He probably shouldn’t have kissed Ron, but the moment had been too intense. It’d just been a light kiss, didn’t have to be taken any other way, if that’s what freaked Ron out.

Had Ron returned the kiss?

It didn’t matter. Something had caused Ron to be quiet around him now, so he’d just have to make that right.

“How do you feel? Still feel okay?”

Ron nodded. “A little weird, but okay.”

“Let me fix you something.” He led Ron into the sunroom. From the last cabinet, he took a pot-bellied black bottle from the shelf, then grabbed a cobalt blue shot glass from a shelf that lined the window. He filled the shot glass, handed it to Ron. “This will get rid of the residual ick from the dark magic earlier.”

Ron sniffed it. “Smells like that horrible calolock weed you grow.”

“Just shoot it. It’ll taste good, I promise.” Well, it would start out with a sweet flavor of bourbon, a mix of caramel and vanilla, but then a kick of something similar to spoiled milk and vomit would finish it off.

Ron sighed, then drank the shot. He coughed as he sat the glass down. “Oh my God, that’s awful!”

“Yeah, sorry.”

Ron leaned against the cabinet, taking a deep breath. “That’s almost as awful as the shocks earlier.”

“I am sorry. It will help, I promise.”

“Wow.” He slid the shot glass back to Oliver. “Well, now I know why you grow that awful stuff.”

“It works well in a purging spell, though. Trust me, you’ll feel a hundred percent in about five minutes.”

Ron folded his arms. “I can’t even describe how much that hurt earlier.”

Another text.

Video of Allen’s murder or I will skin her alive.

“I’m truly sorry about all this.” Oliver put the stopper back in the potion bottle. “My life isn’t usually this chaotic.”

“Well ...” Ron coughed. “Whatever we can do to help, we’re here. We’ll stop this guy. You know Dylan doesn’t tolerate threats to children at all.”

“Thank you.” He kept his voice low. “I can’t tell you how much I worry about her.”

“I understand. We’ll do all we can to protect her ... and you.”

After Ron’s attack and all the threats to Norah, he hadn’t considered his own safety.

Ron took a red bottle from the shelf near his head. “Dragon’s blood?”

“Don’t freak out. It’s not dragon or blood. It’s a resin from trees, all herbal and good energy.”

“If you say so.” Ron pursed his lips as he returned the bottle to the shelf.

“I don’t understand why this is connected to Allen. He wasn’t a witch. Was barely even her dad. He left us when she was just one.”

“And to think that Martin has a video, too. Maybe there is something in Allen’s medical file, maybe something incriminating on the computer that this guy is trying to cover up?”

Oliver’s phone buzzed six times in rapid succession. The messages were from blocked numbers, but all the same.

I can’t fight the monster any longer. I’m so sorry.

“Allen suffered for so long, was in such agony. For someone to take that and twist that into this game of threats ... it pisses me off. And to threaten her?”

Ron nodded.

“I was there when he died. He was surrounded by family and loved ones and ...” He put the bottle on the cabinet. “Well, okay, cancer murdered him, there’s that.”

Ron bowed his head.

“I’m sorry. Tonight’s been a lot for me. This whole week, really. I just can’t make sense of all this; Allen’s death, witches being killed, threats to Norah.”

“I know it’s difficult for you to talk about, but is there anything about Allen’s death that would warrant this attention?”

Allen’s death tugged at his heart. It’d only been a few weeks, the grief still stark. Allen was gone. He couldn’t let this touch his heart again. “What has Martin told you?”

“Martin?”