The Black Heart Crypt (24 page)

Inside the coffin was a skeleton.

Well, the collarbone and rib cage.

No head, though.

Someone had stolen the skull.

Which meant they had taken all the teeth, too.

“That settles it,” said Aunt Ginny with a defeated sigh. “We must find the original black heart stone. It’s our only hope!”

“So, this
is Spratling Manor?” said the nervous priest as he drove the stolen car under the arched gates at the entrance to the estate.

“Yes,” croaked his masked passenger.

“They’re the ones who had the spare burial chamber,” Father Abercrombie prattled on. “The Spratlings. Unusual name. One you remember. Spratling.”

“Pull up to the carriage house.”

A black raven cawed at them from its perch on the building’s roof.

“A crow sitting on a house is an evil omen,” commented the priest. “It means someone will die here. Tonight.”

The masked man gestured with his twin pistols. “Step out.”

“It’s late. I really should head back to—”

“Out! Now!”

The priest stepped out of the car. The raven swooped down to land with a hollow thud on top of the automobile.
Jack the Lantern extended his arm. The bird hopped over to it like a falcon to a falconer.

“Fly, my dark friend. Seek out the Jennings boy. Bring me word of his whereabouts, for come the new day, I shall head out to strike him down.”

The bird took off like a shot, its broad black wings blocking out the moon as it circled overhead.

Much to Father Abercrombie’s surprise, the masked man brought a hand up to his jagged mouth hole and yawned.

“I must rest. I have become uncomfortably drowsy. I had forgotten how human bodies wear down on a daily basis.”

“Yes,” said Father Abercrombie urgently. “Sleep will do you good. It’s so quiet and peaceful here, you should sleep quite soundly. No noise at all …”

“There is no noise because we are surrounded by forest, Father. The trees swallow up all sound.” Jack the Lantern once more raised his double pistols. “By the by, that evil omen you spoke of will prove true. Someone will, indeed, die at this house tonight. You.”

The devil squeezed the triggers. Two flints sparked.

Father Abercrombie heard the roar of the twin gunpowder blasts.

And then he heard nothing.

“Try to
get some rest, you guys,” Judy said to Zack and Zipper as she switched off the lights in the basement rumpus room. “I have a feeling tomorrow’s going to be a busy day.”

“So no school?” asked Zack from the sofa bed.

“No. Your dad and I just discussed it on the phone. Too many Icklebys had ‘hurt Zack Jennings’ on their To Do List. Barnabas probably does, too.”

Zack nodded. “Payback for Dad’s aunts yanking out his tooth.”

“Exactly. So you and Zip are with me until the police arrest Norman Ickes.”

Zack was exhausted and quickly fell asleep.

He had a horrible dream about mice playing card games in coffins with crazed cats, followed by another, featuring headless skeletons being chased by a demented dentist screaming, “Did you floss between your ribs?”

Around three in the morning, Zack woke up when he once again heard heavy panting and the sloppy sound of dribbling dog drool.

He peeled open an eye and looked over at the battered lounge chair. His grandfather was sitting there, petting the slobbering Black Shuck dog, who had dimmed his eyeballs to an orangish night-light glow.

“Hey, Grandpa.”

“Zack. How you holding up, champ?”

“Pretty good, I guess. Your sisters sent a dozen Ickleby souls on to, well, wherever it is souls like that go. But now we have to find the black heart stone we gave to Norman so we can seal up Barnabas, who everybody thought was a good guy, but, it turns out, he’s where the evil all started.”

Grandpa Jim nodded.

“But,” said Zack, “there’s only one problem: Nobody knows where the black heart stone is except Norman or Barnabas or maybe this ghost named Crazy Izzy Ickleby, but your sisters already sent him away and …”

Zack saw a strange look flicker across his grandfather’s sparkling blue eyes.

“What?” he said. “Do you know where Crazy Izzy hid the stone?”

Now Grandpa Jim squirmed in his chair.

“Even if I do, Zack, I can’t come right out and tell you.”

“Are those guys upstairs ever going to change these
stupid rules? Because I gotta tell you, Grandpa, they sure make dealing with demons a whole lot harder than it has to be.”

“And when I tell you about the stone, should I tell you who thinks you’re the cutest boy in the whole sixth grade?”

“Well, you don’t have to tell me
everything
. You can definitely skip the mushy junk.”

“I’m trying to make a point here, Zack.”

“I know. Oh, did you hear? My real mother popped by for a visit.”

“I know.” Grandpa Jim leaned forward and looked around to make sure nobody was listening (even though nobody else was in the basement, just the two dogs). “You should listen to what your mother told you tonight.”

“Really?”

“She isn’t like she used to be, champ. Dying changes a person. Makes them regret the mistakes they made when they were alive.”

“Have you seen her?”

“No. But, well, I’ve heard things. Susan Potter is working hard, trying to …”

Zack heard the distant rumble of thunder.

Grandpa Jim shook his head. “I swear, they have ears everywhere.”

“What? Who?”

“Nothin’. I said too much.” Grandpa Jim started to fade into his chair, the dog into the carpet. “Listen to what
your mother told you, Zack. Right before she vanished. Listen good!”

The Black Shuck dog disappeared.

Grandpa Jim lingered for a moment longer, worry lines creasing his face.

Then he vanished, too.

No way
could Zack go right back to sleep.

So he climbed up the stairs and headed for the kitchen. Zipper padded after him.

They could both use a snack, maybe some milk that wasn’t chocolate, which was all they had in the basement fridge.

You should listen to what your mother told you
.

Okay. That was a clue of some kind. The only hint Grandpa Jim could give (on account of the rules) without being sent to the big detention hall in the sky.

Zack gave Zipper a dog biscuit. Poured himself a glass of milk. When he sat down at the table to drink it and stare out the windows, Zipper hopped up into his lap, leaving the bone-shaped biscuit on the floor.

Zack figured his dog had seen enough bones for one night. He stroked the fur behind Zip’s ears and thought.

What had his mother said?

I’m different. I made mistakes
.

Then she sort of sounded like she was begging for forgiveness.

Need … to … make … amends!

“Amends” had been on Zack’s vocabulary test the past week. That she had used that word meant she wanted to apologize by making up for her mistakes, compensating Zack for damages and injury.

Was that why she had also appeared at the Hanging Hill Playhouse over the summer?

To help him?

Maybe she’d stuffed her soul inside her sister’s body and come all the way to North Chester to make amends but she never got the chance because the three aunts sent her packing.

Was his real mother a different person, like Grandpa Jim had said, now that she was dead and could look back on all the bad things she had done when she was alive?

Zack stared out the kitchen windows. The backyard was dark. A single yellow bug light glowed over the deck. Some leaves swirled in a corner behind the cold barbecue grill, which was covered up and ready to hibernate for the winter.

Tink, tink, tink
.

A black-beaked bird was tapping, gently rapping at the patio door.

“Haw!” the bird croaked. “Haw-haw-haw!”

Its black eyes glistened like oil.

Weird as it seemed, Zack thought he recognized the
bird. Its laugh. Its cackle. It was the same raven that had been circling over the corn maze when he and Malik had gotten lost and bumped into the ghost of Mad Dog Murphy.

“Haw!”

“Grrrrr!”

Zipper jumped to the floor so he could snarl at the big black bird on the other side of the sliding glass door.

“Easy, Zip,” said Zack. “He’s outside. He can’t hurt us.”

When he said that, the bird lofted up off the deck, its massive wingspan blotting out the glow from the overhead porch light.

“Haw-haw-haw-haaaaw!”

Now the raven was laughing at Zack for thinking it couldn’t hurt him.

The next
morning, before first light, Jack the Lantern was back in Satan’s saddle, his trusty guide bird perched on his bent arm.

“Take me to the boy!” he shouted as he tipped his elbow up to launch the raven.

The bird unfurled its wings and took flight, its midnight blackness nearly disappearing against the starry predawn sky.

The highwayman clicked his heels into his horse’s flanks and Satan trotted toward the gates of Spratling Manor. Jack the Lantern threw back his head and laughed.

It was November 2.

The day Zachary Jennings would die.

Zack was
still in bed but already wide awake when Judy came down to the basement at seven a.m.