Page 89 of Virgin Sacrifice

“Okay, let’s find Aaron and the others, and then we can discuss your plans for debauchery,” I argued, tugging her along behind me as we wove our way through the crowds.

If the first party we had been to this semester was wild, tonight’s was hedonistic. I didn’t know if everyone was just blowing off end-of-semester stress or if there was something in the water.

“Pretty ladies, do a shot with me,” a drunk guy shouted in our faces as he stumbled into our path, the telltale cinnamon scent of Fireball on his breath making me want to vomit.

Autumn blanched uncomfortably, giving me all the ammunition I needed to shove him out of our way and continue on. I could hear his sputters of protest in our wake, but luckily, he didn’t follow us.

The heavy thrum of the bass in the air had Autumn swaying to the beat with every step, and slowly but surely, we found ourselves in the back of the house in the kitchen.

“Autumn! Luz!” Melody’s voice rang out from across the large kitchen space where she was seated on the island, legs swinging, arms spread wide in welcome. “You made it!” she said in a simperingly sweet tone.

As we got closer, it was clear from her dilated pupils and glassy eyes that the girl had been enjoying herself.

“I’m soooooo happy you’re here,” she slurred, wrapping her arms around both of us to bring us in closer. “You, like, never come out, and it’s so much fun, tonight is so much fun, it’s gunna be the bestest.”

I shrugged her off, leaving Autumn to her drunken embraces so I could survey the room. Aaron was nowhere to be found, which was odd. Usually, wherever he went, Melody was not far behind.

“Luzie, come do a shot with us,” the girls cried out in unison, pulling my attention back to them.

Putting on my best party-girl face, I turned to them with a wide grin and shouted, “All right!”

“Three, two, one,” chanted Autumn as we raised our shooters up to toast before tossing them back. Autumn and Melody threw them down the hatch, far too drunk to notice me tossing mine over my shoulder.

“Oh my God, that’s strong,” I whined, pretending to shiver with the burn of the alcohol.

Melody poured us another line of shots before passing them back to Autumn and me, this time not even waiting for us before taking her own.

“Where’s Aaron?” I asked casually.

“Ugh, he’s been Mr. Mopeypants.” Melody pouted. “He’s off”—she slurred unintelligibly— “but don’t worry, he’ll be back soon. Don’t worry, Luz,” she said, placing a hand on my shoulder, which I fought the urge to shrug off. “He’ll, uh, take care of you if those Blackwell—hic—jerks bother you tonight.”

The idea of Aaron Croft protecting me at this point was beyond absurd, but I knew better than to argue with a drunk girl.

“If you’re—hic—looking to have some more fun, we brought some party favors,” Melody said with a sly smile, confirming what her eyes had already betrayed.

“Ohhh—‍” Autumn started enthusiastically before I cut her off.

“Not tonight, Mel, maybe some other time. Autumn, come on, I want to dance.” I grabbed her hand and pulled her back from Melody before she could get another word out.

“But, Luz, I wanna . . .” Autumn began to whine as I dragged her out of the kitchen.

I didn’t want her to make a scene, so I turned to her, placing my hands on both her shoulders.

“Not tonight, Autumn, please. Do you trust me?” I tried to imbue my stare with all the sincerity and seriousness I could muster.

“Yes, of course, Luz, but what does that have to with—‍”

“I’ve just got a bad feeling about tonight, and I need to know you’re safe. I promise we will go to the next party of your choice, and I will be right by your side while you engage in whatever recreational drugs you want. Just not tonight,” I pleaded, trying to convey how serious I was to her.

“Fine,” she said, still pouting.

I wasn’t one hundred percent convinced she was going to listen to me, but it was the best I was going to get out of her.

“Thank you,” I said, and I meant it. “Now, I believe the dance floor is calling our names.” I tugged her down the hall and into the large living room at the front of the house, most of which had been converted into a dance floor. Dua Lipa’s “Physical” was playing, and it didn’t take much to get Autumn going once she heard the music.

Looking around, I inspected our fellow dancers, maneuvering the two of us through the crowd until I found what looked like a relatively safe group of mostly young women dancing together in a corner. Deciding to trust my instincts, which hadn’t let me down yet, I led Autumn there, far away from any particularly gross-looking guys, before tapping on her shoulder.

“I’m going to run to grab another drink quickly. You stay here,” I said, praying that I wasn’t making a mistake.

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