The Black Heart Crypt

The ghost dude with the bad hairdo struck a kung fu pose.

“Your family has dishonored mine, Jennings!”

Zack rolled his eyes. In his experience, ghosts, no matter how much they threatened you, couldn’t really do anything to hurt you; they could only scare you into doing something stupid to hurt yourself.

But then again, tonight was Halloween. The regular rules might be suspended for the ghost world’s big night on the town.

“Hi-YA!” The guy jumped into a sideways flying kick.

To be safe, Zack shoved Azalea and Malik out of harm’s way. “Watch out!”

Good thing he did. Karate man knocked over a whole display of saw blades, hammers, and screwdrivers. Hardware clattered across the floor. Zipper yelped and skittered sideways to avoid getting stabbed.

Oh, yeah. The rules were definitely different on Halloween.

“Hey!” shouted Norman Ickes from behind the cash register. “What’s going on?”

“Uh, sorry,” said Malik. “I bumped into this display.…”

“I’m gonna cream your two little friends, Jennings!” boasted the ghost. “And the dog? He’s dead meat!” He leapt into another flying kick.

“You guys!” Zack shouted. “On your left! Paint!”

Azalea and Malik jumped out of the way just as the ghost hit a rack stacked with paint cans.

Six shelves loaded with gallon buckets came tumbling down. A couple of lids popped open. Paint splashed across the floorboards.

“Hey! Why are you guys trashing my dad’s store?” shouted Norman Ickes. “I gave you candy bars!”

“It’s not us,” said Malik. “Honest. It’s …”

“An earthquake!” shouted Azalea. “Everybody out! Earthquake!”

Kids screamed. Norman screamed. Then, in a panic, everybody except Malik, Azalea, and Zack streamed, screaming, out onto the sidewalk.

“Go, you guys!” Zack said.

“You sure?” asked Azalea.

“Go to the van! Zip? Get help!”

Azalea, Malik, and a snarling Zipper bolted out the door.

“Far out,” said the ghost. “Just you and me, kid. Ickleby versus Jennings. Can you dig it?”

They circled each other.

“Who are you?”

“Your worst nightmare,” said Mullet Man with a sneer.

Zack backed up a few steps and realized he was standing in the worst possible place—right underneath a Peg-Board loaded with box cutters, knives, and scissors, all with their blades pointed down!

“Cool it, Eddie Boy,” warbled a familiar voice from the door.

It was Aunt Ginny, in her purple tracksuit, a white tube clenched in her fist. Beyond her, Zack could see his dad, Malik, Azalea, and Zipper out on the sidewalk.

“You!” said Eddie Boy Ickleby. “Where are your two grody sisters, you old hag?”

“At home, Edward. Packing flares just like this one.” She popped a plastic cap off the white stick. Struck it against the doorframe. Sparks sizzled. Smoke spewed. Aunt Ginny tossed the smoldering stick at the ghost’s feet.

“No!” The ghost sounded stunned. He stood stock-still, frozen in place.

“Aunt Ginny?” shouted Zack’s dad from outside. “Is that a stink bomb?”

“No, Georgie. It’s a smudge stick. Garlic, clove, thistle, peppermint, and of course sage. Lots and lots of sage.”

“Hate … sage,” gasped the petrified ghost. “Can’t … move …”

“Yep,” said Aunt Ginny. “Breathe it and weep.”

Thick white clouds billowed up out of the sizzling tube.

“You … wretched … old … witch!” The ghost choked as he clutched his throat. He seemed to be fading. Zack could see clear through him, like the ghosts in cartoons.

“What’s going on in there?” cried Zack’s dad.

“Just dealing with a nasty troublemaker from 1979.”

“What? Who’s in there besides Zack?”

“Nobody, dear,” said Aunt Ginny, moving closer to the gasping ghost. “Not for long, anyway.”

Aunt Ginny bent forward and spoke directly into the dematerializing man’s ear.

“It is time for you to leave. All is well. There is nothing here for you now.”

The ghost’s eyes went wide as he fought against the incantation.

“Go now, Edward. Complete your passing.”

And with one last whimper, the ghost vanished.

Zack looked at Aunt Ginny, his eyes filled with awe and amazement.

“Wow. That was incredible.”

“Is the ghost gone?” asked Azalea from the door.

“Yes, dear,” said Aunt Ginny as she briskly swiped her hands clean a few times. “One down. Eleven to go.”