“If my car gets broken into, I swear,” I grumbled.

“Hide your valuables like everyone else,” said Nehemiah.

“It’s so bright.” I shielded my eyes from the morning light with one arm while I threw a bunch of stuff in my trunk with the other, slamming it shut. “Why does this parking lot have to be butted up against an alleyway?”

“You sure are complaining a lot, boss,” said Rob, walking alongside of me, resuming his Celtics hyper-fan look.

I held up a finger to my mouth and shushed the hobgoblin. “You would be too if you were out as late as I was last night, and mortal.” Then I turned on the wizard. “Why’d you wake me up so early and demand we take my car again?”

Nehemiah grunted. “I want to be rid of this bone whip for good. And the guy I might trade with may also have something that could help your vampire bite situation.”

We walked around to the front and I recognized where we were. “The thrift store?” I eyed the building again. I’d been inside Still Good half a dozen times. This was the worst one in Vallejo, being smaller than all the rest.

“As I told you, looks can be deceiving. We’ll see if the pawn shop is in town today. It jumps around.”

I shrugged and we walked in, setting off the doorbell. Cheap metro racks formed rows of used nonessentials. Immediately I was struck in the face with that indescribable yet identifiable thrift store smell. It was the odor of old rubber soles, clothes in a state of decay, and dusty VHS tapes. Stained lamp shades, rugs, clothing with tassels and sequins assaulted my vision, threatening to melt my eyes out of their sockets. A snot nose kid pedaling a plastic orange and yellow Little Tikes tricycle ran over my foot. “Ouch,” I said, stamping my foot.

Nehemiah looked back and forth, taking in the whole breadth of the store, looking for someone. “I don’t see him. Let’s browse for a bit.” And as if that was enough explanation, he took off down an aisle boasting value VHS tapes and DVDs from yesteryear.

I sighed sulking to the men’s clothing aisle.

“Whatchu looking for, boss?” asked Rob.

“Nothing in particular.”

“Don’t you need a new jacket?”

It was true. Mine had seen better days. It had been through a fight with a Banshee, several hundred undead birds, a sword duel with the Irish dark lord, a showdown with an aquatic dark horse, and a gang bust, just to name a few instances.

“A new-ish used jacket would be nice. Let me know if you spot anything cool.”

He held up an atrocious purple puff pillow jacket that would have been awesome if I was a Kings fan or hip-hop lover in the 90’s.

“Next.”

He found two jackets that I really liked. One was navy blue but the style was a little outdated. The other one was gray. Black or dark brown were preferable. As I was trying to decide which one to get, the wizard tapped me on the shoulder. “He’s here today. Come on.”

“Which one of these do you think I should get?” I held them both up to him. He snatched them, glared at me and hung them up on the racks.

“Hey,” I said, but Nehemiah dragged me to the back of the store. It was odd, as we moved towards the back of the store nothing visible changed, there was just way more store than there should’ve been. I glanced around to see if any of the other patrons and noticed, but we were alone in the back of the store that just kept going.

The items begin to change from 90’s junk to more ancient artifacts and items of real value. I saw vials and vases with sloppy handwriting scrawled on weathered scrolls tied to corked tops. Liquids of various hues and colors popped out at me. Above the section, it was clearly labeled potions.

“Don’t move anything. Cennétig is particular about his wares being moved around. Everything has a specific place. Got it?”

Rob and I nodded.

Somehow and at some point, the floor had changed to an old wooden floor and not chipped linoleum. The walls and ceiling changed too, from the disgusting popcorn finish to a wood that matched the floor. No longer were there metro racks, but hand built wooden racks and shelving mounting the walls and creating aisles. I tried to look back to the thrift store, but instead a wooden wall stared back at me. Somehow we had walked right out of the thrift store and into the pawn shop.

“How did we —?”

“Magic,” said Rob.

And that was really all I needed for an explanation. I could shoot magic orbs of energy from my hands, so of course, the thrift store could magically turn into a magic pawn shop.

A glint of light on black metal caught my eye. It was a matte black sword blade almost as long as one of my legs. The cross guard was standard, but where the cross guard and the hilt met an eye-like orb rested in the center. Voices muttering, whispering to me, told me to take the sword. I reached over to grab it off the wall.

“Don’t touch that unless you want to become a soul-stealer,” said a voice with an old rasp to it.

I drew my hand back as if scolded, turning to look at the voice’s owner. A large man-thing with a massive potato of a nose and a single bulging eye to match, hunched over a countertop. Stringy hair combed down the side of his face. Even though he had such a large head, his jaw was weak, like Coldplay. When I say man, I use the term loosely because he wasn’t human at all.

I forced a smile. “Just looking.”

He leaned on one beefy arm over the counter. “You ‘eard the whispering didn’t yah. Like I said, it’s only for sale if yer soul stealer material. That blade brings storms.”

I raised an eyebrow. “I got my hands on a cyclone saber. I’m covered.”

“Good. You don’t look the type.” He eyed me with his bulgy-eyed stare, like some kind of cross between Oscar the Grouch and the hunchback of Notre Dame. His gaze made me feel uncomfortable, like I wasn’t man enough to hold the sword.

I turned to his wares, observing the rest of the store that lay before me. Besides potions and swords, there were wands, rods, staffs, cloaks, trench coats, keychains, a ton of other gizmos and gadgets that I couldn’t even explain, and of course, a soda machine.

He hopped around the counter. Each hop sent rumbles through the floor. As he cleared the corner I saw that he only had one leg. And that beefy arm he leaned on the counter with was his only arm. He wasn’t missing limbs that had been severed. He was born that way. I did my best not to stare, but he noticed.

Prompted by my awkward gaze, Rob whispered loudly in my ear. “He’s a Fachan. They’re only born with one leg, one arm, and— ouch!” I nudged Rob with my elbow, trying to quiet him. “...one eye,” he finished. “Some say they’re half-men. Get it?”

I cleared my throat and changed the subject. “Is that a magic soda machine?”

Cennétig frowned, his lips drooping over his chin. “Depends. Are you a magic nitwit, or a normal nitwit?”

Blood drained from my face, and then came right back with a vengeance, turning me beet red, almost as red as my hair. I tightened my jaw, about to return a nasty retort.

“He’s with me Cennétig. He’s new here.”

“He’s an O’Farrell, ain’t he?”

My heart skipped a beat. How did this old bullfrog know my family?

Nehemiah seemed confused too, as if he didn’t know Cennétig was familiar with me either. Instead, he brushed it off.

“The kid’s got a problem we’re hoping you can help us with.”

Cennétig blinked his eyeball with a blank expression.

“Last night one of the Dearg Due’s children bit him on the neck and—”

The Fachan roared. “Back demon!” he yelled at me.

Nehemiah moved between us. “But he wasn’t turned. As you can see.”

Cennétig crouched low as if he would leap on me any moment. “What do you want me to do about it? Seems like a miracle has already taken place.”

Nehemiah held up a finger. “Not quite. He was marked with a Keening a few weeks back.”

The Fachan gasped. “How are you still standing boy?”

“Let me finish!” roared Nehemiah. Small purple sparks exploded off of the wizard. He exhaled through his nose before resuming. “His Good Luck was unlocked the same night. So we wager it’s kept the Keening at bay. But with the vampire bite, weird things started happening.”

“Weirder than not being turned into a vampire?”

“I saw myself right after the bite healed. It’s a Fetch I’m told.”

Cennétig’s mouth hung open. “You’re thrice dead where you stand boy. The Keening alone should have shriveled your soul.”

Nehemiah leaned on the counter. “Got anything that could help?”

The Fachan balked. “I just so happen to have Dagda’s cauldron cooking up a stew in the back.”

Rob clasped his hands together, eyes glistening. “You do!”

The Fachan slammed his one arm on the counter. “Of course not! I’ve got salmon based potions that’ll give you wisdom. Live fluttering Fae sprites in jars good for charms. I’ve got milk from the sacred cows that’s grant you youth for hundreds of years. But a thrice cursed omen of death...”

I stared off into space trying to keep that sinking feeling at bay.

The Oak tree didn’t work. Nehemiah’s Fachan lead was scared to death for me. Brigid seemed like my only option left. But if I crossed over to the Otherside to find her, The Morrigan had guaranteed that the Keening would win over my Good Luck. Lose-lose for me. That left me with The Morrigan’s offer as my only choice.

The beaks irritated my leg, so I shifted them in my pocket. No. I wasn’t going to use those and be bound to her. That’s what she wanted. There had to be another way. Perhaps Rob had a connection he forgot to mention. I’d ask him about it as soon as we were through.

Nehemiah broke the silence. “I got an item that might be of interest to you. I’m hoping I can trade it for one of your worn old staffs.”

Cennétig looked relieved to get back to what he knew best. “Let’s see the thing.”

I was about to ask Nehemiah what he meant by old staff. I thought he wanted a new staff. But the wizard pulled out the Dullahan’s spinal whip and they begin talking.

“Where’d you get that, wizard?”

“How much would you say this is worth?”

“Well, it all depends on where you got it.”

Nehemiah pursed his lips and snorted. He really didn’t want to tell Cennétig it was from the Dullahan. “I got it in Tir na nOg.”

“You don’t go over there anymore.”

“I don’t.”

“So how’d you get the spinal whip?”

“I took it.”

“While in Tech Duinn maybe?”

“Perhaps. So what kind of staff could it get me? Rowan, redwood, birch, oak?”

He paused as if he was going to let the pawn shop owner answer, then as the man-thing opened his mouth, Nehemiah cut him off. “Elder? Reed? Ivey? Vine? Hazel? Hawthorne? Willow? Alder? Ash?”

“Give me a moment to answer,” said Cennétig.

“Oh, so you don’t like being asked tons of questions either?”

I covered my mouth to prevent a chuckle from escaping, but big Cennétig laid his bulging eye on me and stopped me in my tracks. He turned back to Nehemiah. “I’ll let you pick out a wand. A birch if you like.”

“What you think I am? Some schoolboy with a scar on his head? I need a man’s tool, not a boy’s toy.”

“Did you get this from the Dullahan?” He pointed a yellow nailed finger at the whip.

The air in the room grew cold.

Nehemiah didn’t say yes. He didn’t say no either. He let out some kind of grunt that could pass for both, and neither. But Cennétig took it as a yes.

“Get that off my counter, if you please.”

“Come on Cennétig. An item like this is priceless.”

“And also cursed. And also the weapon of the dark lord’s henchmen. Like you said, priceless. That means there’s nothing in here I can give you that wouldn’t be ripping you off. And everyone knows I’m a man of fair trade.”

“Actually you’re a Fachan, not a man. And actually, if this spinal whip is priceless, then you would be getting a steal by giving me literally anything in the store. I would really love an old staff and this time I’d love to try Alder wood. Got any of those?”

“I have some for sale. Not for trade. Or you can take the birch wand.” Cennétig produced the birch wand, complete with magenta colored precious gemstones.

“Looks like it comes prepackaged with the power of heart,” I said. “Which everyone knows is Captain Planet’s strongest power.”

Nehemiah and Cennétig ignored me. They went at it for another round, trying to verbally best the other without completely insulting each other. I got kind of bored and started to wonder where the heck Rob was.

“Rob?” No answer. I bit my lip. Rob had a tendency to get easily distracted. He basically had magical ADHD which is like regular ADHD but with the advantage of being able to get in one hundred times more trouble. And since I was his master I was probably on the hook if he did anything stupid, especially with ole’ hunchback Cennétig running the shop.

“Rob? Rob.”

Stepping past drooping candles whose wax had accumulated over hundreds of years on shelf tops, I shifted sideways to edge through a narrow aisle. “Swellfellow?”

Rob’s muffled cry reach my ears.

I walked past shelves with dried tentacles, skeletons of creatures I had no name for, and dusty tomes of ancient literature. Floating high in the air near a rack full of vases with swimming creatures in them Rob spun head over heels trying to get his head unstuck from a hat.

“What the heck are you doing? Quit messing around and get down here.”

Exacerbated, Rob give me a muffled cry. He threw his palms up in defeat.

“Okay. Slowly float down towards my voice.”

Wiggling his stubby arms and legs he moved towards me.

“Watch out for that vase!”

Too late. He nudged the vase and it tumbled off the shelf. I dove stretching my arms wide. I just barely managed to catch it in time before I tumbled to the ground. “Ooof.”

“Nice catch.” Rob said, his head in perfect shape, the hat tucked under his arm.

“How did you get out of that?”

“I remembered to turn into a cat,” he tapped his head with his pointer finger. “My cat head is smaller than my hob head.”

“Next time use your wise owl brain before you knock stuff over. Put this back.”

I handed him the vase and grabbed him by the scruff of his neck and lobbed him up towards the top shelf. He fumbled with the vase almost dropping it, before placing it on the edge of the shelf.

“Away from the edge. Geewhiz.”

Rob ignored me. There was a sparkle in his eyes. “Did you know that he sells firearms too?”

“No I didn’t. Let me guess, he sells Celtic Funko Pops too? Push the vase back a little please.”

“AR 15’s. AK-47s. You name it. Kind of funny that he’s an arms dealer when you think about it considering he only has one arm.” Rob laughed at his own joke hugging his belly as he rocked back and forth.

“Careful!”

Rob rocked back and hit the vase, sending it to the floor with a crash.

“Time to go!” A yellow mist was rising from the broken vase and whatever had been in it was squirming on the floor. I didn’t want to find out if the concoction was poisonous or if the creature was deadly. There was a reason it was in a jar.

We found a way back to Nehemiah at the central counter where he and Cennétig were still arguing. I tugged on the wizard’s arm motioning that it was time to skedaddle.

“This guy.” He shook his head jutting a thumb at the Fachan. “Doesn’t know a rare artifact when he sees one.”

“Cool. Whatever, let’s go.”

Nehemiah turned to go, then stopped growling. “Fine. The birch wand then.”

The slightest hint of a smile touched the corner of Cennétig’s lips, but it vanished. He told Nehemiah how much it cost.

I reeled at the price. That was almost a new video game consul’s worth for a wand. I’d hate to know how much a whole staff cost.

Nehemiah eyed me clearing his throat. “You owe me remember,” he whispered.

“Now?”

“Believe me, I don’t like the birch wand either, but this guy is single handedly stiff arming me. Got no choice. Cough up the money.”

I owed Eddy the money for rent this month, but when push came to wizard, Nehemiah won. Plus I did owe Nehemiah for destroying the dolmen and dealing with the Dullahan. Without him risking his life we’d all still be stuck in the desolation known as the Between.

I sighed. “Fine.” There went all of this week’s money and then some. I’d ask Eddy for some wiggle room. He’d be ticked at me, but he could afford it.

“Oooo, look at these,” said Rob.

I snatched Rob by the arm and we stormed out. As the pawn shop melded back into the thrift store I heard the thump thump thump of the Fachan hopping around his store.

“Hey!” He roared, finding the mess we left.

“So not only did I not get rid of the spinal whip, or obtain a staff, but we’re no longer welcome there. Thanks guys,” said Nehemiah.

“Don’t look at me. This shape shifting troublemaker here didn’t listen to the hands-off policy.”

“Technically you’re my master,” said Rob. “So anything I do is your responsibility.”

“Come here you little —”

I chased the hobgoblin around my car a few times. I gave up. He could always float out of reach.

I hit the top of my Fastback with a closed fist. “You got your wand. I still have no idea how to fix my Keening issue without going to the Otherside. Know anyone else? Otherwise I’ve got to try Brigid. Either of you friends with her?”

Nehemiah shook his head.

Cat-Rob stretched out on the hood of my car. “I might know someone. He lives in Berkeley. Only comes out at night.”

“Who’s this guy you know? Berkeley is awful close to Oakland. Where the Dearg Due resides.”

“You’ll have to wait until tonight to find out,” purred Rob.

The wizard shook his head. “What you got going on today Shamrock?”

I considered it. What did I have going on? Then it hit me. “Crap. I’ve got a martial arts tournament all the way in Sacramento!”

“Drop me off at my truck first,” said Nehemiah.

My Fastback roared down the street.

I’d have to put the whole cursed thing on hold. I could handle it later tonight. Right then I had to get my gi and get over to the dojo.