I, on the other hand, had never really spent much time in a vehicle. I was missing the forest of our home. I needed to run. I pushed down this need, along with all the other desires driving my body right now. Hunger was a biggie. They’d fed us on the plane, but I was hungry again. The damn cold had my metabolism shifting into high gear. Judging by my clothes, I’d already lost weight with the last few stressful weeks, and I was not okay with that. A girl needs her curves. The moment I started to resemble Giselda, BEF (bitch enemy forever), I was necking myself.

“This friend of Louis’ better have food,” I muttered, my eyes still locked on the towering ranges around us.

Mischa leaned forward, her face almost next to mine between the front seats. “Are we getting close? What does the letter say?”

I loosened my grip, looking down again, blinking at the crumpled paper. “What the crap? It’s gone…” I immediately turned to Braxton. “It was just there a moment ago but now the writing is gone.”

Braxton swore low, his eyes flicking down to my hand. The vehicle started to slow; he lowered his window, letting in drafts of arctic air before signaling something to Tyson, the driver of the other SUV. I figured they were trying to find a place to pull over. Unfortunately we were not in the best position, and we had no phones to call back. Louis had confiscated everyone’s electronics so we wouldn’t be tempted to use them. We were going to find some prepaid burner cells soon. Soon, of course, did not help us right now.

I flipped the paper over but the back was just as blank as the front.

“I’m killing that fucking sorcerer.” The familiar lament was from Maximus. He’d also moved his massive bulk into the center of the car.

Braxton leaned forward, paying close attention to the road we were on. “We have no choice but to remain on this path. There is nowhere for me to turn around. We can meet up with the others as soon as it is wide enough. Maybe Tyson will have some insight into what happened to the letter.”

Tyson was a pretty powerful wizard, but he wasn’t a sorcerer yet. The quads – and Mischa and I – were twenty-two, which for a magic user was way too young to have evolved into a sorcerer. I think the youngest sorcerer in supernatural history was Louis, and he’d been thirty. Tyson was planning on giving him a run for that title. I really hoped my wizard best friend could get a read off this paper, because without it we were completely screwed.

Not only was it nearing dusk, but the snowstorm which had been holding off was starting to fall. We had exceptional night vision, and the high beams were already flooding the road, but still visibility sucked.