There were two weird things about Nehemiah’s house. The first was a distinct lack of occult stuff. The second was all of the family pictures lining the walls.

I could see that he had two kids, a boy and a girl and a beautiful wife who looked a lot younger than he did. His kids were pre-teens. There was also a picture of a young man by himself next to the family photos on the walls. This kid was a late teen, possibly even in his early twenties. He looked a lot like Nehemiah but not like his other kids in the slightest.

The house was immaculately clean, and if one had a nice camera I could imagine the home being featured on a decorating blog or house magazine.

“Where’s all the magic stuff?” asked Rob, speaking for both of us.

“What stuff?” said Nehemiah.

“We really don’t have time for this,” I said, but was ignored.

“You know, crystal balls, potions, eyeballs in jars, poison apples, caldrons? Skulls, black widows and cobwebs?” asked Rob.

“You expect the Wicked Witch of the West?”

“No flying monkeys?” whined Rob.

I kicked the cat. “You can’t talk remember.”

Nehemiah brought us into his study. Faint piano-centric Jazz music played from a set of speakers. On one whole wall, pictures of horn, guitar, and piano players were mounted as well as a few choice Jazz records. On a stand in corner was an electric guitar, one of those hollow body types plugged into a small tube amp.

Bookshelves covered the other three of the four walls. Off to one side was a nice Ikea style desk that seemed naked without a computer on it. He offered me a reading chair under a lamp while he spun the desk chair around and sat down. “Okay,” he said. “Explain to me why you thought it was cool to track me down at this hour of the night.”

I spent several precious minutes filling him in on what had taken place up until just before going on the date at Pho Noodle House.

“...and I assumed I killed the one-and-only Sluagh, but—.”

Nehemiah cut me off before I could explain about Charice. “Sluagh means ‘Host’ in Gaelic.”

His arms were crossed and he wasn’t even phased.

“You already know about the Sluagh?” I said.

Nehemiah raised eyebrows. “Know about them? I’ve only been fighting them for weeks. Why do you think the Banshee was trying to wash blood out of my clothes in the laundromat?” He lifted his shirt exposing his rib cage and I could see a nasty scar that wasn’t quite healed. “One of those things got me good but I returned the favor.”

“You killed one?” asked Rob, while inspecting Nehemiah’s bookshelf.

“One? At least three. Maybe five.”

Five, I mouthed. “I could barely handle one.”

“That’s why they sent the Banshee after me. I was messing with their schemes.”

“They?”

”Fomorians.”

His staff was suspended on the wall also by a special hanger. It was a lot smaller than I remembered and now that I could see it up close the weathered grains in the ebony wood told me that the weapon had seen a lot of action.

I raised my hands. “The Sluagh took some women. Just over an hour ago. West. And I need your help to save them.”

Nehemiah sighed. “This is gonna sound harsh, but we can’t be everywhere at once Sean. When you’ve been doing this as long as me you experience failure. We’re finite. We can’t waste energy saving people that are already on the Otherside.”

“You know where the Sluagh are coming from?” I asked.

“Well,” he said, “Like all supernatural beings, they aren’t from here. They cross over one or two ways. A tear in the space-time fabric, like our Banshee last week.”

“Or?” I said.

“Or through a Threshold.” When I gave him a puzzled look he explained. “It’s a gateway, a place of crossing. Neither here nor there, but in both.”

“So if you know where they’re coming from why not take the fight to the source?”

“To the Threshold? No way.”

“Why not?”

“I protect the innocent but I don’t go hunting them on their turf.”

“That’s so stupid. You could have ended this fight a long time ago.”

“You think closing a Threshold is the answer? They’ll just make another one. You don’t know nothin’ Sean. You just woke up to the hidden world remember? I’ve been doing this for a while.”

“Well I would’ve at least tried.”

“I bet you would,” said Nehemiah nodding his head. “I have a wife and kids Sean. I have a responsibility to them first. You killed a Banshee and one Sluagh and now you’re all gung-ho to take ‘em all out.”

My emotions got me all twisted inside. I raised my voice. “Why even help me save my little brother last week? Didn’t you cross over to their turf then?”

Nehemiah’s eyes closed and he rested his chin in his right hand. “That was different. We were right there in the moment when it happened. No offence, but there’s nothing at stake this time.”

I took a step towards him, raising my hands up. “That’s not true. The Sluagh took—”

“I can’t let you throw your life away, Sean. I’m not taking you to the Threshold.”

I clenched my fists and was about to explain it was personal when my phone rang. Except when I reached into my pocket the ringing phone wasn’t mine, it was Charice’s. On the screen I read the name and my blood froze in my veins.

Justin.