The Black Heart Crypt

No way could Zack go right back to sleep.

So he climbed up the stairs and headed for the kitchen. Zipper padded after him.

They could both use a snack, maybe some milk that wasn’t chocolate, which was all they had in the basement fridge.

You should listen to what your mother told you.

Okay. That was a clue of some kind. The only hint Grandpa Jim could give (on account of the rules) without being sent to the big detention hall in the sky.

Zack gave Zipper a dog biscuit. Poured himself a glass of milk. When he sat down at the table to drink it and stare out the windows, Zipper hopped up into his lap, leaving the bone-shaped biscuit on the floor.

Zack figured his dog had seen enough bones for one night. He stroked the fur behind Zip’s ears and thought.

What had his mother said?

I’m different. I made mistakes.

Then she sort of sounded like she was begging for forgiveness.

Need … to … make … amends!

“Amends” had been on Zack’s vocabulary test the past week. That she had used that word meant she wanted to apologize by making up for her mistakes, compensating Zack for damages and injury.

Was that why she had also appeared at the Hanging Hill Playhouse over the summer?

To help him?

Maybe she’d stuffed her soul inside her sister’s body and come all the way to North Chester to make amends but she never got the chance because the three aunts sent her packing.

Was his real mother a different person, like Grandpa Jim had said, now that she was dead and could look back on all the bad things she had done when she was alive?

Zack stared out the kitchen windows. The backyard was dark. A single yellow bug light glowed over the deck. Some leaves swirled in a corner behind the cold barbecue grill, which was covered up and ready to hibernate for the winter.

Tink, tink, tink.

A black-beaked bird was tapping, gently rapping at the patio door.

“Haw!” the bird croaked. “Haw-haw-haw!”

Its black eyes glistened like oil.

Weird as it seemed, Zack thought he recognized the bird. Its laugh. Its cackle. It was the same raven that had been circling over the corn maze when he and Malik had gotten lost and bumped into the ghost of Mad Dog Murphy.

“Haw!”

“Grrrrr!”

Zipper jumped to the floor so he could snarl at the big black bird on the other side of the sliding glass door.

“Easy, Zip,” said Zack. “He’s outside. He can’t hurt us.”

When he said that, the bird lofted up off the deck, its massive wingspan blotting out the glow from the overhead porch light.

“Haw-haw-haw-haaaaw!”

Now the raven was laughing at Zack for thinking it couldn’t hurt him.