Page 88 of Virgin Sacrifice

“Oh, Luz,” Autumn cooed as I held it up to her, and she gingerly fingered the nearly fifty-year-old velvet. “It’s stunning.”

“Thank you. I’ve been saving it for a special occasion, and I think tonight’s the night.”

Autumn snorted and went back to curling her hair. “You sound like you’re planning to get lucky.”

“Luck has nothing to do with it, my dear friend,” I said as I went back to applying my makeup.

A couple of days ago, I’d received yet another series of mysterious texts, the contents of which raised as many questions as they answered.

UNKNOWN: Third girl dead!

UNKNOWN: Drugged and raped.

UNKNOWN: Heart okay.

UNKNOWN: Be careful!

UNKNOWN: No! Be smart.

I had no idea who had sent them. It was a new number and the speech pattern was wholly different from Alister’s or the killer’s. I couldn’t imagine Nixon or Locke caring enough about my well-being to warn me. So what other psychos were left?

“Do you think the twins will be there?”

“They hardly keep me apprised of their schedules. They’re my stalkers, not my boyfriends, Autumn.”

Although the kiss with Alister had definitely blurred some lines, I wasn’t so naïve to believe I had any real standing with the Blackwells. If Nixon and Alister were at the party, it would be with their own agenda, not because they were there for me.

Frankly, it would be better if they weren’t in attendance. No matter who the latest texts were from, the news that another girl was dead, likely at the hands of her rapist, only solidified my own plans for the party. The last thing I needed was the Blackwells getting in my way.

“Well, from what I’ve heard, it sounds like half the college will be there,” Autumn said, finally putting down the curling iron and fluffing her elegant waves before pinning up one side with a gold starburst-style hair pin.

I had helped her pick out her outfit earlier that day, a stunning emerald-green two-piece set in crushed velvet. The top had a deep square neckline, which showcased her generous curves and décolletage. The bell sleeves visually balanced out the flare of her wide-legged trousers that exposed just a hint of her midriff. She had abandoned silver as her signature accent and paired the outfit with chunky gold platforms. It was giving Christmas at Studio 54 vibes, and I was here for it.

“You look like the goddess of Christmas’s disco past,” I teased.

She had chosen to go with a dramatic red lipstick, and on her eyes she wore rich, sparkly golden eye paint in an elaborate design that looked like something the cast of Euphoria would rock.

“Key word there is goddess, my friend,” she said with a giggle.

We left the dorm to head to the party around ten thirty. Like Shady Harbor, the university had gone all out with its holiday decor.

“Luz!” Autumn shrieked excitedly, rushing out the doors past me. “It’s snowing!”

Sure enough, a light flurry of tiny snowflakes had begun to fall from the night sky. Autumn spun around in circles like a child, sticking her tongue out to catch the snow.

Yeah, this girl had won my heart and I would protect her at all costs.

“Come on, Frosty,” I said, linking my arm into hers.

Perhaps not surprisingly, the party was being held at the same stately colonial on the main walk of campus where I had first spied the Blackwell twins. Much like that first day of classes, the crowds had already spilled out from inside the house onto the steps and into the front yard. The snow softly falling from the sky seemed to encourage the revelers rather than dissuade them, and Autumn and I skirted our way through the sea of bodies to make our way inside.

“Aaron’s already here with a bunch of friends. We need to find them, and drinks.” Autumn hiccupped.

The heady scent of pot filtered through the air, and in every corner I looked there was someone doing a line—off a table or a body.

Autumn giggled. “Nothing says the holidays like some snow.”

I rolled my eyes. She was already half in the basket already, the last thing she needed was to add party drugs into the mix.

---