The Black Heart Crypt

Jenny Ballard watched Norman Ickes twitching on the ground, his kicking feet knocking down the dead candles.

“Norman?” She bent down to touch his cold and clammy forehead. “Norman?”

He wasn’t breathing.

“Ohmigod. Norman? Norman!”

An eye popped open.

Jenny put a hand over her racing heart.

“You scared me. I thought you were dead.”

Norman’s head and torso bolted upright into a sitting position. He sucked down a deep breath.

“That’s it, Norman,” said Jenny. “Breathe. Nice and easy.”

A smirk curled Norman’s lip. “What’s your name again?”

“Jenny. Remember?”

Norman stood up. His legs seemed kind of rubbery as he dusted off his pants. “Sure, sure. Jenny. You’re the dame Barnabas has been bossin’ around.”

“Excuse me?”

“What’s this?” Norman, more uncoordinated than usual, dug into his pocket and pulled out a black stone shaped like a heart. “Well, ring-a-ding-ding. Your Norman was a swell egg. Scamming the charm off the witches? That’s smooth.”

“Huh?”

“This here’s the warden’s key, toots.” The man who looked like Norman tossed the shiny stone up and caught it as if it were a black apple. “So, did you bring the knife?”

“Yes, Norman. I did everything the raven voice told me to do.”

“Atta girl. Fork it over.”

Jenny handed the weapon, which had a curved blade on the bottom and jagged saw teeth on the top, to the man who really wasn’t Norman anymore.

“Who are you?” she asked. “Are you one of Norman’s deceased ancestors?”

“That’s right. My friends used to call me Izzy. Crazy Izzy Ickleby.”

“When did you die?”

“About seventy years before you.”

“What? I’m not—”

Before Jenny could say “dead,” the man who used to be Norman jammed the knife blade into her stomach and twisted it sharply to the right.

“Say hello to all my pals on the other side, toots.”

And those were the last words Jenny Ballard ever heard.