The Black Heart Crypt

The next morning, before first light, Jack the Lantern was back in Satan’s saddle, his trusty guide bird perched on his bent arm.

“Take me to the boy!” he shouted as he tipped his elbow up to launch the raven.

The bird unfurled its wings and took flight, its midnight blackness nearly disappearing against the starry predawn sky.

The highwayman clicked his heels into his horse’s flanks and Satan trotted toward the gates of Spratling Manor. Jack the Lantern threw back his head and laughed.

It was November 2.

The day Zachary Jennings would die.