He shrugged on a fresh, crisp black smock, smoothing out the creases with immaculately trimmed nails. He sat at the first station, looking over the gleaming silver tools of his trade.


“Renfield!” he called. “Is it…is the front door unlocked? Did you get the new insurance forms?”

“Yes master!” Renfield called from the reception desk. “All is in readiness!”

He watched the clock tick. He listened for the door chime, but it never came.

“Renfield!” he called.

“Yes master!”

“When is the first appointment?”

Silence. He stood and shuffled to the front desk, where Renfield was cowering beneath his chair.

“Damn it, Renfield,” he sighed. “This is not your fault. Perhaps we need to advertise, or…”

“It…it is him, master,” Renfield whimpered. “The mean doctor! That no good meddler-”

“Damn him!” he hissed, his fangs flexing impulsively. “Damn that Van Helsing and his Yelp reviews!”