“Stop pretending you’re asleep.” Agnes’ voice penetrated the thick comforter I had pulled over my head easier than any knife.

I didn’t move. If I could just get back to sleep, she would go away. Even a witch wouldn’t dare to rouse one of my kind to anger without cause. We were known for unpredictability- and violence.

“I brought some game.” That was new. My stomach rumbled at the thought of eating something besides stale beans. Winter had been far from friendly this year.

Wriggling into a sitting position, I let the comforter fall and crossed my arms. “Were some of your friends getting old? I crave fresh meat, not jerky.”

She looked worse than I remembered. Her hair was stringy and matted around a face that had grown weathered. Clothes, sodden where they weren’t ripped, clung to her. It was a testament to her self-control that she didn’t shiver.

“I’m familiar with your cravings.”

“You still holding that against me? Then why are you here?”

She took a deep breath. “I need you to kill some men for me.”