The Host (The Host 1)

I held on stubbornly for half a minute. Then I snatched the little square of fabric angrily and wiped my eyes.

"I hate this. "

"Everybody cries their first year. These emotions are so impossible. We're all children for a bit, whether we intended that or not. I used to tear up every time I saw a pretty sunset. The taste of peanut butter would sometimes do that, too. " She patted the top of my head, then trailed her fingers gently through the lock of hair I always kept tucked behind my ear.

"Such pretty, shiny hair," she noted. "Every time I see you it's shorter. Why do you keep it that way?"

Already in tears, I didn't feel like I had much dignity to defend. Why claim that it was easier to care for, as I usually did? After all, I'd come here to confess and get help-I might as well get on with it.

"It bothers her. She likes it long. "

She didn't gasp, as I half expected she would. Kathy was good at her job. Her response was only a second late and only slightly incoherent.

"You. . . She. . . she's still that. . . present?"

The appalling truth tumbled from my lips. "When she wants to be. Our history bores her. She's more dormant while I'm working. But she's there, all right. Sometimes I feel like she's as present as I am. " My voice was only a whisper by the time I was done.

"Wanderer!" Kathy exclaimed, horrified. "Why didn't you tell me it was that bad? How long has it been this way?"

"It's getting worse. Instead of fading, she seems to be growing stronger. It's not as bad as the Healer's case yet-we spoke of Kevin, do you remember? She hasn't taken control. She won't. I won't let that happen!" The pitch of my voice climbed.

"Of course it won't happen," she assured me. "Of course not. But if you're this. . . unhappy, you should have told me earlier. We need to get you to a Healer. "

It took me a moment, emotionally distracted as I was, to understand.

"A Healer? You want me to skip?"

"No one would think badly of that choice, Wanderer. It's understood, if a host is defective -"

"Defective? She's not defective. I am. I'm too weak for this world!" My head fell into my hands as the humiliation washed through me. Fresh tears welled in my eyes.

Kathy's arm settled around my shoulders. I was struggling so hard to control my wild emotions that I didn't pull away, though it felt too intimate.

It bothered Melanie, too. She didn't like being hugged by an alien.

Of course Melanie was very much present in this moment, and unbearably smug as I finally admitted to her power. She was gleeful. It was always harder to control her when I was distracted by emotion like this.

I tried to calm myself so that I would be able to put her in her place.

You are in my place. Her thought was faint but intelligible. How much worse it was getting; she was strong enough to speak to me now whenever she wished. It was as bad as that first minute of consciousness.

Go away. It's my place now.

Never.

"Wanderer, dear, no. You are not weak, and we both know that. "

"Hmph. "

"Listen to me. You are strong. Surprisingly strong. Our kind are always so much the same, but you exceed the norm. You're so brave it astonishes me. Your past lives are a testament to that. "

My past lives maybe, but this life? Where was my strength now?

"But humans are more individualized than we are," Kathy went on. "There's quite a range, and some of them are much stronger than others. I truly believe that if anyone else had been put into this host, Melanie would have crushed them in days. Maybe it's an accident, maybe it's fate, but it appears to me that the strongest of our kind is being hosted by the strongest of theirs. "

"Doesn't say much for our kind, does it?"

She heard the implication behind my words. "She's not winning, Wanderer. You are this lovely person beside me. She's just a shadow in the corner of your mind. "

"She speaks to me, Kathy. She still thinks her own thoughts. She still keeps her secrets. "

"But she doesn't speak for you, does she? I doubt I would be able to say as much in your place. "

I didn't respond. I was feeling too miserable.

"I think you should consider reimplantation. "

"Kathy, you just said that she would crush a different soul. I don't know if I believe that-you're probably just trying to do your job and comfort me. But if she is so strong, it wouldn't be fair to hand her off to someone else because I can't subdue her. Who would you choose to take her on?"

"I didn't say that to comfort you, dear. "

"Then what -"

"I don't think this host would be considered for reuse. "

"Oh!"

A shiver of horror jolted down my spine. And I wasn't the only one who was staggered by the idea.

I was immediately repulsed. I was no quitter. Through the long revolutions around the suns of my last planet-the world of the See Weeds, as they were known here-I had waited. Though the permanence of being rooted began to wear long before I'd thought it would, though the lives of the See Weeds would measure in centuries on this planet, I had not skipped out on the life term of my host. To do so was wasteful, wrong, ungrateful. It mocked the very essence of who we were as souls. We made our worlds better places; that was absolutely essential or we did not deserve them.

But we were not wasteful. We did make whatever we took better, more peaceful and beautiful. And the humans were brutish and ungovernable. They had killed one another so frequently that murder had been an accepted part of life. The various tortures they'd devised over the few millennia they'd lasted had been too much for me; I hadn't been able to bear even the dry official overviews. Wars had raged over the face of nearly every continent. Sanctioned murder, ordered and viciously effective. Those who lived in peaceful nations had looked the other way as members of their own species starved on their doorstep. There was no equality to the distribution of the planet's bounteous resources. Most vile yet, their offspring-the next generation, which my kind nearly worshipped for their promise-had all too often been victims of heinous crimes. And not just at the hands of strangers, but at the hands of the caretakers they were entrusted to. Even the huge sphere of the planet had been put into jeopardy through their careless and greedy mistakes. No one could compare what had been and what was now and not admit that Earth was a better place thanks to us.

You murder an entire species and then pat yourselves on the back.

My hands balled up into fists.

I could have you disposed of, I reminded her.

Go ahead. Make my murder official.

I was bluffing, but so was Melanie.

Oh, she thought she wanted to die. She'd thrown herself into the elevator shaft, after all. But that was in a moment of panic and defeat. To consider it calmly from a comfortable chair was something else altogether. I could feel the adrenaline-adrenaline called into being by her fear-shoot through my limbs as I contemplated switching to a more pliant body.

It would be nice to be alone again. To have my mind to myself. This world was very pleasant in so many novel ways, and it would be wonderful to be able to appreciate it without the distractions of an angry, displaced nonentity who should have had better sense than to linger unwanted this way.

Melanie squirmed, figuratively, in the recesses of my head as I tried to

consider it rationally. Maybe I should give up. . .

The words themselves made me flinch. I, Wanderer, give up? Quit? Admit failure and try again with a weak, spineless host who wouldn't give me any trouble?

I shook my head. I could barely stand to think of it.

And. . . this was my body. I was used to the feel of it. I liked the way the muscles moved over the bones, the bend of the joints and the pull of the tendons. I knew the reflection in the mirror. The sun-browned skin, the high, sharp bones of my face, the short silk cap of mahogany hair, the muddy green brown hazel of my eyes-this was me.

I wanted myself. I wouldn't let what was mine be destroyed.