The ghost looked to be a black man in his thirties, wearing flowing white robes and carrying a long, wicked scythe in his hands. His body glowed a sickly green color, while his grin revealed crooked but oddly white teeth that gave him the appearance of a ghoul. He was completely bald, but he had an impressive goatee and seemed to be well-muscled underneath his robes.
“Holy crap,” said Uncle Josh, staring at the man floating above us. “It really is a ghost.”
“That’s no ghost,” said Christina with a gulp. “That’s Carl.”
I looked at Christina. “Who?”
“Christina!” the ghost bellowed, his voice strangely magnified in this small space. “I see that the rumors of your betrayal were true! I had hoped they were mistaken, but I suppose the Superior is never mistaken! Alas!”
“You know this ghost?
