Biting Cold: A Chicagoland Vampires Novel (CHICAGOLAND VAMPIRES SERIES)

again.
    I yanked on my seat belt as the speedometer climbed. Sixty miles an hour. Seventy. Eighty. We were gaining speed, but when I turned around to check the back window, the wall—now shimmering with blue filaments—was moving ever closer. It was gaining speed even faster than we did, its acceleration exponentially faster than ours.
    And that wasn’t even the worst part. It was growing .
    It spread left to right across the median and both strips of the freeway, and it didn’t spare anything it touched. The asphalt buckled and split like crushed-up crackers, chunks of debris flying through the air. Trees split and fell with thunderous cracks. A reflective green mileage sign folded in half as if made of construction paper instead of construction-grade steel.
    And the distance between us and the wall of destruction kept shrinking.
    “It’s going to catch us,” I yelled out over the howling wind.
    “We’ll make it,” Ethan said, knuckles white on the wheel as he worked to keep the car on the road. Another sign flew past us, barely missing the Mercedes and skittering across the road and into a field on the other side.
    The back of the car began to rattle as the wall grew closer, and the world outside went white as fog and mist surrounded us.
    “Oh, God,” I muttered, grabbing the door handle with one hand and the shoulder strap of my seat belt with the other. Immortal or not, life felt suddenly fragile.
    The wheel jerked to the right, and Ethan swore out a curse as he tried to maintain control. “I can’t hold it, Merit. Brace yourself.”
    He’d only gotten out the words when we ran out of time. It felt like we’d been nailed from behind by a locomotive—in this case, a completely impossible, out-of-nowhere magical storm of a locomotive driven by a would-be book thief with no apparent qualms about killing those who got in his way.
    The back of the car lifted and sent us into a spin, passenger side first, toward the road’s shoulder—and the guardrail that separated the car from the shallow ditch below.
    “Guardrail!” I yelled out.
    “I’m trying!” Ethan yelled out. He pulled the wheel back to the left, but his effort was for naught. Winds swirling around us, the car made a complete circle as it skidded across the road.
    We hit the metal guardrail with a head-thudding jolt, but not even steel could stop the momentum of a Mercedes pushed along by magic. The car screeched along the rail with all the subtlety of nails on a chalkboard, before another burst of wind or magic or both tipped the driver’s side into the air.
    I screamed. Ethan grabbed my hand, and over we went, the car rolling sideways over the guardrail and down the hill, somersaulting into the gulley that separated the road from the neighboring land.
    Our fall couldn’t have taken more than three or four seconds, but I remembered a lifetime, from childhood with my parents to college to the night Ethan made me a vampire, and from his death to his rebirth. . . . Had I gotten him back again only to lose him again at Tate’s hand?
    With a final bounce, we landed upside down in the gulley.
    The car rocked ominously on its hood, the metal creaking, both of us hanging from our seat belts.
    There was a moment of silence, followed by the hiss of steam from the engine and the slow squeak of a spinning tire.
    “Merit, are you okay?” His voice was frantic. He put a hand on my face, pushing my hair back, checking my eyes.
    It took me a moment to answer. I was alive but completely disoriented. I waited until the roaring in my ears subsided and I could feel the parts of my body again. There was an ache in my side and scrapes along my arms, but everything seemed to be in place.
    “I’m okay,” I finally said. “But I really hate that guy.”
    He closed his eyes in obvious relief, but blood from a cut on his forehead seeped into his eye.
    “The feeling is entirely mutual,” he said. “I’m going to get out; then I’ll come help you. Stay there.”
    I wasn’t in much of a position to argue.
    Ethan braced himself and unclipped his seat belt, then scampered out. A second later, his hand appeared at my window. I unclipped my belt, and he helped me climb out of the car and onto the ground, then wrapped me in his arms.
    “Thank God,” he said. “I thought that might be the end of both of us.”
    I nodded and put my head on his shoulder. The grass was wet, and mud seeped through the knees of my jeans, but I was grateful to be on solid