Hearts At Stake - By Alyxandra Harvey Page 0,20

our optimum age, where we look the strongest. It’s a way to scare off predators, like making yourself look bigger to scare off a black bear.”

“Oh. And her special pheromone thing is a survival mechanism too, right? How everyone’s all obsessed with her?”

“Yes. It’s a mating thing. Everyone is wondering if she’ll be able to carry a vampire child to term.”

“Gross.”

“Study your Darwin, my girl.”

As if. “One more thing, why are the Hel-Blar blue?”

“It’s a side effect, like their fangs. Their extra fangs enable them to take their first . . . meals . . . with such violence and greed, it leaves them, in effect, engorged and bruised.”

“Oh.” I had to learn to stop asking these questions. I never liked the answer. I swallowed. “Thanks. I guess I should let you get back to work.”

“Yes, Darwin’s going to get a little help when I’m through.” He turned back to his microscope and I knew he’d pretty much forgotten I was there by the time I reached the door. I didn’t feel better exactly, but at least I didn’t feel like I was the only one in the dark anymore.

I drove home, mind racing. My house seemed too quiet somehow, too empty. Mom’s Kali statue watched as I put out several bowls of water. It had to last until my parents came back—just in case. It felt melodramatic to think like that, but I needed to be prepared. Solange would have been happy hiding out in some deserted cabin until this was all over, but I wanted to fight. My parents still didn’t understand my violent tendencies considering the way I was raised: meditating, eating tofu, and taking long road trips in the middle of the school year to see petroglyphs or observe moose. My mom’s rabid tolerance extends not just to people but all species—vampires included. Helena and my mom were best friends in high school but drifted apart when Mom went to college and then traveled around the world to find herself. It was ten years before Mom came back to her hometown. One night she went on one of her full-moon hikes and ran into Helena, who was pregnant with Solange and drinking the blood of a deer Liam had killed to help sate her cravings. Apparently, that kind of thing had only happened when Helena was pregnant with Solange and not any of her seven brothers.

Anyway, no amount of vampire mind control was going to make my vegetarian mom forget that particular sight. Helena couldn’t hide from my mom, and their friendship was rekindled, which was how we came to be so close and comfortable with the Drakes. More comfortable than they were with us sometimes— case in point: Nicholas.

Nicholas.

I really wished he’d been a bad kisser. It would have been much easier to forget it ever happened, to not wonder if it might happen again.

“Focus,” I told myself sternly, locking our front door, double-checking it. I watched every bush and tree suspiciously on my way back to the safety of my car. The tires squealed, sending up clouds of dust as I sped out of there. The back of my neck didn’t relax completely until I’d reached the outskirts of town, with its candy-colored galleries and ice-cream parlors. The area was popular with artists, environmentalists, and homesteaders like my folks. There were few places with so much wilderness all around—dense forests and hidden waterfalls and even wolves, sometimes, singing on cold winter nights. The combination of the untamed countryside and the fact that everyone here was pretty private and accepting of alternative lifestyles made it a perfect place for vampires to live in undiscovered. At least I thought they were undiscovered. If not, no one talked about it. Folks here were far more likely to get heated over conspiracy theories and nuclear waste sites.

First, I stopped by the drugstore for nose plugs and I cleared them out entirely. The cashier didn’t even blink. Then I went to the hardware store for hunting and camping supplies, which were big business in town. I felt a little silly, I admit, kind of like the comic book character I’d accused Kieran of emulating. But I was determined, too. If there was anything I’d learned from my parents, besides how to chop wood and prime the water pump, it was that you did what needed doing and you didn’t complain about it or pretend it wasn’t necessary. Afterward, I felt perfectly justified in rewarding myself with a double-shot cinnamon