As hooded figures ushered her into the grand chamber, Miss Fiona Stoker knew that she was in for it this time – she was a failed realtor.

The cavernous space was dark save for the dim light given out by the blood red candles winking from shadowy alcoves. It was cold too, though it was a warm day outside – the natural world knew better than to interfere with this place.

“I trust the news is good this time, Miss Stoker?”

Fiona spun round to face the direction of the mysterious voice, though it had seemed to come from all around – resonating from the very walls.

“Master, you see, the problem is, the house isn’t exactly – how do I put it – appealing, to the average buyer. It’s a little… Creepy?”

“Creepy! Creepy! You are a realtor! It is your job to convince people it is an unpolished gem! An example of structural magnificence! Not creepy!”

“Master, I’ll try —”

At this point, Fiona was rudely interrupted as two gleaming fangs enter her jugular vein.

Vampires are awfully impatient clients.