The sign on the door assured, "No vampires, gremlins or restless spirits reside on the premises."
I wasn't sure I was willing to trust a sign, given I was at this doorstep delivering a gift basket of blodplättar, toy planes and saucy Victorian literature.
"Mail-box located in dark alleyway to the left," the paper also declared in smaller writing.
I took a deep breath.
"The Chosen One has arrived!" was the next fateful thing I heard.