The Black Heart Crypt

“I need a hammer or something!” Zack shouted.

He’d forgotten to look for one in the carpetbag.

“Foolish children,” snarled the demonic ghost.

Zack raced back to the bag.

“You have done nothing but set my spirit free from this mortal coil. I shall return again—in a new body, a stronger body. I have other descendants. I shall find them.”

Maybe you will, Zack thought, because he couldn’t find anything to whack the stone with.

“And when I do, you three shall pay for what you tried to do to me.”

Zack at least found a sage candle!

He sparked the tip.

Tossed it at Ickleby’s feet.

“What?” The ghost laughed. “You cannot stun me into submission. My spirit is far too strong for such tricks. Don’t waste your sage, boy!”

“What’s going on, Zack?” asked Azalea. “Why are you tossing road flares around the room?”

“There’s probably a ghost in here, right, Zack?” said Malik.

“Yeah. The spirit that possessed Norman Ickes.”

“For real?” said Azalea. “Where is he?”

“Probably in the smoke,” said Malik.

“No. Way!” Azalea fanned the air. Tried to see the spirit. Couldn’t.

Zipper nudged Zack in the back with his snout.

“Not now, boy.” Zack was pulling everything out of the carpetbag. The sage didn’t immobilize Barnabas the way it had the other Icklebys.

Maybe the demon was right.

Maybe his spirit was too twisted for the sage to touch it.

Zack tore through the bag in a flurry. He tossed out a spice jar, a bundle of dried herbs tied with twine, more candles, a roll of breath mints, a pair of tongs—everything except what he needed.

Zipper nudged him harder.

Zack whipped around. “What is it, Zip?”

His trusty dog held something in his mouth like a bone.

A rock hammer!

“Good boy! You guys?”

Malik and Azalea crouched down to join Zack around the small black heart. While Ickleby ranted and Zipper snarled, Zack quickly consulted with his two friends.

“Shall we three send this soul straight to the underworld?” asked Zack.

“Yeah!” said Malik.

“Whatever,” said Azalea.

“We three agree?” asked Zack.

And all three friends said it together: “We three agree!”

Zack smashed the hammer down hard.

The tiny black heart exploded with a sharp bang like he had smacked a roll of cap gun caps. Then it burst into a puff of violet smoke, which vanished in a flash of purple light.

The room was quiet.

Until, behind them, Norman Ickes began to moan.