“Have you thought about the hollow field?”

“What?” Courtney bristled, caught off guard by the question.

“That’ll be $23.52, miss.”

“Oh, yes.” Courtney fished out the bills, handed them over, and took the change. The cashier’s hand brushed hers, the waxen, translucent skin warm — just like the men at the house.

“You need some help?”

“No — I’m fine. I can manage, thanks.”

After dropping the bags in the trunk, she drove away from the store, slowing as she approached the church. The marquee facing town was blank — not even one dangling letter. “Now that’s really odd,” she muttered.

She had tired of reading and watching TV, and nothing more interesting waited at the farmhouse, so she guided the Honda next to the curb outside the church. The sidewalk cried for help, too, cracked in places with weeds crawling from the dirt beneath. She only took a few tentative steps inside the front door — unlocked of course, as most places surely were in the Hollow. Stairs to her right led down with a second flight to her right going up. The sanctuary looked like the aftermath of a riot: pews scattered, some bits of trash strewn on the floor, and an overturned altar.

She felt a chill, a little thing kissing the back of her neck, and hurried back to the car.

Zach leaned into the table with hands outstretched as if pouring his will into Courtney. For her part, she sat with legs and arms crossed — a physical sign of her psychological reluctance.

“Listen, Court. It’s perfect. The house is mine. The basement is huge, and I can easily fit it for a studio with some of the cash we make in the land deal. This is my break.”