Home > The Host (The Host #1)(119)

The Host (The Host #1)(119)
Author: Stephenie Meyer

“We have to take you back inside,” Ian said, cutting me off, his voice low, as if he didn’t want it to carry back to the others. I could hear the voices behind us, echoing quietly off the rocks. “We promised… that you wouldn’t be conscious.”

“Blindfold me again.”

Doc pulled the little syringe from his pocket. It was already depressed, only a quarter left. I shied away from it, toward Ian. His hand on my shoulder became a restraint.

“You know the caves too well,” Doc murmured. “They don’t want you having the chance to guess…”

“But where would I go?” I whispered, my voice frantic. “If I knew the way out? Why would I leave now?”

“If it eases their minds…” Ian said.

Doc took my wrist, and I didn’t fight him. I looked away as the needle bit into my skin, looked at Ian. His eyes were midnight in the dark. They tightened at the look of betrayal in mine.

“Sorry,” he muttered. It was the last thing I heard.

CHAPTER 35

Tried

I groaned. My head felt all swirly and disconnected. My stomach rolled nauseatingly.

“Finally,” someone murmured in relief. Ian. Of course. “Hungry?”

I thought about that and then made an involuntary gagging sound.

“Oh. Never mind. Sorry. Again. We had to do it. People got all… paranoid when we took you outside.”

“’S okay,” I sighed.

“Want some water?”

“No.”

I opened my eyes, trying to focus in the darkness. I could see two stars through the cracks overhead. Still night. Or night again, who knew?

“Where am I?” I asked. The shapes of the cracks were unfamiliar. I would swear I’d never stared at this ceiling before.

“Your room,” Ian said.

I searched for his face in the darkness but could only make out the black shape that was his head. With my fingers, I examined the surface I lay on; it was a real mattress. There was a pillow under my head. My searching hand touched his, and he caught my fingers before I could withdraw them.

“Whose room is it really?”

“Yours.”

“Ian…”

“It used to be ours—Kyle’s and mine. Kyle’s being… held in the hospital wing until things can be decided. I can move in with Wes.”

“I’m not taking your room. And what do you mean, until things can be decided?”

“I told you there would be a tribunal.”

“When?”

“Why do you want to know?”

“Because if you’re going through with that, then I have to be there. To explain.”

“To lie.”

“When?” I asked again.

“First light. I won’t take you.”

“Then I’ll take myself. I know I’ll be able to walk as soon as my head stops spinning.”

“You would, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes. It’s not fair if you don’t let me speak.”

Ian sighed. He dropped my hand and straightened slowly to his feet. I could hear his joints pop as he stood. How long had he been sitting in the dark, waiting for me to wake? “I’ll be back soon. You might not be hungry, but I’m starving.”

“You had a long night.”

“Yes.”

“If it gets light, I won’t sit here waiting for you.”

He chuckled without humor. “I’m sure that’s true. So I’ll be back before that, and I will help you get where you’re going.”

He leaned one of the doors away from the entrance to his cave, stepped around it, and then let it fall back into place. I frowned. That might be hard to do on one leg. I hoped Ian truly was coming back.

While I waited for him, I stared up at the two stars I could see and let my head slowly become stationary. I really didn’t like human drugs. Ugh. My body hurt, but the lurching in my head was worse.

Time passed slowly, but I didn’t fall asleep. I’d been sleeping most of the last twenty-four hours. I probably was hungry, too. I would have to wait for my stomach to calm before I was sure.

Ian came back before the light, just as he’d promised.

“Feeling any better?” he asked as he stepped around the door.

“I think so. I haven’t moved my head yet.”

“Do you think it’s you reacting to the morphine, or Melanie’s body?”

“It’s Mel. She reacts badly to most painkillers. She found that out when she broke her wrist ten years ago.”

He thought about that for a moment. “It’s… odd. Dealing with two people at once.”

“Odd,” I agreed.

“Are you hungry yet?”

I smiled. “I thought I smelled bread. Yes, I think my stomach is past the worst.”

“I was hoping you’d say that.”

His shadow sprawled out beside me. He felt for my hand, then pulled my fingers open and placed a familiar round shape in it.

“Help me up?” I asked.

He put his arm carefully around my shoulders and folded me up in one stiff piece, minimizing the ache in my side. I could feel something foreign on the skin there, tight and rigid.

“Thanks,” I said, a little breathless. My head spun slowly. I touched my side with my free hand. Something adhered to my skin, under my shirt. “Are my ribs broken, then?”

“Doc’s not sure. He’s doing as much as he can.”

“He tries so hard.”

“He does.”

“I feel bad… that I used to not like him,” I admitted.

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