The Host (The Host #1)(45)

Jared was walking toward us, and his face was the same as those of the barbarians in the desert—only it was beautiful rather than frightening in its fury. My heart faltered and then beat unevenly, and I wanted to laugh at myself. Did it matter that he was beautiful, that I loved him, when he was going to kill me?

I stared at the murder in his expression and tried to hope that rage would win out over expediency, but a true death wish evaded me.

Jeb and Jared locked eyes for a long moment. Jared’s jaw clenched and unclenched, but Jeb’s face was calm. The silent confrontation ended when Jared suddenly exhaled in an angry gust and took a step back.

Jeb reached down for my hand and put his other arm around my back to pull me up. My head whirled and ached; my stomach heaved. If it hadn’t been empty for days, I might have thrown up. It was like my feet weren’t touching the ground. I wobbled and pitched forward. Jeb steadied me and then gripped my elbow to keep me standing.

Jared watched all this with a teeth-baring grimace. Like an idiot, Melanie struggled to move toward him again. But I was over the shock of seeing him here and less stupid than she was now. She wouldn’t break through again. I locked her away behind every bar I could create in my head.

Just be quiet. Can’t you see how he loathes me? Anything you say will make it worse. We’re dead.

But Jared’s alive, Jared’s here, she crooned.

The quiet in the cavern dissolved; whispers came from every side, all at the same time, as if I’d missed some cue. I couldn’t make out any meanings in the hissing murmurs.

My eyes darted around the mob of humans—every one of them an adult, no smaller, younger figure among them. My heart ached at the absence, and Melanie fought to voice the question. I hushed her firmly. There wasn’t anything to see here, nothing but anger and hatred on strangers’ faces, or the anger and hatred on Jared’s face.

Until another man pushed his way through the whispering throng. He was built slim and tall, his skeletal structure more obvious under his skin than most. His hair was washed out, either pale brown or a dark, nondescript blond. Like his bland hair and his long body, his features were mild and thin. There was no anger in his face, which was why it held my eye.

The others made way for this apparently unassuming man as if he had some status among them. Only Jared didn’t defer to him; he held his ground, staring only at me. The tall man stepped around him, not seeming to notice the obstacle in his path any more than he would a pile of rock.

“Okay, okay,” he said in an oddly cheery voice as he circled Jared and came to face me. “I’m here. What have we got?”

It was Aunt Maggie who answered him, appearing at his elbow.

“Jeb found it in the desert. Used to be our niece Melanie. It seemed to be following the directions he gave her.” She flashed a dirty look at Jeb.

“Mm-hm,” the tall, bony man murmured, his eyes appraising me curiously. It was strange, that appraisal. He looked as if he liked what he saw. I couldn’t fathom why he would.

My gaze shied away from his, to another woman—a young woman who peered around his side, her hand resting on his arm—my eyes drawn by her vivid hair.

Sharon! Melanie cried.

Melanie’s cousin saw the recognition in my eyes, and her face hardened.

I pushed Melanie roughly to the back of my head. Shhh!

“Mm-hm,” the tall man said again, nodding. He reached one hand out to my face and seemed surprised when I recoiled from it, flinching into Jeb’s side.

“It’s okay,” the tall man said, smiling a little in encouragement. “I won’t hurt you.”

He reached toward my face again. I shrunk into Jeb’s side like before, but Jeb flexed his arm and nudged me forward. The tall man touched my jaw below my ear, his fingers gentler than I expected, and turned my face away. I felt his finger trace a line on the back of my neck, and I realized that he was examining the scar from my insertion.

I watched Jared’s face from the corner of my eye. What this man was doing clearly upset him, and I thought I knew why—how he must have hated that slender pink line on my neck.

Jared frowned, but I was surprised that some of the anger had drained from his expression. His eyebrows pulled together. It made him look confused.

The tall man dropped his hands and stepped away from me. His lips were pursed, his eyes alight with some challenge.

“She looks healthy enough, aside from some recent exhaustion, dehydration, and malnourishment. I think you’ve put enough water back into her so that the dehydration won’t interfere. Okay, then.” He made an odd, unconscious motion with his hands, as if he were washing them. “Let’s get started.”

Then his words and his brief examination fit together and I understood—this gentle-seeming man who had just promised not to hurt me was the doctor.

Uncle Jeb sighed heavily and closed his eyes.

The doctor held a hand out to me, inviting me to put mine in his. I clenched my hands into fists behind my back. He looked at me carefully again, appraising the terror in my eyes. His mouth turned down, but it was not a frown. He was considering how to proceed.

“Kyle, Ian?” he called, craning his neck to search the assembly for the ones he summoned. My knees wobbled when the two big black-haired brothers pressed their way forward.

“I think I need some help. Maybe if you were to carry —” the doctor, who did not look quite so tall standing beside Kyle, began to say.