Jason
The hotel, Jean-Claude was pleased to discover, had rooms below ground level. He did not trust the drapes to keep out the sunlight, which might not damage him, though he had not tested the theory yet, for he did continue to die at dawn.
That evening, the sun had barely set when he woke, alone and with both hungers rising, to find someone outside his room. Someone who tasted familiar, even before he opened the door.