It's a matter of steps to the neighbor's door. I head directly to it, suck in a steeling breath, and then knock.

There's still no response. I try knocking a third time, and when that elicits no response either, I get down on hands and knees and peer under the door, looking for light. I don't see anything.

The apartment's as vacant as it ever was. That doesn't make sense.

I frown at the door for a minute, then decide I have to know. I head back into my apartment and return with my credit card. I glance up and down the hall, hoping that no one's watching this. If someone is home and I'm breaking and entering, this could be really bad. But I have a hunch. If I'm right, there's no one home…and I'm just crazy.

Yippee.

I slip my credit card into the door and wedge it along the lock, trying to flick it open like they show in movies. Either luck is with me or it's easier than it looks—the door falls open and my credit card falls to my feet in two pieces.

Well, shit.

I'll worry about that later.

I stare into the darkness of the apartment.

Even from here, I can tell it's empty. I flick on the light switch by the door and look at nothing but dusty countertops and a discarded box half full of packing peanuts in one corner. No one lives here. No one has lived here since my neighbor left. "Hello?" I call out, just in case.

There's no answer. I didn't expect one. The floors here are tile, and my slippers are leaving prints in the dust. No one's been in or out of here in weeks or months.

"Well, what the fuck?" I mutter to myself. I shuffle to the wall that is adjacent to mine and press my ear to it. No music. I turn and look at the other wall, but it's nothing but windows and skewed mini blinds.

The music starts again. This time, the drums seem more urgent, the pipes wailing more frantically. It's not any louder, but there's a real sense of…immediacy to it.

Like it’s just in the next room.

I open every door in the apartment, peering into closets. They’re all empty, but the music continues, always just the next room away. Eventually, there’s nowhere else to look, and I groan, putting my hands to my forehead. “Either show me or leave me the hell alone, all right?”

God, I sound crazy even to my own ears. But this is just getting ridiculous. I can't sleep. It's interfering with my job. My friends think I'm crazy.

I'm not entirely sure that I'm not crazy. That all of this isn't just my brain deciding to go haywire and self-destruct, and it's picking some bagpipes and a catchy beat to do it to.

Frustrated, I lean against the kitchen counter. As I do, a light flicks on under the bedroom door.

Well, that’s not creepy at all.

I look down at my feet. I’ve left trails in the dust on the floor. No one’s been inside here for months.

The prickles on the back of my neck start again. I should turn around, maybe. Go back to my apartment, shut the door, go back to bed and forget I ever heard anything. I turn to the front door…

And pause.

And slowly turn back to the closed bedroom door.

I need to know what's going on. I need to know who the King of Pentacles is and why I have a “spiderweb” aura. Mostly I just need to know if I’m going crazy.

If this is a mistake, I suppose there's only one way to find out.

I open the door and step inside.

OceanofPDF.com

3

It's daylight.

I squint up at the blinding sun, surprised. There's not a cloud in the sky and the sun overhead beats down on me, hot and relentless and bright. How did it get to be daylight? Midday?

I wait for my eyes to adjust, wiping streaming tears from them as the too bright light makes my head pound. Slowly, I become aware of the world around me.

“Out of the way!” A man shoves past me, glaring.

“Sorry,” I say automatically, moving aside…to where? I stare around me as the bright glare adjusts and now I can see.

I can see everything and…holy shit.

Toto, we are not in Kansas.

It's a marketplace of some kind. I think. Or a city? It's hard to tell. I see tall stone walls, at least fifteen feet high, and they cage me in on both sides. I must be standing in some sort of road, then, because underneath my slippers, it's dusty and dirty and there's not a patch of grass to be found. Nearby, an animal brays and I turn to see something in a harness that looks like a land-hippo, with a man leading its bridle. As I watch, he pulls a buff colored scarf over his bright red hair like a hood and glares at me.

Am I…on a movie set? But even as the idea crosses my mind, I know that can't be true. This is something bigger. Something vastly more different. I cross my arms over my chest, exceedingly aware that I'm in pink pajamas. I'm not wearing a bra and I feel a little conspicuous as I look at everyone around me, trying to absorb the picture.

Where the hell am I?

Why am I here?

I frown at my surroundings. The stone walls stretch out as far as the eye can see, and so do the dusty streets. I walk forward, dodging piles of animal poop in the middle of the streets, and people pass by, dressed in the same loose, flowing clothing that the man with the land-hippo was wearing. They all look at me as if I'm crazy, but no one stops to talk to me. A few women whisper as they see me.

Well that doesn't make me feel uncomfortable at all.

I pause, trying to figure out where I am and where I need to go. Can I turn around? I look behind me, but there's no hint of the room I was just in. There's no door, no nothing, just stone walls, people leading around land-hippos and the occasional shabby-looking booth propped up against the walls.

There’s no obvious route home.

I pinch myself. Hard. Twice, just in case the first one didn’t count. Nope, I’m awake. Awake and hating this. I look around one more time for a door or a portal of some kind that would have dumped me here, but there’s nothing. It’s entirely possible I’m having a stroke or I’m in a coma or something and my brain is firing up fantasy scenarios, because this definitely looks more like Game of Thrones than Chicago. I gaze at the land-hippos and try to match them up with known animals on Earth, but I come up with a blank. I don’t think these are Earth creatures. And if that’s the case, where am I and how did I end up on another planet? I hesitate, and when a woman with a large basket on her hip pauses to adjust her load, I approach her.

“Excuse me,” I say brightly. “I seem to be lost.”

She frowns at my mouth, as if my words sound weird. Her gaze slides down to my clothing. “What’re you looking for? An inn?”

“An inn would be great. I don’t suppose you can tell me where I am?”

Her uneasy look grows. “The slums?”

“No, I mean here.” I gesture at the ground with both hands. “This city. Where is this?”

The woman’s brows go up. “Aventine?”

Aventine. Okay, that’s a start. I beam at her, trying not to panic. I’ve never heard of Aventine, but I’m admittedly not the best with geography. “And are we still on Earth?”

“Earth?” she echoes.

“The planet?” How has she not heard of Earth?

She makes a gesture over her chest—probably to ward off my crazy—and shakes her head, walking away. “Leave me alone.”

Right. Just makin’ friends wherever I go. I bite back a sigh of frustration. It’s obvious I don’t fit in here, which means that not only is this not Chicago, this is definitely not Earth. It’s also hot as blazes, the air dry. Considering it was sweater weather back home, I’ve definitely changed locations. I glance back at the woman with the basket, but she’s disappeared into the maze of crowded alleys.