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.
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.
Zack was still in bed but already wide awake when Judy came down to the basement at seven a.m.
“I sent Mrs. Emerson an email last night, after you guys went to bed,” she said. “I asked her if she knew anything about this Jack the Lantern.”
“What’d she find out?”
“Seems he was a notorious highwayman.”
“Is that a toll collector or something?”
“No. A highwayman, back in olden days, was a thief who preyed on travelers. They’d attack stagecoaches or mail wagons. Some were like Robin Hood. They stole from the rich and gave to the poor.”
“And Jack the Lantern?”
“Very un–Robin Hoodish. He dressed all in black and always wore a terrifying burlap mask with holes to make him look like a jack-o’-lantern.”
“Is that how he got his name? Jack the Lantern?”
“Partially. He also used to toss firebombs in front of carriages to spook the horses so he could stop a coach, slay the driver, steal the passengers’ gold, and snatch baubles off the ladies.”
Judy hesitated.
Zack knew that whatever she said next wasn’t going to be good.
“Then he’d kidnap any children.”
Zack’s mouth went dry. “Why?”
“Well, if the families were wealthy, he’d ransom them back.”
“And if they weren’t so rich?”
“He’d sell the children as slave labor to factory owners and ship captains.”
“And nobody knew Jack was really Barnabas Ickleby?”
“Nope. He fooled everybody for nearly three hundred years.”
Suddenly, a horse whinnied out on the front lawn.
That was very bizarre.
Nobody in the neighborhood had a horse.
Aunt Ginny had woken up before anybody else in the house.
She knew that the most evil Ickleby of them all was now controlling the body of Norman Ickes and that Barnabas would soon come gunning for Zachary.
So Virginia Jennings, who had battled foul spirits and bullying demons all her life, would be prepared.
She quickly lit the jack-o’-lanterns lined up on the front porch railings, and then, very calmly, sat down in a rocking chair with another glowing pumpkin on her lap.
Moments later, the villain showed himself.
His glimmering black stallion pawed its hooves in the front lawn and snorted loudly. But it wouldn’t move closer.
Not as long as the jack-o’-lanterns are lit. It can’t. The illuminated gourds protect the house from all evil spirits, human or equine.
“Good morning, you wretched old woman!” shouted the rider with the hideously grinning face cut into his mask. “Where is the boy? Where is Zachary Jennings?”
A shiny black raven sat perched on the dark rider’s shoulder like a villainous parrot.
“Why are you so interested in Zack, Norman?”
“Why do you call me that inglorious name when you now know who I truly am?”
“You mean Barnabas the leech?”
“Leech?”
“That’s right. You’re nothing but a freeloading, life-sucking parasite. A dybbuk clinging on to your distant relative’s body because you’re too chicken to move on to your eternal reward or, in your case, eternal punishment!”
“You dare call me a coward?”
“Yes, Norman. I just did.”
“You shall pay for your words, you horrid hag.”
“How?” Ginny held up the glowing pumpkin. “Are you and your horsey going to come up here and hurt me? Of course not. You’re afraid of pumpkins, too!”
Hannah and Sophie came out on the porch.
“Oh, my,” gasped Sophie. “Is that him?”
“Yes, dear,” said Ginny in a tense stage whisper. “Did you bring the exorcism powders?”
Hannah was carrying Ginny’s carpetbag. “It’s all in here. For heaven’s sake, sister, why do you taunt him?”
“It amuses me.”
“Does he have the black heart stone?” asked Sophie.
“Aunt Ginny?” It was Zack. He and Judy were at the front door.
“Stay inside, dear. You too, Judy. We’ll take care of this.”
“I’m going to call the police,” said Judy.
“No. Not yet. Soon that creature on the horse will be nothing more than a dazed and confused hardware-store clerk who will, hopefully, remember where they had him hide the black heart stone. Give us a minute.”
“One minute,” said Judy.
Ginny stood up from the rocking chair and turned her back to Jack the Lantern so she could consult with her two sisters.
“We shall initiate the exorcism.”
“How?” asked Hannah.
“We can startle him with his false reflection from up here. I’ll work the mirror. Hannah, you take the horn. Sophie, stand by with the powder. Once we have spiritual separation, we can sage Barnabas and begin the banishment incantation.”
“I’ll ask you one last time, ladies!” shouted Jack the Lantern. “Where is the boy? Where is young Zachary Jennings?”
Ginny twirled around.
“He’s busy!”
“Doing what?”
“Getting ready for school!” shouted Sophie. “The bus will be coming along shortly to pick him up.”
Jack tugged up on the reins. His black stallion pranced sideways. “Why, thank you, Sophia. How silly of me to forget. The big yellow carriage full of children that I have seen pass Haddam Hill so many times.”
“Oops,” peeped Sophie, putting her hand to her mouth. “I think I just made a boo-boo.”
Jack pulled a pistol out of his belt, aimed it at Ginny.
“And just who do you think you’re scaring with that, coward?” said Aunt Ginny defiantly.
“Your glowing gourds might stop me from coming up on that porch, sorceress, but they cannot stop my bullet!”
The raven perched on the masked man’s shoulder squawked and flapped its wings.