to sympathize. Which meant he was shocked by the sudden smile that appeared on her face.

  “I think that sounds fabulous,” she said, reaching for a slice of bread from the basket in the center of the table. “A chance to make some new friends, to get out of that room of yours and away from those musty old funny books.” She took a hunk of butter and spread it on the bread. “I think it’ll be good for you.”

  Billy was speechless.

  His own mother—siding with Mr. Harpin, throwing him to the hungry wolves.

  “Sounds like it stinks to me,” Dad said, shoveling another forkful of “surprise, surprise” into his mouth.

  He hadn’t even looked up from his mysterious supper.

  “You do?” Billy asked.

  Dad nodded. “It’s tough to work with a team that you like, never mind a bunch of blockheads. If man was supposed to work in teams, we all would’ve been born triplets.”

  And after those words, his father continued to eat his meal in silence.

  Billy couldn’t have agreed more.

  There was no more talk about it as they finished supper and brought the plates to the counter to be scraped clean and washed.

  Billy dried while his mother washed. Dad retreated to the living room, the evening news blaring in the background.

  Finishing the last plate, Billy placed it in the cabinet and hung the dish towel over the handle on the front of the oven.

  “Going to do my homework,” he said, heading out of the kitchen to go upstairs.

  “Hey, Billy?” his mother called to him.

  He stopped in the hallway, turning to face her.

  “Yeah, Mom?”

  “Give it a chance,” she said with a smile. “Who knows, maybe you’ll have a good time.”

  He knew she meant well, but she just didn’t understand the reality of the situation. Billy gave her a smile that said he would try, but deep down he knew that wouldn’t be the case at all.

  Climbing the stairs, he planned the remainder of the night. He wanted to do his homework and then make a quick trip to Monstros for some Owlboy action.

  Just thinking of the city of monsters, and what he might be called upon to do there as their one and only superhero, was enough to lift his spirits.

  All day he had denied himself the pleasure of thinking about Monstros, believing that the badness of the day could somehow taint the only cool thing he still had some measure of control over in his life.

  Billy couldn’t wait to put on his Owlboy costume and get to Monstros.

  But first there was geometry to do.

  CHAPTER 4

  Billy didn’t think he’d ever finish his homework.

  First there was the geometry assignment, followed by some reading for English class, and then some more reading for world history. He thought his eyes might just melt into his head. Only the thought of going to Monstros for some Owlboy adventuring kept him going until finally he wrapped up his schoolwork for the night.

  He grabbed his book bag, with his Owlboy costume stuffed inside, and sneaked down to the kitchen as his parents dozed in front of the TV. It was freakin’ cold out, so he made sure to put on his heavy winter coat before heading outside, over the stone wall and into the Pine Hill Cemetery, which bordered his backyard.

  He didn’t even care about how chilly it was as he entered the Sprylock family mausoleum and changed from his street clothes into his superhero costume; just thinking about the adventure that awaited him was enoug
h to keep him warm.

  Dressed as Owlboy, he pushed back the lid on the stone crypt and descended the set of stairs within, being extra careful not to trip on his way down. All he needed was a broken skull to add to his troubles.

  No, thank you.

  Over the last few months, it had become easier for him to navigate the shadowy passages that could take him to various places in Monstros, as well as to Owlboy’s supersecret headquarters, the Roost, which was exactly where he was going.

  “ ’Sup, homeys!” Billy yelled excitedly as he burst through the door into the monitoring station of the Roost.

  Halifax—a troll and phenomenal fix-it guy—and Archebold—a tuxedo-wearing goblin who was Owlboy’s sidekick and teacher about all things Monstros—were sitting in some comfy chairs in front of multiple stacked television sets tuned to various locations around the city of monsters. Both were reading magazines and snacking on treats that, up until a few months ago, would have totally disgusted Billy.

  “Homeys?” Archebold guestioned, looking up from his magazine.

  Billy adjusted his goggles and shrugged. “Heard some kids at school say it and I thought it sounded cool.” He moved over between them. “So, what’s going on?”

  Halifax took a fried bat wing from a bag and munched on it. “Nothing,” he said, licking his fingers clean of bat grease.

  “Just catching up on some reading,” Archebold agreed.

  There was a sudden flash of flame and Billy leapt into action.

  “Get back!” he screeched. “I think we’re under attack.”

  “No, we’re not,” Halifax said. “It’s just those two goofing around.” He nodded toward the corner of the room.

  There was another flash of flame, and this time Billy saw the culprits.

  Ferdinand, the little dragon, and an equally small Zis-Boom-Bah were chasing each other around.

  Billy smiled as he watched the two beasties play. It made him happy to see that the once-hundred-foot-tall monster named Zis-Boom-Bah, who had terrified Monstros not all that long ago, seemed to be adjusting to his new size without any problem, and had found a playmate in the red-skinned minidragon. The decision to leave him this size after using Dr. Bug’s shrink gun on him seemed to have been the right one.

  “They’re having a good time,” Billy said as Zis-Boom-Bah grabbed Ferdinand’s tail with his gorilla-like hands. The dragon screeched, spinning around and blasting her playmate’s feet with a plume of fire.

  “Yep,” Archebold said, licking a stubby finger and turning the page of his magazine. “Most action we’ve seen tonight.”

  Billy sighed as he pulled up a chair to sit down with his friends.

  “You mean there’s nothing going on?” he asked, already feeling his thoughts start to wander in the direction of his science fair problems.

  “Nope,” Archebold said. “It’s been completely dead since—”

  Hoot! Hoot! Hoot! Hoot! Hoot! An alarm sounded.

  “What the . . . ?” Archebold said, climbing from his chair to look at the screens. “Oh jeez.” Reams of information spilled from the printer. “Looks like I spoke too soon,” the goblin said, reading through the printouts.

  “What’s going on?” Halifax asked, pouring the remains of his fried bat wings into his mouth, crumbs sticking attractively to his furry face.

  “You name it,” Archebold said, reading one report after another. “It’s total chaos out there.”

  Billy made a move toward the hallway that would take him to the garage and the many Owl-vehicles at their disposal. “Then there isn’t a moment to lose!” he announced. “We’ll handle things one threat at a time.”

  Archebold let the papers drop to the floor. “That isn’t going to be fast enough.”

  “It’s gonna have to be,” Billy said. “I can’t be in more than one place at a time, y’know.”

  Archebold didn’t move; he just stood there as Halifax watched.

  “There is another way,” the goblin said thoughtfully.

  “You don’t mean . . . ?” Halifax began.

  The goblin nodded.

  “What the heck are you two doing?” Billy yelled. “There are monsters out there that need our help and you two are just standing around?”

  “Should we show him what we’ve been working on?” Archebold asked the troll.

  Halifax agreed and the two creatures suddenly bolted from the room.

  “Where are you going?” Billy hollered, the hooting alarm still blaring in the confines of the monitoring room. He was thinking he might have to go out there and try to handle things all by himself when the pair suddenly returned.

  “Well, what do you think?” Archebold asked, showing off the new costume he was wearing. Halifax was wearing one as well and seemed equally proud.

  Their costumes were like Billy’s Owlboy costume, with little changes here and there.

  “Why are you dressed like me?” Billy asked.

  “Well, Halifax and I got to thinking the other day—”

  “Dangerous,” Billy interrupted. “Very dangerous.”

  “Whatever,” Archebold said, going on. “We were thinking about situations very much like this one and decided that you could use some real superhero sidekicks to help when things get out of hand.”

  “Sidekicks?” Billy asked, not at all sure about what he was hearing.

  “I’m OwlLad,” Archebold said proudly.

  “And I’m the Hooter!” Halifax said, sticking out his prominent potbelly.

  “I—I don’t know what to say,” Billy stammered.

  “There’s nothing to say,” Archebold said. “Monstros needs Owlboy to save the day, and if they can’t have that, sidekicks are the next best thing.”

  Halifax—or the Hooter—reached into the overstuffed pouches of his utility belt and removed three devices.

  “These are communicators, so we can stay in touch,” the troll said, handing one to Billy, the other to Archebold. “We’ll keep them on at all times just to let each other know how we’re making out.”

  “Who’s going to watch the monitors?” Billy asked, almost convinced.

  Archebold pointed to Ferdinand and Zis-Boom-Bah.

  “You two hold down the fort,” the goblin ordered before dashing toward the elevator.

  “Them?” Billy asked as Halifax pulled him from the room.

  But there really wasn’t any choice. Things were moving way too fast, but it didn’t change the fact that the city needed Owlboy.

  The city needed them.

  If Billy had been looking for something to get his mind off his troubles, the roaring Owlpack was it. It was just too bad that it had taken multiple threats on the city of monsters to finally distract him.

  The rocket pack strapped to his back—one of Halifax’s inventions, which had recently gone through some upgrades (the old one was prone to explode once it got overheated)—propelled Owlboy through the velvet black sky, on his way to a confrontation with one of the threats that had recently emerged.

  He was headed toward the Monstros City Mall, the largest shopping establishment in the city of monsters. If there was any place that evil could strike and do a ton of damage, it was the mall.

  Billy heard a small pinging sound from the onboard controls of the rocket pack, telling him that he was nearing his destination. He adjusted his goggles and peered down at the mammoth structure. He was amused to see that the mall was shaped like a giant spider.

  How freakin’ cool is that?

  Using a hand control to steer, Billy angled the rocket pack to take him to the parking lot in front of the sprawling shopping complex. He needed to get the lay of the land before charging into battle.

  Billy touched down between a full row of parked vehicles, his rocket jets shutting down with a loud whoosh as he felt the ground beneath his rubber boots.

  Strange, monstrous faces peered out at him from behind the cars and trucks as he unbuckled himself from his bright yellow flying apparatus.

  �
�Hello?” he called. “It’s all right to come out, I’m here to help.”

  Slowly the patrons of the mall began to emerge, recognizing him for who he was.

  “You’re Owlboy,” a squat creature wrapped entirely in filthy bandages said as he stepped out from behind a brightly colored van. “I was wondering if we’d see you. . . . It’s terrible . . . terrible, I say!”

  “What’s going on?” Billy asked, looking toward the mall entrance.

  A giant earthworm wearing a hockey helmet slithered out from beneath a car.

  “I was just making a quick stop for some hand cream—”

  “Hand cream?” Billy asked, not seeing any hands on the big worm.

  “Is there a problem?” the worm asked.

  “No, go on,” Billy urged.

  “I was going in for some hand cream when everything just went crazy. People started screaming when the smashing began.”

  “What was doing the smashing?” Billy asked, formulating his battle plan. He thought that a call to Archebold might be in order. Hopefully the little goblin had taken the Book of Creeps with him on his own mission.

  “I don’t know,” the worm said, obviously still shaken. “Whatever it was, it was moving too fast for me to see.”

  “And then there was the shooting,” the bandaged beastie added. “Don’t forget about the shooting.”

  “Did you see who was doing that?” Billy probed.

  “Trolls,” a giant spider said, his spindly body slowly coming down from a strand of webbing attached to one of the parking lot lights. “A family of trolls. I could tell they were a family because the boy and girl troll were calling the bigger one Mommy.”

  “So let me get this straight,” Billy said. “We’ve got something moving so fast that it can’t be seen and a family of trolls shooting weapons. Is that it?”

  “And they were all out of the Dr. Mellman’s Home Surgery Kits,” said an ugly little creature clutching an enormous handbag and wearing a flowered housecoat. It had scurried out from its hiding place to be heard.

  “That’s not a crime,” Billy said with a shake of his head.

  “It is if you really wanted one,” the ugly little creature said haughtily.