The Host (The Host #1)(159)

Cool. For fevers? There were no instructions, just the label. I took the stack. Nothing here would hurt a human body. I was sure of that.

I grabbed all the Seal and two cans of Smooth. I couldn’t press my luck any further. I closed the cabinets quietly and threw my arms through the straps of the pack. I leaned against the mattress, making another crackle. I tried to look relaxed.

She didn’t come back.

I checked the clock. It had been one minute. How far away was the water?

Two minutes.

Three minutes.

Had my lies been as obvious to her as they were to me?

Sweat started to dew up on my forehead. I wiped it away quickly.

What if she brought back a Seeker?

I thought of the small pill in my pocket, and my hands shook. I could do it, though. For Jamie.

I heard quiet footsteps then, two sets, coming down the hall.

CHAPTER 45

Succeeded

Healer Knits Fire and Cerulean walked through the door together. The Healer handed me a tall glass of water. It didn’t feel as cold as the first—my fingers were cold with fear now. The dark-skinned woman had something for me, too. She handed me a flat rectangle with a handle.

“I thought you would want to see,” Knits Fire said with a warm smile.

The tension flooded out of me. There was no suspicion or fear. Just more kindness from the souls who had dedicated their lives to Healing.

Cerulean had given me a mirror.

I held it up and then tried to stifle my gasp.

My face looked the way I remembered it from San Diego. The face I’d taken for granted there. The skin was smooth and peachy across my right cheekbone. If I looked carefully, it was just a little lighter and pinker in color than the tan on the other cheek.

It was a face that belonged to Wanderer, the soul. It belonged here, in this civilized place where there was no violence and no horror.

I realized why it was so easy to lie to these gentle creatures. Because it felt right to talk with them, because I understood their communication and their rules. The lies could be… maybe should be true. I should be filling a Calling somewhere, whether teaching at a university or serving food in a restaurant. A peaceful, easy life contributing to a greater good.

“What do you think?” the Healer asked.

“I look perfect. Thank you.”

“It was my pleasure to heal you.”

I looked at myself again, seeing details beyond the perfection. My hair was ragged—dirty, with uneven ends. There was no gloss to it—homemade soap and poor nutrition were to blame for that. Though the Healer had cleaned the blood from my neck, it was still smudged with purple dust.

“I think it’s time I called the camping trip quits. I need to clean up,” I murmured.

“Do you camp often?”

“In all my free time, lately. I… can’t seem to keep away from the desert.”

“You must be brave. I find the city much more comfortable.”

“Not brave—just different.”

In the mirror, my eyes were familiar rings of hazel. Dark gray on the outside, a circle of moss green, and then another circle of caramel brown around the pupil. Underlying it all, a faint shimmer of silver that would reflect the light, magnify it.

Jamie? Mel asked urgently, beginning to feel nervous. I was too comfortable here. She could see the logic of the other path laid out before me, and that frightened her.

I know who I am, I told her.

I blinked, then looked back at the friendly faces beside me.

“Thank you,” I said again to the Healer. “I suppose I’d better be on my way.”

“It’s very late. You could sleep here if you’d like.”

“I’m not tired. I feel… perfect.”

The Healer grinned. “No Pain does that.”

Cerulean walked me to the reception area. She put her hand on my shoulder as I stepped through the door.

My heart beat faster. Had she noticed that my pack, once flat, was now bulging?

“Be more careful, dear,” she said, and patted my arm.

“I will. No more hikes in the dark.”

She smiled and went back to her desk.

I kept my pace even as I walked through the parking lot. I wanted to run. What if the Healer looked in her cabinets? How soon would she realize why they were half empty?

The car was still there, in the pocket of darkness created by a gap between streetlights. It looked empty. My breath came fast and uneven. Of course it should look empty. That was the whole point. But my lungs didn’t calm until I could glimpse the vague shape under the blanket on the backseat.

I opened the door and put the backpack on the passenger seat—it settled there with a reassuring clatter—then I climbed in and shut the door. There was no reason to slam the locks down; I ignored the urge.

“Are you okay?” Jared whispered as soon as the door was closed. His voice was a strained, anxious rasp.

“Shh,” I said, keeping my lips as still as I could. “Wait.”

I drove past the bright entrance and answered Cerulean’s wave with one of my own.

“Making friends?”

We were on the dark road. No one was watching me anymore. I slumped in the seat. My hands started to shake. I could allow that, now that it was over. Now that I’d succeeded.

“All souls are friends,” I told him, using my normal volume.