The Host (The Host #1)(169)

He reached for my hand and eased up on the gas. The car started to slow.

“Got your pill?” he choked.

“Yes,” I whispered.

“Can Mel hear me?”

Yes. The thought was a sob.

“Yes.” My voice only barely escaped being a sob, too.

“I love you, Mel. Sorry.”

“She loves you. More than anything.”

A short, aching silence.

“Wanda, I… I care about you, too. You’re a good person, Wanda. You deserve better than what I’ve given you. Better than this.”

He had something small, much too small to be so deadly, between his fingers.

“Wait,” I gasped.

He could not die.

“Wanda, we can’t take the chance. We can’t outrun them, not in this. If we try to run, a thousand of them will swarm after us. Think of Jamie.”

The van was slowing, drifting to the shoulder.

“Give me one try,” I begged. I fumbled quickly for the pill in my pocket. I pinched it between my thumb and forefinger and held it up. “Let me try to lie us out of this. I’ll swallow it right away if anything goes wrong.”

“You’ll never lie your way past a Seeker!”

“Let me try. Quick!” I pulled off my seat belt and crouched be-side him, unfastening his. “Switch with me. Fast, before they’re close enough to see.”

“Wanda —”

“One try. Hurry!”

He was the best at split-second decisions. Smooth and fast, he was out of the driver’s seat and over my crouched body. I rolled up into his seat while he took mine.

“Seat belt,” I ordered tersely. “Close your eyes. Turn your head away.”

He did as I said. It was too dark to see it, but his new soft pink scar would be visible from this angle.

I strapped my seat belt on and then leaned my head back.

Lying with my body, that was the key. It was simply a matter of the right movements. Imitation. Like the actors on the TV program, only better. Like a human.

“Help me, Mel,” I murmured.

I can’t help you be a better soul, Wanda. But you can do this. Save him. I know you can.

A better soul. I only had to be myself.

It was late. I was tired. I wouldn’t have to act that part.

I let my eyelids droop, let my body sag against the seat.

Chagrin. I could do chagrin. I could feel it now.

My mouth turned down into a sheepish grimace.

The Seekers’ car did not park behind us, the way I could feel Mel expected. It stopped across the road, on the shoulder, facing the wrong way for that lane’s traffic flow. A dazzling light exploded through the window of the other car. I blinked into it, raising my hand to shade my face with deliberate slowness. Faintly, past the glare of the spotlight, I saw the gleam of my eyes bounce against the road as I looked down.

A car door slammed. One set of footsteps made a pattern of low thuds as someone crossed the pavement. There was no sound of dirt or rocks, so the Seeker had emerged from the passenger side. Two of them, at least, but only one coming to interrogate me. This was a good sign, a sign of comfort and confidence.

My glowing eyes were a talisman. A compass that could not fail—like the North Star, undoubtable.

Lying with my body was not the key. Telling the truth with it was enough. I had something in common with the human baby in the park: nothing like me had ever existed before.

The Seeker’s body blocked the light, and I could see again.

It was a man. Probably middle-aged—his features conflicted with one another, making it hard to tell; his hair was all white, but his face was smooth and unwrinkled. He wore a T-shirt and shorts, a blocky gun clearly visible on his hip. One hand rested on the butt of the weapon. In his other hand was a dark flashlight. He didn’t turn it on.

“Having a problem, miss?” he said when he was a few feet away. “You were going much too fast for safety.”

His eyes were restless. They swiftly appraised my expression—which was, hopefully, sleepy—and then ran along the length of the van, darted into the darkness behind us, flashed forward to the stretch of highway ahead, lit by our headlights, and came back to my face. They repeated the course another time.

He was anxious. This knowledge made my palms sweaty, but I tried to keep the panic from my voice.

“I’m so sorry,” I apologized in a loud whisper. I glanced at Jared, as if checking to see whether our words had woken him. “I think… well, I think I might have fallen asleep. I didn’t realize I was so tired.”

I tried to smile remorsefully. I could tell I sounded stiff, like the too-careful actors on the television.

The Seeker’s eyes traced their route again, this time lingering on Jared. My heart jumped painfully against the inside of my ribs. I pinched the pill tighter.

“It was irresponsible for me to drive for so long without sleep,” I said quickly, trying again to smile a little. “I thought we could make it to Phoenix before I would need rest. I’m very sorry.”

“What’s your name, miss?”

His voice was not harsh, but neither was it warm. He kept it low, though, following my cue.

“Leaves Above,” I said, using the name from the last hotel. Would he want to check my story? I might need someplace to refer him to.