Alyxandra Harvey - Hearts at Stake

My editor, Emily Easton, and everyone at Walker Books/Bloomsbury, known and unknown, who have helped make this book a reality. You are the cause of many happy dances in my kitchen.

My wonderful agent, Marlene Stringer, who is helping to make my dreams come true.

My parents, who are unfailingly supportive and love me just the way I am, tattoos, pink hair, and all.

My long-time BFF Jess, Google Queen Extraordinaire, for the cheerleading, commiserating, and demands for more books.

My husband, Khayman, who guards my writing time almost as zealously as I do, and who only ever wants me to be me.

All my friends and family, especially Crystal, who regularly drives all the way up to the farmhouse for visits.

Friday, early evening

Normally I wouldnt have been caught dead at a field party.

If youll pardon the pun.

This was a supreme sacrifice on my part for my best friend, Solange, who was having a really bad day, which was about to turn into a really bad week. Her sixteenth birthday was coming up, and we werent talking a new car and a pink dress for her sweet sixteen. Not in her family.

This wasnt much better though.

She was standing in the middle of a field, trying to drink cheap wine and pretend she didnt want to be anywhere but here. The music was passable but that was about all it had to recommend it. The cars were parked in a wide circle, the sun setting behind the trees with all the colors of a blood orange pulled into pieces. Practically my entire high school was here; there wasnt much else to do on one of the last weekends before school started. People danced and flirted in a sea of baseball caps and faded denim. Someone burped loudly.

This was such a bad idea, I muttered.

Solange smiled softly, abandoning her plastic cup on the hood of someones rusted truck.

It was a nice thought.

It was stupid, I admitted. She just looked so sad lately, Id hoped a complete change of pace might distract her from all that worrying. Instead it made me want to bare my pitifully human teeth at the rowdies. Someones shoe nudged my heel, and when I looked back at it, I was greeted with way too much information about the mating habits of my fellow students. I kicked hard at the boot.

No one needs to see that, I said, turning away quickly before more clothing came off. The couple giggled and went deeper into the corn. I stared at Solange. What the hell was I thinking?

She half grinned.

It is rather unlike you.

Darren, from my math class last year, tripped over his own feet and sprawled in the dirt in front of us before I could answer. His grin was sloppy. He was nice enough usually; in fact, he was the reason I hadnt entirely flunked out of math. But he was drunk and desperate to fit in.

Hi, Lucy. Apparently beer made him lisp. My name came out as Lootheewhich was marginally better than my real name, which was Lucky. I had those kind of parents, but Id made everyone at school call me Lucy since the first day of first grade.

Hi, Darren.

He blinked at Solange. Even in jeans and a tank top she looked dramatic. It was all that pale skin and those pale eyes. Her black bangs were choppy because she trimmed them herself. The rest was long and hung past her shoulders. Mine was plain old brown and cut in a wedged bob to my chin. My glasses were retrodark rimmed and vaguely cats-eye shaped. I didnt need them to see the way Darren was drooling over Solange. All guys drooled over her. She was beautiful, end of discussion.

Whos your friend? Shes hot.

Youve met her before. Solange was homeschooled, but I dragged her around when I could. Sober up, Darren. This isnt a good look for you.

Kay. He spat grass out of his mouth.

I slung my arm through hers. Lets get out of here. The suns starting to set anyway, and maybe we can salvage the rest of the night.

The wind was soft through the corn, rustling the stalks as we wandered away. The stars were starting to peek out, like animal eyes in the dark. We could still hear the music and the occasional shout of laughter. Twilight was starting to settle like a soft blue veil. Wed walked from my house, which was a half hour away. Wed probably waited too long. We picked up our pace.

And then Solange paused.

What? I froze beside her, my shoulders tensing until I was practically wearing them as earmuffs. I was all too aware of what could be out there. I should never have suggested this. Id just put her into even more danger. I was an idiot.

She held up her hand, her eyes so pale suddenly that they were nearly colorless, a ring of ice around a black lake. And because I was scared, I scowled into the gathering shadows around us. Mom always said bravado was a karmic debt I had to work through. She was basically saying Id been mouthy and obnoxious for several lifetimes now. But somehow I didnt think this particular situation called for a round of oms, which was my mothers favorite way of cleansing karmic baggage. Most babies were sung lullabies; I got Om Namah Shivaya when I was really fussy.

Cops? I suggested, mostly because they seemed like the better alternative. They always break up these parties.

She shook her head. She looked delicate and ethereal, as if she were made of lily petals. Few people knew the marble all that softness concealed.

Theyre close, she murmured. Watching.

Run? I suggested. Like, right now?

She shook her head again, but we did at least start walking.

If we act like prey, theyll act like predators.

I tried not to hyperventilate, tried to walk quickly but confidently, as if we werent being stalked. Sometimes I really hated Solanges life. It was totally unfair.

Youre getting angry, she said softly.

Damn right I am. Those undead bastards think they can do this to you just because

When youre angry, your heart beats faster. Its like the cherry on a hot fudge sundae.

Oh. Right. I always forgot that little detail. Maybe my mom was right. I needed to take up meditating.

Lucy, I want you to run.

Shut up, I said, disbelief making my voice squeaky.

Theyll follow me if I run in the opposite direction.

Thats the worst plan Ive ever heard, I grumbled, fighting the urge to look over my shoulder. Stupid creepy cornfields. Stupid creepy stalkers. A cricket sang suddenly from the tall corn and my heart nearly shot straight out of my chest. I actually pressed my hand against my rib cage, half-worried. The cricket went quiet and was replaced by the rumble of car tires on the ground. Cornstalks snapped. A familiar jeep skidded to a dusty halt in front of us.