Page 56 of Virgin Sacrifice

The other part of me was happy that despite the price, she had been safe and sound in her bed all night. What would the sheep have done if they had caught her with me?

It wasn’t as though I could tell her my suspicions. What would I say? That someone had poisoned her, but it was for the best, otherwise she might have wound up chased through the woods by creepy sheep-mask-wearing psychos with me?

At this point, the less she knew the better.

“So . . .” she hedged, flashing me her best pout as she gingerly picked up a perfectly golden cube of pineapple. “WhatsgoingonwiththeBlackwelltwinsstalkingyou?” she blurted out so quickly that I barely heard her, before she popped the piece of fruit into her mouth, giving me a chagrined closed-mouth smile with a shrug.

I coughed as a piece of cake got caught in my throat.

“Do you really think I haven’t noticed them hanging around the background, like, half the time we leave this place? I’m pretty sure I just saw one of them lurking out in front of Gabriel House across the quad when I went to go pick up the food.”

“What?” I managed to wheeze out as I reached for some of my water.

“The Blackwell twins.” She smiled mischievously, rolling her hand at me. “You know, like, Nixon and Alister? Tall, blond, creepy. Virtually indistinguishable and fond of staring intensely at you from a distance?”

“Which one was it? In front of Gabriel House?” I asked, after choking back some water.

Autumn furrowed her brow in confusion. “How would I know? Like I said, virtually indistinguishable.”

“Oh, right,” I mumbled lamely.

“You can tell them apart?”

I shrugged, not comfortable explaining how I did, since that would require telling her about just how close and personal I had gotten with the twins in the past.

Both of our phones started buzzing repeatedly at the same time, causing the two of us to exchange a curious look before we picked them up to see a series of automated text messages from the university flood in.

“Holy shit,” she whispered as she read what I was reading.

CAMPUS WIDE ALERT:

Early this morning, police recovered the body of missing Hollow Oak student, Sandra O’Connor.

At this time, the Shady Harbor police are treating her death as a homicide.

Anyone with any information related to the death of Sandra O’Connor or the disappearances of Glory Van Holt and Ainsley Phillimore should speak with the police immediately.

Students are encouraged to remain calm and visit the Martin Kleinfeld Mental Health Center to speak with a counselor if necessary.

Hollow Oak University takes the safety of its students, faculty, and staff seriously. Effectively immediately, security will be increased on campus, with a zero-tolerance policy for loitering enforced after 10:00 p.m.

The room spun around me, and the taste of strawberries and cream crept back up my throat, burning me with its sickly sweetness.

“I can’t believe they found her body,” Autumn said quietly, unable to tear her eyes away from the messages in front of her.

I didn’t know what to say or what to do.

When I first heard about the missing girls, I knew, in my gut, that something horrible had happened to them. But, like everyone else on campus, I compartmentalized my worries, locking them away so I could continue to go on with my life. There was nothing I could personally do for them.

With the discovery of a body, my worst fears for the missing had come true, and I was drowning in the growing sense of dread that this was somehow tied to everything that had been happening to me.

My phone buzzed again in my hands as another message arrived, and I immediately looked to see what it was . . .

I scrambled for the bathroom, as fast as I could on my busted ankle, ignoring Autumn’s concerned shouts in the background. All the food I had eaten was now rushing back up my throat, and I only just made it to the toilet in time. Over and over again I retched until all that was left of Autumn’s carefully curated feast was a noxious mess of bile and vomit.

When I had finally finished puking my guts out, I reached out to pick up my phone again with a trembling hand, careful to shield it from Autumn who had come to join me on the bathroom floor.

It was still there, a photo of a young woman, dead. Her light blonde hair spilled out around her head like the sun, and her body was arranged with her arms spread wide and her legs tucked tightly together. It almost looked as if she had been crucified, although there wasn’t a single mark on her hands or feet. She was dressed in a long white cotton shift that was soaked crimson and on top of her chest, was a dark, bloody heart that looked all too familiar. Except this one wasn’t a pig’s heart.

---