The Host (The Host #1)(108)

Ian frowned and snorted. “Wouldn’t that be just like some people, to get worked up over this?” He shook his head. “Who cares, though, right? If it’s Walt’s final wish…”

“Right,” I agreed. The word final had my eyes burning. “If seeing me is what Walter wants, then I guess it doesn’t matter what anyone else thinks, or if they get mad.”

“Don’t worry about that—I’m not going to let anybody harass you.” Ian’s white lips pressed into a thin line.

I felt anxious, like I wanted to look at a clock. Time had ceased to mean much to me, but suddenly I felt the weight of a deadline. “Is it too late to go tonight? Will we disturb him?”

“He’s not sleeping regular hours. We can go see.”

I started walking at once, dragging Jamie because he still gripped my hand. The sense of passing time, of endings and finality, propelled me forward. Ian caught up quickly, though, with his long stride.

In the moonlit garden cavern, we passed others who for the most part paid us no mind. I was too often in the company of Jamie and Ian to cause any curiosity, though we weren’t headed for the usual tunnels.

The one exception was Kyle. He froze midstride when he saw his brother beside me. His eyes flashed down to see Jamie’s hand in mine, and then his lips twisted into a snarl.

Ian squared his shoulders as he absorbed his brother’s reaction—his mouth curled into a mirror of Kyle’s—and he deliberately reached for my other hand. Kyle made a noise like he was about to be sick and turned his back on us.

When we were in the blackness of the long tunnel south, I tried to free that hand. Ian gripped it tighter.

“I wish you wouldn’t make him angrier,” I muttered.

“Kyle is wrong. Being wrong is sort of a habit with him. He’ll take longer than anyone else to get over it, but that doesn’t mean we should make allowances for him.”

“He frightens me,” I admitted in a whisper. “I don’t want him to have more reasons to hate me.”

Ian and Jamie squeezed my hands at the same time. They spoke simultaneously.

“Don’t be afraid,” Jamie said.

“Jeb’s made his opinion very clear,” Ian said.

“What do you mean?” I asked Ian.

“If Kyle can’t accept Jeb’s rules, then he’s no longer welcome here.”

“But that’s wrong. Kyle belongs here.”

Ian grunted. “He’s staying… so he’ll just have to learn to deal.”

We didn’t talk again through the long walk. I was feeling guilty—it seemed to be a permanent emotional state here. Guilt and fear and heartbreak. Why had I come?

Because you do belong here, oddly enough, Melanie whispered. She was very aware of the warmth of Ian’s and Jamie’s hands, wrapped around and twined with mine. Where else have you ever had this?

Nowhere, I confessed, feeling only more depressed. But it doesn’t make me belong. Not the way you do.

We’re a package deal, Wanda.

As if I needed reminding.…

I was a little surprised to hear her so clearly. She’d been quiet the last two days, waiting, anxious, hoping to see Jared again. Of course, I’d been similarly occupied.

Maybe he’s with Walter. Maybe that’s where he’s been, Melanie thought hopefully.

That’s not why we’re going to see Walter.

No. Of course not. Her tone was repentant, but I realized that Walter did not mean as much to her as he did to me. Naturally, she was sad that he was dying, but she had accepted that outcome from the beginning. I, on the other hand, could not bring myself to accept it, even now. Walter was my friend, not hers. I was the one he’d defended.

One of those dim blue lights greeted us as we approached the hospital wing. (I knew now that the lanterns were solar powered, left in sunny corners during the day to charge.) We all moved more quietly, slowing at the same time without having to discuss it.

I hated this room. In the darkness, with the odd shadows thrown by the weak glow, it seemed only more forbidding. There was a new smell—the room reeked of slow decay and stinging alcohol and bile.

Two of the cots were occupied. Doc’s feet hung over the edge of one; I recognized his light snore. On the other, looking hideously withered and misshapen, Walter watched us approach.

“Are you up for visitors, Walt?” Ian whispered when Walter’s eyes drifted in his direction.

“Ungh,” Walter moaned. His lips drooped from his slack face, and his skin gleamed wetly in the low light.

“Is there anything you need?” I murmured. I pulled my hands free—they fluttered helplessly in the air between me and Walter.

His loosely rolling eyes searched the darkness. I took a step closer.

“Is there anything we can do for you? Anything at all?”

His eyes roamed till they found my face. Abruptly, they focused through the drunken stupor and the pain.

“Finally,” he gasped. His breath wheezed and whistled. “I knew you would come if I waited long enough. Oh, Gladys, I have so much to tell you.”

CHAPTER 31

Needed

I froze and then looked quickly over my shoulder to see if someone was behind me.

“Gladys was his wife,” Jamie whispered almost silently. “She didn’t escape.”