Last night, shortly after sunset, I learned from some friends that Mrs. Orlando had sent a request to some of the undead currently living in Boston. She asked these vampires for assistance. Specifically, she requested they travel to Cross to deal with me, stating that my ‘continued existence’ threatened the unending supply of food which had been part of their agreement.
I decided that I did not want any more vampires in Cross, so I traveled to Boston. An hour or so before sunrise, three vampires left the safety of their club for a car which they had hired. The driver was to deliver them to an abandoned farmhouse in Cross, and from there the undead would strike out at me.
Unfortunately for them, I struck first.
It does not take much to create an explosive. Even less to set it off, especially when you know what you’re doing.
I found the car they hired, paid the driver to take the rest of the day off, and waited for the vampires to come into the vehicle. When they did, I apologized for the inconvenience, stepped out for a moment, and lit a small fuse hidden beneath the scent of a garlic, onion, and liver sandwich left on the front passenger seat.
The explosion not only destroyed the vehicle, but it shattered the windows of the vampires club, thus allowing the rising sun to destroy their brethren within.
I sent another letter to Mrs. Orlando, chiding her for her foolishness, and reminding her of her remaining days.
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