The Host (The Host 1)

The Seeker's face was smug. "She didn't have to answer. I'm very good at reading human expressions. I could tell when my questions struck a nerve. "

"How dare you? The relationship between a soul and her Comforter -"

"Is sacrosanct, yes; I know the theory. But the acceptable means of investigation don't seem to be working with your case. I have to get creative. "

"You think I'm keeping something from you?" I demanded, too angry to control the disgust in my voice. "You think I confided that to my Comforter?"

My anger didn't faze her. Perhaps, given her strange personality, she was used to such reactions.

"No. I think you're telling me what you know. . . But I don't think you're looking as hard as you could. I've seen it before. You're growing sympathetic to your host. You're letting her memories unconsciously direct your own desires. It's probably too late at this point. I think you'd be more comfortable moving on, and maybe someone else will have better luck with her. "

"Hah!" I shouted. "Melanie would eat them alive!"

Her expression froze in place.

She'd had no idea, no matter what she thought she'd discerned from Kathy. She'd thought Melanie's influence was from memories, that it was unconscious.

"I find it very interesting that you speak of her in the present tense. "

I ignored that, trying to pretend I hadn't made a slip. "If you think someone else would have better luck breaking into her secrets, you're wrong. "

"Only one way to find out. "

"Did you have someone in mind?" I asked, my voice frigid with aversion.

She grinned. "I've gotten permission to give it a try. Shouldn't take long. They're going to hold my host for me. "

I had to breathe deeply. I was shaking, and Melanie was so full of hate that she was past words. The idea of having the Seeker inside me, even though I knew that I would not be here, was so repugnant that I felt a return of last week's nausea.

"It's too bad for your investigation that I'm not a skipper. "

The Seeker's eyes narrowed. "Well, it does certainly make this assignment drag on. History was never of much interest to me, but it looks like I'm in for a full course now. "

"You just said that it was probably too late to get any more from her memories," I reminded her, struggling to make my voice calm. "Why don't you go back to wherever you belong?"

She shrugged and smiled a tight smile. "I'm sure it is too late. . . for voluntary information. But if you don't cooperate, she might just lead me to them yet. "

"Lead you?"

"When she takes full control, and you're no better than that weakling, once Racing Song, now Kevin. Remember him? The one who attacked the Healer?"

I stared at her, eyes wide, nostrils flared.

"Yes, it's probably just a matter of time. Your Comforter didn't tell you the statistics, did she? Well, even if she did, she wouldn't have the latest information that we have access to. The long-term success rate for situations such as yours-once a human host begins to resist-is under twenty percent. Did you have any idea it was so bad? They're changing the information they give potential settlers. There will be no more adult hosts offered. The risks are too great. We're losing souls. It won't be long before she's talking to you, talking through you, controlling your decisions. "

I hadn't moved an inch or relaxed a muscle. The Seeker leaned in, stretched up on her toes to put her face closer to mine. Her voice turned low and smooth in an attempt to sound persuasive.

"Is that what you want, Wanderer? To lose? To fade away, erased by another awareness? To be no better than a host body?"

I couldn't breathe.

"It only gets worse. You won't be you anymore. She'll beat you, and you'll disappear. Maybe someone will intervene. . . Maybe they'll move you like they did Kevin. And you'll become some child named Melanie who likes to tinker with cars rather than compose music. Or whatever it is she does. "

"The success rate is under twenty percent?" I whispered.

She nodded, trying to suppress a smile. "You're losing yourself, Wanderer. All the worlds you've seen, all the experiences you've collected-they'll be for nothing. I saw in your file that you have the potential for Motherhood. If you gave yourself to be a Mother, at least all that would not be entirely wasted. Why throw yourself away? Have you considered Motherhood?"

I jerked away from her, my face flushing.

"I'm sorry," she muttered, her face darkening, too. "That was impolite. Forget I said that. "

"I'm going home. Don't follow. "

"I have to, Wanderer. It's my job. "

"Why do you care so much about a few spare humans? Why? How do you justify your job anymore? We've won! It's time for you to join society and do something productive!"

My questions, my implied accusations, did not ruffle her.

"Wherever the fringes of their world touch ours there is death. " She spoke the words peacefully, and for a moment I glimpsed a different person in her face. It surprised me to realize that she deeply believed in what she did. Part of me had supposed that she only chose to seek because she illicitly craved the violence. "If even one soul is lost to your Jared or your Jamie, that is one soul too many. Until there is total peace on this planet, my job will be justified. As long as there are Jareds surviving, I am needed to protect our kind. As long as there are Melanies leading souls around by the nose. . . "

I turned my back on her and headed for my apartment with long strides that would force her to run if she wanted to keep up.

"Don't lose yourself, Wanderer!" she called after me. "Time is running out for you!" She paused, then shouted more loudly. "Inform me when I'm to start calling you Melanie!"

Her voice faded as the space between us grew. I knew she would follow at her own pace. This last uncomfortable week-seeing her face in the back of every class, hearing her footsteps behind me on the sidewalk every day-was nothing compared to what was coming. She was going to make my life a misery.

It felt as if Melanie were bouncing violently against the inner walls of my skull.

Let's get her canned. Tell her higher-ups that she did something unacceptable. Assaulted us. It's our word against hers -

In a human world, I reminded her, almost sad that I didn't have access to that sort of recourse. There are no higher-ups, in that sense. Everyone works together as equals. There are those whom many report to, in order to keep the information organized, and councils who

make decisions about that information, but they won't remove her from an assignment she wants. You see, it works like -

Who cares how it works if it doesn't help us? I know-let's kill her! A gratuitous image of my hands tightening around the Seeker's neck filled my head.

That sort of thing is exactly why my kind is better left in charge of this place.

Get off your high horse. You'd enjoy it as much as I would. The image returned, the Seeker's face turning blue in our imagination, but this time it was accompanied by a fierce wave of pleasure.

That's you, not me. My statement was true; the image sickened me. But it was also perilously close to false-in that I would very much enjoy never seeing the Seeker again.

What do we do now? I'm not giving up. You're not giving up. And that wretched Seeker is sure as hell not giving up!

I didn't answer her. I didn't have a ready answer.

It was quiet in my head for a brief moment. That was nice. I wished the silence could last. But there was only one way to buy my peace. Was I willing to pay the price? Did I have a choice anymore?

Melanie slowly calmed. By the time I was through the front door, locking behind me the bolts that I had never before turned-human artifacts that had no place in a peaceful world-her thoughts were contemplative.

I'd never thought about how you all carry on your species. I didn't know it was like that.

We take it very seriously, as you can imagine. Thanks for your concern. She wasn't bothered by the thick edge of irony in the thought.

She was still musing over this discovery while I turned on my computer and began to look for shuttle flights. It was a moment before she was aware of what I was doing.

Where are we going? The thought held a flicker of panic. I felt her awareness begin to rifle through my head, her touch like the soft brush of feathers, searching for anything I might be keeping from her.

I decided to save her the search. I'm going to Chicago.

The panic was more than a flicker now. Why?

I'm going to see the Healer. I don't trust her. I want to talk to him before I make my decision.

There was a brief silence before she spoke again.

The decision to kill me?

Yes, that one.