Chris Grabenstein - The Black Heart Crypt

“I’m not pretending.”

“Impossible.”

“Everything is possible on Halloween.”

“No. You are not my sister.”

“Yes. I am. I need you, Francine.”

“What?”

“I need your body.”

“What? Go away. And next Halloween put together a better costume. You don’t even look the way my sister did when she died.”

“You mean like this?”

In a horrifying flash, the curly-haired woman shriveled into a withered husk of ashen flesh and bone. Her paper-thin skin shrank tight against her jagged face. The mop of curly hair wormed its way down into her scalp.

It was truly her sister. Susan Potter Jennings. The way she had looked when she died.

“We are flesh of the same flesh,” gasped the hideous creature. “Blood of the same blood.”

Francine stumbled backward into her house. Slammed the door shut.

Suddenly, her body was wracked with spasms of pain.

A voice echoed inside her head: “I have unfinished business with Zachary.”

Francine slumped to the carpeted floor. Her mind and memories swirled down a darkening sinkhole toward oblivion.

Zack’s mother was alive again.

Norman Ickeswas stuck behind the front counter of his father’s stupid hardware store, handing out stupid candy bars to stupid kids in stupid costumes.

A very pretty girl his own age stood behind the clump of children. She was costumed in a black hooded cape, like a witch or a wizard.

“Um, d-do you want a candy bar?” Norman stammered. The girl had kinky blond hair and piercing green eyes.

“No,” she said, her voice husky. “I want you.”

Norman started to perspire. “Uh, excuse me?”

“I find I am strangely attracted to you …” She paused. “Norman Ickes.”

She sounded like one of those prerecorded messages that fill in a blank with your name. Norman didn’t care. No girl as pretty as this one had ever showed him even this much attention.

She pushed forward, leaned on the counter. Her hair smelled like vanilla ice cream.

“I sense that you and I are soul mates, Norman,” she whispered.

“Really?” Norman blinked. Slid his aviator-frame glasses up the bridge of his nose.

“Yes. A little birdie told me where to find you.”

Norman dabbed his sweaty forehead with the tip of his necktie. All of a sudden, he loved birds, wanted to study ornithology, maybe rescue a pelican.

“What time do you get off work?” the girl asked.

“Tonight?”

“Yes. Tonight. Halloween.”

“Uh, about seven. Seven-thirty. My dad put me in charge of the candy.”

“Your father is a coward. Afraid to embrace his destiny.”

“Well, I wouldn’t call him a—”

“I would. The bird told me all about him, too.”

“Oh-kay.”

“I’ll wait for you. Outside.”

“Huh?”

“When you are finished here, you and I are going for a ride.”

“Really?”

“Yes. I need to take you up to the graveyard. Haddam Hill Cemetery.”

“Really?” Cemetery Road on Haddam Hill was North Chester’s “lovers’ lane,” the spot where all the high school and college kids went.

Norman tried not to let his nervousness show. He pretended he was smooth and suave. He leaned on the counter to gaze into the witch girl’s dreamy green eyes. “You want to take me up to Cemetery Road? On our first date?”

She nodded. “Yes, Norman. Everybody will be waiting.”

“Oh. Is it a party?”

Her smile broadened. “Yes. A Halloween party hosted by the Icklebys.”

A new group of kids rushed up to the counter.

“Trick or treat!”

“I’ll wait outside,” said the girl, moving toward the door as Norman robotically dished out the candy bars.

“Wait a second,” he called out. “I don’t know your name.”

“Jenny.”

“Cool. Oh, by the way, Jenny, I love your costume! It’s very … bewitching.”

She smiled and Norman could already tell: This was going to be the most amazing night of his life!

“Trick ortreat, Norman!”

It was young Malik Sherman with two friends. And a dog. The kids were dressed up like the letter “B.” The dog kept wagging its tail and scooted under the counter to sniff Norman’s shoes.

He probably should’ve put on clean socks that morning.

“Don’t worry,” said one of Malik’s friends, a kid wearing glasses. “Zipper is very friendly.”

The dog gave the toe of his right shoe a double snort, whimpered a little, and trotted back to stand beside his owner.

“Neat costumes,” Norman said to Malik. “Are you guys characters from Sesame Street or something?”

“No,” said Malik. “We be the killer bees!”

“ Sí , senor!” said the skinny “B” wearing glasses.

“Give us candy or we’ll sting you!” said the girl.

The dog growled.

“Here you go, guys.” Norman held up the plastic pumpkin bowl filled with candy bars. “Take as many as you want.”

“I think two will do,” said Malik, reaching into the bowl. “We want to make sure you have enough for those who come after us.”

The other two kids, the girl and the skinny one, did the same thing: They carefully selected two each. The dog just stood there, wagging his tail.

“Oh, Norman,” said Malik. “I brought this for you. Thought you might find it challenging.” He reached into his candy sack and pulled out a shiny black stone sculpted into the shape of a heart. “It’s a 3-D interlocking puzzle.”

“Interesting,” said Norman, even though he was much more interested in the mysterious Jenny waiting for him out on the sidewalk.

Malik handed him the black stone heart.

“Once you pry it apart, you’ll find a tiny black heart in the center of the black stone.”

“We think it’s onyx,” said the girl. “That’s a gemstone.”

“Great,” said Norman distractedly. “Can I keep it for a while? I’m kind of busy tonight.”

“Um, I guess so,” said the “B” with the glasses.

“This is my friend Zack,” said Malik. “Zack Jennings. The black heart stone belongs to his aunt.”

“Tell her thanks,” said Norman as he slid the hefty heart into a side pocket of his cargo pants.

He’d play with it later.

After the Halloween party with Jenny and the Icklebys, whoever the heck they were.

Zack sensedthat Malik’s friend Norman was nervous about something.

He had beads of sweat all over his shiny forehead.

“Hey, Norman?” A man with a shaved head and a tiny triangle beard on his chin stomped up to the counter. “Your father just called, said I could take the night off, seeing how it’s Halloween and I have a party to go to and you don’t because you’re such a loser so who’d invite you to their Halloween party except a bunch of even bigger losers?”

When the big guy stopped to snort some wet snot up his snout, Zack thought he looked and sounded like a college-aged version of Kurt and Kyle Snertz, the two bullies at his middle school (one of whom was now actually a friend of Zack’s).

“W-well, um,” stammered Norman Ickes, kind of cowering behind the cash register. “Okay, Steve. Have fun.”