Chapter 8

chapter eight The skylight erupts in a million tiny shards, glass exploding around us like diamond confetti. The Howler plunges through—and my friends and I follow... My stomach does a roundoff, full-twisting, back- handspring layout that would for sure get me a perfect ten from any judges. But there are no judges—just hundreds of monsters, watching from every level of the mall. All eyes (and other optical orifices) are locked on us, as— SLAM! The Howler hits the floor like a bowling ball dropped onto concrete from a hundred stories up. I hit next—and I get lucky. I land on the one spot on the Howler's body not covered in armored scales: its belly. It's like a trampoline... sorta. Difference is, when you land on a trampoline you don't feel bone or muscle or what might be a spleen underneath. I mean, I'd hope. If you do, you got yourself a creepy-weird trampoline and you should probably see about getting a refund. "HEADS UP!"

I throw myself to the side as Dirk lands next, turning the Howler's bare gut into something like one of those inflatable blob-thingies at summer camp. Y'know, those things where one kid jumps and then the other kid is catapulted into a lake? It's like that... BOINK I'm not dead I get lucky again—launched toward the fountain, landing with a hard SPLASH. But it's not water in the fountain. I'm smacking my lips, trying to pin down the strange flavor when— SLAM! SLAM!

June and Quint hit the Howler's belly at the same moment. Then, together, June and Quint and Dirk are launched off the Howler's gut. They're tumbling through the air, then— splash, splash, splash, grape soda. That's what it is. We burst through the surface, and Quint's already pointing, planning. "It's hurt! Look!" A large, open wound is visible on the Howler's side —and the unmistakable stench of evil wafts off it. It stinks like a back-alley dumpster. The Howler lets out a throat-shredding shriek of rage, then rises—jaws snapping, tail swinging, talons digging into the cracked floor.

"Bad news, gang," I say. "I think he likes grape soda." "Well, he can have it," June says. We all slip and splash and fumble out of the fountain, just seconds before— KRAKA-SMASH! The Howler explodes through the fountain! Over the sound of bursting concrete and splashing grape soda, I hear a voice—a voice I haven't heard once during this entire attack. Go for the wound. evy yells. "Hey! That's what I was gonna say!" June growls.

Quint immediately understands what Evie's up to— and he's mad. "Evie's loudly broadcasting combat strategies to make it appear as if she's figuring out how to save everyone. Instead of us!" "ANY MOMENT, THESE INNOCENT MONSTERS WILL BE SLAUGHTERED!" Evie shouts. "PLEASE, JACK, YOU SNIVELING COWARD! STOP BEING A SNIVELING COWARD AND DO AS I SAY! YA COWARD." My jaw cracks in anger. I'd like to climb up to Evie's cozy Food Court fortress and give her a piece of my mind. Not an important piece, like all the stuff you need to do to finally get the Biggoron's Sword in Ocarina of Time. Some piece of my mind I don't use. State birds or something. "Car!" Quint suddenly cries, pointing. "Big car! Big car incoming!" The Howler's ax-tail has just sliced through a fancy velvet-rope barrier and smacked the slick silver convertible behind it. The car's alarm blares as it spins in the air, flipping, sailing straight toward us.

in there Little nemo's mattress dreamland "After you!" I shout, and we all race after Dirk, following him into the matress store. And not a moment too late. The convertible SLAMS into the entrance behind us—and the Howler follows it. We duck down behind a huge bedroom set. Pillows and blankets are piled high everywhere, keeping us hidden—for now—from the stalking, searching, hunting Howler. "Sure could use some help from the locals," Dirk grunts angrily.