Page 26

Story: The Eternal Muse

But he had not. That was the root of their fight: Sebastian refused to destroy the paintings created by his magic. The rule had never made any sense. What was the point of creating such beautiful, masterful pieces of art, only to burn them afterwards? The paintings with magic always turned out more lifelike than anything he painted without it.

The excitement had been replaced with fear this time. Victor turned the book and offered it to Sebastian. His hands trembled as he accepted the tome and returned to his chair. The script inside was hard to decipher at first. But as he struggled through the first few lines, the skills he’d gained studying his master’s collection returned.

The Artist is the rarest iteration of vampiric magic. These vampires are able to capture a portion of the subject’s soul within the piece, allowing the vampire a glimpse into the subject’s life. Sculptors are able to communicate with their pieces as if speaking to the subject, but are limited to the information the subject knows about their surroundings. Painters may enter the painting and experience the scene, though cannot interact with anything inside. When gathering information on a subject, a combination of the two is suggested.

The subject’s soul remains bound within the piece as long as it survives. If the sculpture or painting is not destroyed before the subject dies, they will be reincarnated repeatedly until the piece containing their soul is burned.

Sebastian looked up, his face and heart full of horror. “Capture a portion of their soul?” he asked. “Is that why…”

“Yes,” Victor confirmed. “That is why you were ordered to burn your paintings each time you or I finished with them. I was foolish to believe that you would be obedient, I suppose. I was also foolish not to realize you would misuse your power to locate that poor human girl repeatedly.” The master vampire scowled, his fangs extending with irritation.

Sebastian turned the page, expecting to see more. However, the next page moved on to the next type of magic. “That’s all we know?” Surely that was impossible! Most magics he had studied under Victor’s tutelage contained page upon page of detailed information gathered over thousands of years. Yet his consisted of two small paragraphs?!

“Yes, that is all we know. I’ve only encountered three painters and one sculptor in my three thousand years. A master vampire in Asia once claimed to have two more sculptors in his coven, but his entire family was wiped out by Ghengis Khan in the 12th century.”

It seemed that ‘rare’ was an understatement. Sebastian carefully closed the book and lay it on the intricately-carved table that stood beside his chair. “But what of the shadow figure? Is there really no information available about it?”

Victor perked up, his scarlet eyes hungry. “Shadow figure? What is this of which you speak?”

“It began when I located my Muse in her current life. I took her for a Walk as we had thousands of times in previous lives, and she was attacked by a shadow figure. It somewhat resembled her in shape, but has no detail. Now the shadow is appearing in all of my previous paintings, despite no new paint being added to the canvas.”

“I see.” Victor held up a hand and rose from his chair. He passed through a doorway and returned with a scroll of parchment and a quill pen. If he hadn’t been so shocked about the lack of information available from his master, Sebastian might have laughed at the ancient vampire’s insistence on using such outdated supplies.

But instead he watched as Victor settled back into his chair and began writing notes in his loose, delicate script. Sebastian waited until the nib stopped scratching the paper and Victor looked up. “How many times have you painted the woman?”

As tempting as it was to lie, Sebastian recognized when his master was in studying mode. To lie now would corrupt the information available on his magic forever. “Hundreds,” he admitted. “Definitely over two hundred, but fewer than five. Perhaps a third of them contain blood paint to see the future. The other two thirds contain magic, but no blood. They depict scenes as they happened rather than as they are to be.”

“And you are able to Walk, as you call it, in both types?” Sebastian nodded; Victor recorded. The air in the room felt oppressive and Sebastian longed for this to be over. He should have expected to get more than he bargained for by going to his master for information. Yet he felt like he’d learned very little. “What of the girl? Have you noticed any changes through her lifetimes and your increasing number of illegal paintings?”

“Her lives get shorter each cycle. I had thought that was a natural part of her mystery reincarnation, but now I have other theories.” His mind spun a mile a minute as Sebastian processed the thought fragments into complete ones he could share. “If each painting contains a portion of her soul, then perhaps that’s weakening her physical body and decreasing her lifespan? She’s barely in her twenties this cycle and already has cancer of the blood.”

Victor stared into space for a moment while he processed the theory. His head tilted and his lip twitched thoughtfully. “It’s a good theory. It would be unethical to attempt to recreate your situation on purpose,” he said, narrowing his eyes at Sebastian, “but nevertheless, the information is interesting. Perhaps, then, you have stolen enough soul fragments that they have come together to form this shadow being. As she grows weaker, it grows stronger?”

Sebastian felt his body go cold. It was a horrifying theory, but it was entirely logical. “Strong enough to come out of the world behind the paintings, and to begin affecting this world,” he whispered, feeling the hair on his arms stand up. “I have to figure out a way to stop it. The shadow has started showing up anywhere Isabel can see her own face, like mirrors. And every time she sees the shadow, she falls unconscious. I’m afraid one of these times, she won’t wake up. The doctor in Genova blamed it on a lack of blood.”

“That sounds like it has found another way to gain strength. This is vampiric magic, after all. Instead of feeding on the blood from your paintings…it’s now taking it directly from the girl. You already know how to stop it. You must burn the paintings. Every single one.” Victor’s quill stopped abruptly and his face grew grim.

Sebastian buried his face in his hands, his entire body trembling. What had he done? How had his love gone so wrong? And why was the only solution to burn his own soul to save hers? “Is there no other way?” he growled, looking up with reddened eyes.

“Not that anyone friendly to us knows. You held the entirety of our knowledge in your hands, between those covers. The Transylvanian covens may know more, but you’re well aware of the dangers if you are stupid enough to try to contact them. And there’s no guarantee they have any more information than us.”

A cold shiver lingered in Sebastian’s chest at the mention of their rivals. Contact with the original vampire coven in Transylvania was said to end in death, and rarely of the enemy. Victor’s words carried more than just a warning: it was a threat. Breaking the fragile armistice reached by centuries of no contact would affect far more people than Sebastian’s painting problem. And if that happened? Well, he certainly wouldn’t have the coven behind him.

“I have a lot to think about,” Sebastian muttered.

“As do I. I suppose you’ve brought the girl here? I thought so. Just keep her away from Remus. He’s always insufferable for the next century when he sees her.” Victor rose from his chair and gestured toward the door. “You’ll either burn the paintings, or find a way to remove the girl’s soul from them by the next full moon. Otherwise, I’ll be forced to burn the paintings myself.”

CHAPTER21

Venice, Italy. 8 June, 2007

Isabel listened to Sebastian checking the lock, waited a few seconds, and checked it herself. Despite being in unfamiliar surroundings, she felt a huge weight fall from her shoulders. At least for now, she was alone with some time to process the events of the last couple of days.

And boy was there a mountain to process. She climbed under the heavy duvet and curled up in a ball, enjoying the weight of the down-filled blanket on her body. The mattress was also surprisingly comfortable for something that, if Sebastian’s timeline was correct, was hundreds of years old. She closed her eyes, taking in the scent of dust and damp stone. The flickering torches created dancing shadows on the walls, but very little warmth.

She shivered even under the blanket while waiting for it to absorb enough of her body heat to keep her warm. But her eyes fell on a stack of wood next to the fireplace, and the thought of a crackling fire put a smile on her face. Isabel tossed two of the split logs into the fireplace along with a small pile of kindling from a box she found on the mantle.

A quick search of the room didn’t reveal any matches, so Isabel instead pulled a torch from the wall and used it to light the kindling. The logs took quite some time to light, being damp from the thick underground air, but eventually the fire took and she put the torch away.