Page 68 of Virgin Sacrifice

“And what about you, Luz, what are you doing for Thanksgiving if you won’t be going with Autumn to Newport?” asked Melody.

Aaron’s brows furrowed even deeper at the implication that I was staying on campus. “Tell me you’re not—‍” he began before another mouthful of smoothie got caught in his throat, causing him to begin hacking forcefully again. Melody worriedly reached over to pat his back. He shooed her away and reached for a glass of water.

I waited patiently until he had it under control again before answering. “No, actually. I’m going to New York City to visit some extended family,” I said with a smile. “I’m looking forward to getting some arroz con gandules with my turkey,” I added rubbing my stomach.

Autumn nodded along happily. Admittedly, I had lied to her about my plans earlier, but her easy acceptance of my story only helped my credulity now.

“I didn’t know you had family in the city,” Aaron said, still looking skeptical.

“Mmmm,” I hummed, taking a large sip of my own smoothie before answering. “Not the cousins I stayed with after Mami died, different ones.” I couldn’t help but wonder if he would push for more details. Like a dog with a bone.

The truth was that I had no family besides Mami. Having been extremely paranoid about what would happen to me if something ever happened to her, she’d put detailed plans in place to make sure I would be safe. On paper, a network of family members existed— titís, tios, and cousins once, twice, three times removed. None of it was real, though.

The “cousins” I stayed with after her death had been contacts through the same network that she used to create our new lives. They had been paid in advance to care for me if anything ever happened to Mami. In her line of work, you couldn’t be too careful. Amelia and Marco had been nice enough folks. But what they had provided me was shelter, food, clothing . . . the basic necessities, and only until I left for Hollow Oak. They would never be family.

Eventually, breakfast wrapped up, and Aaron and Autumn left for their classes, along with most of the crowd, leaving me alone with Melody as I packed up my bag and prepared to head to the library.

“Do you think Aaron’s looking . . . unwell lately?” she hedged, doing up the straps of her bag.

“Hmmm, what do you mean?”

“I dunno,” she said, as we made our way out of the cafeteria. “I feel like he’s been weirder and more intense lately . . .”

Oh, that I could see.

“. . . and he’s been complaining about being nauseous and dizzy a lot,” she continued.

“Maybe there is a bug going around. Autumn’s been under the weather too lately.”

Autumn had reverted to her pre-Halloween state of distress, and I was truly worried about her, unlike Aaron.

“Oh yeah,” Melody said, “I’ve noticed that too. Maybe they both have something . . .” She trailed off, seeming unconvinced.

I was similarly unconvinced, not that I would confide in Melody. Whatever was wrong with my friend, I would figure out on my own, and whatever was wrong with Aaron, well, I was confident it wasn’t related to Autumn.

“Maybe they are just stressed from school and need a break. We can see how they are doing after the fall break,” I suggested. It seemed like something a friend would say, right?

“Hmmm, I guess you’re right.”

We said our goodbyes, wishing each other a happy Thanksgiving, and I hugged the willowy blonde far longer than I was comfortable with, which seemed to make her day.

By the time I made it back to Jackson College House, the sun was low in the sky. Lots of students had already left, and there was a quiet energy to the rapidly darkening campus.

I settled down for the evening, and I found my mind wandering, as it so often did these days, back to the Blackwells.

I had started paying more attention to the whispers circulating around campus; Autumn was far from the only one gossiping about the “assassins of the elite.”

Scrunching my eyes closed, I tried to imagine what a family as infamous as the Blackwells did for a holiday like Thanksgiving. The idea of the twins sitting side by side with Professor Blackwell, passing the gravy boat back and forth made me chuckle.

Alister would be sitting there in silence, shrewdly observing everyone around him, his beautiful machine of a mind always working. Nixon would talk and drink the night away, serving to both irritate and charm his audience to distraction, subtly easing the pressure off his twin to participate. Locke, I could only imagine sitting there scowling in disdain at whatever lewd joke Nixon had just told, fussing with his cuff links while searching for something to complain about like a heat-seeking missile.

I wondered who carved the turkey.

I tried to conjure up an image of the mysterious oldest brother—and rumored father-killer—Lucian Blackwell. There were no recent photos of him online, and all I could see in my mind was an impossibly large, imposing shadow of a man who somehow managed to dominate a room full of professional killers.

Perhaps he would leave the carving to the rumored fifth member of the Blackwell boys—Everest Collins. Autumn hadn’t yet mentioned the man that most people on campus would only speak about in a whisper, for fear that the boogeyman of Shady Harbor might hear them. If what they said was true, then Everest was the deadliest of them all, a monster that Lucian just barely managed to keep leashed.

He was the most likely culprit behind Sandra’s death and the other missing people. Not to mention that nailing a fresh heart to my door seemed very on-brand for a man multiple people had described as a “horrendously depraved psychopath.”

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