On the left Nick saw a double-wide trailer, more politely referred to now as a “manufactured home”—but the change in moniker didn’t improve the quality or appearance. It looked to Nick like a saltine box lying on its side. It had a barely sloping roof covered with some kind of black composite—just a few rolls of overlapping tar paper to shed water. The trailer’s walls looked flat and smooth and monotonous. There were no shutters or fasciae, and the windows had no moldings or sills—they were nothing but glowing rectangular holes cut in the sides of the box. The entire unit was surrounded by a rusting corrugated apron that peeled back at one corner to expose a narrow I-beam resting on a column of cinder blocks. In the center of the unit the roof projected out about three feet, forming a small overhang that sheltered the only door.

Not exactly a witch’s castle, Nick thought. He pulled up in front of the trailer and parked; his headlights illuminated two vehicles: Alena’s red pickup with the camper shell and a white Chevy TrailBlazer.

When he stopped the engine, the barking of the dogs became deafening. He looked at the kennels and tried to count them, but there were too many and they wouldn’t stand still—the frantic animals were roiling like maggots on a corpse. The black dog outside the driver’s door planted its two huge paws on the window and began to make a deep, bellowing bay. Nick leaned away from the window—he wasn’t sure the glass would support the dog’s weight. The dog outside the passenger door reared up on its hind legs as well, and then Nick felt the car rock back a little; he looked in the mirror and saw the third dog straddling the trunk and howling through the rear window.

A few seconds later a porch lamp switched on and the door to the trailer swung open. Alena stepped out and looked at the car. She charged up to the driver’s-side window and stared in at Nick, and Nick offered a feeble wave back. She stood in the rain for a few moments as if she were considering what to do next—then she snapped her fingers and made a wide, sweeping gesture, and every dog in the compound fell instantly silent.

When the guard dogs backed away from the car and assumed sitting positions, Nick cautiously rolled down his window a few inches.

“What do you want?” Alena demanded.

“I need to talk to you.”

“You just don’t get it, do you?”

“Things have changed, Alena. We need to talk—now.”

She glared at him in silence.

“Please, let me come in. I promise, I won’t hurt you.”