The Black Heart Crypt

Norman followed Jenny Ballard through the graveyard gate.

“Come on.”

“Where are we going?”

“To meet your ancestors.”

“Why?”

They made their way through the empty cemetery.

“What if you could show everybody in North Chester who you truly are?” Jenny asked breathlessly. “What if you could become a man to be feared?”

Norman liked the sound of that.

“And no one could give me grief or call me a nerd or make fun of me? Not Steve Snertz or those brats who tossed eggs at me tonight because I stopped handing out candy after the earthquake?”

“They wouldn’t dare, Norman. Not after you become the man I know you can be!”

“Oh, yeah? And who’s that?”

“You, of course. But ruled by the lionhearted souls of your ancestors.”

They stopped in front of what looked like a small mildew-stained chapel made of massive stone blocks. The weathered wooden door at the front of the crypt was sealed with a lock shaped like a black heart. Norman read the name inscribed over the entrance:

ICKLEBY

He felt his pulse quicken.

He was an Ickleby. These were his ancestors.

Blood surged to every muscle in his body.

“Wouldn’t you like to be one of the invincible and almighty immortals, Norman?”

Norman did not answer her.

He simply grinned.