“Do you?” He studies me. “I wonder. You saved her, you know. Margaret. I tracked her afterward. Watched her age while you didn’t.”
“Damien—”
“The asylum, Julian. Did you think that fire was an accident?” His voice stays level. “Nineteen years I waited. Let you love her. Let you build something. And then I took it back.”
“You killed her.”
“I corrected an imbalance.” He steps closer. “You chose Margaret over Katya. So I gave you the same time with her as I had with my love. Twenty-six years from the night you turned me to the night she died. Poetic, I thought.”
The mathematics of revenge. The patience of centuries.
“And Corinne?” My voice is hoarse. “In Prague?”
“She saw you feeding. Ran into the street. I found her before you did.” His grins. “I didn’t have to do much. Just told her what you were. What you’d done. What happened to the last woman who loved you. She walked into the river herself.”
For forty-three years, I’d blamed myself for Corinne’s death. Thought my monstrousness had broken her.
It wasn’t me. It was him.
“And Anya—”
“Anya I killed myself. Left her on your bed like a gift.” His expression flickers—the first real emotion I’ve seen. “I wantedyou to know, by then. Wanted you to understand that every time you reached for happiness, I would be there. Waiting.”
“Why didn’t you just kill me?”
“Because death is quick.” His voice drops. “Loneliness is forever. I wanted you to feel what I felt when you chose her. The knowledge that someone you trusted made a choice. And you weren’t enough.”
Waves crash. Somewhere in the resort, humans are waking up. Making coffee. Planning their day.
“I turned you,” I say. “I gave you immortality.”
“You gave me a curse.” His eyes are cold. “And then you proved what it was worth. Less than one human woman’s life.”
“It wasn’t like that—”
“It was exactly like that.” He steps closer. “You had time. Time enough to save one of them. And you chose. You always choose, Julian. You choose who lives and who dies. You chose Margaret over Katya. You chose your happiness over mine.”
“You would have done the same!”
“Are you so sure of that? And how much time did you waste comforting Margaret before you even thought of Katya?” The words land hard. “You just saved what mattered most to you. And I’ve spent a hundred and fifty years making sure you understand the cost.”
The sun rises over his shoulder.
“And now?” I ask. “Poppy?”
“Now you choose again.” He tilts his head toward the resort. “Walk away tonight. No contact. No explanation. Let her think you used her. Let her spend the rest of her life wondering what she did wrong.”
“No.”
“Then I’ll show her what you are.” He says it like he’s discussing dinner plans. “I’ll arrange a situation where she seesyou feed. Sees the monster behind those suits. And after she’s done screaming, I’ll make sure she never forgets.”
“She already knows.” The words escape before I can stop them. “I told her. Last night.”
Damien goes still.
“She knows what I am,” I continue. “What I’ve done. The centuries of feeding and hiding. All of it.”
“And she stayed?”
