"Carnival of Spirits?" I whispered. "This doesn't bode well, we've all seen this before." I was on the alert. Clovis and Sparky looked grim, and there was nothing left at all of Batters' grin but the two very sharp points of his canines.
Minus his perpetually sunny countenance, Batters was transformed, for all his frilly Irene Sharaff original*(insert a footnote about Irene Sharaff's notable hat design), into the very image of fiendish demon of darkness. It was easy to see how his family had picked up a reputation for eerie supernatural powers and general dealings with the undead and so forth.
Madame Kravatsky stepped up to the rostrum, and green smoke began to issue from the general neighborhood of her turban. CARNIVAL OF SPIRITS began to glow.
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