The Host (The Host #1)(56)

And then I really looked at the waiting figure. It was smaller than me—that was how I’d known it was not Jared—and thin. Small, but also too tall and too wiry. Even in the dim light of the blue lamp, I could see that his skin was dyed to a deep brown by the sun, and that his silky black hair now fell unkempt past his chin.

My knees buckled.

My hand, grasping Jeb’s arm in panic, held on for support.

“Well, for Pete’s sake!” Jeb exclaimed, obviously irritated. “Can’t nobody keep a secret around this place for more’n twenty-four hours? Gol’ durn, this burns me up! Bunch of gossipmongers…” He trailed off into a grumble.

I didn’t even try to understand the words Jeb was saying; I was locked in the fiercest battle of my life—of every life I’d ever lived.

I could feel Melanie in each cell of my body. My nerve endings tingled in recognition of her familiar presence. My muscles twitched in anticipation of her direction. My lips trembled, trying to open. I leaned forward toward the boy in the hall, my body reaching because my arms would not.

Melanie had learned many things the few times I’d ceded or lost my command to her, and I truly had to struggle against her—so hard that fresh sweat beaded on my brow. But I was not dying in the desert now. Nor was I weak and dizzy and taken off guard by the appearance of someone I’d given up for lost; I’d known this moment might come. My body was resilient, quick to heal—I was strong again. The strength of my body gave strength to my control, to my determination.

I drove her from my limbs, chased her from every hold she’d found, thrust her back into the recesses of my mind, and chained her there.

Her surrender was sudden and total. Aaah, she sighed, and it was almost a moan of pain.

I felt strangely guilty as soon as I’d won.

I’d already known that she was more to me than a resistant host who made life unnecessarily difficult. We’d become companions, even confidantes during our past weeks together—ever since the Seeker had united us against a common enemy. In the desert, with Kyle’s knife over my head, I’d been glad that if I had to die I would not be the one to kill Melanie; even then, she was more than a body to me. But now it seemed like something beyond that. I regretted causing her pain.

It was necessary, though, and she didn’t seem to grasp that. Any word we said wrong, any poorly considered action would mean a quick execution. Her reactions were too wild and emotional. She would get us into trouble.

You have to trust me now, I told her. I’m just trying to keep us alive. I know you don’t want to believe your humans could hurt us…

But it’s Jamie, she whispered. She yearned for the boy with an emotion so strong that it weakened my knees again.

I tried to look at him impartially—this sullen-faced teenager slumped against the tunnel wall with his arms folded tightly across his chest. I tried to see him as a stranger and plan my response, or lack of response, accordingly. I tried, but I failed. He was Jamie, he was beautiful, and my arms—mine, not Melanie’s—longed to hold him. Tears filled my eyes and trickled down my face. I could only hope they were invisible in the dim light.

“Jeb,” Jamie said—a gruff greeting. His eyes passed swiftly over me and away.

His voice was so deep! Could he really be so old? I realized with a double pang of guilt that I’d just missed his fourteenth birthday. Melanie showed me the day, and I saw that it was the same day as the first dream with Jamie. She’d struggled so hard all through the waking hours to keep her pain to herself, to cloud her memories in order to protect the boy, that he’d come out in her dream. And I’d e-mailed the Seeker.

I shuddered now in disbelief that I’d ever been so callous.

“Whatcha doing here, kid?” Jeb demanded.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Jamie demanded back.

Jeb went silent.

“Was that Jared’s idea?” Jamie pressed.

Jeb sighed. “Okay, so you know. What good does that do you, eh? We only wanted to —”

“To protect me?” he interrupted, surly.

When did he get so bitter? Was it my fault? Of course it was.

Melanie began sobbing in my head. It was distracting, loud—it made Jeb and Jamie’s voices sound farther away.

“Fine, Jamie. So you don’t need protecting. What do you want?”

This quick capitulation seemed to throw Jamie off. His eyes darted between Jeb’s face and mine while he struggled to come up with a request.

“I—I want to talk with her… with it,” he finally said. His voice was higher when he was unsure.

“She doesn’t say much,” Jeb told him, “but you’re welcome to try, kid.”

Jeb pried my fingers off his arm. When he was free, he turned his back to the nearest wall, leaning into it as he eased himself to the floor. He settled in there, fidgeting until he found a comfortable position. The gun stayed balanced in the cradle of his lap. Jeb’s head lolled back against the wall, and his eyes closed. In seconds, he looked like he was asleep.

I stood where he’d left me, trying to keep my eyes off Jamie’s face and failing.

Jamie was surprised again by Jeb’s easy acquiescence. He watched the old man recline on the floor with wide eyes that made him look younger. After a few minutes of perfect stillness from Jeb, Jamie looked back up at me, and his eyes tightened.