Oh yeah. That’s right. I’d booby trapped the house before I left yesterday. They weren’t proper booby traps—they were vampire booby traps. Stuff that obsessive-compulsive, numbers-loving, finicky vampires would be bothered by on a very fundamental level. Stuff like a single curtain ring missing from a set, the pictures around the house being a few millimetres higher on one side than the other—maybe a very tiny drop of someone else’s perfume in a certain irritating vampire’s wardrobe.
