Page 67 of Virgin Sacrifice

I wasn’t sure how long I sat there, broken like a rag doll, staring blankly into space, unable to see what was in front of me. Time shuffled forward and the sun set, slowly pitching the room into shadows. In front of me a single light shone, a tiny blue oval burning against the darkness, and my mind vividly latched on to its existence.

I stared at that tiny blue light as the hours wore by and until my brain finally shut down, and I crawled aimlessly back into my bed barely conscious of my own existence. At last, sleep came for me.

When I woke up the next morning, the air in my room was stale and smelled of vomit, and the scent triggered a rush of memories from yesterday.

Alister . . . Sheep . . . Blackwells . . . Dead girls . . . Broken hearts . . . Bloody killers . . .

I choked down a gag and plugged my nose as I sprang from the bed, needing to dump the bile and clear out the air in my room immediately.

Only after I had gotten the window open and sprayed a lavender mist everywhere did I get a glass of water before slumping on the floor in front of the bed. Chugging it down, I closed my eyes as I leaned against the bedframe. I could feel my brain pounding painfully inside of my skull, and even after drinking water, the taste of chalk remained in my mouth. A quick look in the bathroom mirror confirmed that I looked as terrible as I felt, my cheeks puffy and my eyes swollen.

For a moment I sat, considering the weight of my fears.

Mami and I had so carefully crafted the armor we needed to survive that in some ways my feelings of frailty felt like a betrayal of all she had done for us.

She had given everything to save me. In her quest to protect me from the monsters hiding in plain sight, she could have easily chosen to retreat and pull us back from the world. Locked me away for my own good like a princess in a tower.

“But we were never meant to be princesses, mija . . .”

Instead of locking me up in a tower, my mother gave herself over to her work, and she poured the knowledge that she acquired into me. I may not have been a master of life and death like my father, but she had given me my own set of skills. Ones that she had always intended for me to use to stay alive . . .

My eyes fluttered open as I sank back into reality, my attention snagging on the tiny blue indicator light on my mini fridge, causing a grim smile to break out on my face.

Marigold, oleander, foxglove, lily of the valley, belladonna, elderberry . . .

My mother was gone. No one would be coming to rescue me. I had to save myself.

It was time for me to do some hunting of my own . . . starting with some sheep.

Chapter thirty-one

Luz

“Hey, you’re the one with the bum ankle, I should be getting that for you,” Aaron said as I slid his smoothie across the cafeteria table we were sharing with Autumn, Melody, and some of their other friends who popped up from time to time.

“It’s fine,” I said with a teasing roll of my eyes. “It’s been almost a month, and I’m practically good as new. I don’t even need my crutches anymore.”

“She wants to start running again,” Autumn said with a frown. Not because she thought it was too soon, but because she couldn’t fathom wanting to run in the first place.

Aaron choked on some of his smoothie, causing Melody to look over at him with concern. “You okay there?”

“Yes.” The tips of his ears turned red as he continued to cough awkwardly into the crook of his elbow before finally managing to clear his throat. “I just think it’s too soon for Luz to start running again, especially in those creepy woods. It’s not safe.”

I clamped my jaw shut. Aaron was the last person I intended to take safety advice from. “I won’t start running again until I get the all clear from my doctor,” was all I said, hoping to wrap up this conversation.

Still, he pressed. “And you’ll stay out of the woods?”

“I’m sure I’ll need to work back up to trail running,” I said with a wave of my hand, promising him nothing. “The doctor will probably want me to stick to even ground at first.”

His brows remained creased.

Where others might find his incessant focus on Autumn’s and my well-being endearing, I found it odd and almost stifling. His sense of responsibility for us was both unearned and unwanted. Aaron may have come across like a harmless puppy, but even a well-trained dog could still bite you.

Mercifully, the conversation moved on, with everyone talking about their plans for fall break.

Autumn had tried to convince me to come home to Rhode Island with her for the holiday, but I politely and steadfastly declined. Frankly, her parents sounded . . . intense, and the idea of having to navigate another family’s dynamic felt like it would only make Mami’s absence more profound.

That and I had work to do while the campus was empty, including visiting the deep, dark woods that everyone was so insistent I stay away from.

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