“Why the long face?” Archebold asked from behind the steering wheel.
Billy looked out the window as the city passed by. Everyone who saw the car—who saw him—started to cheer and wave their claws, or tentacles, or whatever they had. He didn't answer his friend's question.
“Things are going great,” Archebold said happily as he drove. “The city is nuts about you, never mind the fact that you just took out an entire gang of armed criminals—well, of course they were armed, they were squids—but that's beside the point,” the goblin muttered beneath his breath. “You stopped them from robbing the bank and saved the day. How cool is that?”
Billy forced a smile. “Pretty cool, I'd say.”
But the goblin wasn't buying what Billy was trying to sell.
“I'm not the sharpest claw on the paw, but I can tell when something's wrong,” Archebold said. “What is it?”
“It's stupid.” Billy didn't really want to talk about it, but it was eating him up inside.
“I'll be the judge of that,” Archebold reassured him. “Let's hear it.”
As Billy prepared to explain, he realized how silly it all was. Here he was in the coolest car that ever existed, driving through the streets of Monstros City after rescuing the savings and loan from a gang of gun-wielding squids, and all he could think about was how he didn't know what he was going to be for the Connery Elementary School Costume Extravaganza.
How lame is that?
Billy turned in his seat toward the goblin and took a deep breath. “Halloween is this week, but I thought it was next week because I've been all confused with schoolwork and being Owlboy and stuff and didn't know what the date was.”
The words just spilled from his mouth. He tried to slow them down, but it was like trying to keep Danny Ashwell away from the chocolate pudding at lunch.
He didn't stand a chance.
“But the costume extravaganza is on Saturday night, and I was like, Saturday night? I haven't even come up with a costume yet and all the guys were like, cool, think we might have a chance of winning this year, and I was like, man, I thought these guys were my friends.”
Archebold looked briefly away from the road to stare at him with eyes even wider than usual. “Is that it?” the goblin asked.
“Sort of,” Billy said. “Randy Kulkowski says that he's got a Halloween costume so scary and awesome that nobody has a chance of winning, so I need to come up with a really cool idea so he doesn't win the hundred-dollar gift certificate. But no matter how hard I try, I can't seem to come up with anything good, and I think I'm gonna lose.”
The goblin was silent as he drove the bright yellow Owlmobile into the Wailing Wood. The headlights illuminated the winding road as the car made its way through the frightening forest.
“Pretty crazy, huh?” Billy said. “I was thinking that maybe you could help me out with some ideas.”
Archebold remained quiet, driving the Owlmobile toward the base of a ginormous tree growing up from the center of the Wailing Wood. They headed into a secret passage hidden within the tangle of gargantuan roots that would take them up into Owlboy's headquarters, the Roost.
“Archebold,” Billy said, worried that the goblin might think he was crazy, “are… are you all right?”
The tiny creature nodded as he pulled the Owl-mobile into the elevator that would bring the car up to the garage.
“Yeah, I'm fine,” he said, putting the car in park. “But could you explain what a hollowbean is?”
CHAPTER 6
“Are you sure he went in there?” Sigmund asked, squinting his beady eyes and staring through the van's windshield at the entrance to the Wailing Wood.
“I'm positive,” Sireena replied, squeezing the steering wheel so tightly that she thought it might break apart in her hands. “It's appropriate, don't you think? An owl, living in the woods and all.”
“I guess,” Sigmund answered. “I've heard rumors that he had a secret hideaway hereabouts.”
The inside of the van grew almost deafening with silence, and Sireena couldn't stand it anymore. She threw open the door and climbed out of the vehicle.
“Where are you going?” Sigmund's eyes were wide with fear.
“I'm going into the woods,” she said, slamming the door closed and going around to the back of the van.
Sigmund joined her, looking about nervously. “Do you know what they say about this place?” he asked her, his eyes darting in all directions.
“Yes,” she said, opening the vehicle's back doors. “That it's the scariest place in Monstros City.”
Something rustled in the underbrush and Sigmund practically jumped into her arms. “Did you hear that?” he asked in a frightened gasp.
Sireena flipped a piece of dirty rug from the back of the van floor to reveal a hidden storage compartment underneath. She reached inside the compartment, removing a rifle from its hiding place with other equally dangerous-looking weaponry.
“I heard it,” she growled, firing a single shot at the area where the creepy noise had come from. The gun boomed and the trees and bushes around them exploded into fire and smoke. “And I doubt we'll hear it again,” she said, resting the still smoldering rifle on her shoulder.
“But what if there's more of…of whatever that was?”
“And you call yourself a Sassafras,” Sireena scoffed. “Our ogre ancestors would be ashamed.”
The Sassafrasses were one of the oldest and nastiest of the evil ogre families. Their cruelty and really bad moods were legendary in the darker regions of Monstros City, and had been for centuries.
“What are you trying to say?” Sigmund glowered, pushing his ugly face mere inches from hers.
“What I'm trying to say is, if we plan on becoming the true masters of crime in this city, like we promised our parents we would, we need to be proactive.”
She reached inside the van for another weapon and handed it to her brother. Sigmund took it from her, tentatively at first, then pulled it roughly from her hands.
“Give me that,” he mumbled, checking to see if the gun was loaded before slinging it over his shoulder and starting to walk down the path that would take them deeper into the Wailing Wood. “Well, what are we waiting for?” he asked.
Sireena jogged to catch up, grabbing him by the shoulder.
“I need to know if you're serious about this,” she said, pulling her sibling around to face her.
“Of course I am.”
“Are you serious enough to swear the Sassafras Siblings oath?” she wanted to know.
Sigmund hesitated momentarily, then decided he was serious enough and prepared to take the oath.
They both spit into their left hands, reached around their heads, twisting their bodies in the weirdest of angles, and proceeded to balance on one foot.
“Do you, Sigmund Sassafras, swear to hunt and destroy, in any way, shape or form possible, Owlboy, super-hero and perpetual thorn in the side of the Sassafras family?” Sireena asked her brother.
“Do you, Sireena Sassafras, swear the same, to hunt and destroy, in any way, shape or form, Owlboy, super-hero and perpetual thorn in the side of the Sassafras family?”
Their spit-covered hands clasped together as one, sealing the Sassafras Siblings special oath. “I swear,” they said in unison, trying not to tumble to the ground as they balanced precariously on one foot each.
Sigmund let go of Sireena's hand first. “Serious enough for you?” he asked, regaining his balance and taking his fearsome weapon from his shoulder.
Sireena retrieved her own rifle. “Let's make our parents proud,” she said.
And the two of them walked side by side into the Wailing Wood, searching for the object of their oath.
Searching for their prey.
“Look, for the twelfth time,” Billy scolded, “it's Halloween, not hollow beans.”
Archebold turned to Halifax, who stood beside him. “I still don't get it, do you?”
Halifax, the troll mechanic who kept
all the gadgets and machines inside the Roost running smoothly, shook his shaggy head. “He lost me with the part about the candy.”
Billy and Archebold were sitting at a circular table in the Snack Room—just one of the hundreds of specialized rooms inside the giant, hollowed-out tree that was Owlboy's secret base of operations. Billy was attempting to explain his current predicament as they munched on snacks.
“There's really not all that much to understand,” Billy said, trying to keep his voice calm. He was eating a cookie in the shape of a bat. “It's a special day once a year where kids dress up in costumes and go to people's houses asking for candy.”
“And this works?” Halifax asked.
Billy nodded. “Most of the time. And if it doesn't, you play a trick on them.”
“What kind of trick?” Archebold asked, pouring himself some poltergeist potion.
“I don't know.” Billy shrugged. “I never had anybody not give me a treat before, though I hear that the tricks aren't all that bad. Y'know, like ringing the doorbell and running away, or throwing toilet paper in the trees. That kind of stuff.”
He pulled a full tray of snacks closer, trying to decide what he wanted next. What he thought might be chocolate chips on a particular pastry were actually bugs that started to skitter off the tray, and were now trying to hide behind the jug of poltergeist potion.
“Sounds barbaric to me,” Halifax said, brushing the crumbs from his banshee biscuit off the thick fur that hung from his face. “And while this is going on, costumes are being worn?”
“Yeah,” Billy said, feeling his excitement spark. He loved Halloween—the smell in the air, the pumpkins, the scary decorations, the costumes. “You can be whatever you want on Halloween night, but most people pick something really scary. I'm surprised you guys don't have anything like it here in Monstros.”
Archebold and Halifax looked at each other, a little confused.
“It's sort of scary here every night,” Archebold explained. “What's the point?”
“I guess,” Billy agreed. “But it's still wicked fun… well, most of the time anyway.”
Billy's eyes suddenly danced behind his goggles. “You guys have got to help me,” he said, wiping crumbs off the tabletop onto the floor. From the corner of his eye, he watched a tiny, mouselike creature run out of the shadows to feast upon them.
“What can we do?” Halifax asked.
“You can help me come up with the coolest costume that ever existed.”
“I don't know, Billy,” Archebold said. “We're really kind of busy with the whole stopping the spread of evil thing, but…”
“We'll do it,” Halifax said excitedly. “Let me get my sketch pad and we'll start to brainstorm.”
The troll approached a section of wall where there suddenly seemed to be a door. Billy didn't remember ever seeing one there, but Halifax walked through it anyway, disappearing into a darkened room only to appear seconds later holding a large pad of paper. He sat down next to Archebold.
“First, let's start with anything you don't want,” the troll said.
“No monkeys in tutus,” Billy stressed.
Archebold and Halifax looked at each other again.
“Whatever you say, boss.” Archebold rolled his eyes.
“I just want you guys to give me some ideas,” Billy continued, ignoring the looks. “I need to come up with something that nobody's ever seen before. That way I'm sure to win the contest.”
“I've got it!” Halifax suddenly exclaimed. “This'll be great.” He began to draw furiously. “Nobody up above has ever seen anything like this before,” the troll said, drawing so fast that the movements of his pencil were practically a blur.
He finished and turned the pad toward Billy. “It's a Death-Bot 390.”
Billy wasn't sure if he'd ever seen a robot so complicated, and so scary. It was actually too scary. “I don't know,” he started to say.
“It'll be great,” the troll interrupted. “Of course, we'll have to remove your brain and wire it into the robot's cybernetic nervous system.”
“We'll probably have to do most of the building outside,” Archebold added.
“Oh yeah, right,” Halifax agreed. “The Death-Bot is over a hundred and fifty feet tall, and we only have a hundred-foot clearance in the workshop. Good thinking, Archebold.”
“It's what I'm here for,” the goblin said with a smile.
“Anyway,” the troll went on, “we'll take your brain out, put it inside the cybernetic housing and then we'll get to work on the weapons systems. How do you feel about nuclear warheads?”
Billy's eyes practically exploded from behind his goggles. “Nuclear warheads?”
“Yeah, they'll give you candy for sure if you threaten to use one of those babies.”
Archebold made an explosion sound, and he and Halifax started to laugh mischievously.
Billy felt a little creeped out.
“Y'know,” he said, trying to be polite, “I don't think the Death-Bot 390 is what I'm looking for. How about something a little more Halloweeny… something more, well, more like a monster?”
The two monsters looked up from the elaborate drawing, clearly disappointed that Billy was rejecting the Death-Bot idea.
Halifax slowly flipped to a fresh page as Archebold muttered under his breath, stroking his chin in thought.
“I got it!” the goblin said with a snap of his fat, clawed fingers. “We won't even need to build anything for this one.”
“What is it?” Halifax asked eagerly.
“Well, first we need to find the resting place of a Sumerian Revenge Demon,” the goblin began.
“Go on,” Halifax urged.
“We allow it to possess Billy, and then he'll be transformed into an ancient evil that hungers for the flesh and blood of the guilty.”
“Brilliant!” Halifax shrieked, grabbing hold of Archebold's hand for a congratulatory handshake.
Billy was pretty much convinced that these two really didn't get the whole concept of Halloween, and he wasn't sure there was enough time in the next four centuries to explain it to them. Death-Bots with nuclear warhead weapons systems? Sumerian Revenge Demons? He decided it was time to put a stop to this before things really got out of hand.
“Oh gosh, look at the time!” he exclaimed. He pulled up his sleeve and looked at his watch in mock surprise. “I really need to get going.”
He jumped down from his chair.
“So should we start looking for the resting place of the Sumerian Revenge Demon?” Archebold asked.
“Yeah,” Halifax added. “And remember, they're usually guarded by a small battalion of warrior mummies.”
“Right,” Archebold said. “We'll have to come up with the right offering to appease them. Warrior mummies are into scarab beetles, aren't they?”
Billy backed slowly toward the door.
“Why don't we put the brakes on the whole Sumerian Revenge Demon thing?” he suggested. “I've got a few ideas I've been working on back at the house.”
“Better then transforming you into the embodiment of vengeance?” Halifax asked in disbelief.
“Yeah, I'm not too sure how my mom would feel about the whole transformation thing,” Billy said.
The two creatures slowly nodded, but Billy could see by the looks on their faces that they really didn't understand.
“I'll let you know how the whole thing works out,” he said as he opened the door to the hall.
“You sure you don't want to work on something here?” Archebold suggested. “Between the two of us, I'm sure we've got plenty more ideas.”
“Nah, you two just go back to the whole combating evil thing and leave the Halloween stuff to me,” Billy said with a wave, and then he was out the door.
It's a good thing they don't have Halloween here in Monstros, he thought to himself as he made his way toward the passage that would take him home.
I doubt anybody would survive the holiday.
CHAPTER 7
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Billy climbed from the stone crypt and found his backpack where he'd hidden it in the corner. Jumpsuit, boots, gloves, goggles and helmet were quickly replaced by his jeans, sweatshirt and sneakers. Kneeling on the floor, he carefully folded up his costume, gathered his accessories and placed them inside his pack.
“Done and done,” he muttered, zipping the bag and throwing it over his shoulder.
He was glad he'd decided to visit Monstros that morning; he had a much better attitude toward the task awaiting him. He was even beginning to think he might have a chance of pulling this off.
With a new confidence in his step, he opened the mausoleum door and stepped out into the early-morning fall sunshine.
And nearly broke his neck tripping over the Big Wheel and the little girl astride it.
Victoria giggled uncontrollably. “You're funny, Billy,” she said, tossing her head back as she continued to laugh.
“Oh yeah, I'm a real riot,” Billy grumbled, sensing that a wrench, as well as a few screwdrivers, were about to be tossed into his plans for the day.
Victoria picked up the stuffed rabbit from where it was sitting on her lap. “Don't you think he's the funniest thing?” she asked Mr. Flops.
She placed her ear close to the rabbit's face, listening.
“He says you're wicked funny,” she said with a smile and a slow nod.
“Great,” Billy said sarcastically. “You have no idea how proud that makes me.” He tried to get around her, but she quickly slid her bike into his path.
“We gonna play now?” she asked, her big blue eyes staring at him intently.
Billy's mind raced with possible options. He could tell her no, that he was too busy, which could result in a meltdown of Academy Award–winning proportions, and could very easily spin out of control when the emotionally damaged child went looking for sympathy and found it from either her parents, or his.
He remembered the last time this had happened. He had the disturbing recollection of sitting at a tiny table in an equally tiny chair drinking imaginary tea with a gathering of baby dolls and stuffed animals, while Victoria happily sang a song she'd learned in school the previous day. The thought made him shiver uncontrollably.