Two of the ten players are missing.

  The dark red carpet is laced with flowers and vines that weave together in innumerable pathways, but the hallway itself leads in only one direction. Beyond the maintenance closet, beyond the set of stairs, are six bedrooms, three and three across from one another.

  The mumbling crowd—Lily, the Dragon, the Horse, the Ox, and the Pig—are all in front of the Tiger’s suite. Walking fast, I’m close enough to hear Lily rap on the door. “Hello? Anyone there? The trial’s soon!”

  “No reply,” Lily says again in a low voice.

  “Let me try.” The Dragon straightens and he’s so tall he knocks a foot above the peephole. Thun! Thun! Thun!

  “Tiger? You awake yet?”

  Nothing.

  “Hey, Tiger! If you don’t make it to today’s trial, you’ll be killed!”

  His voice is steady, yet the Pig is again shaking, and the Horse looks intently at a potted plant on the console table. Our predicament had been fluffed and sweetened by pancakes, but there was no avoiding this “Death Game’ now.

  “This isn’t working,” says the Ox. “Let’s move to the Rooster’s room.”

  He rams the doorframe of the other suite. And finally, someone stirs.

  Even before she steps out, I know who must be alive and who must be dead. It was impossible for the wolves to kill someone based on who they thought was seer or the healer since those roles were assigned last night in secret. However, in the game of mafia, what matters as much as roles is personality.

  Think about how people talked and acted in Trial 1. Who would hurt town the most to lose? Who makes the most sense for the wolves to murder? To wolves set on deceit and falsehood the brightest fires must be snuffed first.

  Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  A short, scowling, sharp-faced girl bowls into the Dragon. She rubs her eyes, hair in a towel. “Geez, quit nagging! I was never gonna be late,” the delinquent argues back.

  “See?” the Horse cheers. “I was right! We all survived.”

  Everyone else shares a grim look, and I try the Rooster’s door. It’s unlocked. I step through the threshold and into another bad dream.

  Diligent and organized, logical and orderly. In a normal world, these virtues would be given a just reward. But while this world has rules, this isn’t a normal world: a sharp, critical mind would be punished, broken, and scattered.

  The average human body holds up to one point five gallons of blood. The body of a teenage girl, maybe a few pints less. But looking at the hotel room’s carpet, at the carpet that in my suite was a simple, faded white—I don’t know how much blood the Rooster had held, but it was so, so, much.

  “Hrk… sob… hic…”

  Someone’s crying again; they’re the same choked high-pitched groans that mourned the Goat’s death. Behind me is the bright girl in the ponytail, the one in the tracksuit, the one who had claimed that “no one else would die.” Her breathing is quick, unpaced, and uncontrolled. She stumbles into me, and then the Horse is in my arms.

  “Oh. Oh? It’s okay, it’s okay.”

  It’s not okay. But I don’t know what else to say.

  “Don’t be sad. You didn’t know her,” I mutter.

  “I don’t know! I don’t know!” repeats the Horse, as she continues to sob. Out in the hallway, the Dragon frowns and takes the others to the trial room; Lily lingers and watches from the alcove of another suite.

  The Horse’s sobbing dies out before I can bring any more words alive, and then she pulls away from my touch. “I’m sorry. I have to keep moving… have to keep being strong. But even if I don’t know her, Snake, she’s still worth crying for. For anyone…”

  Another droplet wets the pinked carpet. But as I turn towards her, she’s already gone.

  The mystery tear isn’t hers, and it can’t be mine, because I don’t cry for strangers— I’d only cry for Lily or for me. It’s a leak that’s come down from the ceiling, though I don’t bother to look up.

  Lily’s the only one that matters, truly, so today’s trial will be a cinch. No, I suppse I matter just a little bit too: I’m her sword and shield after all! There’s nothing to be sad or happy about here, and just because the others react a certain way doesn’t mean I have to as well.

  Step, step, step. The Rat brushes past me into the room, ensconced in a comfortable green hood. His mood is nothing less than splendid, and then it’s finally time.

  The nine of us who remain, the Dragon, the Tiger, the Dog, the Horse, the Ox, the Pig plus the Rabbit, the Rat, and myself, all return that perilous circle. The second trial had begun.