Fit for a Frankenstein: Terror at the Tailor’s . . .

The front door swung open; out of the storm and into the shop rushed Gretl, blonde braids awhirl. “Oopsy, forgot my umbrel—” Then she froze.

All eyes—her father’s, Ygor’s, and the Monster’s—shot over to her.

“Daughter!” Klaus commanded. “Get out!”

But the girl, gaze locked on the looming Monster, rushed bravely forward, stopping where her father knelt. “Are—are you all right? Papa, what is that?”

A crackle of lightning outside as, fingers groping the air, the creature advanced on her.

A great BOOM of thunder as Ygor nodded and cackled.

Klaus jumped to his feet and pushed his daughter behind him. For lack of a weapon, he whisked his sewing mannequin off the counter, hoisting the wire torso like a bludgeon.

The Monster yanked the false figure away from the tailor—and tore it in two.

Klaus watched the dummy halves clatter to the floor.

“Ye-e-e-e-es!” Ygor hissed, his face lightning-lit. “See vhat my friend can do? Now, he do same to tailor-man.” Ygor pointed at Klaus. “You no make ‘major alterations’ on suit, Herr Hauptschmidt; my friend here make zem—on you!