INDIGO

I held a hand to my nose to block the drowning stench of rotting flesh. My shirt didn't smell like flowers, but it was better than the smell consuming the room.

We were in a humble two-room apartment with paint peeling off the dirty walls. The body sat in the doorway, trapping me in the bedroom as Nydia inspected the body from the entrance of the kitchen.

I rifled through the dead man's clothes, checked under the hard mattress, and behind shelves as I tried to find anything of value. There was nothing offering any clue as to how the man ended up dead in his apartment.

I looked down at Nydia who was holding up his eyeball with her bare hands and squinting at it, her lips curled into a faint smile.

"Was taking out the eyeball absolutely necessary?"

"Of course! A dead man's eyeball offers many clues and important information."

"Like what?"

Nydia shrugged. "No idea."

Still, she dropped the eyeball into a plastic box and shoved it in her pocket. I didn't want to know what she intended to do with it.

"So," I asked. "Did you find anything?"

She shook her head. "Besides the fact that the body had been here for days? Nothing."

"There's no sign of a break-in or anyone else in the apartment either. It's like he was killed by ghosts."

Nydia shook her head and muttered. "Ghosts are more dramatic. Maybe it's the snakes."

I didn't try interpreting her comment and asked, "How did he die?"

Nydia looked at his neck where there was a deep incision with dried blood spilling from either side and pooled at the floor. "Well, he was stabbed in the neck."

"Oh, I thought that was you trying to find clues."

"Don't be ridiculous. I would never stab someone like that. Those are the ones I made," she said, pointing at the dozens of ruthless incisions speckling his body.

"I see."

"I hope so," she replied. "I took out his eyeball, not yours."

Shaking my head, I took a careful step over the body and walked into the empty living room, if you could call it that. The room held a TV and space for only a single chair before the small kitchen took up the rest of the place. Moonlight spilled through the window. I looked through it, watching Streeters scurry by far below, their chins tucked into their chests despite the humid warm air.

"Why do you think they didn't bomb this house?" I asked Nydia over my shoulder.

She shrugged. "Maybe they didn't have time."

I shook my head. "But the body was only discovered days later. No one walked in on the killing since it clearly wasn't rushed and Cree said he found the body already rotting and didn't mess with anything else. So, if no one interrupted the killer and Cree didn't mess with any bomb to make sure it wasn't detonated, then why wasn't this place exploded?"

The windows rattled against the wind and Nydia looked up. "The ghosts were being mean."

I took it as a message that she had no real answer and sighed. We'd been investigating the dead bodies of rebel members for the past three months, the first starting the day I joined. The first one didn't have any victims, but ever since then, the victims were killed before being blown to pieces in their own house.

For months it was the same routine: wake up, learn of a new bombing, tag along with Nydia as she tried to investigate what happened with no luck, go back and disappoint everyone. Except, this morning there wasn't a report of a bombing, only the dead body of one of our members.

"What was his name?" I whispered.

"Don't know. He was one of our undercover men. Cree was visiting to make sure he was alright since he didn't check-in. Wolf didn't tell me anything else."

"Did he have any family?"

"Most people undercover have nothing," Nydia remarked.

I shook my head, thinking back to the events that took place only a few months ago when I was still at that wretched school. I could remember the underground cavern, the strange lights casting shadows far and long, a tinge of copper in the air. There were screams, shouts, lies, confessions, and the dead bodies of two people I wish I could turn back time and tell them how much I cared. But I couldn't. I didn't realize how much they mattered to me until they were gone.

"Everyone has something," I whispered. "Whether they realize it or not, there's always a reason to keep living."

Nydia said nothing, only pocketed her knives, shouldered her bow and quiver with a half-smile. "Time to go."

"Shouldn't we clean up the body?"

"We already spent too much time here and I have better things to do today, like trying out a hot chocolate idea I got in the bathtub. Cree can clean up."

"Wouldn't Cree also have better things to do considering he's an upper member?"

"Quite possibly," Nydia nodded as she headed for the door. "Doesn't matter. You coming?"

I tilted my head. "We're just going to walk out the door?"

"Normally I prefer jumping out windows, breaking a hand, and cursing my whole existence but efficiency is key today."

"But what if people see us go and they come up here and find..." I trailed off, looking back at the corpse in the middle of the apartment.

Nydia waved a hand. "He's dead, not eating cats."

With that, she walked out and I could do nothing but follow.

♕ ♕ ♕

I brushed my straight black hair back and tied it up into a bun. It was tight and an uncomfortable, unbalanced weight on my head, but I remembered all the times Arielle pulled it during sparring practice when I was an Alpha—using my own hair to her advantage. Arielle wasn't here, but I had no intention of making the same mistakes again.

I stepped out of my narrow room and walked down the long hallway, passing the boarded-up windows, my feet echoing against the metallic floor. The Streeter drab I wore was comfortable though nothing compared to my fighting gear.

I journeyed through the well-hidden warehouse which worked as the Rebel base. Nydia informed me there were more throughout Concorde, but this one, near the sunken city of New Orleans, was their main headquarters.

I rounded the corner and journeyed down the numerous metal steps to the mess hall. People milled about, conversing, eating, and even sleeping. A few were sharpening knives in the corner, though they were doing a poor job of it.

I worked my way to the very center of the hall and sat down at our usual table as I watched Nydia make her way through the mess hall. She twirled around, throwing jokes back and forth with the people she passed, hot chocolate in hand, trademark lopsided smile present, a few missed flakes of dried blood still on her fingers. Her other hand—which was adorned with a laced glove that I'm quite positive she stole from an Assassin or wealthy Streeter—played with the drawstring of the bow still hanging against her shoulder. The pure black arrows jostled as she jumped around the mess hall.

Finally, she reached our circular table and flopped into a chair with the dignity of a seven-year-old boy. The people around us threw me the occasional wary glance but didn't dare say anything. After all, I was Nydia's friend. In fact, Nydia was my only friend in this place, which was a depressing thought but I didn't mind.

Nydia pushed her glass in my direction. "Wanna try some?"

I accepted the glass and took a sip. The smooth sugary taste filled my mouth and I savored.

"This is good! What did you do?"

"See that orange stuff? That's melted sugar. Apparently, they used to call it 'caramel' in the Old Days. I found the recipe for the caramel a while ago and thought I could use it," she said as she took a sip before starting to mumble, "Maybe there's a way to put in donuts..."

I tuned out of the conversation as her words became inaudible. My scar tingled and I looked around, feeling watched until my eyes drifted up and found two boys on the third floor. One was Cree, his blonde hair sticking out in the shadows. Next to him was Wolf, standing with his hands against the railing and looking down, his almost white eyes scanning the mess hall as he listened to Cree. His eyes met mine and I was transfixed, unable to look away. After a pause, he offered a gentle smile. I blinked and realized I was staring. Offering a smile back to be polite, I turned my attention to Nydia who was now rambling about ostriches.

I didn't really interact with Wolf besides that first day. He didn't have a reason to interact with me except for when he was trying to talk to Nydia and I happened to be with her. It wasn't that he was a bad person to be with, quite the opposite actually. But he was a higher-up member of the Rebels and therefore had many responsibilities besides talking to the random girl with no friends. Plus, I don't think he quite trusts me. I can't blame him. I don't trust him either, not after the number of kind people with smiles who stabbed me in the back.

Nydia snapped me back to attention when she looked up and asked, "Right?"

I blinked. "Um, what?"

"Surely the penguins would whack the ostriches."

Not sure what she was asking or why she was asking it, I simply nodded my head.

"But then the ostriches would just-"

Nydia's words were cut off when a man ran into and shouted rapidly in a southern language which I couldn't understand. All heads turned to him as numerous people jumped to their feet and ran after him into one of the many hallways.

I turned to Nydia who was also getting to her feet, her smile faltering. "What'd he say?"

"Someone's dead."

I followed Nydia as she took off running down the hall. Numerous Streeters moved out of her way and I latched onto her arm so they would let me pass through too. We were emptied into a large room where they often trained members to fight. Wolf and Cree appeared on the third-floor platform, pausing as they looked at the scene below before running for the stairs to join us on the ground.

I looked to the center of the room where a body was lying still, neck gaping open, blood spilling onto the metallic floor and seeping into cracks. The panic crept up, constricting my throat and I took deep breaths, trying to calm myself down.

All this time away from Evandor made me relax. I though I was away from the vicious games of assassins and the secrets lurking around every corner, but they followed me here. I could feel the walls close in as I was reminded of the spider web I was stuck in at Evandor. I thought I crawled out, but I was still in the dead center, only blind to its existence as I waited like prey. Only this time I didn't know who my enemies were. They could be anyone, any face in the crowd of people gaping at the body.

I looked back at Nydia who's smile had completely vanished. Her voice was filled with a foreign seriousness as she spoke.

"The game of murders has begun."