Hunting vampires is a bum grind if you’re faint of heart or strapped for cash. Imagine a nine to five that comprises gunning down ghouls in derelict bowling alleys as they feast on helpless animals; now imagine the same, but with the cost of braces and school tuition hanging over your head. Boiling your kid’s welfare down to a vial full of extracted fangs, sellable only to either the local vampire hunters’ union or a stingy pawnshop fence, takes all the fun out of the gig, but hey, it’s a living. Unless it kills you.
