The Host (The Host #1)(21)

She hesitated, then squared her shoulders. “None. I’ve only lived on Earth.”

That surprised me. She was as much a child as Robert. “Only one planet? And you chose to be a Seeker in your first life?”

She nodded once, her chin set.

“Well. Well, that’s your business.” I started walking again. Maybe if I respected her privacy, she would return the favor.

“I spoke to your Comforter.”

And maybe not, Melanie thought sourly.

“What?” I gasped.

“I gather you’ve been having more trouble than just accessing the information I need. Have you considered trying another, more pliable host? She suggested that, did she not?”

“Kathy wouldn’t tell you anything!”

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?”