The Flock of Fury

  CONTENTS

  Title Page

  Dedication

  Acknowledgments

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  About the Illustrator

  Catch Up on All the Books in the Billy Hooten: Owlboy Series!

  Copyright

  For Justin, Mathew, Cameron and Collin,

  the newest residents of Monstros City

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  As with everything that I do, this book would not have been possible without the love and support of my wife, LeeAnne, and Mulder the Wonderdog. I love you both, very much. Special thanks dripping in ectoplasmic goo go out to Stephanie Lane, Christopher Golden, Liesa Abrams, James Mignogna, Dave “Nine Panel Nerds” Kraus, John & Jana, Harry & Hugo, Mike Mignola, Christine Mignola, Katie Mignola, Don Kramer, Greg Skopis, Pete Donaldson, Jon & Flo, Bob & Pat, Kim & Abby, Dan Ouellette, Sheila Walker, Mom & Dad Sniegoski, Mom & Dad Fogg, Eric “Yeah, I know” Powell, and Timothy Cole and the Furious Furies down at Cole’s Comics.

  Thanks for reading,

  CHAPTER 1

  Beelzebub Prison:

  A very bad place.

  The prison guard, who looked like a small Tyrannosaurus rex, attempted to adjust his uniform jacket, but his two tiny front arms couldn’t quite get the job done.

  “Want me to give you a hand with that, Earl?” the werewolf guard, whose name was Robert, asked his partner.

  The two were in the observation tower of the high-security prison, getting ready to begin their outside rounds. It was a quiet night on Scab Island, a small piece of land that squatted like some giant toad in the Dreadful Ocean, fifty miles from the shores of Monstros City.

  “If you wouldn’t mind,” the dinosaur said, moving closer.

  Robert gave the bottom of the dark blue material a good tug, pulling it down over Earl’s potbelly. “There,” he said, stepping back to admire his work. “How’s that?”

  “That’s great,” Earl said, craning his neck to look down. “Probably should think of dropping some weight, y’know? Ever since the wife started taking those Dr. Mellman cooking classes, I’ve been putting on the poundage.”

  “Tell me about it,” Robert said, opening the door that would take them outside the prison for their nightly ground patrol. “My wife makes these delicious meat sandwiches that she serves in a bowl filled with thick blood gravy.”

  The two went outside, Earl closing the door behind him with a swipe of his muscular tail.

  “Now, do you eat that with your hands or . . .”

  “I eat it with a spoon,” Robert said, starting across the catwalk that ran along the perimeter of the prison, shining his powerful flashlight out over the shore and onto the water.

  “So it’s really more like a soup,” Earl commented as he followed his partner.

  The werewolf stopped and turned to look at his friend. “No, it’s a sandwich. It’s made with two slices of bread and has meat in the middle.”

  “Yeah, but you’re eating it with a spoon. . . . Nobody eats a sandwich with a spoon. Sounds more like soup to me . . . or maybe stew.”

  The werewolf shook his shaggy head. “No, it’s not stew and it’s not soup, okay? It’s a sandwich . . . a sandwich. The only reason I eat it with a spoon is because of all the gravy—it’s very messy.”

  “Is there slurping?” Earl asked very seriously.

  “What do you mean is there slurping?”

  “When you eat your . . . sandwich with a spoon, is there slurping?”

  Robert shrugged. “Maybe a little. There’s a lot of blood gravy.”

  Earl slowly nodded. “I still think it sounds more like a stew than a sandwich.”

  Robert slapped a clawed hand over his face. “It’s not a stew,” the werewolf howled, his voice growing louder as he became more frustrated. “It’s a sand—”

  Just then, something splashed offshore.

  “What was that?” Robert asked. He shone the flashlight toward the sound’s origin.

  “Probably nothing,” Earl said. He tried to unhook his own flashlight from his belt, but his arms were too short.

  “Gotta hook that closer,” he muttered, craning his neck, trying to snag the light with his teeth.

  “It’s not nothing,” Robert said, his beam finding bubbles on the oily surface of the black ocean.

  Something big was rising to the surface.

  “Wha—what is it?” Earl stammered, drawing closer to his werewolf partner.

  Robert shook his shaggy head from side to side as the large, metallic head of a mechanical octopus emerged from the water, followed by multiple tentacles.

  “I can’t believe it,” Robert gasped. “It’s a giant robot octopus!”

  “Are you sure it’s an octopus?” Earl asked, leaning closer to the railing of the platform they were standing on. “Looks more like a giant robot squid to me.”

  The mechanical octopus—yes, it was an octopus—surged forward in the brackish water with a mighty splash, moving toward the shore and the prison.

  “Whatever it is, it’s trouble,” the werewolf said, reaching for the walkie-talkie at his belt.

  But before he could speak, six powerful metal tentacles rocketed up from the water, grabbed hold of the platform and hauled its gigantic body from the water.

  The metal walkway squealed like pigs dropped into a wood-chipper as it was twisted, bent and finally ripped from the front of the prison.

  Earl and Robert screamed in terror as they fell with the mangled platform to the sandy beach below.

  Trapped beneath the wreckage of the platform, all they could do was watch as the giant mechanical octopus crawled up the beach, its metal tentacles reaching to tear down the prison walls.

  Mukus cheered wildly as he watched the tentacles of the octocraft tear down Beelzebub’s great stone walls.

  He and his partner in crime, Klot, stood side by side, peering out the circular window of the octopus-shaped vehicle as the inside of the prison was revealed.

  The Most Dangerous Prisoner Wing, to be precise.

  “I just love it when we get to destroy stuff,” Mukus said, barely able to contain his excitement. Rivulets of ooze ran from his face and body, forming thick puddles at his stubby feet.

  “Couldn’t agree more, my slimy chum,” Klot said. He was about to put one of his long, spindly arms around his moist friend’s shoulders when he thought better of it.

  “And this is just the beginning,” a powerful voice behind them boomed.

  The two turned to face their villainous master. He sat in a high-backed chair, surrounded by the octocraft’s many controls.

  The Monarch was a criminal mastermind. Using a series of levers, switches and joysticks, the secret crime lord of Monstros City operated the craft he had designed and built.

  “When we are through here, we’ll be that much closer to bringing my ingenious plans to fruition,” the Monarch announced, his face hidden by the drooping hood of his scarlet robe.

  “Can’t wait!” Mukus clapped enthusiastically, his gooey bodily fluids splashing his pal.

  “Watch it!” Klot said, wiping his red flesh.

  Mukus watched as their master reached into his robe and removed a strange handheld device.

  “Here is how you will provide me with the ingredients I require to bring about the end of my most hated enemy,” the master criminal stated as he passed the device to Mukus.

  “Ohhhhhhhhh, what is it?” Klot asked
, his yellow eyes bulging as he reached to touch it.

  “Mine!” Mukus screeched, pulling it away from his companion’s spindly fingers.

  “No doors will remain locked to you as long as that device is in your possession,” the Monarch explained.

  “This’ll open any door,” Mukus whispered excitedly. He’d already started to push the buttons on the front, and the gadget made a noise like a baby chick being squished by a boa constrictor. Not an unpleasant sound, the dripping monster thought.

  “Go!” the Monarch commanded, and the two lackeys jumped into action.

  A door in the front of the octocraft slowly opened, and a tonguelike platform extended down to the prison-wing floor.

  “Let me try it,” Klot said, again grabbing for the device.

  “Watch it with the hands!” Mukus exclaimed, keeping his companion away. “The master gave it to me!”

  “But he’d want us to share,” Klot said, frustrated. “Why won’t you share?”

  “Don’t you know, silly?” Mukus said with a wet-sounding chuckle. “I’m a bad guy, and bad guys don’t share.”

  They both now stood in the center of a long corridor. Multiple doors faced them—doors that were the only things preventing them from retrieving what their master most desired.

  And before Klot could try to take away the electronic key again, Mukus aimed the device at each of the doors in turn and pushed the button repeatedly, making that baby-chick-being-squished sound.

  The doors’ locking mechanisms slid back, and metallic echoes filled the hall.

  “I love that,” Mukus said, eyes twinkling with excitement.

  “You stink,” Klot said, folding his arms across his chest. “Just you wait until the next time I get my hands on a mechanical door-thingy, I’m not gonna let you anywhere near it.”

  “Don’t be such a baby,” Mukus muttered, his eyes fixed on the prison-cell doors.

  And one by one they slowly opened.

  The Bounder boys were the first to emerge, the Slovakian Rot-Toothed Hopping Monkey Demons jumping from their cell and bouncing around Mukus and Klot.

  “Ghaaa!” Klot screamed. The five demon monkeys were moving so quickly it was dizzying.

  From another cell three more criminals emerged, and Mukus practically squealed with delight.

  “Look who it is!” he said excitedly, rivulets of slime dribbling down his body as if from leaky spigots.

  “Is—is that the Sassafras Siblings . . . and their mom?” Klot asked, not believing his eyes. The Sassafras Siblings were cooler than a Frost Giant’s heart in the criminal community, and their mother . . . a legend.

  “It certainly is,” Mukus said as the brother and sister trolls escorted their much larger mother out of the prison cell.

  From the remaining two cells two more figures emerged, and Mukus thought he just might pass out, he was so star-struck.

  “Hold me up, my legs are getting weak,” the slimy monster said, falling backward into Klot’s arm.

  “Are they who I think they are?” Klot asked, holding his friend up.

  Mukus nodded ferociously, sending spatters of body slime into the air.

  “They are . . . they are,” he said. “The Gaseous Ghost and Vomitor.”

  And all Mukus and Klot could do was stare in awe at the amazing examples of villainy that now stood before them.

  They were in the presence of criminal royalty.

  “Who are these two?” Mother Sassafras asked with a scowl.

  The mother troll was extremely large, her gray prison dress so tight that it looked like it was threatening to burst.

  Mukus stepped toward the troll woman, taking her large hand in his.

  “We are the monsters that have set you free,” he said, planting a particularly drippy kiss on the top of her hand.

  “Yaarrrgh!” Mother Sassafras bellowed, yanking her hand away. “He’s defiled me, children!” she complained, trying to rub off the slime. “Defend your mother’s honor and show this dripping ruffian what for.”

  “He just kissed your hand, Mother,” Sigmund said with a roll of his eyes. “I don’t think he meant you any harm.”

  “But what about the germs?” Mother Sassafras asked in a horrified whisper. She looked at her hand as if expecting it to suddenly break out.

  “Yes, what about the germs?” Sireena asked, turning toward the dripping beastie and scowling. “How dare you put your filthy lips on my mother’s hand?”

  Mukus threw up his slimy digits in surrender. “I was only being nice,” he apologized. “I meant no insult.”

  Klot approached to back him up.

  “He really didn’t,” the red-skinned monster explained. “He’s always doing stupid stuff like this. He’s perfectly harmless.”

  The released villains glared at them.

  “You two are breaking us out?” one of the Bounder boys asked.

  “Yes, we are, Benny,” Mukus said, reading the name tag on the demon’s bright red vest.

  “How’s that possible?” Bobby Bounder asked. “Look at ’em . . . they’re a couple of idiots.”

  “Hey.” Klot spoke up. “If it weren’t for us idiots, you’d still be cooling your springy heels behind those locked doors.”

  “He’s got a point, Bobby,” Bernie Bounder said.

  The other monkey demons all grumbled.

  The Gaseous Ghost, his body looking as though it was made from torn rags of smoke, drifted up from the floor, filling the chamber with a horrible stink like rotten eggs. “Be they idiots or geniuses,” he said, his voice sounding as though he was speaking underwater, “all that matters is we are free.”

  “The Ghost is right,” Sigmund Sassafras said. “Does it really matter?”

  “Can I say something?” Mukus began.

  “No!” the short, armored creature called Vomitor barked. When his mouth opened, a loud, liquidy bubbling sound came from within.

  “You don’t want to get that one angry,” Klot told Mukus, subtly making the “puke” gesture while he shook his head.

  “Is that a spot?” Mother Sassafras suddenly cried, scrutinizing the back of her hand.

  Sireena grabbed it and looked carefully. “Could be,” she growled. “It could be the early stages of some foul disease.”

  She looked up, glaring at Mukus and Klot with beady, burning eyes. “How dare you give my mother-dearest a disease!”

  The large troll had begun to cry, and her son moved to comfort her.

  “There, there, Mommy,” Sigmund said, taking her hand in his and patting it.

  The Bounder boys were growing agitated.

  “Look what you did!” Balthasar Bounder screeched. “First you gave her a disease and now she’s crying.”

  Mukus slowly backed up. “I think things are about to get ugly,” the slimy monster said to his companion.

  “Y’think?” Klot answered, backing into Vomitor who had suddenly appeared behind them, blocking their way.

  The Gaseous Ghost floated above the gathering.

  “A vote,” the ghostly creature stated. “Raise your hand if you wish to utterly destroy these two and then be on our way.”

  All the villains but Sigmund raised their hands.

  For some reason, Mukus found that sort of touching.

  “Thanks for your support,” he said, nodding in the troll’s direction.

  Sigmund looked around to see that he was the only one, then quickly raised his hand.

  “Nice,” Mukus said angrily.

  “It’s decided then,” the Ghost said.

  With murder in their eyes, they all began to converge on Mukus and Klot.

  But before they could reach them, the chamber was suddenly filled with a blinding light.

  “What transpires here?” asked a voice dripping with authority and menace.

  As the villains shielded their eyes from the light, Mukus and Klot turned to see their master.

  “My eyes!” Mother Sassafras bellowed. “I think my corneas might be
damaged!”

  The light from the octocraft dimmed, revealing the impressive form of the Monarch standing in the doorway.

  “Thanks, boss,” Mukus said as he and Klot scurried up the platform to hide behind their master’s robe. “I think things were about to get out of hand.”

  “First Mother’s given a disease, and now her corneas are singed,” Sireena Sassafras said. “I’d say this calls for murder.”

  The other villains agreed and they made their move toward the scarlet-robed figure.

  But the Monarch just raised one of his gloved hands, revealing a strange device hidden in the palm of his hand.

  “Come no further,” he ordered as the device began to glow. “I am the Monarch and you will know the power of my criminal genius.”

  Klot and Mukus gasped as the evildoers were suddenly engulfed in an odd yellow light and began to float off the floor, hovering in the air. Slowly they drifted back toward their still-open prison cells.

  “Wait . . . what are you doing?” Sireena Sassafras cried out, her thick legs pedaling the air.

  “I’m putting you back,” the Monarch proclaimed. “It would appear I was mistaken about your desire to be free.”

  “No!” the former prisoners, who were about to be prisoners again, bellowed in unison.

  “No?” the Monarch repeated. “Then why were you about to harm my trusted lackeys?” He gestured to Mukus and Klot, still standing behind him.

  “It was a mistake!” Bailey Bounder yelled.

  “A mistake?” the Monarch questioned, stroking his chin, hidden within the darkness of his hood. “How interesting.”

  He pointed the glowing device at them, slowly drawing them back.

  “Then am I to believe that you would be willing to serve my every command in exchange for your freedom?”

  “Yes!” they all answered together.

  “You will listen to my every instruction and carry them out to the last detail without question?”

  “Yes!” they answered again.

  “And the hate I have for my most reviled enemy shall become your hate as well?” the Monarch asked.

  “Yes!” they shouted, but it was Sireena whose curiosity got the better of her.