Page 57 of Jericho

"If someone else hasn't gotten to her," I mutter as we head to the front door.

We both pause, looking down at the footsteps in the snow that lead all the way down the long driveway and turn left at the end.

We climb into one of the SUVs.

"She wouldn't make a very good spy," Hemlock says, and there's a hint of laughter in his voice.

"What if I hadn't gone upstairs so soon?"

"How long have you gone without checking on her since she got here?" he counters, proving a point he didn't need to make.

She slept most of the day, but I poked my head into that room a dozen times before waking her up not too long ago. My skin itches when I'm not near her and checking on her is the only thing that makes it go away for a short period of time.

Hemlock drives, creeping slowly down the driveway.

"We have that heat sensor, but I don't think we're going to need it," he says, pointing to her trail of footsteps.

We follow the trail, seeing more than once where she dipped off the road, either to hide from passing vehicles orbecause she lost her footing. The latter scares the shit out of me, but three times we see the footsteps climb back up to the road.

"There," he says, pointing to where the footsteps drop off and don't pick back up.

I climb out of the SUV, my heart racing with the possibility that she tumbled down into the darkness.

"Aspen, enough is enough," I say, and the only response I get is silence, making my heart pound against my rib cage.

Hemlock walks up beside me, holding the heat sensor machine.

Right there, not twenty feet from where we stand, is a ball of heat.

"Peach, I know exactly where you are. Let's go."

The ball of heat moves on the machine, and I look up just in time to see her form stand.

"What the hell are you thinking?" I ask, relief in my tone that she's okay.

Instead of relief or irritation on her face, she seems enraged. "Are you fucking tracking me? Are you just as sick and twisted as Damien?"

"I'll be in the car, while you two sort this shit out," Hemlock says.

"Answer me!" she growls as she walks closer, some of the fire leaving her movements when she slips and nearly falls.

I point down the road. "You literally left a fucking trail behind you," I growl. "Fucking socks on your hands, Peach? Are you trying to lose your fingers?"

She looks down at her soaked hands. They'd be better off completely exposed than wrapped in damn fabric.

"I couldn't find fucking gloves!" she screams, as if proper clothes in this weather is the only damn concern.

"Did you happen to look in the fucking pockets of the coat you stole?"

She narrows her eyes, but she's too proud to dip her hands inside and find the gloves right where they're meant to be.

"Are you going to stand out here and freeze or are you going to get in the car?"

She doesn't answer and she doesn't move, choosing to look down in the direction that she was traveling.

"You're going to get him killed," she says, and I can read the emotion in her tone.

I know she's barely holding on right now. I can't imagine what it's like to grow a person inside of you, protecting and nurturing them, only for them to face the harsh world and a man like Damien with little to no control over any of it. As much as I'm scared for Eli, I know she has to be ten times as terrified.

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