The Host(23)

I started slightly.

The Seeker was standing at my elbow. The woman usually announced her approach with the quick tap of her hard shoes. I looked down now to see that she was wearing sneakers for once—black, of course. She was even tinier without the extra inches.

“It’s not my favorite subject,” I said in a bland voice. “I prefer to have firsthand experience to share.”

“Strong reactions from the class.”

“Yes.”

She looked at me expectantly, as if waiting for more. I gathered my notes and turned to put them in my bag.

“You seemed to react as well.”

I placed my papers in the bag carefully, not turning.

“I wondered why you didn’t answer the question.”

There was a pause while she waited for me to respond. I didn’t.

“So… why didn’t you answer the question?”

I turned around, not concealing the impatience on my face. “Because it wasn’t pertinent to the lesson, because Robert needs to learn some manners, and because it’s no one else’s business.”

I swung my bag to my shoulder and headed for the door. She stayed right beside me, rushing to keep up with my longer legs. We walked down the hallway in silence. It wasn’t until we were outside, where the afternoon sun lit the dust motes in the salty air, that she spoke again.

“Do you think you’ll ever settle, Wanderer? On this planet, maybe? You seem to have an affinity for their… feelings.”

I bridled at the implied insult in her tone. I wasn’t even sure how she meant to insult me, but it was clear that she did. Melanie stirred resentfully.

“I’m not sure what you mean.”

“Tell me something, Wanderer. Do you pity them?”

“Who?” I asked blankly. “The Walking Flowers?”

“No, the humans.”

I stopped walking, and she skidded to a halt beside me. We were only a few blocks from my apartment, and I’d been hurrying in hopes of getting away from her, though likely as not, she’d invite herself in. But her question caught me off guard.

“The humans?”

“Yes. Do you pity them?”

“Don’t you?”

“No. They were quite the brutal race. They were lucky to survive each other as long as they did.”

“Not every one of them was bad.”

“It was a predilection of their genetics. Brutality was part of their species. But you pity them, it seems.”

“It’s a lot to lose, don’t you think?” I gestured around us. We stood in a parklike space between two ivy-covered dormitories. The deep green of the ivy was pleasing to the eye, especially in contrast to the faded red of the old bricks. The air was golden and soft, and the smell of the ocean gave a briny edge to the honey sweet fragrance of the flowers in the bushes. The breeze caressed the bare skin of my arms. “In your other lives, you can’t have felt anything so vivid. Wouldn’t you pity anyone who had this taken from them?” Her expression stayed flat, unmoved. I made an attempt to draw her in, to make her consider another viewpoint. “Which other worlds have you lived on?”

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.”