The Host(191)

“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.

“Upside-down Flower?” he guessed. His eyes flickered around their course.

“Yes, I was.”

“My partner, too. Were you on the island?”

“No,” I said quickly. “The mainland. Between the great rivers.”

He nodded, perhaps a little disappointed.

“Should I go back to Tucson?” I asked. “I think I’m quite awake now. Or maybe I should take a nap right here first —”

“No!” he interrupted me in a louder voice.

I jumped, startled, and the little pill slipped from my fingers. It dropped to the metal floor with a faintly audible clink. I felt the blood drain from my face as though a plug had been pulled.

“Didn’t mean to startle you,” he apologized quickly, his eyes repeating their restless circle. “But you shouldn’t linger here.”

“Why?” I managed to whisper. My fingers twitched anxiously at the empty air.

“There was a… disappearance recently.”

“I don’t understand. A disappearance?”