The Host (The Host #1)

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.

“No.”

Everyone turned to see where the dissent had come from. I didn’t need to look, because I recognized the voice. I looked at him anyway.

Jared’s eyebrows pressed down hard over his eyes; his mouth was twisted into a strange grimace. So many emotions ran across his face, it was hard to pin one down. Anger, defiance, confusion, hatred, fear… pain.

The doctor blinked, his face going slack with surprise. “Jared? Is there a problem?”

“Yes.”

Everyone waited. Beside me, Jeb was holding the corners of his lips down as if they were trying to lift into a grin. If that was the case, then the old man had an odd sense of humor.

“And it is?” the doctor asked.

Jared answered through his teeth. “I’ll tell you the problem, Doc. What’s the difference between letting you have it or Jeb putting a bullet in its head?”

I trembled. Jeb patted my arm.

The doctor blinked again. “Well” was all he said.

Jared answered his own question. “The difference is, if Jeb kills it, at least it dies cleanly.”

“Jared.” The doctor’s voice was soothing, the same tone he’d used on me. “We learn so much each time. Maybe this will be the time —”

“Hah!” Jared snorted. “I don’t see much progress being made, Doc.”

Jared will protect us, Melanie thought faintly.

It was hard to concentrate enough to form words. Not us, just your body.

Close enough… Her voice seemed to come from some distance, from outside my pounding head.

Sharon took a step forward so that she stood half in front of the doctor. It was a strangely protective stance.

“There’s no point in wasting an opportunity,” she said fiercely. “We all realize that this is hard for you, Jared, but in the end it’s not your decision to make. We have to consider what’s best for the majority.”

Jared glowered at her. “No.” The word was a snarl.

I could tell he had not whispered the word, yet it was very quiet in my ears. In fact, everything was suddenly quiet. Sharon’s lips moved, her finger jabbed at Jared viciously, but all I heard was a soft hissing. Neither one of them took a step, but they seemed to be drifting away from me.

I saw the dark-haired brothers step toward Jared with angry faces. I felt my hand try to rise in protest, but it only twitched limply. Jared’s face turned red when his lips parted, and the tendons in his neck strained like he was shouting, but I heard nothing. Jeb let go of my arm, and I saw the dull gray of the rifle’s barrel swing up beside me. I cringed away from the weapon, though it was not pointed in my direction. This upset my balance, and I watched the room tip very slowly to one side.

“Jamie,” I sighed as the light swirled away from my eyes.

Jared’s face was suddenly very close, leaning over me with a fierce expression.

“Jamie?” I breathed again, this time a question. “Jamie?”

Jeb’s gruff voice answered from somewhere far away.

“The kid is fine. Jared brought him here.”

I looked at Jared’s tormented face, fast disappearing into the dark mist that covered my eyes.

“Thank you,” I whispered.

And then I was lost in the darkness.

CHAPTER 15

Guarded

When I came to, there was no disorientation. I knew exactly where I was, roughly speaking, and I kept my eyes closed and my breathing even. I tried to learn as much as I could about my exact situation without giving away the fact that I was conscious again.

I was hungry. My stomach knotted and clenched and made angry noises. I doubted these noises would betray me—I was sure it had gurgled and complained as I slept.

My head ached fiercely. It was impossible to know how much of this was from fatigue and how much was from the knocks I’d taken.

I was lying on a hard surface. It was rough and… pocked. It was not flat, but oddly curved, as though I was lying in a shallow bowl. It was not comfortable. My back and hips throbbed from being curled into this position. That pain was probably what had woken me; I felt far from rested.

It was dark—I could tell that without opening my eyes. Not pitch-black, but very dark.