The Black Heart Crypt

“Got it!” said Malik.

Zack pulled back from his peephole.

“He’s coming!”

“Who?”

“Jack the Lantern.”

“You mean Norman?”

“Yeah.”

From down below, they heard a heavy steel beam thudding into a bracket. The door was barred. The police wouldn’t be able to storm the tower and rescue them.

“He’s got Azalea,” said Zack.

“Move,” they heard a scratchy voice cry at the bottom of the spiral staircase.

“Let go of my arm already,” growled Azalea.

Zack, Malik, and Zipper knelt at the top of the spiral staircase, straining to hear every word echoing up from five stories below.

“Climb the stairs, missy. I need to parley with Mr. Jennings. He has something I desire.”

Zack heard the unmistakable sharp click of a pistol hammer being cocked.

“We’re up here!” he shouted down the steps. “And if you hurt Azalea, I’m going to toss this stupid stone down to my aunts, who just showed up and know what to do with it!”

“Zack?” Azalea shouted.

“Yeah?”

“Pumpkin Head put away his pistol.”

Good.

“My name is Jack the Lantern!”

“Fine. Whatever.”

Azalea never lost her cool. Zack just hoped she hadn’t lost that photographic memory she was always bragging about, either.

“We’re coming up,” Zack heard her say. “Let. Go. Of. My. Arm!”

Now all Zack heard was the heavy thunk-thunk-thunk of boot heels against steel stairs.

“It’s up to us,” he whispered to Malik. “We three must agree.”

“About what?”

“Smashing Barnabas Ickleby’s tiny black heart!”