Thick, bubble letter style graffiti etched its way across Berkeley warehouses, names whizzing by us like subtitles, the voice of the city, in visible form.

The freeway separated the city from the Bay’s edge. On the horizon to our right a thick wall of fog taller than any San Francisco skyscraper closed in around the Golden Gate Bridge. The moon flew high in the sky, peeking out behind dark clouds.

Would have been a nice night if Nehemiah, Charice, Rob, and I weren’t all jammed in my Fastback cruising all the way to Berkeley to find a cure for my ailments.

“So how do you know this guy again?” I asked.

“He’s a friend of mine,” said Rob. “We go way back.”

The wizard frowned. “Somehow, I’m not so sure of that.”

“This is the exit,” said Rob.

I exited the freeway heading out towards the Berkeley waterfront. The Berkeley waterfront was a man-made peninsula strip of land with a hill that was perfect for kite flying. In fact there was a shack that sold and rented kites for people to fly daily. So why we were coming here at night was anyone’s guess.

Charice looked skeptical. “Are you sure this is the right place, Rob?”

He whistled an annoying folksy tune to himself. “Yep.”

Of course the parking lot gate was locked so I had to do my standard park on the side of the fence and hope I didn’t get towed gag.

As soon as I stepped out of the car my Keening sensation tingled. It wasn’t a full on burning like it did when a monster was right on top of me, but it was there nonetheless. “Let’s be on our guard. I sense something.”

“It’s probably just my friend, Iarfhlaith.”

“Ear-lah. How do you spell that?”

“You don’t want to know,” said Rob. “Wouldn’t even begin to make sense.”

Rob was such an airhead sometimes, I didn’t really believe him, or trust his judgment. But apparently this guy, Iarfhlaith, knew this side of the Bay Area like the back of his hand, and got news of anything going down or out of the ordinary. According to Rob, he’d know if I was on my way to full vampire or not, and he’d have heard if my current condition was unique or if it had happened before. And if he didn’t know, no one did.

Nehemiah’s trench coat billowed in the wind. “So where’s this guy?”

“He should be over yonder hill.”

“Yonder?” Nehemiah jeered.

We crested the hill and sure enough, I could see the dark form of a tall figure standing on top of the grassy hillside. Also the tingling sensation in my Keening grew stronger. I looked to and fro but we were in the open and I didn’t catch any signs of monsters. I looked skyward in case there was something flying overhead and there was.

It was a kite. And the string was attached and running down to the massive hands of the figure up ahead.

“Is he really flying a kite at night?” I asked.

“Yeah, that’s Iarfhlaith.”

As we approached the guy didn’t seem to hear us. He hummed a tune with a deep booming voice. How he could fly a kite at night was beyond me. I could barely make out the sky borne diamond in the thick fog that rolled in.

“Hey buddy!” yelled Rob, startling the figure.

He spun on his heel and assumed a fighting stance.

For a moment, twin images of the guy flickered between his Glamour disguise and his true self. Anyone else would see was a tall man who could star as a Raiders lineman.

But what I saw was a figure that overshadowed me by about eight feet. Not as large as a Fomorian, but not a man in the slightest. His swollen muscles bulged under grey skin. His hands were like basketballs, and his shoulders were as big as family-size pizzas, back when family-size was worth your money. That should give you an indication of his barrel-shaped chest. He was a cross between Grey Hulk and Goliath the gargoyle. Pock marks ran rampant across his skin. A thick mane of ebony hair fell down his back like a mohawk-mullet combo. His eyes burned, taking in our group.

He looked confused and angry until he spotted Rob.

That’s when he went berserk.

He lunged at Rob with the lion’s roar.

I yelled at Rob, backing up and reaching for my swords. “I thought this guy was your friend,”

“Me too!”

The massive creature tackled Rob out of the air and tumbled down the grassy hill. I sprang into action chasing after the monster ready to fight it to the death to save my little hobgoblin buddy.

The creature yelled and screamed as it shook my hobgoblin.

I found firm footing on a patch of dirt a few yards away from where they stopped rolling. I drew my katana, Jade, as well as Manann mac Lir’s own aquatic crystalline sword, Fragarach. I crossed the blades and put them on the neck of the monster. “Make a move and I’ll lop off your ugly head,” I growled in a low voice. After I spoke I tried to push Celtic magic through my blades out of habit, but the magic recoiled within.

Before I realized what had happened, the giant swatted me with his tree-trunk sized arm. I flew headlong into the grass. He pulled out a two foot ruddy potato sack, which to him would have barely fit on his foot as a sock. How he fit his hand in the hole baffled me, but the next thing he did was even crazier. Like some kind of rabbit-in-the-hat magician, he heaved a ten foot cleaver sword out of the sack and leveled it at me, ready to do battle.

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He growled with a voice so low it took me a second to register what he even said. “You step forward to do battle? Look sharp then mortal.”

I gulped and got to my feet. I took a step forward and so did he, both of us brought our blades up.

At my side Nehemiah leveled his .357 magnum at the monster priming the hammer. A lot of good that would do. In his other hand his spinal whip glowed with Chaotic infused Bad Luck.

Charice crouched low, dropping her jacket. Wings shot from her back. She spread them wide, threatening the beast before us with an intimidating midnight wingspan.

“Okay guys, I’ll attack head on, Charice you take to the skies. Nehemiah you flank him from the left. One, two, three—”

Owl-Rob flew in between us and the monster, hooting. “Stop! Stop! Stop!”

“Why don’t you want me to end your enemies?” the lumbering beast boomed.

“Because,” said Rob, “these are my friends, just like you. And this fellow,” Rob motioned to me with a deep bow, “is my new master.”

“Wait, you’re not trying to kill my hobgoblin?”

“No. I had not seen him in a long time.”

“He always tackled me,” said Rob as if that made total sense.

“Oh.”

My swords fell to my sides, Charice’s wings folded in, and Nehemiah unprimed the revolver hammer.

Iarfhlaith let out a low rumble that sounded like boulders crashing. I guess it was supposed to be laughter.

My arms shook with the jitters of unused adrenaline. I sheathed my swords and held my hand out to the creature. “I’m Sean O’Farrell.”

My hand disappeared in his King Kong grip. “Iarfhlaith. But my friends call me Iar. Nice to meet you, Master O’Farrell.”

“What are you?” I said before I realized that was incredibly rude.

“I’m a Fir Bolg.”

“Remind me what those are again?”

“We were the original inhabitants of Ireland before the Fomorians and Tuatha de Danann kicked us out.”

As he spoke he produced his weathered sack and once more shoved his massive blade into it, making the entire ten foot weapon disappear.

“That sucks, being forced to leave,” said Charice.

“I could care less about Ireland. I love living here in the Bay Area. Perfect weather. Doesn’t rain too much and I don’t mind the fog. Plus there’s enough mist to go back to Tír na nOg any time I want. Too much fighting there though.”

Rob supported his friend. “He’s really a peaceful fellow.”

“That’s apparent,” said Charice.

Nehemiah and I laughed.

Curious, I couldn’t keep from asking. “How’d you make that huge slab of a sword disappear?”

“Oh this?” He held up the weathered sack. “Us Fir Bolgs figured out how to make bags of holding long ago. They can hold all manner of things, magical or mundane alike.” Iar pointed to Nehemiah. “His trench coat is made of the same material. I’d recognize Fir Bolg handiwork anywhere.”

Nehemiah nodded. “A fine piece of clothing. Super handy. Picked it up from Cennétig years ago.”

Charice noticed Iar’s kite had crashed a little way off and retrieved it. The string had gotten tangled. She knelt in the grass and untangled it for Iar. Rob hovered over trying to help, but she batted him away.

“Thanks, my lady. I love flying kites. I don’t get to do it too much, only after dark. Isn’t it a beautiful night?”

“The fresh air is a good change,” said Charice, trying to be conversational.

Adrenaline still pumped through me, but I drew the night air deep into my lungs and calmed myself.

“So what brings you to my neck of the woods, Swellfellow?”

“My master here was bitten by a child of the Dearg Due.”

“Child? Where?” Iar’s head darted back and forth, his hand tightening on his bag of holding.

“Happened last night,” said the wizard.

Iar crossed into my personal space squinting, my entire being coming under scrutiny. He inhaled through his nostrils, smelling me, which sounded like eight stallions ready to charge. Iar put a thick finger on his lip and squinted one eye closed, lifting an eyebrow, deep in thought.

“I can smell vampire. But it’s old.”

I pointed to the fang marks. “Got me right here. But the bite healed within minutes after it happened.”

Iar continued sniffing. “Some other troublesome scent lingers. Is that...Banshee?”

I smiled. “Wow. You’re good.”

Rob hovered over my shoulder. “Sean’s got a Keening.”

Iar’s eyes dilated wider than an expensive camera lens. “A Keening curse and a bite by a child of the Dearg Due? How are you still standing?”

“Luck,” grunted Nehemiah. “Good Luck actually.”

“You channel Order?” asked the behemoth.

I nodded.

“All the swirly twirly green goodness,” said Rob.

“That must be what’s keeping the Keening at bay.”

Nehemiah shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “Ever seen or heard of anything like this?”

Iar’s massive finger tapped on his lips as he pondered. “The Keening must have stopped the vampire turning.”

“So I’m not turning into a vampire?”

Iarfhlaith looked me up and down, circled me with earth shaking steps. Each footstep felt like a gavel pronouncing a guilty verdict. The Fir Bolg tapped his lips some more. “I’ve never heard of or seen anything like this.”

“Figures,” I said.

“It’s fascinating,” said Iarfhlaith. “Any symptoms?”

He seemed more interested in me as a science experiment than my wellbeing.

“I’ve been sick off and on. Lots of vomiting.”

He nodded, unfazed.

“It gets weirder. I’ve seen myself running around. Like a doppelganger. An imposter Sean.”

“Except we—” Nehemiah eyed Charice and Rob, “—never saw this imposter Sean. Only he did.”

Iarfhlaith looked puzzled.

“I was told I have a Fetch after me.”

Iarfhlaith gasped. “Yes! A death omen that takes the form of the one doomed to die. Well it’s no wonder you have a Fetch haunting you. You’re cursed twice over. Thrice if you count the Fetch itself.”

“But I’m not turning into a vampire?”

“Any cravings for human blood?”

I shook my head. “I ate everything in my fridge the other night. That’s it.”

Iarfhlaith shook his head slowly. “I’ve come toe to toe with plenty of the Dearg Due’s children. Believe me, I know a vamp when I smell one. The bite makes the smell linger, but you don’t have the taint about you.”

“Any ideas about how to get rid of the Fetch?”

Iarfhlaith frowned. “The sign of a Fetch means your death is impending. But the Fetch itself may not be the actual bringer of death. From what I’ve heard anyway. You need to figure out what else threatens you. My guess is the Keening. If the Keening stopped the vampire bite, then that is what threatens you.”

Great. So I didn’t know anything new. And the only one who supposedly had a solution was the Morrigan. And Brigid. So said the Morrigan. But she’d also warned me that the Keening would get worse if I crossed over to the Otherside to find Brigid. Hopefully she was on this side of reality, in the Bay Area. But if not, it was a risk I had to take.

“Know how I might find Brigid?”

“You mean find her when she’s not guarding the eternal flame?”

I shrugged. “You know better than me. I can’t really cross over without putting myself at risk of dying.”

Iarfhlaith shifted his chin to one side in thought. “I heard she’s got some sort of shop she runs during the day here in the Bay Area. A nail salon. Or a hair salon. Something of that nature. Not positive.”

“Okay. Sounds like she’s my best bet.”