Page 9 of Virgin Sacrifice

“Yes, Luz, Blackwells plural,” she said with an emphasis that made it clear I was missing something obvious. “As in the Blackwell family? East Coast industrial titans? Scions of Shady Harbor?”

I gave her a blank look and shrugged.

“What planet did you come from, and how did you manage to land at Hollow Oak?” she asked in disbelief.

I couldn’t help the chuckle that snuck out of me. Coming from anyone else it might have come across as condescending, but with Autumn I got the sense that she simply lacked a filter.

“Texas, and studying my brains out. Didn’t leave much time for gossiping about the rich and famous.”

“Okay,” she said excitedly, “time for your first social lesson of Hollow Oak.” Her breakfast was all but forgotten. “As you probably know, the school is still pretty big for a small private college. There’s almost . . .” She hummed. “Five thousand students on campus, I think. So, it’s big enough that there’s not really like one clique or a ‘queen bee’”—her fingers framed it with air quotes— “that rules campus or anything silly like that. But . . .” she continued, watching me to make sure I was paying attention, “there’s definitely like different tiers of students here that tend to socialize together more. First, you have your generic, run-of-the-mill rich kids. The ones whose parents were rich enough to afford Hollow Oak, but they aren’t really rich enough to be considered new money. Like doctors and stuff.”

Probably where I’d have fit in if I had stayed with my father.

Although, I probably wouldn’t have lived long enough to attend university if that were the case, so then again, maybe not.

“Basically, they are a dime a dozen at HOU, so unless they are a jock, Greek, or a celebrity, their social capital here is minimal.” Autumn went on with a dismissive wave of her hand. “Then you have your new money,” she said with a sly smile, “which is where I fit in. My grandfather founded a cleaning supply company, Morgan’s, like a million years ago, but these days we also own like a whole bunch of other things too, and investments and shit. Or my parents do.”

I nodded along as if I understood. My father’s family may have had money, but the most expensive thing Mami had owned was a used Toyota Highlander.

“Anyways . . .” Autumn was still going. “It’s not as great as it sounds,” she said, picking at her cuticles. “There’s still, like, a lot of cliques within the tiers. Even though we’re only freshmen, a lot of people already have their people, you know?”

I could see what she was saying. Even at orientation, it was obvious when groups of people knew, or at least knew of, each other. The way they immediately bonded together with practiced ease.

“And finally, you have your old money. Your Vanderbilts, Gettys, Rothschilds . . . The kind of families who either made their wealth by building this country or brought it over from the Old World.” She rolled her eyes. “They’re famous, not just here but around the globe.”

“And the Blackwells?” I asked, with more curiosity than I wanted to admit.

“Old money, some of the oldest,” she replied, “but they’re more than that.”

“What do you mean?” I said before slurping down the last of my smoothie loudly and without shame.

“Well,” she hedged almost furtively. “If there was one, you know, like a group you shouldn’t cross—‍”

“Wait, are the Blackwells the real queen bees of Hollow Oak?” I interrupted with a mischievous smirk, seeing where she was going with this.

“Shhhhhh!” Her eyes were wide and darting around to see who might have overheard me. “They’re not like queen bees,” she finally said, when she was satisfied no one was paying attention to us, before dropping her voice to a hiss. “But they are, you know, like, not people you want to upset . . .”

“Let me guess, they run this school or better yet the whole town?” I asked wryly.

“Ugh!” Her face flushed red. “It’s not all, like, obvious like that. Although they did found both the school and the town. But they aren’t like the Illuminati or anything like that.”

“Then what makes them so scary?”

Autumn leaned forward, her voice barely perceptible over the din of the hall. “The Blackwells can trace their roots back centuries to France and England. They’ve always had land, money, and power, and they’ve accrued it differently than most families . . .”

She paused, looking around again.

I gestured at her to continue.

“There are rumors that they are, like, killers,” she finally whispered.

I pursed my lips, slightly disappointed with the revelation.

“I mean, they kill people, but not just for anyone. Only for the, like, the elite. Billionaires and royalty, ya know?” she stammered with sincerity.

I shook my head with a smile.

“Okay, Autumn.”

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