Page 47 of Adam, Mine

“Are you Willem Dijkstra?” Victor asked with a sigh.

“I am,” the man said.

Victor glanced back at the spread of his things. “You know why I’m here. Will you help me?”

Willem paused in his craft, still staring out at the fire.

“You are a dangerous man. Why should I, a good man, help a dangerous man?”

He continued to knit.

Victor resented being called that, but he was forced to admit it was true. He didn’t see himself as particularly violent in the way that Alain or even someone like Gregor was violent. He wasn’t a bully the way they were bullies. But he had killed. Had acted with the intention to kill. Even though Elias survived and the drunk would not have lasted the night.

It wasn’t even that Willem had called him a “bad” man, just a dangerous one. But it felt like he had.

“You could convince me,” Willem said contemplatively.

“I could pay you,” Victor replied.

Willem laughed, a high-pitched little thing. “I have seen all you could pay with.”

“What is it with alchemists and not just taking money like everyone else?” Victor hissed. “It’s very uncivilized.”

Willem turned to him then, bright eyed and merry. “Men who understand the language of the gods . . . we are not the same but similar.”

He was missing a few teeth and now that Victor could see him fully, he was surprised by how young he was. Maybe only ten years older than himself.

“So I can convince you.” Victor snagged that offer. “How can I convince you?”

Willem shrugged. “Tell your story. How you came to be here and if I like what I have heard . . .” He trailed off suggestively.

Victor sighed. He would try to tell this in a way that hopefully didn’t turn him from a guest into a captive.

“I come from a family line of doctors. It is . . . in my heart to create medicine and procedure that transcend our current abilities. The institution where I completed my study was not . . . able to assist me in this endeavor so I turned to seek out men who can. A book came to my possession that provided answers to some of my questions, and solutions to my struggles. During a demonstration, I accidentally bonded myself to a patient and am currently seeking a dissolution to that bond. I need guidance on how to do so before there are any permanent damages to either of us.”

There. That sounded nice and vague.

Willem made a considering noise and got up. He rustled behind Victor for long frightening seconds before returning to his side with a small stool and a bowl of what smelled like a hearty fish stew in his hands.

He scooped some of the stew and held the spoon to Victor’s mouth. Confused and more than a little alarmed, Victor ate what he was being offered.

It was incredible. Much better than all the food he’d had in France. Rich with fat, herbed and salted, fish chunks cooked to luscious density, creamy potatoes.

Victor couldn’t help but groan in delight as Willem gave him another spoonful. Willem smiled openly, waiting until Victor stopped chewing to offer him the spoon again.

“What is this man’s name? The one whose life you wasted?” Willem asked conversationally.

The food felt like a stone in Victor’s stomach.

“He . . . Eli—Elias,” Victor admitted.

Willem nodded. He daubed Victor’s face, cleaning it of dribbled broth, then offered him another bite.

Victor turned away from the spoon.

“I can hear your stomach from far away, German man. Eat.”

Victor’s throat was tight, but he didn’t know what to do besides open his mouth again.