Page 27 of Bargain with Fate
“It was worth checking, although now I’m wondering whether the shadow attacked Ronald too.”
“How would a shadow drain someone of their life essence?”
I looked at the elf. “Is that what’s happening to Ronald?”
“It’s the most likely option.”
“Do you think someone on the island is doing this to him?”
Ronald stirred and opened his eyes. “Dr. Adam?” His voice sounded raw and dry.
“I’m here, Ronald. How are you feeling?”
“Thirsty.” His gaze slid to me. “Do I know you?”
“Maya August. I work in security.”
Ronald’s eyebrows drew together. “Did someone break in while I was asleep? My cane is right here. Makes a good defensive weapon.”
I glanced at the cane tucked against the wall. “No, nothing like that. The doctor and I were discussing an unrelated case.”
Dr. Adam moved closer to the bed. “Can you stay awake for me, Ronald?”
“Yes. I’d like to draw another picture.” The elf struggled to sit in an upright position.
“Let’s get more fluids in you first. I have bone broth ready. I just need to warm it. I’ll be back in a minute.”
I followed the druid to the kitchen, where he pressed the microwave buttons. “The guy is practically comatose, but he wants to draw?”
“It’s one of his hobbies. I say let him do whatever keeps him grounded and alert.”
“You don’t think it’s strange?”
“I think his condition is strange, which is why I invited you.”
“And here I thought it was my charming company.”
“That doesn’t hurt.” His mouth split into a grin, reminding me that his bedside manner wasn’t the only reason the druid was so popular on the island. We locked eyes, the sheen of desire sparkling in his, and the instinct to flee kicked me squarely in the crotch.
I tore my gaze away. “I’m going to ask Ronald a few questions.”
“I’ll be right behind you.”
I hurried to Ronald’s bedroom, feeling the heat spread across my face. I was glad Zachariah wasn’t here to witness this moment and perform an I-told-you-so dance.
I slipped inside Ronald’s bedroom and refocused my thoughts. If Dr. Adam suspected an otherworldly influence at work, then so did I. He may have misguided taste in women, but his healing instincts were usually spot-on.
The elf was still seated with his back against the headboard, propped up by two pillows. He was staring longingly at a sheet of paper on his lap.
“Is that one of your drawings?” I asked.
He nodded without looking at me.
I noticed the stack of paper on the bedside table. “Are these all yours?” I flicked through them. Each one seemed to depict the same woman, although “woman” was a loose description. I’d seen pictures drawn by ten-year-olds that demonstrated more artistry.
“She’s my inspiration.”
“I can see that,” I said, not wanting to insult a dying man’s art. “Have you always liked to draw?”
