Who am I...
What do I do. And are those one in the same.
Self-absorbed thoughts like these cross my mind daily. Actually, daily makes me sound human. Let’s say every second of every day since the night I died in 1610. I have, however, become quite good at ignoring the noise. This allows me to focus on what I do well without thoughts of what I am. So...
I work at a casino in Las Vegas.
Not to toot my own horn, but my official title is Head of Guest Relations at Sanctus Hotel & Casino, the hottest adult theme park in sin city. Boasting an aesthetic somewhere between Ian Schrager and 16th century Goth, it's replete with crosses, stained glass windows, plush reclining pews, casinos built like cathedrals, monstrous organs pumping out DJ mixes in a club of falling red confetti…you get the point.
But for all the bells and whistles, it’s just like every other casino in Vegas, a place to drink, drug, eat, sleep, gamble and fornicate. But there is one, tiny difference…
Sanctus is run by vampires.
My job is to make sure this secret stays buried with the unluckier guests while keeping the rest of the herd healthy, happy, and coming back for more. Stains on your sheets? Talk to me. Room smells like smoke? I’ll handle it. Cirque du Soleil acrobat eaten in the parking lot? It’s my problem now.
Technically, I’m not a vampire. I just live a good life working for them. Metaphorically? Well, I try not to think about it.
I’m good at what I do. I’ve been doing it for over 400 years. Yet every second of every day since the night I died in 1610, I ask myself…
Head of Guest Relations
Sanctus Hotel & Casino