We stepped out the front door and I walked a few steps before glancing back. I stumbled to a halt, my brain refusing to accept the evidence of my eyes. I knew that Jessie’s house was enormous beyond reason. Yet, what confronted me was little more than a cabin. It was one story and maybe big enough for a bedroom, a bathroom, a tiny kitchen, and a closet-sized living room. I shook my head, looked again, and it was still just a cabin painted a dark blue. Jessie stepped up next to me, grinning like a cat in a cream factory.

“Pretty badass, right?”

“That’s crazy. It’s bigger on the,” I started.

She whirled toward me. “I love that show! It’s where I got the idea.”

I had no idea what she was talking about. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Her face fell. “Philistine. Anyways, it’s the best tax dodge I’ve ever seen. I live like a queen and pay property taxes like a pauper.”

“Is that,” I frowned, “legal?”

“I’m pretty sure there aren’t any tax laws that cover warping the dimensional parameters of interior home spaces.”

“But where do Sven and the rest of the staff park?”

“Trade secret,” she said. “Let’s go.”

I got into the passenger seat of Jessie’s Pathfinder, and she started driving. I wasn’t paying much attention. She didn’t live in Chicago proper, so I expected something of a drive to get to O’Hare or Union station. It didn’t matter that much to me how I got where I was going, as long as I got there. It wasn’t until she pulled onto I-90 East that I got suspicious.

“Where are we going?”

“You wanted to see the Corrupted Oracle, right?”

“Yes.”

“Well, he’s in Atlantic City. This is how you get there.”

“I could have flown,” I said.

“Sure, but I only fly for huge amounts of money and funerals. No one’s dead and no one’s paying me, so we drive.”

I rubbed at one of my eyes. “When did this become a buddy cop, road trip movie?”

“When I figured out that you’re probably going to off the Corrupted Oracle. I want to see that. A tale to tell the grandkids someday. I can hear it now. ‘Grandma, tell us again about the time Jericho Lott killed the Corrupted Oracle and burned down a casino!’”

I jerked forward in my seat a little. “Who said anything about burning down a casino?”

Jessie sighed wistfully. “A girl can dream, can’t she? I’ve always wanted to watch a casino burn.”

“And I’m the scary one?”

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“I never said I couldn’t be scary,” she offered with a malicious grin.

I leaned my head back and winced a little. I was in a lot better shape than I had been, and the need to eat five times my normal quantities had mercifully vanished in the last day or two. Even so, I still ached most of the time and couldn’t seem to shake a persistent fatigue. I wondered if that was how it felt to get old, hurting everywhere, all the time, and constantly feeling like you needed a nap. I hoped not. Sounded like a losing bet to me. Before long, though, I was fast asleep as the miles rolled away behind us. Jessie and I spelled each other with the driving, moving steadily toward the self-proclaimed garden state.

I’d never been to New Jersey, let alone Atlantic City, so everything I knew about the place came from TV and movies. I reasoned that meant I knew exactly nothing about the place. Even with my expectations tempered, Atlantic City was a shock to me. I’d expected casinos and bright lights, which there were, but I’d been unprepared for the staggering poverty and crumbling infrastructure that surrounded those casinos and lights. The city looked like it was well on its way to imploding. The people we drove past looked, by turns, beaten down, broken, or angry. I decided it was a good thing we’d come in Jessie’s rusted-up SUV. We didn’t look like we had anything worth trying to steal. On top of all that, I was lost almost immediately. We’d arrived after dark and street lights seemed to be the first victims of the urban decay around us. Jessie, however, navigated through the city like she’d lived there her whole life.

“You know your way around this place,” I said.

She shook her head. “Never been here before.”

“Then how do you know where to go?”

“You’ve got your gifts, I’ve got mine. This is part of mine. I don’t get lost. Ever.”

“Supernatural GPS?”

She laughed. “Something like that.”

She pulled to stop outside a building that, while not showing any outward signs of being occupied, also didn’t have any broken windows. The front door looked new, but it somehow managed to project unfriendliness. I glanced up and down the block. There were street people around, but they all kept their distance from the building. Did they know something we didn’t? They probably did, but it didn’t matter. I was going into that building. I got out of the SUV and studied the front door. There were no obvious cameras, but that didn’t mean anything. From what I’d read, the things were getting small enough to be just about invisible. There were also no guards, no doormen, no one to cajole or coerce. I didn’t like it. That was probably the point. I walked toward the door and Jessie ambled along behind me. I looked over my shoulder at her, but she seemed to be more curious about how I would play this one out. I stood at the door and waited for five seconds. Nothing happened. I lifted a hand and hit the metal door three times. It sounded like a dull, poorly-tuned gong.

A voice crackled to life from a speaker hidden somewhere nearby. “Identify yourself.”

“I’m here to see the Corrupted Oracle.”

There was a pause. “I repeat, identify yourself.”

“Jericho Lott.”

I waited as the mysterious voice did something. He was probably checking my name against a list. I used my time to formulate a plan.

“Request denied.”

I’d expected as much. There was no flash or bang to it. I didn’t wave my arms around. I just looked at the door and said a word. Power uncoiled from inside me and gathered energy from the environment. The gathered power lashed out at the door and twisted gravity. The metal obstacle shook in its frame for a second or two before it crumpled with a tortured squeal and fell out of the wall. The guy on the other end of the speaker must have been too surprised to take his finger off the intercom button because I heard his shout.

“Holy shit!”

I looked around for the camera or the speaker and couldn’t find either. I just spoke to the open air. “Jericho Lott to see the Corrupted Oracle. Check your list again.”

There was a much, much longer pause before the voice, shaky and uneven, came back over the speaker. “Yes, Mr. Lott, the Oracle will see you now. Please come in.”

“Thank you,” I said with as much graciousness as I could manage.

Jessie stepped up next to me and gave the ruined door an appreciative look. “Not subtle, young Jericho, but effective.”

“Thanks. Ladies first,” I said, gesturing toward the door.

“This is your fiery furnace. I’m just along to watch. After you, Abednego.”

I rolled my eyes at the witch and walked into the home of the Corrupted Oracle.