The gun in Tristan’s hands smoked.
Reaper’s gun.
Tristan turned toward Lila, his eyes wide with shock. He’d hit the man in the neck, the perfect placement for a dart, but Reaper hadn’t filled his gun with darts.
Tristan dropped the gun and backed away before his eyes lit on his brother. He sank to his knees and bent over Dixon’s still form.
Fry held his bloody nose, guilt spreading into his eyes.
Dice merely watched as Reaper’s mouth muttered the breathless words of the dying.
Lila ignored them all. She dug through Reaper’s pockets, the shards of glass stabbing deeper into her hand as she searched. “Dixon’s going to be fine. Reaper got the poison into Dixon somehow. Whatever he used, it’s here. We just have to find it.”
Tristan did not look up from Dixon’s body. He refused to sit up, refused to move, refused to speak.
Fry and Dice exchanged glances, but they said nothing while she ripped at Reaper’s clothes and pockets, tearing the cloth. But no matter where Lila looked, she couldn’t find any needles. “He’s got it. I know he’s got it somewhere.”
“His rings. Check his rings,” Fry suggested, his voice stuffy from his broken nose.
Lila grabbed Reaper’s wrist and twirled off his rings. Both were flat on the top as though a thick coin had been welded onto a band. The reservoirs were deep enough to hold a small amount of liquid.
Lila thumbed a latch on the side of one ring.
Something bit into her skin. She yelped and dropped the ring. A small spike had shot out the top like a tack.
“Are you okay?” Fry said.
Lila nodded. A million thoughts flitted through her mind as she snuck a peek at Dixon, but when she retrieved the ring and squinted into the reservoir, she saw nothing inside.
The second ring looked full.
“I think this one was empty, or nearly so. The other…”
Tristan finally looked up, his eyes red and raw. “Do you think it’s the antidote?”
Lila shook her head. “The man’s a coward. If he had carried the antidote, he would have traded it to you. I suspect this is his backup. We have to get to Randolph General. Now.”
“If we take Dixon to the hospital they’ll DNA-test him.”
“Not him. Me. Drop me off, and I’ll get the lab to analyze the poison in the ring.”
“How are you going to do that?” Fry asked.
Lila ignored him.
So did Tristan.
“I’ll bring the antidote to the shop as soon as I can,” she said.
“That could take hours—”
“It’s his only chance.”
Tristan studied her, then squeezed his red eyes shut, keeping them from spilling over. “I told him he’d be okay.”
“So did I.”
Tristan breathed out heavily and opened his eyes once more. “Okay, let’s move.”