The Black Heart Crypt

Zack, Judy, and the three aunts were glued to the television set.

A photograph of Norman Ickes filled the screen. “According to Connecticut State Police, Ickes also stole a thoroughbred racehorse from Stansbury Stables earlier this afternoon.…”

“Sisters?” said Aunt Ginny, regaining her old spunk. “Since the black heart stone is now in the hands of the enemy, we have no choice but to forge a new one.”

“But how?” Sophie said, fretting. “Can we still extract the key ingredient?”

“Certainly,” said Ginny. “The first Ickleby to ever set foot in America is still entombed on Haddam Hill; his coffin is still clearly marked with the Ickleby family crest and a rather large ‘B,’ as I recall.”

“Virginia is correct,” said Hannah. “We must forge a new stone and reimprison the spirits.”

“Even though—as I said earlier—I fear it is but a temporary solution,” said Ginny.

“Temporary? What do you mean?” asked Judy.

“Oh, don’t worry, dear,” said Ginny, pretending to be perky. “A temporary solution is better than no solution at all. Pack your gear, girls. We’re going back to Haddam Hill.”

Aunts Hannah and Sophie bustled out of the kitchen. Ginny turned to Zack and Judy.

“Do you have a pair of pliers?”

“Sure,” said Zack. “But why do you need pliers?”

“To remove something from inside the Ickleby crypt.”