“Did he take any of this tonight?” she asked.

“The bottle was empty when we found it,” Luca said, glaring at me. “We think she gave him the whole bottle at once.”

Dr. Voss looked over at me, her sharp eyes taking in my uniform and my pale face.

She did not say anything to me, but she turned back to her bag and pulled out a small glass vial and a syringe.

“I need to administer an antagonist immediately,” Dr. Voss said, tapping the side of the syringe. “If this is digitalis toxicity, we don’t have much time.”

She plunged the needle into the vial, drawing the clear liquid upward.

I watched her hands, noting the steady, practiced movement of her fingers.

She wiped Alexander’s arm with an alcohol swab, the sharp smell of the chemical cutting through the heavy scent of old wood and rain in the room.

Just as she was about to insert the needle into his arm, the light bulb in the ceiling fixture flickered.

It buzzed once, twice, and then went completely dark.