Between Damien’s taunts, Marcus has been sending his own reports. Clinical. Professional. The counterpoint to Damien’s psychological warfare.
7:15 PM — DAMIEN: The blue dress was a nice choice. Did you pick it, or did she? I’ve always admired your taste in human accessories.
7:18 PM — MARCUS: Subject exited room 3047. Proceeded to terrace bar.
7:23 PM — DAMIEN: Table by the window. Romantic. Also terrible sightlines. You’re getting sloppy, old friend.
7:41 PM — DAMIEN: The mother doesn’t like you. I can tell from here. She’s smarter than she looks.
7:58 PM — DAMIEN: You keep touching her hand under the table. Sweet. Anya used to reach for you the same way.
8:12 PM — DAMIEN: Fifty years I waited after Prague. Patient. Watching you rebuild your little walls. And now here you are, tearing them down for another fragile thing.
8:22 PM — MARCUS: Subject relocated to observation point near orchid display. Remained stationary 47 minutes.
8:29 PM — DAMIEN: Does she know you haven’t fed in three days? That you’re starving yourself to seem more human for her? How romantic. How futile.
8:47 PM — DAMIEN: I met Corinne once, you know. Before the river. She was lovely. Asked too many questions about you. I didn’t have to do anything. Just answered them.
9:03 PM — DAMIEN: The sister’s room is 4012. The mother is in 4008. I mention this only as a matter of interest.
9:15 PM — MARCUS: Subject circling main building. Testing camera blind spots.
9:18 PM — DAMIEN: She’s telling a story. You’re watching her like she invented light. This is worse than I thought. This is almost too easy.
9:34 PM — DAMIEN: Margaret used to smile at you like that. Before the asylum. Before she learned what you were and it broke her mind. Some truths are too heavy for mortal shoulders.
9:51 PM — DAMIEN: I wonder which way this one will break. Will she run like Corinne? Shatter like Margaret? Or will you tell her nothing at all and watch her love a lie until it poisons her?
10:08 PM — DAMIEN: You haven’t checked your phone once. How unlike you. The Julian I knew in Vienna would have threatened me by now. Have you gone soft, old friend? Or just tired?
10:08 PM — MARCUS: Subject returned to room. No further movement.
10:24 PM — DAMIEN: A walk through the gardens. How romantic. The path by the fountain has three blind spots, if you’re curious. Not that you’re paying attention.
He watched the entire evening. Saw me hold her hand under the tablecloth. Saw me watch her tell that story about Barcelona—the one that made her whole face light up. Saw me forget, for whole minutes at a time, that I was supposed to be afraid.
Message fourteen stops me.
10:41 PM — DAMIEN: She kissed you. Under the lanterns. I could hear that strange slow rhythm from here—one beat, then nothing, then another. Not human. Not right. Did she notice? She will eventually.
My hands tighten on the armrests.
He heard it. From wherever he was hiding—the gardens, the shadows, some vantage point I should have identified and didn’t—he heard the moment Poppy pressed her lips to mine and found nothing beating beneath my ribs.
Did she notice?
Then he toys with me some more, letting me know he’s in control.
10:58 PM — DAMIEN: She’s had too much champagne. Trusting you to take care of her. The irony is exquisite.
11:09 PM — DAMIEN: I could end this tonight. You know that. But where’s the art in that? The lesson must be learned properly. Slowly. The way you learned it with Anya.
11:18 PM — DAMIEN: She sleeps deeply. Trust is beautiful. Enjoy the hours you have left with her, Julian. I’ll see you at the wedding.
I scroll through the timestamps. Every position Marcus logged corresponds to one of Damien’s messages. He was texting me from each location, marking his territory, showing me exactly how close he could get.
And Marcus caught all of it. Documented it. Built a record that might matter later, when this goes before the Council.
