Chris Grabenstein - The Black Heart Crypt

He spurred his horse hard, and in an instant, horse and rider were only a few feet away from the bus’s rear bumper.

Being a soldier’s daughter, Azalea leapt into action.

She raced to the back of the bus.

“Azalea?” shouted the bus driver. “Sit down! I’m pulling over.”

“Not yet. I’ll knock this dude on his butt.” She reached the rear emergency exit. The masked man was right outside and standing up in his saddle.

Excellent!

Azalea would kick open the door and whack him off his pony.

She reached for the handle.

Pumpkin Head leapt up, grabbed hold of a light or something.

And hauled himself onto the roof of the bus!

Zack andJudy were whisked home in a police car.

“I’ll go in and grab Zipper,” said Zack as Judy transferred Aunt Ginny’s carpetbag full of gear to her own sporty sedan. “We might need his nose to help us find where they hid the stone.”

“Great idea. And call Malik. Tell him we’ll swing by and pick him up.”

“Right.”

They needed Malik to take the black stone puzzle apart again, which was the only way to dislodge the miniature black heart in the center. If Judy, Aunt Hannah, and Aunt Sophie could exorcise the Ickleby demon out of Norman’s body and then crush the black core, Barnabas’s soul would go straight down to H-E-double-hockey-sticks.

Zack called Malik.

“Can you take apart that black heart again?”

“Oh, yes. The second time you work a puzzle always takes much less time.”

“Great. We’ll meet you out front in five.”

Next, Zack scooped up Zipper, who was taking his morning nap, and started to carry him out to the car.

“Time for your nose to wake up, boy. It’s got work to do!”

Zipper barked once, leapt out of Zack’s arms, and raced him out to Judy’s car.

“Hop in!”Zack shouted to Malik.

Malik slid into the backseat with Zipper.

“Where are we going?” he asked as they pulled out of the driveway.

“The clock tower,” said Zack. “Downtown. That’s where they hid the black heart stone.”

“Who?”

Zack didn’t have time to explain the whole dybbuk, soul-in-a-body-that-wasn’t-its-body deal. So he simplified things. “The bad guys.”

“I see. And how do we know the clock tower is where the bad guys stashed their loot?”

“My mother told me.”

“I did?” said Judy from behind the wheel.

“I meant my other mother.”

“Excuse me? Zack?” said Malik, raising his hand.

“Yeah?”

“I thought your birth mother was dead.”

“She is. But, well, she found a way to come back to life just so she could stop by the house and drop me a huge hint.”

“I see. Well, that was very thoughtful of her.”

“Yeah. I think being dead has made her a much better person.”

As thebus eased to a stop, Azalea heard boot heels clomping along its riveted steel roof.

“You stupid bus driver,” whined Kurt Snertz, an eighth grader who was sitting near the front of the bus today, just so he could finger-flick a new kid’s ears. “Why’d you pull over?”

“Kurt?” said Azalea.

“What?”

“Be cool.”

“Make me.”

“You heard the lass,” croaked the masked man as he strode onto the bus, both pistols aimed at Snertz. “Sit still, lad.”

“Yes, sir,” Kurt said, gulping. Azalea thought he might burst into tears.

“Children,” said the masked man, “I hereby declare you all to be my hostages!” His voice was hoarse and raspy. “May God have mercy on your souls!”

And then the bad guy’s eyes went buggy as he cocked his head sideways as if he was listening to something nobody else could hear.

Norman Ickeswas having a blast sharing his body with his evil ancestor Barnabas.

He’d punched people, gone horseback riding, killed a priest, and shot an old lady who’d been making fun of him.

Now he was in heaven. The smart-mouthed kid in the third row was Stephen Snertz’s nephew—the punk who had crazy-glued Norman’s fingers to the hardware store phone one Saturday when he came in to watch football with his uncle.

“Barnabas!” his soul cried out.

“Silence,” his dybbuk thought back. “I am otherwise engaged.”

“That boy, the beefy one with the red hair.”

“What about him?”

“He is a Snertz.”

“So?”

“The Snertzes are the richest family in all of North Chester.”

“What about the Spratlings?”

“They’re all dead. Besides, the Snertzes are richer. Mark my word, that boy will fetch us a handsome ransom.”

“Where are his people, that I might make my demands known?”

“Go see his uncle. Stephen Snertz.”

“And where might Stephen Snertz tarry at this hour?”

“The hardware store on Main Street!”

“Coachwoman?” Norman heard Barnabas say to the bus driver. “Take me to the hardware store on Main Street, where I shall parley with the Snertz family for their heir’s ransom! Satan, follow the yellow carriage!”

Checkmate , thought Norman. We’re comin’ to get you, Stephen!

“What isthat school bus doing over near the hardware store?” asked Malik from the backseat. “Was there a field trip today?”

“I don’t think so,” said Zack, who thought a hardware store would be a pretty odd place to take a field trip.

“I don’t remember signing any permission slips,” added Judy.

She had parked her car right in front of the town clock tower, the tallest building in North Chester. Zack looked up at its face, five stories above the street.

Nine-fifty-two.

His dad used to joke that no matter what train he took to New York City in the morning, it was always the nine-fifty-two, because the town clock had been frozen in that position for as long as he could remember. Zack, of course, wished he had figured out his mother’s clue sooner.

Next he checked out the door at the base.

It looked to be unlocked, because a stiff breeze squeaked it open a crack.

“Oh, no,” said Judy, who was looking up the block to the town hall. “There’s a black horse standing next to the bus.”

“Unusual,” said Malik. “You certainly don’t see that every day.”

Now it was Zack’s turn to say, “Oh, no,” because he was the first one to see Jack the Lantern climb off the bus, a pistol poked into Azalea Torres’s back.

He was using her as a shield!

“Who’s that guy in the mask manhandling Azalea?” asked Malik.

“Your friend,” said Zack. “Norman Ickes.”