The Host(179)

“Um… Faces Sunward,” I said, pulling the name from one of my old students. “I was in… Eureka, Montana. I didn’t like the cold. I moved south.”

So many lies. I felt a twist of anxiety in my stomach.

“I started out in Maine,” she said, not noticing anything amiss in my voice. As she spoke, she cleaned the blood from my neck. “It was too cold for me, too. What’s your Calling?”

“Um… I serve food. In a Mexican restaurant in… Phoenix. I like spicy food.”

“Me, too.” She wasn’t looking at me funny. She was wiping my cheek now.

“Very nice. No worries, Glass Spires. Your face looks great.”

“Thank you, Healer.”

“Of course. Would you like some water?”

“Yes, please.” I kept a grip on myself. It wouldn’t do to bolt the glass down the way I wanted to. I wasn’t able to stop myself from finishing it all, though. It tasted too good.

“Would you like more?”

“I… yes, that would be nice. Thank you.”

“I’ll be right back.”

The second she was out the door, I slid off the mattress. The paper crackled, freezing me in place. She didn’t dart back in. I had only seconds. It had taken Cerulean a few minutes to get the water. Maybe it would take the Healer just as long. Maybe the cool, pure water was far away from this room. Maybe.

I ripped the pack off my shoulders and wrenched the drawstrings open. I started with the second cabinet. There was the stacked column of Heal. I grabbed the whole column and let it clatter quietly into the bottom of my pack.

What would I say if she caught me? What lie could I tell?

I took the two kinds of Clean next, from the first cabinet. There was a second stack behind the first of each, and I took half of those, too. Then the No Pain, both stacks of that. I was about to turn back for the Seal, when the label of the next row of cylinders caught my attention.

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.”