The Ruby Ring

"How did you do that?" Paul's face was full of shock. "You were clearly over there just now, how did you suddenly..."

"Just a few little tricks."

Paul was instantly convinced. He remembered something more important: "Alright, that's not important, but what's the deal with that woman?"

Hope's face twitched. "I'll tell you later, Paul. I'll tell you later."

Hope struggled to keep Robert's thrashing head under control as Paul stood back up and pinned Robert's hands.

"I admit she's pretty," Paul went on. "But you can't just go about it this way..."

What way? It's not like I kidnapped her...

"Later, Paul." Hope had to cut him off. "Don't let him move!"

Robert's scrawny body was no match for Paul, and he was quickly subdued, both hands locked in Paul's grip.

"What do we do now? How do we handle him... damn it, you need to tell me about old Whateley."

He'd heard everything Hope and Robert had said just now... Maybe this was a good thing. He could use old Whateley to give Paul a warning, otherwise if he kept coming here like this, something would go wrong sooner or later.

Hope hesitated for a moment. "You heard it all, didn't you? What this guy wants to do. He wants me to kill Wilbur."

"Honestly, I didn't quite follow. If he wants to talk, the worst that happens is the cops take me away. They won't do much to me. The cops don't like old Whateley."

"No... I was lying earlier. No cops are coming for you. Old Whateley would probably prefer to handle it himself... At least Wilbur leans that way..."

"Handle it how?"

"Kill you." Hope said bluntly.

"Uh..."

Paul was silent for a moment. "But old Whateley, he..."

He caught on quickly: "Damn it. I thought the townsfolk just hated the place, so they called old Whateley a witch."

Anyone with enough education would think that, Hope thought.

"Now you know. I think... I think we can't let this guy go... After all, he wanted to force someone to kill another person... He's a thorough villain."

Hope looked at Paul, squinting to see more clearly: "Is that a knife at your waist?"

"A sickle head without a handle. Good buddy for cutting grass..."

Before Paul could finish, Hope suddenly switched to holding Robert with one arm, his free hand darting toward Paul's sickle.

Both of Paul's hands were busy controlling Robert. He couldn't react in time, and the sickle head was already in Hope's hand.

Freshly sharpened metal gleamed coldly, pressed against Robert's neck.

Hope hesitated for a split second, then looked up and turned away, applying force with his wrist. A trace of crimson seeped from the neck. Robert's face showed despair...

"Stop!"

Finally snapping out of it, Paul grabbed Hope's wrist. The sickle halted on Robert's skin.

"Don't get worked up, Hope. For someone like him, it's not worth it..."

Paul didn't finish.

In stopping Hope, he had freed one of Robert's hands.

Hope saw that hand rise. On the thumb was a simple ruby ring. The index finger rubbed against the gem, and a tiny object sprang out from the back of the ring.

It gleamed blue, slashing toward Paul's skin.

Hope released the sickle and shoved Robert away with all his strength.

"Thud!"

Robert collapsed weakly in a corner of the room, knocking over a water glass on the nightstand.

Hope was still a moment too late. The tip of the ring had pierced Paul's arm. A little blood seeped out.

"I... I feel a bit dizzy," Paul said.

He swayed, soon lost his balance, and fell.

There was poison on that thing...

Hope caught him, forcing himself to look calm and steady: "Don't talk. Breathe slowly. Don't panic."

He saw Robert struggling on the floor on the other side. He gently set Paul down, picked up the sickle from the ground, and while Robert hadn't gotten up yet, crouched in front of him, pressing the sickle to his neck again.

"Keep that ring of yours away from me," Hope said. "Or I'll slit your throat before you can make a move."

Robert nodded. He slowly raised his hands above his head, signaling he wouldn't do anything. "Relax, Hope. I'd like to get you too, but then old Whateley would definitely kill me..."

He felt the pressure on his neck increase and dared not speak.

"What's on it?" Hope asked.

"Obviously. Coated with poison."

The sickle shifted to a new spot on Robert's neck, drawing another line of blood. Hope pressed his knee onto Robert's chest, slowly applying weight.

"Ugh... ngh..."

Robert was forced to expel the air from his lungs, his entire face scrunching up.

"I don't want to hear your nonsense."

Robert nodded painfully. Hope lifted his knee just a little, letting him breathe.

"Is there a way to cure the poison?"

"There is, in my clothes. Left side of the robe, there's a pocket."

"Take it out."

"I take it?"

"Who else?"

"Can you trust me to take it?"

"I trust you to use the hand without the ring."

Robert slowly reached his ringless hand toward the black robe, his well-manicured fingers pulling the robe open a little...

"Hey, Hope... damn it... move your knee a bit... ha... I can't breathe..."

"If I heard right, you said the left side of the robe," Hope said.

"Your... your left side..."

Hope nodded: "Then first put your hand into the right side, and put your head into the right side too."

"Damn it, Hope... then there's no antidote. Ugh... damn it... ah..."

The scythe shifted away from his neck, shaving a strip of flesh off Robert's chin.

"Is there a way to cure the poison?" Hope asked again.

"No, what kind of madman prepares an antidote for his own poison... I've never heard of anyone surviving after being cut by this thing!"

Hope licked his lips: "Explain clearly. What are the consequences of the poison?"

"Obviously, death."

Death?

Hope looked at the sturdy young man lying on the ground. Who would die? Paul?

"Paul?" Hope asked. "Can you still hear me? Paul!"

No response.

Feeling the threat of the scythe at his neck, Robert quickly said: "He's still alive! Relax, Hope... he won't die for now. The wound is shallow, he won't die for now. Look, his chest is still rising and falling. He just passed out."

Hope couldn't clearly see the rise and fall of his chest, but he could still see Paul's numbers.

"How do I save him?"

"I don't know. Maybe if you let me go... haah..."

"Bring the other hand over. The one with the ring. Hurry!"

Watching Robert's hand approach, Hope grabbed it with his free hand, carefully removing the ruby ring from it.

"What are you doing?" Robert asked.

Hope didn't answer. He brought the ring close to his eyes. What had cut Paul's skin was a hook on it.

The ring flipped around, the hook aimed at Robert's wrist.

"Wait, Hope. Don't," Robert said, shaking his head.

"You'd better have a way to save Paul," Hope said. "Otherwise, I think this ring can carry two lives."

Hope didn't hear Robert's answer, but he saw Robert's wrist instead draw closer, as if unafraid of the poison on the ring...

No, it wasn't moving toward the sleeve. It was... aiming the black robe's cuff at Hope.

"A little surprise," Robert said.