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S urely he had some left.

Sebastian rummaged through the chest in his bedroom closet, searching for the box he hadn’t needed for decades.

He did everything in his power not to register the clothing, jewelry, and other personal belongings he was sifting through.

If he allowed himself to get lost in their memories, he would never find the actual object he needed.

At the very bottom of the chest, he located a small wooden box with mother-of-pearl butterflies embedded in the lid.

“Yes!” he exclaimed and opened it. The inside was lined in plush, red velvet, and held four vials.

Healing may not have been his brand of magic, but that didn’t stop him from sensing the power the vials contained.

He carefully removed one of the vials, then closed and replaced the box. Only having three left made him feel a bit anxious, but that was a problem for later. For now, he had to prepare the potion as quickly as possible.

Why was he so concerned? Because every life began its decline in the same way.

No, there had never been a link between Walking and the medical episodes that became more and more frequent as the end drew near.

But their appearance had become the content of his nightmares.

Sometimes they were recurring respiratory episodes.

Other times, digestive tract malfunctions brought her to her knees.

But never had she blacked out like that before.

Sebastian took the basement stairs three at a time and scampered into the kitchen to heat a mug of water.

A sprig of dried mint, four whole cloves, and a sliver of cinnamon bark made up the tea which hid the bitter taste of the potion.

He placed them in a small sachet and dropped it in the mug, then poured the boiling water over the top.

Immediately the spiced scent of the tea filled the room.

Finally he removed the stopper on the vial and tipped the golden contents into the mug. They gave the drink a shimmery hue and smelled faintly of elderberry and sulfur. Sebastian stirred until the bad smell went away and hurried back to the bedroom.

Isabel lay in the middle of the bed, curled up into a tight ball.

“Hey, I’m back. I had some medicine downstairs, so I didn’t have to go all the way to town.

” He held the tea next to her face, hoping the scent would make her stir.

“This should make you feel better in no time. You just have to drink the whole thing, okay?”

She groaned softly, but uncurled and attempted to sit up. Her face screwed up in pain and Sebastian placed the cup on the side table. He tenderly helped her into a seated position and blew across the surface of the drink. “Careful, it’s hot.”

For a few moments Isabel just held the cup, absorbing the heat into her hands. But Sebastian sat next to her and lifted it to her lips. “Come on, amore mio. The sooner this gets inside of you, the sooner you’ll feel better.” She took a sip as bidden and her face wrinkled in disgust.

“I know it would taste better with honey, but that would ruin the medicine.” Sebastian remained seated next to Isabel, gently encouraging her and stroking her fingers until she had emptied the cup.

He knew from experience that it took about five minutes for the potion to take effect once it had been completely consumed, and that it would be a long five minutes.

He took the empty cup and placed it back on the side table. “You’ll feel better soon, cuore mio. Do you want me to stay or to go while you rest?”

“Don’t go,” Isabel replied in a small voice.

Fear was strong in her words and Sebastian felt his heart begin to ache.

He climbed into the bed next to her and wrapped his strong arms around her small form, holding her close to his chest. It was such a familiar, intimate position that he felt tears beginning to form in his eyes.

The decades and centuries he spent alone waiting for the next reincarnation cycle were excruciatingly lonely, and moments like this were a respite.

Sebastian held Isabel tightly until her eyes opened and she stared at him with wonder. “When you said soon, you really meant it,” she whispered. “What kind of medicine was that? I’ve never found anything that cured a migraine in like five minutes!”

“It was a potion prepared by my sister. She gave me a large supply of them when you began falling ill in our first life together. Usually I reserve them for the worst episodes, but I’ve never seen one like this before. It frightened me.”

Isabel pushed away. She stared across the room, her eyes filled with a thousand conflicting thoughts.

“I don’t understand so many things you’re telling me, Sebastian.

Potions? Past lives? Vampires being real?

And what happened with the painting? Nothing has made any sense since I woke up this morning.

” She hugged her knees to her chest and finally looked at Sebastian.

“How much do you want to know right now, dolcezza? ”

“I would say everything, but just from what you’ve said in passing so far, I don’t think I’ll be able to make sense of it all. Honestly, if you hadn’t somehow magically transported me to the Louvre and cured my headache with tea, I probably wouldn’t believe any of it.”

Sebastian nodded, his face solemn. “I understand. I should have realized that growing up in a world that no longer believes in magic would make this a much harder revelation than your past lives.”

“So you’re serious about the whole reincarnation thing? How many lives have I supposedly lived, then?” Isabel still didn’t seem convinced, but at least she wasn’t running away or demanding he take her to the airport. Sebastian took comfort in that, and decided to take a risk.

He slipped out of the bed and extended his hand. “Twelve. I want to show you something. Do you trust me?”

“No,” Isabel replied, and Sebastian began to laugh.

“Okay, that’s totally fair. I’ve been all kinds of strange today, not realizing you were missing so much information. But I promise that I’ll explain everything, if you give me a chance.” He waved his hand slightly and, after a long hesitation, Isabel took it. Relief filled Sebastian’s stomach.

He led her down the hallway to the locked basement door.

“I told you I keep all of my paintings down here. I don’t generally show them to anyone, but you are the exception.

” Sebastian unlocked the door and stood off to the side.

“Would you be more comfortable with me ahead of or behind you on the stairs?”

“Definitely ahead,” Isabel replied, staring into the blackness. “You have lights down there, right? You’re not taking me down into a dank, unlit dungeon to murder me in the dark?”

“I swear on everything I hold dear that I have no intent to harm you, cuoricino . In fact, I would do anything within or out of my power to keep you safe.” Sebastian lit the torch at the top of the stairs and began to descend, lighting every torch on his way down.

Isabel tentatively followed and he kept a slow, measured pace to ensure she didn’t feel rushed.

He continued lighting torches around the landing, revealing the first paintings.

Isabel stood on the bottom step and stared at them.

Sebastian could hear her heart pounding in her chest and he stayed silent, allowing her time to process her surroundings.

She eventually stepped onto the cold stone floor of the dungeon and more closely examined the nearest painting. Then the next one, and the next one.

Sebastian followed her as she walked deeper into the dungeon, lighting torches and quietly observing her reactions. “So these really are all me?” Isabel finally whispered, her fingers brushing the top of one of the canvases.

“Yes,” he replied, his voice barely above a whisper. He couldn’t help feeling that speaking too loudly would ruin what felt like a holy moment. “All of them are memories of our lives together, or clues about your next lives.”

Isabel continued quietly observing, then turned to Sebastian with a very serious face.

“This is like something out of a movie about an obsessed stalker. I want the truth, Sebastian. Where did you get a photo of me, and when did you start painting all of these? This is the creepiest thing I’ve ever seen. ”

“We first met in 1110AD. I don’t have the paintings from that time here, or I would show you.

The earliest painting I have here is from our wedding in 1620.

The others are still at the coven keep. We couldn’t take them when we fled.

I know it’s hard to take in, but it’s the truth. Can’t you feel the pull between us?”

“So you’re saying I’m like…nine hundred years old?” She raised an eyebrow and took a step back. “And you’re also really, really ancient? I don’t know if that makes me feel any better. And you feel that weird tugging, too?”

Sebastian nodded, but otherwise remained completely still. The last thing he wanted to do was spook Isabel and make this whole process infinitely harder than it already was. She returned to looking at the paintings, her face impassible. Had he made a mistake telling her this much truth this fast?

“What’s with the shadow lady in every painting?”

The question caught him off guard. “Shadow lady? What are you talking about?” He stepped closer and Isabel pointed to a corner of the nearest painting. Then to a couch in another painting, behind the pair of them in a third, and in the doorway of a fourth.

The stolen blood in his veins suddenly felt like ice.

“Those have never been there before,” he replied, the hairs on his arms and back of his neck standing up.

He called to his magic and reached for the painting, only to pause millimeters away when a sick feeling filled his stomach. “Something is wrong. Very, very wrong.”