ItissaidthattheWestwasbuiltonlegends.
Andthatlegendsareawayofunderstanding
thingsgreaterthanourselves.Forcesthatshape
ourlives.Eventsthatdefyexplanation.
Individualswhoselivessoartothe
heavens,orfalltoearth.Thesearehowlegendsareborn….-RoxanneSimpson,SouthwestCable

News

Prologue

SanVenganza,Mexico1866
AFULLMOONSHONEDOWNONTHERlDERASHEGALlopedacrossthebarrenMexican

desert,astrideamagnificentblackstallion.

Coyotes,rattlesnakes,andothernocturnalpredatorsfledthesoundofthepoundinghoofbeats.A

leatherdusterandbatteredcowboyhatshieldedhimfromthechillofnight.

PainfulmemoriespursuedtheRider,buthecouldnotoutrunhisdestiny.
TheremustalwaysbeaRider,CarterSladeknew.Hewasonlythelatestmortaldoomedtobearthat

curse.LikealltheRidersbeforehim,hehadmadeadeal,thekindofdealyoucan’tbreak.Adeal
with…

Mephistopheles.
Inhismind’seye,Sladerelivedthatfatefulmomentwhen,inaburstofthunderandlightning,the

Devilhadappearedbeforehiminadesertmuchlikethisone.Alean,shadowyfigure,cladentirelyin
black,hehadleaneduponacaneashe’darrivedtoclaimSladeashisown.Acrystalskullhadglittered
upontheheadonthecane,itsskeletalgrinmockingthedoomedcowboy.

Asecondflareoflightningbrieflyexposedthedemon’sinhumanfeatures:blackeyesgleaminglike

polishedobsidianfromacadaverousbluecountenance.

Sladehadknownthenthathismortallifewasover.
ToMephistopheles,humansoulsweremerelyfuelforthehellishfiresbelow.Butthesoulofthe

Riderwasnotliketheothers.

ThatnightCarterSladehadbecometheDevil’sbountyhunter,condemnedtohuntdownthosewho

escapedfromHell.Andtocollectonthecontractssignedovertohissatanicmaster.

Bycontrast,Hellitselfwouldhavebeenawelcomerelief.
Themurkyoutlineoframshacklebuildingsappearedbeforehim.Shakingoffthetormenting

memories,Sladeforcedhimselftoconcentrateonthetaskathand.Herodeoutofthedesertintothe
town.Tonighthisendlessridehadbroughthimhere,totheremoteMexicanhamletofSanVenganza.

Tumbleweedsblewdownthedesertedstreetsofthevillage.Thickblacksmokerosefromthe

smolderingembersofburned-outbuildings.MoresmokebillowedfromthehuskoftheoldSpanish
missionattheendofmainstreet.Sootstainedthemission’swhitewashedadobewalls.Abellpealed
fromatopthesteeple.Acridfumesescapedfromnarrowfissuresinthedustyearth,asthoughtherewas
aninfernoburningjustbeneaththesurface.Thenightwindcarriedthereekofbrimstone.

TheRidertrottedonhorsebackdownthemainstreet.Sombereyessurveyedthedesolation,

searchingthedoorsandwindowsofthefewsurvivingbuildingsforanysignsoflife.Woodenshutters
swungopenandshutinthewind,themindlesspercussionmatchingthesteadyclop-clopofthehorse’s
hooves.Hepassedthecharredruinsofthegeneralstore,saloon,barbershop,hotel,assayoffice,and
variousmercantileemporia.Falsefronts,originallyintendedtomaketherusticbuildingslooklarger
andmoreimpressivethantheyactuallywere,nowhelpedtoconcealthefullextentofthedamage
wreakedbyfire.Ironbarsinawindowmarkedwhatwasleftofthetownjail.Anemptynoosehung
fromthetown’shangingtree.Spookedbytheeeriescene,themidnight-blackstalliontrembledbeneath
theRider.Itsdarkeyeswerewidewithfright.

“Easy,Banshee,”theRidersaid.
Asingedpieceofbrownparchmentwasnailedtothedoorofthechapelatthemission.Slade

noddedgrimlyatthesight.

Ofallthedealsevermade,nocovenantwasmorepowerfulthanthecontractofSanVenganza.Here

anentirevillagehadturneditsbackonGodandsignedovertheirimmortalsoulstoMephistophelesin

exchangeforworldlywealthandpower.

Buttheirnewfoundricheshadnotbeenenoughforthecorruptvillagers.
Consumedbygreedandlust,theyhadturnedoneachother-untilSanVenganzadrownedinits

blood,leavingonlythesesmolderingruinsbehind.Overnight,thevillagehadbecomeaghosttown.

Nowthesoulsofdamnedvillagersweretrappedhere,waitingfortheRidertocomeandcollectthe

deed.

Let’sgetthisoverwith,Sladethought.Grippingthereinstightlywithonehand,herodetheskittish

horseupthestepsoftheruinedchapelandsnatchedthescrapofparchmentfromthedoor.

Thescorchingwindblewagainsthisface,offeringnorelieffromthestiflingheatofthenight,asit

whistledthroughtheemptystreet.Thewhistlinggrewlouderasthewindpickedup,takingona
moaningqualitythatsoundeddisturbinglyhuman.Hecouldpracticallyhearthebloodychaosofthe
village’sfinaldays:menshouting,womenscreaming,gunshotsblaring.Thebodilesstumultfilledthe
Rider’sears.

Thehorsewhinniedinfear,almostboltingoutfrombeneaththeRider.Hepulledbackonthereins,

haltingthehorsesothathecouldlistenmorecloselytothekeeningwindandtheominoussoundsofthe
village.Adoorsqueakedloudlyasthewindtuggedittoandfroonitsoneremaininghinge.Aweather
vanespunwildlyatoptheburned-outhuskofthetownhall.Aclangingsoundattractedhisattention,
andhepeeredatthedried-upwellinthevillagesquare.Atarnishedtinbuckethungonaropeoverthe
well,bangingagainstthestonehousingasitswungbackandforth,fasterandfasterasthewindwailed
likeaveritablearmyoflostsouls.

ThehellishcacophonywastoomuchfortheRider’ssteed.Snortingandshakingitsheadviolently,

theterrifiedhorsereareduponitshindlegs.Itsfronthoovespawedwildlyattheemptyair.Franticeyes
rolledintheirsockets.Steamjettedfromitsflaringnostrils.Frothfleckeditslips.Banshee’sagitated
statesaidplentyabouttheevilthathadovertakenSanVenganza;thisparticularhorsewasnostrangerto
deathanddecay.Ittookalottofrightenhim.

TheRidertightenedhisgripuponthereins,fightingtobringthepanickedhorseundercontrol.His

otherhandsqueezedtherolled-upparchment-andasingledropofbloodfellfromthescrollontothe
dustyground.

“Steady,boy,”heurgedhissteed,butthenightcontinueditsconspiracytodrivethehorsenearlyout

ofitsmind.Aswingingdoorsqueaked,ashrillsoundcuttingthroughthedarkness.Shuttersclattered
againsttheirframesoverandover.Thechurchbellrangouthollowly.Themetalbucketbattereditself
againstthebricksidesofthewell,while,aboveeverythingelse,thesulfurouswindshriekedlikethe
damned.Noisomeblackfumeseruptedfromthecrackedandbarrenearth.Freshblooddrippedfromthe
drybrownscrollintheRider’sfist.

Thetangysmelloftheblood,ontopofthenoxioussmokeandbrimstone,onlyaddedtothe

stallion’salarm.Bansheeworkedhimselfintoalather.Strikinghoovescarvedoutdeepdivotsinthe
packedgroundasthehorsereareduprepeatedly,allbutunseatingtheRider.Hegrabbedontothe
pommelofhissaddle.

I’veseenenough,theRiderdecided.Tuckingthebleedingscrollintohisboot,hesnatcheda

rawhidebullwhipfromhissaddlebagandcrackeditloudlyabovehishead.Silverspursdugintothe
horse’ssweatyflanks.Timetogetthehelloutofhere.

Bansheehardlyneededanyencouragement.Atathunderousgallop,itracedoutofSanVenganza,

leavingtheaccursedvillagebehind.Dustcloudsroseinthehorse’swake.Theechoesofthespeeding
hoofbeatssoondiedaway.

Behindthem,thesmokingruinsofthedeadvillagesmolderedinthemoonlight.Theeventualcrash

ofcollapsingtimberswentunheard.Nothingremainedtowatchthefieryashesgrowcoldandstill.

Nothingexceptforthemoaningwind.

HefoundMephistopheleswaitingforhiminthedesertjustoutsidethevillage.TheDevilheldout

hishand,hungryforthethousandsouls.Hisdarkeyesgleamedinanticipation,asthundercrashed
overheadandlightningflashedonthehorizon.

No.
ThepowerofthecontractwassogreatthatMephistophelesmustnevergethishandsonit,and

damntheconsequences.CarterSlade’sownhanderuptedintoflame,instantlyburningawayhis
callousedmortalflesh.Bonyfingershungontothecontract,yankingitbackfromtheDevil’sfingers.

Moreflamesspreadoverriderandsteedalike,turningthemintoburningskeletons,aglowwith

hellfire.Crackinghiswhiponcemore,theGhostRidergallopedawayintothedarkness,determinedto
dowhatonlyhecoulddo:outridetheDevilhimself.

“No!”Mephistophelesraged.Helimpedforwardonhiscane,buttheRiderwasalreadybeyondhis

grasp.

SladeheardtheDevil’sangerechobehindhimasherodelikeaphantomacrossthedesolatemoonlit

wasteland.Thetailofhislongcoatflappedbehindhimlikeacape.Heresolvedtohidethedreadful
contractsomewherefaraway,whereMephistopheleswouldneverfindit.

CarterSladecouldneverimaginethat,manyyearshence,someoneevenworsethantheDevil

himselfmightcometocollect.

1

Late1980s

ThetravelingcarnivalhadtakenoveranentirevacantfieldoutsideSweetwater,Texas.Calliope

musiccompetedwiththeexcitedsquealsandlaughterofthecrowdthrongingthemidway.Sunlight
poureddownongarishlypaintedgameboothsandsideshowattractions.Popcornandcottoncandy
scentedthewarmspringafternoon,tantalizingthetastebudsofkidsandadultsalike.Brightlycolored
flagsandbannersstreamedinthewind.Datingcouplesstrolledhandinhand,whilewide-eyedtoddlers
rodepiggybackatoptheirparents’shoulders.Foodstandshawkedcorndogs,caramelapples,andfunnel
cakes.Carvedhorsesprancedatopaspinningmerry-go-round.AFerriswheelofferedabird’s-eyeview
oftheentirecounty.Shootinggalleries,balloondarttosses,highstrikers,andother(slightlyrigged)
testsofstrengthandskillofferedteenageboysanopportunitytowinvariouschintzyprizesfortheir
dates.Luckygirlsstruggledbeneaththeweightofoversizedstuffedanimals.Unluckyboysblewmore
oftheircashtryingtowinbig.Cannygameoperatorseggedthemon.

Attheendofthemidway,thebigtopluredhordesoffairgoerseagertoseethecarnival’sstar

performers.OldGloryandtheTexasstateflagwavedatopthevoluminousorangecanvastent.Alarge
plywooddisplay,paintedredandyellowtoresemblearagingfire,framedthetent’sentrance.Dozensof
incandescentwhitelightsformedblocklettersspellingoutleapofdeathabovetheopenthreshold.the
amazingblazingstuntcyclespectacularreadthewordsalongsidetheentrance,accompanyingpainted
portraitsoftwodaringmotorcyclistspoppingwheeliesonoppositesidesofthedoorway.

“Steprightup,ladiesandgentlemen,boysandgirls!”acarnivalbarkerexhortedthecrowd.“Don’t

missyourchancetowitnessthemostdeath-defyingmotorcycleexhibitionintheentireLoneStarState!
Incrediblethrillsandabreathtakingdisplayofcyclingartistry,allforthepriceofadmission.Getyour
ticketsnow!”

Dozensofsmall-townmen,women,andchildrenpouredintothetent,fillingthepackedbleachers

beneaththebigtop.Theroarofapowerfulmotorcycleenginedrewthespectators’gazetoahandsome
teenageboystraddlingagleaming750-XRHarley-Davidsonatthetopofasteepincline,whichled
downtotheelaborateracetrackthathadbeensetupinthecenterofthetent.Thecrisscrossingtrack
doubledbackonitselfinanoverlappingsequenceofloopsandcurves,likeachild’sHotWheelsset
broughttolife.

Prettygoodturnout,JohnnyBlazethoughtasheappraisedthecrowd.Aspotlesswhiteridingsuit

withbrightredtrimwasfittedtightlyaroundtheseventeen-year-old’swirybody.Aglossywhitecrash
helmetshinedbeneaththespotlights.Hissparklinghazeleyessearchedthebleachers,lookingforone
veryspecialface.

Johnny’sspiritsoaredashespottedherinthefrontrow,smilingupathimfromrightbehindthe

woodenrailing.Theresheis,hethoughtexcitedly.That’smygirl!

AsfarasJohnnywasconcerned,RoxanneSimpsonwasthemostbeautifulgirlintheworld,orat

leastNolanCounty.LongauburnhairframedherstrikingHispanicfeatures.Chestnuteyesthreatenedto
swallowhimupforever.Aorangecottontanktopandtightdenimjeansshowedoffhersmooth,bronze
skinandcaptivatingfigure.Lushpinklipscriedouttobekissed.Shewasthesinglebestthingthathad
everhappenedtoJohnnyBlaze,andheknewit.

Hewinkedatherbeforeslappingdownhisfaceshield.Leaningforwardonhisbike,hegrippedthe

handlesandspunthereartirejusttowarmuptherubber.Thisone’sforyou,babe,hethoughtashe
kick-startedthethrobbingsportbikeandtookoffdowntheramp.Theaudienceroaredinapproval,and

JohnnyimaginedthathecouldpickoutRoxanne’ssultryvoicefromthegeneraldin.The750’s
powerfulV-Twinenginethrummedbeneathhim,sendinghimfromzerotosixtyinaheartbeat.The
furiousgrowlofthe“crotchrocket”drownedoutthewindrushingpasthishelmet.

Asecondmotorcyclistenteredhisperipheralvision,zoomingupathimfromtherightasthetwo

bikesspedtowardsthesameintersection.Johnnydidn’thitthebrakes,slowdown,orevenflinchasthe
secondbikewhippedpasthim,almost(butnotquite)cuttinghimoff.Johnnybarreledthroughthe
intersectionwithouthesitation.Heknewwhathewasdoing-andsodidhisdad.

BartonBlaze’snamewasadornedonthebackofhisKevlar-reinforcedtextileridingsuit.His

customizedhelmetandbikematchedJohnny’sown.Fatherandsonchasedeachotheraroundthe
circuitoustrack,missingeachotherbyincheswitheverypass.Theaudiencegaspedateachnear-
collision,butJohnnyfiguredhecoulddothisroutinewithhiseyesshutifhehadto.Aftercountless
practicesessions,heandhisdadhadthesplit-secondtimingdowntoanart.Takinghiseyesoffthe
track,hesnuckapeekatRoxanneashezoomedpastthelefthandbleachers.Herbeautifulface,flushed
withenthusiasm,thrilledhimmorethananydeath-defyingstunt.

Keepwatching,babe!I’mjustgettingwarmedup….
Heslammedonthebrakes,skiddingtoahaltatoneendofthetrack.Attheoppositeend,twenty

yardsaway,hisfatherdidthesame.Theyfacedeachotheracrossthelengthofthebigtop,gunningtheir
enginesinsynch.Jumpbackintimeseveralhundredyearsandtheymighthavebeenduelingknights,
preparingtojoust.

Timeforthebigfinale,Johnnythought.Heglancedtohisside,whereasealedpropanetankwas

hookeduptothetrack,danger:flammablereadawarningprintedonthesideofthetank.Hekickeda
switchandwatchedasthefuelbegantoflowthroughastretchofclearplastictubing.Heautomatically
checkedoutboththesourceandreturnlines,justlikehisdadhadtrainedhimtodo.Looksgoodto
me….

Adrumrollstartedupinthebackground,causingthecrowdtohushinanticipation.Amomentlater,

startledgaspsbrokethesilenceastheentiretracksuddenlyburstintoflame.Parallelstreamsofbright
redfiretracedthecourseofthemotorcycletrack,whichsuddenlyresembledaspeedwaythroughhell.
Johnnyfelttheheatoftheflamesthroughhisinsulatedsuit.Theairabovethetrackrippledlikeadesert
mirage.

Johnnyopenedupthethrottleandputthehammerdown.Beforetheaudiencewasdoneexclaiming

overtheflames,hechargedtheHarleyrightdownthemiddleoftheblazingcourse.Acrossfromhim,
hisfatherdidthesame,speedingstraighttowardJohnny.Heedlessoftheflamesallaroundthem,the
tworidersracedtowardsanexplosivehead-oncollision.Tothebreathlessaudience,itlookedlikethey
wereplayingadeadlygameofhigh-speedchicken.

Three…two…one…Johnnywaiteduntiltheverylastminutebeforeclimbingabuilt-inramp

andlaunchingtheHarleyintoair,attheexactsamemomentthathisdad’sbiketookflightaswell.
Veeringeversoslightlytotheright,hisbikeflewpasttheoncomingmotorcycle,thetwochoppers
missingeachothersocloselythatJohnnycouldfeelthewindfromhisfather’spassage.

Thecrowdwentwild.
TheHarley’sshocksabsorbedtheimpactashetoucheddownbackonthetrack.Johnnypumpedhis

fist-theraucouscheerswerelikemusictohisearsashepulledawheelie,slippingtheclutchtoliftthe
frontofhisbikehighintotheair.SpottingRoxanneoutofthecornerofhiseye,hetookonehandaway
fromthehandlebarssohecouldwaveather.Look,Roxanne!Onehand!

Hewasstillridingone-handedwhenhisrearwheelhitapatchofloosedirt.Thebikestartedtoslide

outofcontrol,rightintothelickingredflames,butJohnnythrewhisweightforward,droppinghisfront
wheelbackontothetrack,onlyasecondbeforehewipedout.Thebikewobbled,butstayedupright.

Thatwasacloseone.

Theaudienceholleredsomemore,perhapsthinkingthenear-accidentwaspartoftheact,but

Johnnycouldn’thelpfeelingsomewhatsheepishashecruisedoutofthebigtop.Hewantedtohopethat
maybe,justmaybe,hisdadhadn’tseentheslip-up,but,deepdowninside,Johnnyknewbetter.He
wincedinanticipationofhisfather’sresponse.

Man,am1goingtohearaboutthisone!
“You’reahotshot,aren’tya’,boy?”
BartonBlazewipeddownagreasyconnectingrodbeforeplacingitbackontheworkstandinfront

ofhim.Nomatterwhatelsemightbeonhismind,henevercutcornerswhenitcametoinspectingand
cleaningtheirequipmentaftereveryshow.Pliers,wrenches,andothertoolslayatopportableshelves
andcounters,alongsideboxesofspareparts.Aheavy-dutymotorcycleliftsuspendedhisownXR-750
abovetheground.Wheelchockswaitedtoholdanotherbikeinplace.Theclutteredinteriorofthe
maintenancetentsmelledofgrease,sweat,andmotoroil.Anaircompressorhummedinthe
background.

“You’reseventeen,youknoweverythingthereistoknow,andyou’regoingtoliveforever.”The

oldermandidn’tlookupfromhiswork.Hiswind-burnedfeaturesattestedtoyearsspenttheridingthe
openroad.Oldscarshintedattheoccasionalspill.Hiswavybrownhairandruggedgoodlooksstill
charmedtheolderwomenintheiraudience.“Thataboutright?”

Johnnybracedhimselffortheinevitablelecture.“Dad,itwasjustapatchofdirt-“
“That’snotthepoint,”hisfatherbegan,onlytobehaltedbyafitofdeephackingcoughs.Placing

hisfistbeforehismouth,hestruggledtocatchhisbreathashedroppeddownontoastoolinfrontofthe
bench.Barton’sfaceturnedbeet-red.Theconvulsivecoughsshookhiswiryframe.

Alarmed,Johnnyhurriedforwardfromthecratehehadbeensittingon.Thisdoesn’tsoundgood,he

thought.Hereachedouttoassisthisfather,butBartonwavedhimaway.Grimacing,theolderman
stubbornlygotbackonhisfeetallonhisown.Heimmediatelysnatchedapackofcigarettesfromthe
workstandandlitoneup.Hetookalongdragfromthecigaretteasthecoughingfitgraduallysubsided.

Slappingthecrumpledpackbackdownontothestand,BartonBlazepickeduprightwherehe’dleft

off.

“Thepointiswe’vedoingthisactlessthanaweek,”hesaid,reachingaroundforaspannerwrench.

Johnnygrabbedthecigarettepackwhilehisdad’sbackwasturned,thenfurtivelylobbeditintoa
nearbywastebin.“Andalreadyyou’rescrewingaround.”

Johnnytriedtoappealtohisdad’sshowbizinstincts.“Iwasdoingitforthecrowd.”
“Webothknowwhyyouweredoin’it.”Liftinghisgazefromhiswork,hesawrightthrough

Johnny.“Shegonnastickbyyouwhenyou’reinawheelchair?Huh?”HisharshtonerankledJohnny.
“Huh,hotshot?!”

Johnnyflashedhisfatheradirtylook.HowdarehesuggestthatRoxannemightdeserthim?!We

loveeachother…forreal.

“Everythingyoudoinlife,everychoice,hasaconsequence,”Bartoninsisted.“Whenyoudothings

withoutthinking,thenyouain’tmakingthechoice.Thechoiceismakingyou.”Heshookhisfingerat
Johnny.“Understandthat?”

“Yeah,sure,”Johnnymumbled.Hejustwantedtogetthisconversationoverwith.Roxannewas

waitingforhim.

“What?”hisdaddemanded.
Johnnystaredatthefloor.“Isaid,‘yes,sir.’“
Hisfathernodded,apparentlysatisfiedforthemoment.Stillpuffingonhiscigarette,hewalked

acrossthetentedgarageinsearchofafreshrag.Johnnysullenlywatchedhimwhilehewaitedtoseeif
thedressing-downwaswellandtrulyover.

Hisrestlessgazewasdrawnmagneticallytothemagnificentbikeparkedattherearofthetent.Ah,

Grace.Anauthentic70s-eraHarley-Davidsonchopper,ithadaclassicyellowflamepaintjoboverthe
midnightbluetank,apanheadBigTwinengine,ahardtail,andfishtailexhaustpipes.Chromedmetal
gleamedlikesilver.Thefrontendofthebikewasrakedandstretched,seriouslyraisingitscoolness
quotient.Theelevatedhandlebarswerealmost,butnotquite,apehangers.

Formaybethemillionthtime,Johnnywonderedwhatitwouldbeliketocruisedownthehighway

onthebadassold-schoolchopper.“Dad?”hesaidhopefully.“Iwasgonnagoforaride.”Hiseyes
devouredtheHarley’sgleamingcontours.Heachedtoclimbintotheblueleathersaddle.“Youthink
maybeIcouldtakeGrace?”

Bartonshookhishead,sameashealwaysdid.“Graceisaman’sride.Notaboy’s.”
Johnnybristledathisfather’scurtresponse.I’mnotakidanymore,hethoughtindignantly.I’m

almosteighteen!Frustrationchurnedinsidehim.What’shisproblemanyway?I’mgoodenoughtoride
intheact,butnotenoughtotrustwithhisfavoritebike?Heopenedhismouthtoprotestthesheer
injusticeofitall,butanothervoicespokeupfirst.

“Hey,Johnny.”
Heandhisdadbothturnedtheirheadstowardstheopenflap.Johnny’sbadmoodliftedinstantlyas

hesawRoxannestandinginthedoorway.Goldensunlightmadeherglowlikeanangel.Hersexy
radiancetookhisbreathaway.

“Hi,Mr.Blaze,”shesaidrespectfully.
Henoddedbackather.“Roxanne.”
Johnnylookedpleadinglyathisdad,hopingtoheaventhathewasn’tgrounded.Asfarasheknew,

hisfatherdidn’thaveanyproblemwithRoxanneherself,justtheeffectshehadonhisconcentration.
Please,Dad.Letushavethistimetogether.

“Goon,”hisdadsaidgruffly.
Yes!Johnnythought,resistinganurgetopumphisfist.Hehoppedontohisstuntbikeandbeckoned

toRoxanne,whoranforwardandmountedthecyclebehindhim.Asmilebrokeoutacrosshisfaceas
herarmswrappedaroundhiswaist.Shepressedherwarmsoftnessagainsthisbackandheinhaledher
perfume,Hefireduptheengineandthebikesurgedforward.Theyrolledoutofthemurkytentintothe
sunlight,leavingJohnny’sworriedfatherbehind.

Roxanne’sboisterouslaughrangoutastheyspedthroughthecarnivaloutside.Strollingfairgoers

hurriedoutofthewayasthebikewoveeffortlesslythroughthecrowd,easilydodgingcarniesand
towniesalike.Roxanne’slongbrownhairtrailedinthewind.Johnnycouldpracticallyfeelherheart
beatingagainsthis.Gigglinginhisear,sheplayfullyclappedfirstonehand,thentheother,overhis
eyes.

“Hey,Ican’tsee!”heobjected,grinningthewholetime.Hepretendedtosnapatherfingerswithhis

teeth.

“You’renotmissingany-”shebegan,thenabruptlyfellsilent.Herfingerscameawayfromhisface

andhefeltherentirebodytenseup.

Ohcrap.
Astout,middle-agedmansteppedoutintotheirpath.Anexpensivesuitandflashyjewelrybetrayed

bothdeeppocketsandbadtaste.Afumingcigarwasclampedbetweenhisteeth.Apparently
unconcernedbytheoncomingmotorcycle,hecrossedhisarmsatophischestandgloweredatJohnny,
daringtheyoungermantorunhimdown.Johnnyhadnochoicebuttohitthebrakesandslowtoastop.
Hethrewthebikeintoneutral.

“Roxanne,”QuentinSimpsonsaid,nononsense.Ahandlebarmustacheandsideburnscompensated

forhisrecedinghairline.HisbulbousnoseandsaggingjowlsmadeitclearthatRoxannehadinherited
herexoticgoodlooksfromhermotherinstead.Quentin’sruddyfaceboreasourexpression,andhis
toneequallybrookednodisagreement.“Yougetoffthatbikerightnow,younglady.”

Astonyexpressiononherface,Roxannedidn’tbudge.SheheldontightlytoJohnny,whilethe

Harleyidledbeneaththem.

“I’mnotgoingtoaskyouagain,”herfatherstated.Hisbuffedleathershoetappedimpatiently

againstthefloorofthemidwayashepuffedawayonhisimportedcigar.

“Go,Johnny,”shesaid,defiancerisinginhervoice.Sherestedherchinpossessivelyuponhis

shoulder,likeshewasn’tgoinganywhere.

Johnnydidn’tknowwhattodo.Partofhimwasproudthatshewaswillingtostanduptoherfather

forhim.Ontheotherhand,hedidn’tlikecomingbetweenRoxanneandherfamily.Johnnyalready
knewthathewantedhertobepartofhislifeforever,soitseemedimportantthathetreatherfatherwith
respect.Afterall,ifJohnny’sdreamscametrue,hewasgoingtohavetodealwithQuentinSimpsonfor
yearstocome.Helookedsquarelyintohisprospectivefather-in-law’seyes,mantoman.

Wecanworkthisout.Iknowwecan.
Mr.Simpsonsneeredattheteenagerbehindthehandlebars.“Everyonehasastationinlife,son.You

andyouroldmanworkforacarnival.Ihappentoownthecarnival.”HedismissivelylookedJohnny
over.“Whatdoyouhavetooffermydaughterbutgreaseunderyournailsandlifeinatrailerpark?”

“Iloveher,”Johnnyproclaimed.Whatelsemattered?
Thecarnivalownersnorted.“You’reaphase,son.Justaphase.”
ThewordsstungJohnnymorethanhewantedtoadmit,eventohimself.
Roxannenudgedhimwithherchin,urginghimtotakeherawayfromhere.Concedingdefeat,at

leastwherewinningherfather’srespectwasconcerned,Johnnyputthebikeintogearandswerved
aroundSimpson.Spinningtireschurnedupthesawdustbeneaththemasthebiketoreoutofthecarnival
andontotheopenroad.Roxannechokedbackanangrysobandhungontohimwithallofherstrength,
pressingherselfsohardagainsthisbackthatitwasdifficulttotellwheresheendedandhebegan.

JohnnysilentlycursedRoxanne’sfatherforupsettingherlikethis.Forgetaboutme,heangrily

thought.Howcanhetreathisowndaughtersoharshly?Can’theseehowhappywecouldbetogether?
It’snotlikeRoxanneandherdadwereparticularlyclose;Quentinmostlyignoredherwhenhewasn’t
crackingthewhip.ItwasJohnnywhohadhelpedRoxannegetthroughherparents’messydivorceby
beingtherewhensheneededsomeonetotalkto.Thatwashowtheirromancehadbegun.Hehad
understoodwhatshewasgoingthrough.Inasense,theyhadbothlosttheirmothers.Johnnywishedhe
coulddosomethingtomakeRoxanne’sproblemsgoaway,butallhecouldgiveherrightnowwasa
sympatheticshouldertocryonandatemporaryescapefromherfather’sdomineeringways.

Thatwasgoingtohavetobeenough,atleastforthemoment.
Fortunately,hehadtherestofhislifetogiveherallthelovehehad.
Orsohehoped.

2

J&RForever
Johnnycarvedthecrudeprophecyintothebarkofamajesticoaktree.Theoakcrownedthetopof

CrowleyHill,agrassymoundoverlookingfieldsoffragrantTexasbluebonnets.Rollingprairies
stretchedoutformilesaround.Fluffywhitecloudsdriftedthroughapeacefulbluesky.Theraucous
clamorofthecarnival,andQuentinSimpson’sscornfulvoice,seemedveryfaraway.

Theteenageboyputthefinaltouchestotheinscription,thensteppedbacktoinspecthiswork.

Looksgoodtome.HesmiledatthethoughtofheandRoxannereturningtothisspot,manydecades
fromnow,tofindtheirinitialsstilllinkedtogetherontheoldoak’strunk.Howcoolwillthatbe?

Heclosedhisjackknifeandtuckeditbackintohisrearpocket.Turningawayfromthetree,he

foundRoxannestandingafewfeetaway,staringoutoverthefieldsofflowerswithasad,distantlook
onherface.Hecameupbehindherandgentlywrappedhisarmsaroundherwaist.Sighing,sherested
herweightagainsthim.

“What’swrong?”heasked.
Roxanneshookherhead,notwantingtotalkaboutit.Herpensivegazedriftedouttotheendless

bluesky.Severalmomentspassedbeforeshefinallysaidwhatwasonhermind.

“I’mleaving.”
Johnnyblinkedinsurprise.“What?”
“Mydad’ssendingmetolivewithmymom.”
Hisheartsank.“When?”
“Soon,”shesaidglumly.Johnnycouldtellshewasjustasdismayedattheprospectashewas.

Maybeevenmoreso.

Angerflaredinsidehim.HeknewexactlywhatQuentinSimpsonwasupto.“He’stryingtokeepus

apart.”

Sheturnedtofacehim.Darkeyesglistenedmoistlyandateardroptraceditwaydownhercheek.

Hermournfulexpressiontuggedathisheart.Shereachedupandclaspedherhandsbehindhisneck,
holdinghimclose.“Sowhatdowedo?”

“We’llleave,”Johnnysaiddefiantly.Asenseofresolvecameoverhim.Therewasnowayhewas

goingtoletRoxanne’styrannicalfathercomebetweenthem.“We’lljumponthebikeandwe’lljust
keepgoing….”

HopeflickereduponRoxanne’sface,followedimmediatelybyaworriedlook.Shelookedupathim

withconcern.“Whataboutyourfather?”

“Hedoesn’tneedme,”Johnnysaid,hismindmadeup.“Hedoesn’tneedanybody.”BartonBlaze

hadbeenacarnivalstarforyears,beforeJohnnyjoinedtheact;hecouldalwaysperformsoloagainif
hehadto.Johnnyrememberedhisfather’ssternwordsearlierthisafternoon,anddecidedthathecould
livewithoutthefrequentnaggingandlectures.Maybeit’stimetostrikeoutonmyown.Showhimthat
1reallyamnotakidanymore.

Butwhentomaketheirescape?JohnnywastemptedtotakeoffwithRoxannerightthissecondand

neverlookback,butcommonsensedictatedthattheypreparefirst.Heneededtogobacktothefairto
packsomeclothes,cash,andpersonalbelongings,andRoxannedoubtlessneededtodothesame.If
theywerereallyseriousaboutleavingthecarnivalbehindforever,theyhadtodothisright.

“Tomorrow,”hedecided.“Noon.We’llmeethere.”
Roxannenoddedandrestedherheadagainsthischest.Theyheldontoeachpassionately,notready

toleavethisplace,untilasuddenwindwhippedacrossthehilltop,shakingthebranchesofthesturdy
oakrustlingthegrassaroundtheirankles.Liftinghiseyestothehorizon,Johnnywassurprisedtosee

darkcloudsracingtowardsthem.Lightingflashedinthedistance,followedbytherumbleoffar-off
thunder.Roxanneshiveredinhisarmsasthecoldbreezechilledhertenderflesh.Thebalefulblack
cloudsobscuredthesun.GoosebumpsbrokeoutacrossJohnny’sskin.Astormwascoming.

RacingtrophiesandoldcircuspostersdecoratedtheinterioroftheBlazes’trailer.Oneposter

showedBartonjumpinghiscyclethrougharingoffire.Anothershowedhimflyingthebikeovera
gapingcanyon.Brightlycoloredtypetoutedtheamazingblaze:onenightonly!whileanequallygarish
bannerballyhooedthelegendaryleapofdeath!AmapofthecontinentalUnitedStateswasmountedon
onewall.Coloredtacksindicatedeverysmalltownandcitytheshowhadeverplayedin.Afterdecades
ontheroad,thefadedmaplookedlikeapincushion.

Walkingonhistiptoes,Johnnyquietlyclosedthedoorbehindhimasheenteredthetrailer.Ifhewas

lucky,hecouldpackuphisthingstonightwithouthisdadcatchingwise.Stormornostorm,Johnnywas
determinedtorideawaywithRoxannetomorrow,rightbeforetheafternoonmatinee.Hewantedtobe
halfwaytoNewMexicobeforeboththeirfathersevenrealizedtheyweregone.

Loudsnorescamefromthelivingroom.Creepingtowardhisownbunk,Johnnysawthathisfather

hadfallenasleepinhisoverstuffedeasychair.BartonBlaze’schindroopedontohischestasheslumped
inthechair.Arattybluebathrobewasdrapedoverhisslumberingbody.Foramoment,Johnnywas
surprisedbyjusthowfrailandtiredhisfatherlooked.Strandsofgrayhadinfiltratedhislightbrown
hair.WhendidtheAmazingBlazegetsoold?

Lookingmoreclosely,hesawanopenphotoalbumrestinguponhisfather’slap.Afamilyphoto,

takenbackwhenJohnny’smomwasstillalive,wasneatlytapedontotheexposedpage.Inthephoto,a
muchyoungerBartonwasproudlyholdinguphisson,whilehiswifelookedonwithagentlesmileon
herface.Circuspennantsflutteredinthebackground.Grace,hisdad’sbelovedchopper,lookedbrand
new.

Johnny’sthroattightened.Hismotherhaddiedwhenhewasveryyoung;hecouldn’teven

rememberwhenthatphotowastaken.Foramoment,hefeltguiltyforplanningtorunoutonhisdad.It
hadalwaysbeenjustthetwoofthem,forprettymuchhisentirelife.Hisresolutionfaltered…untilhe
rememberedRoxanne’stearfulfacelookingupathimbeneaththeshelteringoak.Ithastobetomorrow,
heremindedhimself,beforeRoxanne’sdadcansendheraway.Hefeltbadaboutleavinghisdadalone
likethis,butwhatotherchoicedidhehave?Besides,itwasn’tlikethiswasn’tgoingtohappensomeday
anyway;hehadtosetoffonhisownsometime.Thisismychance.Maybemyonlychancetobewith
Roxanneforever.1havetogoforit.Ithastobenow.

Orriskendingupoldandalonelikehisfather.
AglintofcrinklyaluminumfoilcaughtJohnny’seyes.Lookingdown,hespottedthatsameopen

packofcigarettesrestinginhisfather’sgrasp.GuessIdidn’tgetridofthoseafterall.Clearly,hehad
underestimatedhisdad’sneedforanicotinefix.Johnnysmiledruefullyashegingerlyextractedthe
packfromBarton’sfingersandlookedaroundforthewastebasket.Ifatfirstyoudon’tsucceed…

Theoverflowingwirebasketsatontheothersideoftheeasychair.Johnnywalkedaroundtoonce

moredisposeofthecigarettepack.Acrumpledletterlayatopthetrash.Johnnystoppedinhistracksas
heglimpsedtheword“hospital”inafragmentofthenote’sletterhead.Hequietlyliftedtheletterfrom
thegarbageandsmootheditoutsothathecouldreadit.ThefullletterheadreadSt.Michael’sMercy
Hospital.Abilene,Texas.

Whatthe…?Abilenewasonlyanhourawayfromhere;thecarnivalhadplayedtherelast

weekend.Hehastilyskimmedthenote,hisheartplungingasthepitilessphrasesleapedoutathim:

…chestx-rayindicatesseverallargemasses…cancerhasspread…haveleftyouseveralmessages

buthavenotheardback…

Johnnyfeltlikehe’dbeenrunoverbyatruck.Tossingtheletterbackintothetrash,hedropped

limplyontothevinylcouchacrossfromhissleepingfather.Hestarednumblyathisdad,tryingtomake

senseofwhathehadjustlearned.Cancer?Hewincedatthememoryofhisfather’suglycoughingjag
earlierthatday.Ishouldhaverealizedthatsomethingwaswrongwithhim!HowcouldIhavebeenso
blind?

Thesightofthehalf-emptycigarettepackrestingatopthewastebasketenragedhim-iflookscould

kill,Johnny’sfuriousglarewouldhavesetthemurderous“coffinnails”afire.Hecursedhimselffornot
tryinghardertogethisdadtokickthehabit.Whyhadn’theforcedhisdadtoquit?

DespaircrasheddownonhimasherealizedthattherewasnowayhecouldrunoffwithRoxanne.

Hecouldn’tleavehisfathernow,nomatterhowmuchitcosthimpersonally.Asmuchasheloved
Roxanne,hisdadneededhimmore.

Johnnyleanedforward,restinghisheaduponhishands.Inaninstant,hisdreamsofhappinesswith

Roxannehadgoneupinflames.Hegroanedoutloud,accidentallywakinghisfather.Bartonstirred
withinchair.Hisbleary,bloodshoteyesfoundhisson.

“Whattimeisit?”heasked.
“It’slate,”Johnnysaid,unsureofwhatelsetosay.Shouldheletonthatheknewaboutthecancer?

Hewonderedwhenhisdadwasplanningtotellhimabouthisillness.Aselfishpartofhimwishedthat
hehadneverseenthatgoddamnnote,thatheandRoxannehadmadeabreakforitwhilethey’dstillhad
thechance.Nowitwastoolateforbothofthem.

“Whereya’goin’?”Bartoncalledafterhim.Anothercoughingfitstruckwithoutwarning,causing

Johnny’sdadtodoubleoverinhischair.Hepressedasoiledragtohislipswhilehehackedupaloadof
bloodyphlegm.Crimsonspotsshowedthroughthefabric.

“Nowhere,Dad,”Johnnymurmured,moretohimselfthanhisfather.Thealuminumwallsofthe

trailerclosedinonhimlikeaprison.“I’mgoingnowhere.”

Athunderboltsplitapartthenightskyascarnyroustaboutsscurriedtostrikethetentsbeforethe

stormhit.Tarpswentupoverthecarouselandotherrides.Foodstandsandgameboothswerebattened
up.Hangingstringsoftwinklelightsaddedadeceptivelyfestiveflavortothescene.

Amidstthebustlingactivity,noonenoticedasolitarystrangerstrollingdownthedesertedmidway.
Mephistophelestookhistime,unconcernedbytheapproachingtempest.Tallanddeathlypale,he

calmlytookinthesightsandsoundsoftheunravelingcarnival.Hislongblackcoatflappedbehindhim
likeamagician’scape.Yellowhair,thecoloroffool’sgold,wasslickedbackawayfromhishigh
forehead.Hewalkedwithaslightlimp,thelegacyofabadfallalongtimeago,andheswunga
polishedsilverwalkingstickbeforehim.Acrystalskull,itsvacantsocketsgapingaboveaskeletalgrin,
adorneditstop.Themacabreornamentreflectedthetwinklinglightsstrungalongthemidway.

Walkingpastthevariousridesandsideshowbooths,hepausedinfrontofthecarnivalfunhouse.A

cartoondevil,completewithhornsandpitchfork,waspaintedabovethefunhouseentrance.Aforked
tailandhoovescompletedtheportrait.

Amused,Mephistopheleschuckledquietlytohimselfbeforecontinuingonhisway.Thelightson

themidwayblinkedout,onebyone,ashepassedbeneaththem,creatingapathofpitch-blackdarkness
inhiswake.

Johnnyputteredinsidethemaintenancetent,doingnothinginparticular.Unabletosleep,hehad

alsobeenunabletobeartheclaustrophobicatmosphereofthetraileraminutelonger.Lookingoverthe
stuntbikes,justtomakesuretheywerereadyfortomorrow’sperformances,gavehimanexcusetoget
outandbealonewithhisthoughts,ifonlyforanhourorso.Howcan1explaintoRoxannethatour
plansareoff?hefretted.Forallheknew,shewasfurtivelypackingherthingsatthisverymoment.
CouldsheeverunderstandwhyIcan’tleavewithhernovo?

Asuddenchilldescendedoverthegarage.Hisgoosebumpsreturnedasthetemperatureinsidethe

tentseemedtodropfiftydegreesinamatterofseconds.Johnny’sbreathfrostedbeforehislipsandhe
stareddumbfoundedattheicypuffs.Whatthehell?hethoughtinconfusion.Stormornostorm,this

didn’tmakesense.It’sAugustinTexas,forGod’ssake.

“JohnnyBlaze.”
Stillpuzzledbytheinexplicablecoldsnap,heturnedtoseeastrangerstandinginthedoorway,

exactlywhereRoxannehadbeenseveralhoursago.Alongblackcoatcloakedthemysteriousfigure’s
bonyframe.Darkblueeyesseemedtoshimmerinthedarkness,likeacat’s.Jeweledringsglittered
uponhisfingers.Moregemsstuddedhisshirtandsleeves.Althoughhelookedtobeinhissixties,the
manhadafullheadofbrightblondhair.

Johnnywasprettysurehehadneverseenthisguybefore.
“Yeah?”
“Icaughtyourshowtoday,”thestrangersaid.Hismildvoicehadaculturedair.“Iwantedtotellyou

howmuchIenjoyedwatchingyouride.”

“Oh,”Johnnyreplieduneasily.Maybehewasjustanotherautographseeker,buthewasgettingkind

ofacreepyvibefromtheguy.“Thanks.”

Heturnedbacktowardthebikes,hopingthatwasallthestrangerwanted.
“Perhapsyou’llrideformesomeday,”camethereply.
Ajobprospect?ThispiquedJohnny’sinterest.Nomatterwhathappenedwithhisdad,hecertainly

wouldn’tmindgettingoutfrombeneathQuentinSimpson’sthumb,andthesoonerthebetter.“Yourun
ashow?”

“Thegreatestshowonearth.”Thestrangergaveasly,crypticsmile,asthoughindulginginaprivate

joke.ThechillpermeatingtheairsuddenlyranthroughJohnny’sblood.Eventhoughhedidn’tknow
thisguyfromAdam,thebriefideaofpossiblyworkingforthisspookydudemadehisskincrawl.His
foggybreathshungbetweenthem,anditoccurredtoJohnnythatthefreakycoldsnaphadarrivedatthe
sametimeasthestranger.MaybeQuentinSimpsonwasn’treallysobad….

“What’swrong,Johnny?Worriedaboutyourfather?”
Johnny’sjawdropped.“Whatdoyouknowaboutthat?”
“LikeIsaid,Iwasattheshow,”thestrangerrepliedwithashrug.“Ablindmancouldseehe’ssick.”

Johnnyrelaxedalittle.Theman’sexplanationsoundedplausibleenough.“Whatisit?Hisheart?”

“Cancer,”Johnnywhispered,speakingthedreadedwordaloudforthefirsttime.
“I’msorry,”thestrangersaidwithgenuineconcern.“Ofcourse,theworstpartwithcanceristhe

timeittakes.Thetollonthelovedones.”MyGod,itwasalmostlikehecouldreadJohnny’smind.
“Livesarealtered.Plansarethrownoffcourse….”

Johnnygrimacedasthemysteryman’swordshithome.Roxanne,helamented,feelinghisheart

crackintwo.Wecamesoclose.Onceherfathersentheraway,hemightneverseeheragain.Whatif
shemetsomeoneelsewhileshewaslivingwithhermom?

ThestrangerstudiedJohnny’sexpression.Hisfelineeyesseemedtopeerintotheteenager’s

anguishedsoul.“I’mmovedbyyourdevotion,Johnny.”Hetwirledhiscanebeforehim.“WhatifI
couldhelpyourfather?”

“Yeah?”Johnnyblurted,prayingthatthestrangerwasn’tjustmessingwithhishead.Washea

doctororsomething?Maybeaspecialistwithsomeexperimentalnewtreatment.“How?”

“How’snotimportant.IfIcouldmakehimbetter,justlikethis.”
Hesnappedhisfingers.
“Givehimbackhishealth.”
Snap.
“Giveyouyourfreedom.”
Snap.
“Wouldyoubewillingtomakeadeal?”
Lightningflashedoutside.Inthesuddenglare,thecrystalskullseemedtohavechangedsubtly.Its

death’s-head’sgrinlookedwiderandmoremalevolent.Thegleamingteethseemedlonger,almostlike
fangs.Thunderrumblednearby.

Johnnyswallowedhard.Thiswholethingwaslikesomecornyoldhorrormovie,buthedidn’tfeel

likelaughing.Isthisisforreal?Partofhimwantednothingtowiththemysteriousstranger-butifthere
wasevenachancethatthemancoulddowhathesaid…

ThewordscameoutbeforeJohnnyevenrealizedhehadspoken.
“Nameyourprice.”
Thestrangersmirked,obviouslypleasedbytheyoungman’sanswer.Raisinghislefthand,heswept

hisfingeralongthelineofmotorcyclesparkedagainstthetarpaulin.Hedraggedouthiswordsashedid
so.

“I’lltake…”HispointingfingerlingeredonGrace.“…yoursoul.”
Johnnylaughedoutloud,suddenlystruckbythesheerridiculousnessofthesituation.WhatwasI

thinking?heaskedhimself,embarrassedbyhisownmomentarygullibility.DoctorStrangeherewas
obviouslysomekindofanutjob.

Thestrangerdidn’tseemtomindbeinglaughedat.Maybehegotthatreactionallthetime.“By

sunrisetomorrow,yourdadwillbeashealthyasahorse…andyouwillhaveyourwholelifeaheadof
you.”Hereachedintohiscoatandextractedarolled-uppaperscroll,whichheheldouttoJohnny.
HeavybrownparchmentcrinkledasthestrangerunrolleditforJohnny’sinspection.“It’syourchoice.”

Johnny’slaughterdieduponhislips.Hewarilyeyedtheexpensive-lookingsheetofparchment.

Paragraphsofhandwrittentextwereinscribeduponthedocument,butJohnnycouldn’tmakeoutwhat
theysaid.IsthatLatin?Tryashemight,itwashardnottotakethispeculiarbusinessseriously.Whatif
thisguyisn’tcrazy?

Slowly,hereachedoutforthepaper.Hisfingertipsgrazedtheedgeofthedocument,whichseemed

totwistbeneathhistouch,givinghimanastypapercut.Hehissedinpainandasingledropofblood
leakedontotheparchmentbeforehejerkedhishandback.Helookeddownathiswoundedfinger.A
thinscarletlineslicedacrosshisstingingflesh.

“That’lldojustfine,”thestrangersaid.Hetookbacktheblood-speckledpaper.Thethunder

boomedoverheadasthestormfinallystruckwithfullforce.ThedeafeningblastjoltedJohnny-

-whosatupabruptlyinbed.
Whoa!Helookedaroundinconfusion.Theshadowymaintenancetentwasgone,replacedbythe

familiarsightsofhisownroomaboardthetrailer.Sunlightfilteredinthroughthewindowcurtains.
Blinkingtoclearhiseyes,Johnnyglancedathisalarmclock.Itwasalmosttenam,andthestrangerwas
nowheretobeseen.

“Damn,”hemurmured.Thatwasonehellofadream.
Throwingonsomeclothes,hestaggeredfromhisroomandheadedforthedoor.Helookedaround

forhisdad,butBartonBlazewasnowheretobeseen.RealityloadeddownJohnny’sshouldersashe
recalledeverythinghehadtodealwithtoday.Hewantedtothinkthathisdad’scancerwasthestuffof
nightmares,too,justlikethatcreepystranger,butheknewbetterthanthat.Itwastimetofacethe
inevitable-hisfatherwasdying,andsowereJohnny’sdreamsaboutRoxanne.Ineedtofindher.Tellher
thatourplansareoff.

Hewasn’tlookingforwardtotheconversation.
AsheemergedintothebrightTexassunlight,however,hewassurprisedtofindhisfather

energeticallywashingtheoutsideofthetrailer.Abucketofsoapywaterrestedonthegroundbyhis
dad’sfeet,whiletheseniorBlazesprayedthetrailer’scorrugatedaluminumwallwithahose,rinsingoff
athicklayerofsuds.Hewhistledacheerytuneasheworked,lookingmorehaleandheartythanhehad
inmonths.SeeinghisfatherlikethismadeJohnnyrealizejusthowdepletedhisdadhadbeenlately.

Untilnow.

BartonspottedJohnny.“Well,ifitisn’tSleepingBeauty,”hesaidwithagrin.Hisblueeyes

twinkled.Hisfacehadarosyglow.Despitehisstrenuousexertions,hewasn’tevenbreathinghard.He
loweredthehosetoavoidsoakinghisson.

“Dad…”Johnnydidn’tknowwhattomakeofhisfather’sseemingrecovery.“Youlook…”
“Great,right?”HechuckledatJohnny’sbewilderedexpression.“Leastthat’swhatthedocsaidthis

morningwhenhelookedatmyX-ray.”

Johnnystruggledtokeepup.“Youwenttothedoctor?”
“I’vebeensick,son.”Hisvoicetookonamoreserioustone.“AndnowthatIfinallygotthenerve

totellyou…”Unabletocontainhisjoy,heshookhisheadindisbelief.Abroadsmilebrokeoutacross
hisface.“Well,I’mnotanymore.”

Dazed,Johnnystaredspeechlesslyathisfather.
Anoverwhelmingsenseofreliefwarredwithacreepingsenseofdread.Thestranger’swords

whisperedatthebackofhisbrain.

Bysunrisetomorrow,yourdadwillbeashealthyasahorse….
Butthatwasjustadream.
Wasn’tit?

3

Johnnyhurriedlystuffedsomesparetoolsintoabulgingduffelbag.Hehadalreadypackedhis

clothesandworldlypossessions.Nowhejustneededtoborrowafewbikepartsfromthemaintenance
tent,incaseheandRoxannebrokedownsomewhereontheroad.Hepromisedhimselfthathewould
payhisdadbackassoonashefoundapayingjoboutsidethecarnival.

Aglanceathiswristwatchrevealedthatitwasalmostnoon.Hementallykickedhimselfforsleeping

thewholemorningaway.Roxanne’swaitingforme.Weshouldhavebeenontheroadbynow.

Afteralltheunexplainableweirdnessesofthelastseveralhours,therewasonlyonethingheknew

forcertain:heandRoxannewereinlove.Nowthathisfatherwasn’tsickanymore(Godonlyknew
why),theirplantorunawaytogetherwasbackon.Johnnywantedtoescapethefairgroundsbeforehis
dadfoundoutwhatwasup.Hehastilyzippeduptheduffelbagandstrappeditontothebackofhis
Harley.

Toolate.Justashewasstartingtoclimbontothebike,thecanvasdoorflappedopenandBarton

Blazesteppedintothetent,allsuitedupforthisafternoon’sdeath-defyingperformance.“Biggestcrowd
oftheweek!”hesaidexuberantly.

Caughtupinhisownhighspirits,hedidn’tpaycloseattentiontoJohnnyatfirst.Hesearcheda

clutteredshelfforhisblackleatherridinggloves.“YouknowwhatIwasthinkingabout?Anewstunt.
Onethatwillputusoverthetop.”FindinghisglovestuckedinbetweenatoolboxandcanofWD-40,
hestartedtoputthemon.“Ajump,mefromoneside,youfromtheother.Onlyinsteadofcars,a
helicopter,itsbladesspinning.”Hestretchedhisfingerstomakesurethegloveswereinplacesecurely.
HeturnedtowardJohnny.“Whattaya’think?”

HeblinkedinsurpriseashenotedthatJohnnywasn’tsuitedupfortheshow.“Boy,yougotabout

twominutestogetintoyoursuitor…”Hisvoicetrailedoffashespottedthepackedduffelbag
strappedtorearofthebike.Hisjawfellopenascomprehensiondawnedinhiseyes.Inoneofthefew
timesthatJohnnyhadeverknown,BartonBlazewasabsolutelyspeechless.

Johnnytriedtoexplain,fumblingforthewordsthatrefusedtocome.“Roxanne…herdadis

sendingheraway.”Heprayedthathecouldmakehisfatherunderstand.“Ifwedon’tleavenow,itwill
betoolate.”Bartonstarednumblyathisson,hisweatheredfaceunreadable.“It’slikeyousaid.Make
myownchoices…”

“Youdothis,”hisfatherrumbled,finallyfindinghisvoice,“it’llhaveconsequencesthatlasttherest

ofyourlife.Itonlytakesamomenttoturn,butalifetimetoturnback.”

“Iwouldn’tgo,”Johnnyinsisted,“ifIwasn’tsureyouweregoingtobefine.”
Hisfathershookhishead.Hewasn’thavinganyofthis.“Twokidsontherunwithnothing…if

yourgoalistoenduptogether,that’sagreatwaytomakesureashellitdoesn’thappen!”

Whatwashisdadimplying?Thattheirromancewasn’tstrongenoughtosurviveafewbumpsinthe

road?Asurgeofresentmentstirredinsidehim;hecouldn’tbelievethathisdadhadsolittlefaithinhis
andRoxanne’sfeelings.Thiswasnosillyhighschoolcrush.Itwastherealthing!Whythehellcouldn’t
heseethis?

“I’drathertakemychanceswithherthanspendmywholelifejumpingbikesatsomestupid

carnival!”hebarked.“Iwantsomethingbetterthanthat!”

Johnnyregrettedthewordsthemomenttheyburstfromhislips,buttherewasnotakingthemback.

Notnow,notever.Hecouldonlystareathisfather’scrushedexpressionandfeellikethelowestofthe
low.Helookedawayfromhisdad,unabletomeethiseyes.

“Heroldmanwillhavethecopsonyoubeforeyoureachthecountyline,”hisdadmurmuredina

defeatedtone.Alltheforcefulnesshadbeenleechedfromhisvoice,replacedbyamournfulresignation.

Hedroppeddownontoastool.

Johnnyguiltilyturnedbacktowardhisbike.Thereseemednothingmoretosay.Heglancedaround

themaintenancetent,makingsurehehadn’tforgottensomething.AtleastDad’snotsickanymore.
Therewasstilltimetomakeituptohimsometimeinthefuture.Rightnow,though,hehadtofocuson
Roxanneandgettingthehelloutofhere.

“Hey,hotshot.”Johnnywassurprisedtohearhisdadcallouttohim.HelookedoveratBarton,who

lobbedasetofkeysathim.Johnnysnatchedthemoutoftheair,thenpeereddownatthekeysinhis
palm.HeinstantlyrecognizedthekeystoGrace.Johnnylookedupathisdadandsmiled.Herealized
thatthiswastheclosestthingtoablessinghewaseverlikelytoget.“TakeGrace.Atleastyou’llhavea
decentheadstart.”

Johnnygavehisdadagratefullook.Despiteeverything,heknewhisfatherlovedhim.
Iwon’tforgetthis.
“Ladiesandgentlemen,theAmazingBlazeStuntCycleSpectacular!”
Thebarker’samplifiedvoicerangoutoverthefairgroundsasJohnnypreparedtomakehis

departure.Heglancedbackoverhisshoulderatthebigtop,thenrevvedGrace’sengines.Twelve
hundredcc’sofrawpowersprangtolifebeneathhim,eagertohittheopenroad.Gracehadafulltank
ofgas,whichwouldbemorethanenoughtocarryJohnnyandRoxannebeyondherfather’ssuffocating
grip…forever?

Maybe…maybenot.
Hetookonelastlookaroundthecarnival,feelingasuddenpangofnostalgiaforthelifehewas

abouttoleavebehind.Mostkidsdreamofrunningawaytothecircus,hereflected;howironicwasit
thatheandRoxanneweredoingexactlytheopposite?Smilingsadly,helistenedtotheexcitedcheers
comingfrominsidethemaintent.Theaudience’scollectiveoohsandaahswereasfamiliartohimtoas
achildhoodlullaby.SoundslikeDad’sblowingtheirsocksoff,hethoughtwithpride.Hekickedthe
bikeintogearandstartedawayfromthetent.

Withoutwarning,atremendouscrashcamefrombehindhim.Fromthebigtop.Johnnyfrozeatthe

unmistakablecrunchofmangledmetal.Thecrowd’senthusiasticcheersandgaspsgavewaytohorrified
screams.

Dad!
JohnnywheeledGracearound,skiddingtoastop.Heleaptfromhisseat,lettingthepreciousHarley

toppleoverontothesawdust.Amassofconfusedtowniesblockedtheentrancetothebigtent.Johnny
shovedhiswaythroughthemillingrubes,notlettinganythinggetbetweenhimandhisfather.He
rushedintothetent,wherehisanxiouseyesconfirmedtheawfultruth.

BartonBlazelayamidsttheflamingtracks.Hiswreckedmotorcyclerestedonitssideseveralyards

away,itswheelsstillspinning.Shakenmenandwomenfledthebleachers,holdingtheirhandsover
theirchildren’seyes,whileothersintheaudiencestoodtransfixedbytheshockingtableaubeforethem.
Barton’sfellowperformerslookedonindismay.Apale-facedtrapezeartistcalledfranticallyfora
doctor.

“Dad?!”
Ignoringthehelplessspectators,aswellastheflamesrunningalongthelengthofthetrack,Johnny

racedtohisfather’sside.Hejumpedoverthefierydisplay,barelyfeelingtheheat.Droppingtohis
knees,hecradledhisdad’sheaduponhislap.CracksandskidmarksscarredBarton’scrashhelmet.

“Somebodycallanambulance!”Johnnyholleredatthetopofhislungs.Hesearchedhisfather’s

face,lookingforsomesignthathisdadwasn’thurtasbadlyasitlooked.Bartonhadsurvivedsome
nastytumblesbefore-thatwasjustpartofthebiz.Yetthiscrashlookedworsethananyhecould
remember.

“Johnny…?”Bartonsaidweakly.Hisblueeyesstruggledtofocusonhisson.Heliftedatrembling

arm,tryingtoreachouttoJohnny,buthisstrengthwasfadingfast.Thearmdroppedlimplyontothe
track.Bloodtrickledfromthecornerofhismouth.

BartonBlazewasdying…again.
“Dad!”Johnnyblurtedhoarsely.Hottearsstreakedhischeeks.“It’sgoingtobeokay.I’mhere.”The

memoryoftheirlastpainfulencountertoreathisheart.“I’mnotgoingtoleave,Ipromise.”Hegrabbed
ontohisfather’shandandsqueezedit.Glovedfingersweretooweaktosqueezeback.Hisdad’seyes
losttheirfocus.Hisbreathinggrewshallowashisthroatrattled.“Dad?…Dad!”

AfinalshudderpassedthroughBartonBlaze’sbodybeforehefellforeverstill.Glassyeyesstared

blanklyintoeternity.

No!Thiscan’tbehappening.Sobbing,Johnnyclutchedhisfather’slifelessbodytohischest.He

pleadedsilentlyforGodtorestorehisfathertolife,butheaven’smercyseemedveryfaraway.Unable
toacceptthathisfatherwasbeyondhelp,helookeddesperatelyattheentrancetothebigtop.Wherethe
hellisthatambulance?Whywon’tsomebodyhelpme?

Hisfranticgazelockedonasolitaryfigurelimpingcalmlytowardtheexit.Alongblackcoatand

silvercaneidentifiedhimasthemysteriousstrangerfromthenightbefore.Unliketheotheraghast
audiencemembers,helookednotatallalarmedbywhathadjusttranspired.AsJohnnystaredinshock,
hestrolledcasuallyoutofthetent-thestrangermighthavebeenleavingachambermusicrecital,nota
horriblehumantragedy.

Johnnycouldn’tbelievehiseyes.Whatwasthehellwashedoinghere?Johnnyhadhalf-convinced

himselfthatlastnight’sunsettlingvisitorhadbeennothingmorethanafigmentofhisnocturnal
imagination.Butthatwasnodreamthathadjustslippedoutfrombeneaththebigtop.Thestrangerwas
real-andsotooperhapswastheunholybargaintheyhadstruckinthemurkyconfinesofthe
maintenancetent?

Idon’tunderstand.HesaidDadwouldbeokay.Hepromised!
Hegentlyloweredhisfather’sheaddownontothefloorofthetrack.Theflamessurroundingthem

sputteredanddiedawayassomeonefinallythoughttoshutoffthegas.Notquiteknowingwhy,Johnny
jumpedtohisfeetandtookoffaftertheenigmaticstranger.Well-meaningcarniestriedtooffertheir
condolences,buthedidn’thavetimeforthatrightnow.Brushingtheirkindwordsandoffersofhelp
aside,hetoreoutofthetentontothemidway.

Outsidethebigtop,afunerealpallwasalreadyfallingoverthehecticfairgroundsasnewsofthe

fatalaccidentspreadthroughthecrowd.Theamusementridesslowedtoastop.Twinklinglights
switchedoff.Thesideshowbarkershaltedtheirspiels.Numeroushushedconversationssupplantedthe
screamsoflaughter.SympatheticeyesturnedtowardJohnny,buthewasn’tevenawareofthepitying
gazescomingathimfromalldirections.

Instead,hedesperatelyscannedthemidwayfortheelusivestranger.Wipingthetearsfromhiseyes,

helookedallaround,butthemysterymanwasnowheretobeseen.Hecouldn’thavegonefar,notwith
thatbadlegofhis!Hiseyespeeredthroughthepackedbodiescrowdingthefairgrounds,lookinginvain
foranytraceofalongblackcoatorswept-backblondhair.Buthemightaswellhavestayedbesidehis
father’sbody.

Itwasasifthestrangerhadvanishedintothinair.

​​​

Lessthananhourlater,Johnnywastearingdownalonelycountryroadoutsideoftown.Gracerode

likeadream,butthatdidnothingtodispeltheboy’sanguish.

Heavyblackstormcloudsblottedoutthesunashespedpastemptyplainsguardedbymilesof

barbedwirefences.Alonghornsteerskull,bleachedwhitebythesun,hunguponafencepostasJohnny
zippedpastthebovinedeath’s-headatoveronehundredmilesperhour.Ahotwindblewagainsthis
tear-stainedface,rufflinghishair.Hiscrashhelmetwasleftbehind,layingforgotteninatent

somewhere.

Butasfastasherode,hecouldn’toutrunthesearingmemoryofhisfather’sdeath-andthesheer

injusticeofitall.Hewasn’tsickanymore,Johnnythoughtfuriously.Hewasgoingtolive!

Freshtearsmomentarilyblurredhisvision…untilawhite-hotlightningboltstrucktheroaddirectly

infrontofhim.Thereportofthunderboomedoverhead.

Inthesuddenglare,thestrangerwasnowstandingrightinthemiddleoftheroad.
Ohhell.
Therewasnotimetoapplythebrakes.Reactingquicklytoavoidhittingthestranger,Johnnywas

forcedtolayGracedownontothepavementsothattheHarleyskiddedacrosstheasphaltonitsside,
sparksflyingwherethechromeandtitaniummettheroad.AsGracecamescreechingtoahalt,Johnny
wasthrownclearofthebike,hittingtheblacktophardenoughtobreakeveryboneinhisbody.

Orsohethought.
Stumblingtohisfeet,Johnnywasstunnedtofindhimselfmoreorlessintact.Hestaredathisarms

andlegsinconfusion,seeingonlyafewminorcutsandscrapes.Idon’tgetit.Ifnotkillinghim,that
tumbleshouldhaveatleastputhiminanICU,especiallywithnohelmeton.Butallheseemedtoneed
wasaBand-Aidortwo.

Helookedabouthim,realizingforthefirsttimethathehadbeenabouttozoomthrougha

crossroadswithoutevenglancingforoncomingtraffic.Thestrangerleanedonhiscaneatthecenterof
thecrossing,smirkingatJohnny.

“You’renogoodtomedead.”
Thestranger’ssardonictoneenragedJohnny.Forgettingallabouthismiraculousbrushwithdeath,

hewheeledaroundtoconfronttheolderman.Hethrewoutanaccusingfinger.

“Youkilledhim!”
Hedidn’tneedtoexplainwhohemeant.
“Icuredhiscancer,”thestrangersaid.“That’swhatIpromised.That’swhatIdid.”Heshruggedhis

shoulders.“TherestIleftuptoyou.”

What?IsitreallymyfaultthatDaddied?Thehorriblethoughthadbeenlurkingatthebackofhis

mindeversincetheaccident.Hadtheirfightinthetentupsethisfather,enoughtomakehimlosehis
concentrationjustwhenheneededitmost?

Andworse,wasthatwhatthesmirkingstrangerhadplannedallalong?
“Yousonofabitch!”
Johnnycharged.Hegrabbedfortheotherman,intendingtotacklehimtothepavement,but,allat

once,thestrangerwasn’tthere.Johnny’sarmsclosedonemptyairandhestumbledforward,almost
fallingontohisface.Atthelastsecond,hemanagedtohangontohisbalanceandhespunaroundto
findthatthestrangerwasnowstandingbehindhim.Hisstartledeyesbulgedfromtheirsockets.

How…?
“Oneday,”thestrangersaid,“whenIneedyou,Iwillcome.UntilthenIwillbewatching.”More

thunderrumbledonthehorizon.Asolitarywindmillspunitsblades.Buzzardscircledoverhead.

“Forgetaboutfriends.Forgetaboutfamily.”HereachedoutandlaidhishanduponJohnny’s

shoulder.Anicychillspreadthroughtheteenager’sbones,freezinghiminplace.Johnnytriedtopull
awayfromthestranger’stouch,buthisbodyrefusedtocooperate.“Forgetlove.”

Roxanne…?Whatabouther?
“You’remine,JohnnyBlaze.”
AtorridwindwhippedupthedustatJohnny’sfeet.Thewhirlingsandenvelopedhim,forcinghim

toclosehiseyesagainstthebarrageoftinyparticles.Thestrangerwithdrewhishand.

Thedustdevildispersedasquicklyasithadappeared.Openinghiseyes,Johnnyfoundhimself

sprawleduponthepavement,rightwherehehadcrashedbefore.Gracelayonhersideseveralfeet

away.Justlikelastnight,itwasasthoughthislatestconfrontationhadneveroccurred.

Emptyroadsstretchedoutbeforehim.Johnnywasaloneatthecrossroads,withnooneelseinsight

formilesaround.Onceagain,thestrangerwasgone.

Buthispartingwordsreverberatedintheyoungman’smemory.
You’remine….
Roxannewaswaitingundertheoldoaktree,justlikeshepromised.Johnnysawherstandingatop

CrowleyHill,lookingasfantasticasusual.Herauburnhairandchestnuteyesfilledhimwithahopeless
yearning.Helongedtoburyhimselfinherarms.Withhisfatherdead,shewasallhehadleft.

Andyethehadtolethergo.
Nolove,thestrangerhadwarnedhim.DidJohnnyhaveanychoicebuttotakethatinjunction

seriously?Hisbriefdealingswiththesinisterblack-garbedman,whosetruenameandnatureJohnny
shrunkfromthinkingabout,hadalreadycosthisfatherhislife…andJohnnyhisfuture.ForRoxanne’s
sake,hecouldn’tallowhertobecometrappedinthestranger’swebofdeathanddeception.Johnny
knewhe’dneverforgivehimselfifsomethingterriblehappenedtoheraswell.

ShespottedhimasheroundedthebendonGrace.Shewavedathimexcitedly,practicallyjumping

upanddowninhereagernesstostarttheirnewlifetogether.Hergorgeoussmilebrokehisheart.

Justlikehewasabouttobreakhers.
Heslowedtoastopatthebottomofthehill,treatinghimselftoonelastlookatthebestthingthat

hadeverhappenedtohim.Somehowheknewthatnomatterwhatbecameofhimnow,nomatterhow
manyyearsandmilesheputbetweenthem,hewouldneverfindanotherwomanwhowouldtouchhis
soulthewayRoxannehad.Shewasoneofakind.

Shestillbeckonedtohimfromatopthehill,lookingslightlypuzzledastowhathewaswaitingfor.

Herlightbrowneyebrowsarchedquizzicallyandherincandescentsmilewentdownafewwatts.She
starteddowntowardhim,unwillingtowaitanylonger.

Johnnyknewhehadtoleavebeforeshejoinedhim.Onceshewasinhisarmsagain,hershining

eyesandlipsonlyinchesfromhisown,therewasnowaythathewouldeverbeabletosaygood-byeto
herforgood.Ifhewantedtogetaway,spareherfromthenightmarishpurgatoryhislifehadbecome,he
hadtogonow,rightthisveryminute.

HetorehisgazeawayfromherbreathtakingbeautyandputGraceintogear.TheHarleyaccelerated

beneathhimandhehammereddowntheroad,leavingCrowleyHillbehind.Sneakingapeekathis
wingmirror,hesawRoxannestandingspeechlessuponthelonelymound.Hecaughtonlyaglimpseof
herstrickenexpressionbeforeherfigureshrunkoutofsight.

Thewomanheloveddisappearedinacloudofdust.
Hisheartached,butheknewthathehadmadetherightdecision.Somedaythestrangerwould

return.Whenthathappened,JohnnywantedRoxanneSimpsontohavenopartinwhateverwasinstore
forhim.

It’sbetterthisway.
LightandhopefadedfromhiseyesasJohnnystaredgrimlyintothehorizon.
Anendlessroadstretchedbeforehim.

4

PresentDay

Hauntedeyesstaredthroughthefaceshieldofasturdycrashhelmet.Thetintedplasticvisor

reflectedaseaofspectatorspackedintothebleacherssurroundingtheElPasomotorspeedway.
Floodlightslituptheinfieldareainthemiddleoftheovalracetrack.Thebrightlightsoverpoweredthe
starrynightskyoverhead,notthatanyonewaslookingup.Thousandsofeagerfansawaitedthe
appearanceoftheiridol.Concessionsworkerstrottedupanddownthestepsofthebleachers,hawking
colddrinks,Popsicles,andsnacks.Fatcatsandcelebritiesloungedinair-conditionedcomfortin
reservedluxuryboxes,whileregularfolksandtheirkidscrowdedthecheapseats.Cameracrewsstood
readytorecordtheeventforthecablesportschannels.Anticipationfilledtheairasthemomentoftruth
drewnear.Risingtotheirfeet,theaudiencechantedinunison.

“BLAZE!BLAZE!BLAZE!”
Foramoment,Johnnywastransportedbacktohiscarefreedaysunderthebigtop.Beforethe

stranger…andtheAccident.Nowinhisthirties,Johnnyperformedinlargervenuesthesedays.A
whitesyntheticridingsuitfitsnuglyontohislean,muscularphysique.Crimsonflameswere
emblazonedontothesuitandmatchinghelmet.ThePlexiglasvisorhidtheemptinessinhiseyes.

HesatastrideathrobbingXR-750.Paintedflamesembellishedthesportbike’spristinewhitefinish

andshiningchrome.Hisglovedhandsgrippedthehandlebarsashecontemplatedthejumpbeforehim.
Thirty-fivehard-bodytruckswerelinedupside-by-sidebetweenthetake-offrampinfrontofJohnny
andthelandingrampontheoppositesideofthetrack.Allinall,hewaslookingatajumpofoverfifty
yardswithnothingbutseveraltonsofheavymetaltocushionhisfallifhecameupshort.

Inotherwords,theusual.
Timetogivethefolksashow,hethought.Hepumpedhisfistinamovethatwasnowcopiedby

hero-worshipingschoolkidsallacrossthecountry.Rightoncue,therowoftrucksburstintoflame.
Fieryorangetendrilsreachedforthesky,throwingoffsomuchheatthatJohnnycouldfeelthewarmth
allthewaythroughhisprotectivegarments.High-decibelsouthernrockcrankedfromthespeedway’s
blaringpublicaddresssystem.Overthirtythousandscreamingspectatorsroaredinapproval.Thewarm
summernightsmelledofgasolineandadrenaline.

Johnnycrackedthethrottleandthe750accelerateduptherampatbreakneckspeed.Hewaiteduntil

theverylastsecondbeforetappingthenitrousoxidebuttontogivethebiketheextraboostitneededto
takeoffintotheairabovetheburningtrucks.Abatteryofflashbulbswentoffinthestands.Thecrowd
wasonitsfeet….

Highabovetheartificialinferno,timeseemedtostandstillforJohnnyasheandthebikearced

acrossthesky.Hiseyesclosedandararelookofserenitycameoverhisface.Momentslikethis,when
thelinebetweenlifeanddeathwasasthinasanarrowstripofspeedingrubber,weretheonlytimeshe
everfelttrulyfree.

Noteventhestrangercouldtouchhimnow.
Toosoon,however,thesoaringbikebeganitsdescent.Johnnyopenedhiseyesandrealizedatonce

thathegiventheenginealittletoomuchnitrous.Thebikewasflyingtoofar,sothathewasgoingto
overshootthelandingrampbyseveralyards.Acollectivegaspcamefromtheaudienceastheyreached
thesamehorrifyingconclusion.Nothingbutsolidblacktopawaitedthedivingbikeanditsrider.

LookslikeI’minforanastyspill,thoughtJohnny,oddlyunafraid.Takingadeepbreath,hebraced

himselfforimpactashepassedoverthelandingramp,onlysecondsbeforethesportbikecrashednose-

firstintotheasphalt.Fireworks,presetforthefinale,ignitedonbothsidesoftheramp,throwing
geysersofwhitesparksintotheair.Theforceofthelandingthrewhimfromthesaddle.Hetumbled
acrossthespeedwayintotheconcreteretainingwallprotectingtheaudiencefromtheracetrack.His
helmet’sheavy-dutyfaceshieldshatteredlikeglass.Johnnygruntedinpain,hisoutburstdrownedout
bytheterrifiedscreamsofthespectators.Hisentirebodyslammedagainsttheconcrete.Heslidontothe
ground,lyingflatuponhisback.

“Johnny!”
Hischiefmechanicwasfirstonthescene.Randall“Mack”Mackenziecamerunningacrossthe

speedway,breathingheavily.Ashort,stockymanwearinganoil-stainedT-shirtandjeans,hestared
wide-eyedatJohnny’sbody.Beneathhisbrownbeard,hisfacehadgonewhitewithfear.Forallhe
knew,hisbestfriendandemployerwouldn’tbegettingupagain.

Ever.
MackdroppedtokneesinfrontofJohnny.TremblingfingershurriedlypriedJohnny’scrashhelmet

awayfromhisskull,exposingamopofuntidyblackhair.Iftheinjuredriderwasawareofhisfriend’s
presence,hegavenosignofit.Johnny’schindroopedontohischest.Onlythewhitesofhiseyeswere
visible.

“C’mon,J.B.,”Mackpleaded.HepattedJohnny’scheeks,tryingtogetaresponse.“Talktome…”
JohnnyheardMack’svoicecomingfromwhatseemedasifveryfaraway.Thedistraughtgearhead

soundedasifhewasrapidlyrunningoutofhope.Floatingindarkness,barelyfeelinghisinjuries,
Johnnyfelthimselfslippingaway…untilanothervoicesurfacedfromhismemory.

You’renogoodtomedead.
Thewelcomingdarknessrecededashisachingfleshandbonescalledhimbacktothemortalworld.

Johnny’seyesrolledforward.Heblinkedandlookedaround.

“Isthebikeokay?”heasked.
Mackletoutanenormoussighofrelief.Hewipedthecoldsweatfromhisbrow.“He’sfine,”he

calledouttotherestofJohnny’sstuntteamasthemencaughtuptothembytheretainingwall.An
ambulanceracedtowardthem,itsflashinglightsandsirengoingfulltilt.Mackgrabbedafirst-aidkit
fromoneofthenewcomers.

Hisbuddywantedtostartpatchinghimuprightthere,butJohnnyfiguredheowedthecrowda

betterfinalethanthat.“Givemealift,”heinstructedhismen,overMack’suselessprotests.Johnny
wincedasthecrewhelpedhimtohisfeet;hisribsfeltbadlybruised.Hewavedattheaudience,
reassuringthemthathewasallright.Athunderouscheereruptedfromthebleachers.Johnnybriefly
wonderedhowmanyofthespectatorsthoughtthatthecrashwasallpartoftheact.

ApplausefollowedhimacrossthespeedwayashemadehiswaytowardtheTeamBlazetourbus

parkedrightoutside.Everystepsentanotherjoltofagonythroughhisachingribs,butallhisworking
partsstillworked.Mackkeptshakinghishead,likehecouldn’tbelievethatJohnnywasactually
walkingawayfromafalllikethat.Johnnyjusthopedthatsomeonewaslookingafterhisbike.

LookslikeIlivetojumpanotherday.Forwhatever’sthatworth.
Astheyleftthespeedway,hismenhadtoclearapaththroughafrenziedthrongoffans,groupies,

andautographseekers.Theexcitedhordecrowdedthestuntteamonbothsides,jostlingeachotherin
theireagernesstocatchaglimpseoftheworld-famousJohnnyBlaze.“Johnny!Overhere,Johnny!”
theyshoutedathim,tryingtogethisattention.“Rememberme,Johnny?”Posters,magazinecovers,and
publicityphotoswerethrustathim,butJohnnyhurttoomuchtosignanythingrightnow.Brazen
womencalledouttheirphonenumbers,ortriedtoslipanotetohisbodyguards.AsultryyoungLatina
boreasuperficialresemblancetoRoxanne,asshe’dlookedsomanyyearsago,andafamiliarpang
stabbedathisheart.Hehadn’tlaideyesontherealRoxannesincethedayhisfatherdied….

ATVnewscrewelbowedtheirwaythroughthefanstomeetJohnnyrightinfrontofthebus.Alogo

onthecameraidentifiedthecrewasbelongingtoESPN2.Thereporter,whosenameJohnnycouldn’t
recall,steppedforward.

“Johnny,yougaveusquiteascare.”HeshovedamicrophoneinJohnny’sface.“Whathappenedout

theretonight?”

Johnnywalkedpasthimwithoutaword.
Thetourbusrolleddownthemoonlithighway.Atrademarkedflamingbanneradornedbothsidesof

thedeluxelandcruiser.VanityplatesreadBLAZZZE-1.Mesquiteandyuccasproutedalongsidethe
road,whichstretchedacrosshundredsofmilesofinhospitabledesert.Sparsevegetationrarelygrew
higherthanaman’swaistaroundtheseparts.Pricklypearcactiandtumbleweedsdottedthebarren
wasteland.ATexas-shapedroadsignwaspostedalongthehighway.drivesafely,thesignexhorted,the
texasway.

Insidethebus,thecrewpassedthetimeonthewaytotheDallas-FortWorthmetroplex.Mostof

menplayedpokeraroundalongtable,laughingovercigarettes,nachos,andlongneckbeers.Playing
cardswereslappedontothetable,tobegreetedbymutteredcursesandtriumphantchuckles.Plastic
chipsclatteredastheypassedfromonecardplayertoanother.ZZTopblaredfromthebus’ssound
system.Tobaccofumesanddirtyjokesfilledtheair.Atelevisionset,theaudiomuted,wasmounted
aboveanopendoorway.Coverageofthisyear’sX-Gamesflickereduponthescreen.FreestyleBMXers
flippedtheirbicyclesbackwardsandforwardsintheair.Othersperformedoutrageousstuntsonramps
andtrails.

Thecrewcheeredthebestcyclistson.
Afewyardsbackfromhilarity,MackandJohnnysharedaboothattherearofthecabin.Amartini

glassfullofjellybeans-Johnny’sonlyvice-restedonthetablebetweenthem.Themechanic’seyeswere
gluedtothescreenofhishandheldPlayStationPortable,whereacomputer-generatedfacsimileof
Johnnywasattempt-ingtorecreateoneoftherealJohnny’smostspectacularjumps:adoublerollover
launchedfromacurvedfiberglassramp.Mack’sfingersandthumbsfeverishlyworkedtheconsole’s
controls,butnotsmoothlyenough.TheCGridermissedthelandingrampbyamile,crashingupside-
downontothepavementinanexplosionoffieryredpixels.Anunnervinglyrealistic-soundingcrash
camefromthePSP’ssoundchip,followedbyanurgentvoicethatMackwasrapidlycomingtohate:

“AndBlazeisdown!”
Sowhatelseisnew?Macksilentlygroused.Thegame,acomplimentarycopyofJohnnyBlaze-

Airtime!hadbeenkickinghisbuttforthelastonehundredmilesorso.Despitehisbestefforts,he
couldn’tgetpastlevelone.Whodesignedthisstupidgame?TheDevilhimself?

HelookedacrosstheboothattherealJohnnyBlaze,whowasengrossedinapaperbackcopyof

ZaneGrey’sRidersofthePurpleSage.Onthecoverofthebook,aloneridergallopedaspotted
Appaloosaacrossawindsweptprairie.Thedog-earedpaperbackshowedsignsofheavywear;Johnny
hadalwayshadaweaknessforclassicwesterns.

“Thisgameisimpossible,”Mackcomplained.
Johnnyglancedupfromhisbook.Anarrowcowboyhatresteduponhishead.Heshruggedonce,

thenturnedanotherpage.Apparentlysettlersandrangeridersin1870sUtahweremorecompellingthan
hisbestfriend’smortalcombatwiththefiendishcomputergame.

Mackhitreplay.Onthegamescreen,theCGJohnnygunnedhisengineandspedtowardthetake-

offramp.Mackstaredatthescreenintently,theglowfromtheconsolelightinguphisface.He
struggledwiththevirtualclutchandthrottle,tryingtokeeptheminiaturecycleontrack.Thistimehe
triggeredtheLaunchcommandafewsecondslater,onlytofindhimselfovershootingthelandingramp-
justasJohnnyhaddoneforreal.AnotherelectroniccrashsoundedfromthePSP.TheCGJohnny
tumbledheadlongoverthehandlebarsbeforesmackingintothepavement.

“Oh!”theinvisiblenarratorexclaimed.“Thatone’sgottahurt!”

TheaudiomayhempulledJohnnyoutofhisbook.Hearchedaneyebrow.“Haveyoutriednot

crashing?”heaskedwryly.

“Haveyou?”Mackshotback.
BeforeJohnnycouldreturntohispaperback,ZZTopfellsilentassomebodyswitchedtheTVoff

mute.MacklookeduptoseeacolorphotoofJohnnyuponthescreen.HenudgedJohnny,whoturned
aroundintimetocatchwhatappearedtobesomekindofTVprofile.

“HereattheX-Games,”asportscasterdeclared,“we’veseenbigair,bigmoves,and,ofcourse,big

crashes.”Amontageofgravity-defyingbicyclestuntsflashedacrossthescreen.“Butaskalltheseriders
whoitistheylookupto,andtheanswerisamanwho’snotevencompetinghere.”

Thefilmclipswerereplacedbyaseriesoftalkingheadsbelongingtovariousyoungdaredevils.
“JohnnyBlaze,”thefirstExtremebikersaid.AcaptionidentifiedhimasTravisPastrana.
“JohnnyBlaze,”oneMikeMetzgerstatedwithouthesitation.
“Watchinghimiswhatgotmostofushookedonbikesinthefirstplace,”NateAdamsinsisted.

“He’sthebest!”

FootageofsomeofJohnny’smostfamousstuntsplayedupontheTVscreen.Aperilousleapovera

pitfilledwithhissingrattlesnakes.Aloop-the-loopexecutedatoverahundredmilesanhour.Ridinga
tightropeoverNiagaraFalls.ZoomingthroughoveradozenflaminghoopsatMadisonSquareGarden.
Jumpingfromthetopofoneskyscrapertoanother.RacingaroundtherimoftheSeattleSpaceNeedle.
Climbingtheelevatedladderofafiretruckintoaburningbuilding-andouttheotherside.The“Pitand
thePendulum”stunt,withJohnnynarrowlymissingaswingingbladewhilecatchingairovera
bottomlesschasm.Weavingthroughastagedstampedeoflonghorncattle.Therocket-poweredlaunch
overCopperheadCanyon…

EachclipevokedavividmemoryforMack.Herememberedeveryheart-stoppingmoment.He

figuredhelostayearofhislife,andalayerofstomachlining,everytimeJohnnyhadaclosecall.It
wasamiraclehishairhadn’tturnedcompletelywhitebynow.

“He’sbeencalledthe‘theFatherofallMoto-X,’”thesportscastercontinued.“He’sreveredby

ridersallaroundtheworld,despitethefactthathe’salwaysshunnedthespotlight,refusingtodoany
interviews.Hispersonallifeisamystery,themanhimselfanenigmaeventohisfans.”Thereporter
pressedamicrophoneonthetrioofextremebikersfrombefore.“Whyishethenameoneveryone’s
lips?”

“Skills.Creativity,”Mikeexplained.Hedoffedhisbackwardsbaseballcapinrespect.Johnny’sface

wastattooedonhisarm.“ButifIhadtosaywhatsetshimapartfromeveryoneelse…theguyhasno
fear.”

Natenoddedinagreement.“Nofearwhatsoever.”
“Evenwhenajump’sgettingawayfromhim,”Travissaidadmiringly,“he’sgotthislooklike…

likehedoesn’tcarewhathappenstohim.”

Tellmeaboutit,Mackthought.SometimeshewishedJohnnyhadahealthydoseoffearinhim,not

tomentiontheslightestbitofinterestinhisownself-preservation.Mostofthetime,actually.

Butthenhewouldn’tbeJohnnyBlaze….
Freshfootage,ofthatcrashlandingearliertonight,ranontheTV.Mackwinced,andtheguys

aroundthepokertablegroanedinsympathy,asJohnnyslammedintotheretainingwallinfrontofthirty
thousandhorrifiedfans.Thevisoronhishelmetexplodedoutwardinslowmotion.Theshakyvideo
clip,whichlookedlikeithadcomefromsomespectator’scamcorder,threwMackbacktothoseawful
minutesimmediatelyafterthecrash,whenithadreallylookedlikeJohnnywasn’tgoingtomakeit.

Thatwastheworstcrashyet,hethought,andI’veseensomebeauts.
Spottingtheremoteonnearbycounter,heclickedofftheTV.Nobodyobjected;Mackguessedthat

therestofthecrewhadfoundthecrashfootagejustasdisturbingashehad.Nooneaboardthebuswas

inanyhurrytorelivethatincidentjustyet.Theguysgratefullyreturnedtotheirgameasthe
conversationturnedbacktobooze,babes,andwhosehandwasitanyway?Cardswereshuffledandcut.

Mackploppedhimselfbackdowninthebooth.HelookedacrossthetableatJohnny.Hisfacehelda

disapprovingexpression.

“What?”Johnnysaidfinally,consciousofhisfriend’sscrutiny.
Mackdidn’tmincewords.“Youshouldbetakin’adirtnapafterthatragdolltoday.”
“Igotlucky,”Johnnysaid.
Mackwasn’tbuyingit.”‘Lucky’?Myhuntingdog’snamedLuckyandhe’sgotoneeyeandno

nuts.”Hedidn’texpecthiswordswouldhaveanyeffectonJohnny’srecklessbehavior,buthehadto
maketheeffort,ifonlyforhisownpieceofmind.“Luckydon’tcoverit,J.B.Yougotanangel
watchingoveryou.”

“Yeah,maybe,”Johnnymurmured.Apensivelook,thatMackknewtoowell,cameoverhisfriend’s

face.AmelancholytoneenteredhisvoiceasJohnnyturnedhisheadtostarebleaklyoutthewindowat
theforlorndesertoutside.Thetintedwindowreflectedhisbroodingdemeanor.“Ormaybeit’s
somethingelse.”

Likewhat?Mackwondered,butheknewbetterthantopressJohnnywhenhegotintoamoodlike

this.HehadknownJohnnyBlazeforyearsnow,andwastheclosestthingthecelebratedriderhadtoa
confidant,butthereweretimeswhenMackfelthedidn’tknowJohnnyatall.Allheknewwasthathis
friendcarriedsomesortofterribleburdenwithhimwherevertheywent.Mackhadgivenuptryingto
figureitout.He’lltellmeaboutitwhenhe’sready…ifhelivesthatlong.

Outsideinthedarkness,thedeserthelditsownsecrets.
Thebusrolledondownthehighway,leavinganiso-latedstretchofbadlandsbehind.Creosoteand

cacticasttheirshadowsontothearidlandscape.Acoyotehowledmournfullyatthemoon,whileother
nocturnalpredatorsprowledthedarkness.Amurderofcrowspercheduponthegnarledbranchesofa
mesquitetree.

Awindpickedupfromoutofnowhere,stirringupthedust.Thecrowscawedinagitation,thentook

offintothesky,abandoningthedesertwastelandasquicklyastheirwingswouldcarrythem.Skunks
andlizardsscurriedforcover.Lightninglituptheskyandthunderrumbled.

Polishedblackbootssteppedconfidentlyontothedrysoil.Theystrodebrisklyacrossthedesert,

withoutahintofalimp.Ayouthfulhandreacheddownandscoopedupaclotofdirt.Asilentfigureran
theloamthroughhisfingers,samplingitthewayaprospectorwould.Theloosesoilseemedtomeet
withhisapproval.

Coldblackeyes-ahunter’seyes-surveyedthedesolatelandscape.Hisgazedartedfromrighttoleft,

scrutinizinghissurroundingsasthoughwitnessingthemforthefirsttime-whichindeedhewas.

Sothisistheworld,hethought.Anight-flyingowlsweptdownfromtheskyandcarriedoffan

unwaryjackrabbit.Theyouthsavoredthesmallmammal’sterrifiedsqueals.Itshowspromise.

Hewatchedtheraptoranditspreydisappearintosky.Icystarsglitteredoverhead.Thevast

immensityoftheheavens,soverydifferentfromhisnativerealm,filledhimwithasenseofkeen
anticipation.Hewaseagertosethisplansintomotion.Hehadloftyambitionswherethisbenighted
planewasconcerned,andmuchtoaccomplishbeforehefulfilledhisunholydestiny.Hisfatherwould
notbepleased,butwhatdidthatmatter?Hisreignwouldsoonbeover.Anewerawasnigh.

Letitbegin,heresolved,sothatmyhourmightcomeroundatlast.
Ajaggedthunderboltsplitthenight.Thesuddenglarecastthefigure’sleanshadowacrossthe

barrenwasteland.

Aheartbeatlater,theshadowwasgone.
Andsowasthefigure.

5

ItwaswellpastmidnightbythetimethebusdroppedJohnnyandMackatanondescriptcornerof

downtownForthWorth,acrossthestreetfromarundownTexacoservicestation.Toweringglass
monolithsloomedoverseveralblocksofsweatshops,stockyards,andwarehouses.Thistimeofnight,
therewasnobodyaroundtoseethetwomenpushthemangledremainsofthestuntbikeupanalley
runningpastatwo-storybrickwarehouse.Mackwasn’tsurehecouldsalvagethewreckedmotorcycle,
buthewantedtogiveitatry.Ifnothingelse,hemightbeabletocannibalizethebikeforspareparts.

Wastenot,wantnot,hethought.Oneneverknewwhenasparevalveorcrankshaftmightbeneeded.

EspeciallyattherateJohnnychewsupmotorcycles.

AserviceelevatorcarriedthemuptotheloftthatservedasJohnny’shome-whenhewasn’ttouring,

thatis.Asusual,Mackwasstruckbythewaythelinebetweengarageandapartmenthadbeen
completelyerasedhere.Overadozenmotorcycles,alongwithassortedtoolsandspareparts,were
scatteredthroughouttheloft,amidstthecouch,bar,pooltable,andotherfurnishings.Harleys,Hondas,
Triumphs,Yama-has,Vulcans,andSuzukiswereallrepresentedinJohnny’scollection.Redbrickwalls
surroundedagraycementfloor.Paintedblackcolumnshelduptheceiling.Carnivalpostershungupon
thewalls.Rubbertireswerepiledupinonecorner.Aboxofpistonswaitedtobeunpacked.Greasyrags
weredrapedoverdoorknobs.

Steppingoutoftheelevator,Johnnydroppedhisduffelbagsontotheclutteredareaofhardwood

floor.Mackwheeledthetrashedbikeintothelivingroom,parkingitnexttotheentertainmentcenter.
Thebike’skickstandhadsnappedoffinthecrash,sohehadtoleanitupagainstanemptystretchof
wall.Heshovedacoupleofheavycinderblocksagainstthewheelstoholditinplaceuntilhehad
chancetotakeacloserlookatthedamage.Nottonight,though.Hewastoopooped.

Mackglancedaroundatthegaragelikeambiance.Thedistinctodorofmotoroilhungintheair.

“Saiditbefore,I’llsayitagain.Thisplacecoulduseawoman’stouch.”

“Socouldyou,”Johnnyteasedhisfriend.Hestrolledintothekitchen,whichwaslocatedonalow

mezzanineoverlookingthemainfloor,andpouredhimselfafreshmartiniglassofjellybeansfroma
plasticcanister.Clearly,Johnny’ssweettoothhadcomethroughtheaccidentintact.

Idoallright,Mackthoughtindignantly.Sometimes.
Glancingaroundtheloft,themechanic’sgazesettledonGrace,occupyingapositionofhonorin

onecornerofthelivingroom.ThevenerableHarley,whichhadn’tbeenriddeninyears,haddefinitely
seenbetterdays.Athicklayerofdustdulledthechopper’sblue-and-yellowpaintjob.Thechromewas
nickedandscratchedinadozenplaces.Rustateawayatitschassis.Bothtireswereflat.Thecorroded
chainlookeddryasabone.Ducttapepatcheduptearsintheleathersaddle.

Asamotorcyclelover,MackwasalwayspainedbyGrace’ssorrystate.Itwasacryingshamethat

suchafinemachineshouldbeneglectedlikethis.Still,heknewthatJohnnyhadhisownreasonsfor
wantingtoleaveGracealone,evenifhealsocouldn’tbringhimselftogetridofhisfather’sbike.A
framedcarnivalposterwasmountedonthewallaboveGrace.amazingcyclespectacular!theposter
read,aboveastylizedillustrationoftwinmotorcyclespassinginmid-air.starringBARTONAND
JOHNNYBLAZE!

Mackknewonlytoowellthatthecolorfulposterwastheverylasttoadvertisethatparticularshow.

DoesJohnnykeepthesesouvenirsaroundtoremindhimofhappierdays,hewondered,ordoeshejust
tiketotorturehimselfforsomereason?

TherewerelotsofthingsMackdidn’tunderstandabouthisemployer.Johnny’sobsessionwith

metaphysicsforinstance.StacksandstacksofbookswerepileduparoundGrace,helpingtopropthe
decrepitHarleyup.MultipletranslationsoftheBible,theKoran,andtheBhagavad-Gitaweremixedin

withvolumesonvoodoo,spiritualism,witchcraft,astrology,exorcism,reincarnation,andotheroccult
topics.Post-itsflaggedspecificpages.Tarotcardswereusedasbookmarks.Paganidolsandcrystal
talismansgathereddustonanearbyshelf.Mackscannedthetitlesofsomeofthebooks.The
Necronomicon.TheBookoftheDamned.TheTragedieofDoctorFaustus.VisionsoftheVishanti.The
SatanicBible.TheDarkholdforDummies….

Heshookhishead.WhatincreationdidJohnnyseeinallthisspookygobbledygook?Whatexactly

washelookingfor?Henoddedattheoverflowingpilesofhardcoversandpaperbacks,whichthreatened
totoppleoveratanyminute.“Seeyoufinallyfoundauseforyourbooks.”

Johnnyrefusedtotakethebait.HeknewwhatMackthoughtofhismoreeccentricreadingmatter.

“Youwantsomejellies?”

“No,Idon’twantanyofyourweirdcandy.”HegaveJohnnyasolemnlook.“Ineedtotalktoyou

aboutsomething.”

Sighing,Johnnyslumpedontothecouch.Herestedhiscowboybootsonadiscardedengineblock.

Hisglassofjellybeanscradledinhislap,hewaitedexpectantlyasMacksatdownonanoverstuffed
easychairacrossfromhim.Themechanichadtomoveatireironofftheseatbeforehecouldsitdown.
“Aboutwhat?”Johnnyasked.Hedidn’tsoundtooenthusiasticaboutthischat.Perhapshealready
suspectedwhatwasonhisfriend’smind.

Mackgesturedtowardthecircusposteruponthewall.“Howyou’rejumpingontheanniversaryof

yourfather’saccident.”IthadbeennearlyfifteenyearssinceBartonBlazehaddiedoutbyAbilene.
“Thejump’simpossible.Youdon’tneedtodoitoverflamingcars,too.”Memoriesoftonight’snear-
fatalcrashflashedthroughMack’smind.“Whatareyoutryingtoprove?”

“Thatit’sme,”Johnnysaid.
Mackdidn’tgetit.“Thatit’syou…?”
“Ridingthebike,”Johnnystatedcryptically.
“Whoelsewoulditbe?”Mackthrewuphishandsinfrustration.WhatthehellwasJohnnytalking

about?“J.B.,youknowwhat?You’refreakingmeouthere.”Hepointedattheheapingpilesofoccult
texts.“Yougottastopreadingallthis…thisexponential,comparativereligiositycrap.”

Johnnyactedlikehehadn’theardawordMackwassaying.Hismindwasclearlyelsewhere.

“Mack,doyoubelievepeoplegetsecondchances?”

“What?”HehadnoideawhereJohnnywasgoingwiththis.
“Ifsomeonemakesamistake,”hesaid,histonedeadlyserious,“abadmistake,doyouthinkthey

shouldhavetopayforiteverydayfortherestoftheirlife?”

Mackglancedagainattheoldcarnivalposter.“Areyoutalkingaboutyourdad?”
“Notexactly,”Johnnysaidvaguely.Seeingthemechanic’sbaffledexpression,heofferedsomething

morebywayofanexplanation.“I’mjustlookingforasign.”

“Asign?”Mackechoed.
“ThatI’malive.”
Mackmulledthatover.Hefeltlikehewasgettingtantalizinglyclosetowhateverwastroublinghis

friend,buthecouldn’tquitefitthepiecestogether.“Johnny,whathappenedwaybackwhenwasn’tyour
fault.”AsfarasMackknew,BartonBlazehadjustpushedhisluckonetimetoomany.Itwasatragedy,
butthosewerethebreaks.Johnny’sdadhadriskedhislifeonadailybasis.Onedaytheoddscaughtup
withhim;thatwasall.“Youknowthat,right?”

Johnnydidn’tanswer.Hisfaceshutdownashewithdrewintosomeprivatepurgatorydeepinside

him.Mackknewthathewouldn’tbegettinganymoreoutofhisfriendtonight.Hestooduptogo.

“Atleasttellmeyou’llthinkabouttakingthecarsout.”
Johnnynoddedabsently,lostinhisownmelancholymusings.Hishauntedeyesstaredblanklyinto

hisownlostsoul.“I’llthinkaboutit.”

Mackrealizedthatwasthebesthecouldhopefor,althoughhehadfewillusionsthathehadmade

anyseriousdentinJohnny’sdeterminationtoproceedwiththebiganniversarystuntasplanned.Times
likethis,hewishedpeoplewereaseasytofixasabroken-downbike.Sadly,therewasnothinginhis
toolboxthatcouldstraightenoutwhateverwasdamagedinsideJohnnyBlaze.Idon’tthinktheymakea
socketwrenchforaguiltyconscience.

Shakinghishead,heexitedtheloft.
Johnnysataloneuponthecouch,withonlyhisbooksandGracetokeephimcompany.
TheBrokenSpokeSaloonwaslocatedontheoutskirtsoftown.Raucousmusicandlaughter

escapedtheopenwindowsandgraffiti-coveredwallsofthedingybikerbar.Itwasnearlyoneinthe
morning,butthepartywasstillgoingstrong.Earl“BigDaddy”Dawsonleanedhisconsiderablebulk
upagainstthefrontofthebuildingashetookabreakfromthedrunkenrevelrytogetalittlefreshair.
Rowsofchopperswerelineduponthepavementoutsidethebar.Brokenglass,beercans,andcigarette
buttslitteredthefrontporchandparkinglot.Crackedpaintpeeledoffthefrontporch.Aredneonsign
flickerederratically.Woodenshuttersguardedthewindows.Heavygraycloudsthreatenedtorainatany
moment.

Aslimblondewaitress,whosejadedexpressiontestifiedthatshe’dbeenaroundtheblockafew

hundredtimes,steppedoutofthebar.AwhiteDaytonatanktopandlow-risebluejeansexposedher
piercednavel.Athornyrosewastattooedonherbareleftshoulder.Acheapturquoisebraceletjangled
ononearm.ShehandedafreshbottleofbeertoBigDaddy.“Hereyougo.”

“Tookyoulongenough,”hegrumbled.
CarrieSchultztookhisblusterinstride,eventhoughDawsonwasanintimidatingfigurebymost

anyone’sstandards.Apermanentscowlwasetchedintohisbroad,wind-burnedface.Hehadabald
domeandanunkemptbeard.Prisontattoosinkeduphisbeefyarmsandthickneck.Anironcrossrested
uponhishairychest.ANazidaggerwastuckedintohisbelt.Thepatchesonhisleathervestidentified
himasafullmemberofthe“FallenAngels,”oneoftheSouthwest’smostnotoriousbikergangs.The
Angelswereheavilyintodrugs,extortion,sexualassault,andmurderforhire.Theymadetheinfamous
Mongolslooklikechoir’boysincomparison.

What’sanAngelgottadotogetsomedecentservicearoundhere?hethoughtirritably.Ifitwasn’t

sodamnhot,he’dteachCarrienottokeepathirstymanwaiting.Acoupleofblackeyeswouldgetthe
leadoutofherbutt,hebet.Serveherright,too.

Animpatientvoicecalledouttothewaitressfrominsidethebar,sosheleftEarlaloneontheporch.

Hetookaswigfromhisbeer,thenpeeredatthebottleinsurprise.Rightbeforehispuzzledeyes,the
longneckbottlewasicingupontheoutside.Whatthehell?hethought,moreirkedthanamazedbythis
seemingmiracle.Itwasatleastninety-fivedegreesoutside.

Hestartedtoyellforthewaitressagain,intendingtodemandanexplanationforthefrostyanomaly,

butwasdistractedbysomethingelse.

Nowwhat?hethoughtcrankily.
Afigurewasapproachingfromthedarkness.Movingatadeliberatepace,hewalkedoutofthe

deserttowardtheBrokenSpoke.Theneonlightsofthebarrevealedaslenderyoungmanwithapale
complexion.Hewaselegantly-andinappropriately-dressedinastylishblacksuit,completewithadark
silkshirtandvelvetwaistcoat.Slickblackhairwastuckedneatlyinplace.Darksmudgesaccentedhis
piercingblackeyes.Thetailsofhislongblackcoatfoldedbehindhimlikearaven’swings.Hislean
shadowstretchedoutuponthedustyroadbehindhim.

Dawsontookhimforoneofthosefancy-pantsGothtypes.
Thebikerputtheice-coldbottledownonawindowsillandrosemenacinglytohisfullheight.He

loomedbeforethebar’sopenfrontdoor,hisbrawnyarmscrossedatophisbarrelchest.

“Ithinkyoumustbelost,boy.”

IgnoringBigDaddy,theyouthclosedhiseyesandconcentrated,asifintentonlocatingsomething

withhisremainingsenses.Dawsoncouldn’thelpnoticingthattheordinarysoundsofthedesertat
night-theflutterofwings,theyipofcoyotes,therattleofadisturbedserpent-hadabruptlyfallensilent.
What’sthatallabout?

Theyouthopenedhiseyes.Aferalsmilesuggestedthathiseffortshadbeenamplyrewarded.

Heedlessofthehulkingbikerinhispath,hesteppedbrisklytowardthebar,althoughwhatheexpected
tofindinside,asidefromawell-deservedbeating,wasanybody’sguess.

Dawsongloweredattheyoungerman.“Youdeaforsomething?”
Theyouthheadedstraightforthedoor.Earldidn’tbudge.Theintruder’seyesmetDawson’s,asif

noticinghimforthefirsttime.Notaflickerofapprehensionappearedupontheyouth’sdelicate,epicene
features.HemetBigDaddy’sbelligerentstarewithunruffledcalm,whichonlypissedoffthebiker
more.Dawsonjabbedameatyfingerintotheyouth’schest.

“Angelsonlyinthere,boy.”
Theyouth’ssmilewidened.“Really?”Hissoftvoicehadaculturedairthatseemedincongruousat

theseamybikerbar.

BigDaddyclenchedhisfists.“Yougotaproblemwiththat?”
“Asamatteroffact…”
TheyouthjabbedhisownfingerintoEarl-anditsankrightintothebiker’schest.Dawsonstiffened

inshock,hismouthopeningwideinasilentscream,asastrangeectoplasmicsubstanceflowedintohis
body,turninghisbloodshoteyesandskinadeepshadeofmidnightblue.Thepoisonousichorspread
outwardfromthebiker’swickedheart,freezinghiminplaceasthistoxin-thisnecroplasm-infiltrated
everycellofhisbody,flowingintohisextremities.Hisfear-strickeneyesstaredintothoseoftheyouth,
whichwereaglowwithdemonicenergy,asthoughhewasliterallyfeedingonDawson’smountingpain
andhorror.Thebiker’seyesglazedover.Hisfleshsaggedbeneathhisskin,whichcrackedopenabove
hiswitheredmusclesandtendons.Rottingfromtheinsideout,hecollapsedontothecreakywooden
porch.Histongueturnedblackinsidehisgapingjawsbeforefallingoutentirely.Indigoeyesdissolved
intopoolsofgelidmuck.Fadedtattoospeeledawayfromhisdesiccatedbones.Theman’sriding
leatherslookedabsurdlyoversizeduponthemummifiedbluecorpseattheyouth’sfeet.“…Ido,”
Blackheartfinished.

Thepartywasover.Shriveledbluecorpseswerescatteredthroughoutthesqualidinteriorofthe

saloon.Poisonedbikersandtheiroldladiesslumpedovertablesorlaysprawleduponthesawdustfloor.
Severalofthemummiesstillclutchedknivesorchains,notthattheweaponshaddonethemanygood.
Aburlyblondbiker,hisskeletalfistwrappedaroundacue,layproneatopthegreenfeltsurfaceofthe
pooltable.Spilleddrinkspooleduponthefloor,besidediscardeddiceanddrugparaphernalia.Several
chairsandtableswereoverturned.Thejukeboxhadgonemute.Adartboardhungupononewall,a
gameinterruptedinprogress.Aceilingfanspunsteadily,doinglittletorelievethestuffyatmosphere,
whichreekedoftobacco,alcohol,marijuana,andjusttheslightesthitofbrimstone.Everyonepresent
borethetelltalebluesheenofthenecroplasm.Withinminutes,therowdybarhadbecomeamorgue.
Notasoulappearedtohavebeenspared.

Frightenedoutofherwits,Carriecoweredbehindthebar.Mascarastreakedherfaceasshebitdown

onherlowerlipinordertokeepfromscreamingand/orsobbing.Shehuddledbeneaththecounter,
afraidtomakeapeep,orevenbreathe,forfearofgivingawayherhidingplace.Theonlysurvivorof
theblue-tingednightmarethathadconsumedherfriendsandcoworkers,sheclungtothedesperatehope
thatshemightlivetoseethedawn.

Ifshecould,shewouldhavecontractedherselfintoamicroscopicspeckifthatwaswhatittookto

stayoutofsightfromthe…creature…whohadinvadedtheBrokenSpoke.Shecrossedherself
instinctively.

Ithadallhappenedsofast.Oneminuteitwasjustanotherrowdynightatthesaloon.TheAngels

haddrunkanddruggedandgambledandarguedwhileplottingtheirnextbigroadtripandcriminal
enterprise.Dirtyjokeshadelicitedguffawsandgroans.Acoupleofnear-fightshadbrokenout,mostly
overthatslutMarlene.Bikesandgearwereboughtandsold,mostlydependingonwhohadsomeready
cashthisweek,andwhowashard-upforbailmoney.Acloudofsecondhandsmoke,mixedwithatinge
ofpot,boughteveryoneinthebaraone-waytriptothecancerward,providedanyofthemlivedthat
long.Carriehadspentmostofhertimepouringbeerandwhiskeydownthethroatsofthirstybikers
whenshewasn’tdodginghornydesperadoeswhowantedtoplaygrab-asseverytimeshecamewithin
arm’sreach.Sorry,boys,she’dthought.Thatdon’tcomefree.Thejukeboxhadblarednonstop,loud
enoughtomakeyourearsbleed.Massivequantitiesofcokeandmethhadfueledthehardcorepartying.

Theusual.
ThenincamethisskinnydudewithhisfancydudsandafacepalerthanMichaelJackson’s.Carrie

hadfiguredhewasdeadmeattheminuteshelaideyesonhim;attheveryleasthewascruisingfora
seriousbruising.Butthecreepdidn’tevenseemtorealizethathewasinthewrongplace;insteadhe
hadjustsidleduptothebarandstartedlookingaroundlikeheownedthejoint.WildBillhadbeenthe
firsttogetinhisface.Nosurprisethere,Billnevermissedachancetokickbutt.That’swhyhehadall
thoseassaultchargespending.

Andwhyhewasthefirsttodie.
Carriehadneverseenanythinglikeit.Billneversawitcoming.ThecreepyGothguyjustreached

outandtouchedBillandthehardcorebikersuddenlyturnedallblueanddisgusting.Hewasdeadbefore
anyofhisbrotherAngelsevenrealizedwhatwashappening.

ButafterBillhitthefloor,allhellbrokeloose.EveryAngelintheplacecameattheintruder,

swingingchainsandknives,brassknucklesandfists.Itdidn’tdoanygood,though.Thewhite-faced
demonjuststrolledthroughthebar,killingpeoplerightandleft,withoutevenbreakingasweat.He
brokeAxel’sneckwithhisbarehands,andrippedBulldog’sheartfromhischest,butmostlyhejust
poisonedpeoplewithhistoxicfingertips.ThesamebluedeaththatkilledBillalsosuckedthelifefrom
manyothersthedemongotholdoff.

Prettysoon,peoplewerescreamingandrunningfortheexits.Butthestrangerwavedhishandand

everydoorslammedshut,refusingtobudge.Hardenedbikers,realone-percenters,werecryinglike
babies,afraidtheyweregoingtoHell.Theotherwaitressesstarteddyingtoo.Marlenepleadedwithfor
herlife,likethetrampshewas,butitdidn’tsaveher.Noonewasspared,nottheAngels,notthestaff,
noone.

UntilonlyCarriewasleft.
Please,God,sheprayed,don’tletthisdevilclaimmysoul.Shehadledawildandsinfullife,she

knew,filledwithdrugsandboozeandfartoomanymen.Herrebelliouswayshadbrokenherpoor
mother’sheartandscandalizedthenunswhohadtriedsohardtoteachherrightfromwrong.Tobe
honest,shockingthesternsistershadbeenhalfthefunatfirst,beforetheheavy-dutypartyinghad
becometheonlylifesheknew.She’dhadachildonce,alittleboy,butshehaddumpedthebabyonher
motherthefirstchanceshe’dgot.LittleMickeywasfivenow.Carriecouldn’trememberthelasttime
she’dspokenwithhim.Maybehisbirthday,ortheonebeforethat?

ButIcanchange,sheinsisted,franticallybargainingwithGod.JustletmegetthroughtonightandI

promiseIwillturnmylifearound.I’llgobacktochurch.I’llgetoffthedope.I’llgobacktoschool.
Getadecentjob.SheclosedhereyesandferventlypleadedforHeaven’smercy.Rescuemefromthis
monster,andIswearI’llneverspeaktoanotherbikerforaslongasIlive!

Foramoment,itappearedherprayershadbeenanswered.Listeningintently,sheheardfootsteps

leavingthetavern.Thefrontdoorslammedshutonitshinges.Silencefelloverthemurderedsaloon.
Holdingherbreath,sheheardonlythesteadydrippingfromtheleakyroof.IalwaystoldDuketofix

that,shethoughtirrationally.Thetavern’sownerwasnowoneofthecobalt-coloredcorpsesslumped
overthebar.

Carriehesitated,notquitetrustinghergoodfortune.Shewastemptedtoboltforthebackdoorright

away,thenputasmanymilesaspossiblebetweenherselfandtheBrokenSpoke,butcautionkepther
hidingbeneaththebar,justtobesafe.Shewasnofool;yearstendingtoex-consandotheroutlawshad
taughthowtolookoutforherselfintoughsituations.Shewasn’tgoingtotakeanystupidchances.

Let’smakesurehe’sreallygone,shedecided.Givehimplentyoftimetoleavethisplacebehind.
Shecountedslowlytoonehundred,thencountedagain.Anxiousminutesdraggedoutendlesslyas

hercrampedlegmusclesshriekedinprotest.Tequiladrippedovertheedgeofthecounteraboveher,
poolingonthefloor.Carriestayedput,tryingunsuccessfullytorecallallthewordstotheLord’sPrayer,
untilshefeltconfidantthatthedemonickillerhadtobefarawaybynow.Takingadeepbreath,she
crawledoutfrombeneaththebarandroseunsteadilytoherfeet.

Blackheartwaswaitingforher.
Carrieopenedhermouthtoscream,buttheblack-garbedyouthwastooquickforher.Clampinga

handoverhermouth,helungedforwardandpulledheracrossthecounter.Spilledtequilasoaked
throughthefrontofhertanktop.Herheartpoundedlikeajackrabbit’s.Despitehisslightappearance,
theyouthwasamazinglystrong.Carriecouldnomorebreakfreefromhisgripthanshecouldhave
snappedapartapairoftitaniumhandcuffs.Shecouldonlysquirmhelplesslyintheintruder’sgrasp.A
muffledshriekdisappearedintoBlackheart’spalm,whichsmelledfaintlyofsulfur.

“Iknewyouwerehere,”hesaidcalmly.“Icouldfeelyourfear.”Hiseerieyelloweyeslockedonto

hersandsetherteethchattering.Thegreaterherfear,themoreavidlyhiseyesgleamed,asthoughthey
weresoakingupeverylastounceofherterror.“Youaregoingtodienow.1amgoingtodevouryour
soul.”Hegaveherasmilethatwasnotatallcomforting.“Itwillfeelworsethanyoucanpossibly
imagine.”

Sheer,unrelentingpanicthreatenedtodriveherinsane.Shescreamedhystericallyintohercaptor’s

hand.Mickey!shethoughtinanguish,picturingherchild’scherubicface.Yearsofguilttoreather
heart.Ishouldhavebeenthereforyou!Whatifsheneverhadachancetomakethingsright?

“Please…don’tkillme,”Carriesobbed.“Ihaveason…afive-year-oldson…”
Blackheartnoddedinapproval.“Youwillneverseehimagain.”Hisvictimwhimperedinagony.

“Doesthathurtyou?”Heseemedfascinatedbyherreaction.“Iwantyoutothinkofthat.Keepthinking
ofit…forever.”

Hetookhishandawayfromhermouth.
Carriescreameduntiltherewasnothingleftofher.Awitheredblueskeletondroppedtothefloor.
Blackheartfeltremarkablyrefreshed.
“AngelstossedfromHeaven,forcedtoliveonEarth,”heobserved.Heeyedtheshabbytavernwith

disdain.Neonsignsandstolenlicenseplateswerenailedtotheroughwoodenwalls.Amountedboar
headglareddownfromabovethejukebox.Astuffedcoyotepercheduponashelf.Profanitieswere
scrawledoneveryavailablesurface.Blackheartturneduphisnoseatthegeneralsqualorandbadtaste
ofthefurnishings.“Andthisisthespotyouchoose?”

Hesmirkedatthetavern’smummifiedbartender.Rigormortisheldthedeadmanuprightbehindthe

bar,paralyzedintheactofpouringtequilaintoadirtycup.Theliquorhadpouredintoanoverflowing
glassmug,theexcesstequilaspillingoverthetopofthecupontothecigarette-burnedsurfaceofthe
counter.Shreddedmilitaryfatiguesclothedthecobalt-coloredcorpse.Ahalf-emptybowlofbeernuts
waitedtoberefilled.

“Butyouhavemanagedtoremainhidden,”heconceded.“Impressive.”
Hestrolledacrosstheviolatedtavern,steppinglightlyoverindigobodies.Theloomingsummer

stormfinallyhitoutsideandheavyrainpeltedthetinroofoverhead.Waterdrippedfromaleakinthe

ceiling,hittingthecounterwithastaccatorhythmthatremindedBlackheartoftheinfamousChinese
WaterTorture.Oneofthemortals’betterideas,herecallednostalgically.Althoughitworksevenbetter
withdemon’sbile.

“Livinglikescavengersoffthescrapshumanscastaside,likecarrionwaitingtofeed.”Hisgaze

swepttheseeminglylifelesstavern.Themottledbluecorpsesdidnotrespond,nordidheexpectthem
to.“Showyourselves.”

Anemptypairofcowboybootsrestedatopafilthytable.Ablackcentipedecrawledupontothe

tabletop,followedbyanimatedclumpsofcrackedearthandclaythathadbeentrackedontothefloorby
thebar’sdeadpatrons.Athickcolumnofdirtandsawdustsnakedupontoachair,congealingintothe
figureofman.

Withinseconds,athuggishyoungmanmaterializeduponthechair.Heleanedback,keepingthe

formerlyemptybootsonthetable.Abrownsnakeskincoatwasdrapedoverhisbarechest.Hisclose-
croppedhairwasthecolorofredclay.Bulgingveinsstreakedhisbrow.Yelloweyesgleamedwith
malice.Aheavylayerofgrimeappearedtocovertheman’sfaceandgarments,untilacloserlook
revealedthatthepockmarkedfleshwasliterallycomposedofdirt,sawdust,andwrigglinginsects.

“Gressil,”Blackheartaddressedthenewcomer.
Themetronomicbeatofthefallingrainwasjoinedbythesoundofadirtypuddlespreadingacross

thefloor.Theturbidwaterflowedupwardandtooktheshapeofalankyfigureleaningagainsta
window.Hisvulpinefacewasaswhiteasadrownedman’s.Long,stringyhairclungdamplytohis
narrowskull.Hiswaterloggeddusterwasgreenasmildew.Azureeyespeeredoutfrombehindwet
strandsofhair.Hetiltedbackhishead,lettingtherainsplashagainsthisfacelikeabar-roombaptism.
Thewaterdidnotjustrundownhisface;hisfacewaswater.Hewipedarunnyeyeoffhisfluidcheek.

“Wallow,”Blackheartsaid.
Asuddenbreezerattledthewoodenshuttersasitblewintotheroom.Thefoulwindcarriedacloud

ofairbornedirtandgravel,alongwiththestenchofanopensewer.Theswirlinggrimeassumedthe
formofapale,beardedmanwithathickmaneofmattedblackhair.Aperpetualgaleseemedtorustle
hisgreasydreadlocksandfur-trimmedleathercoat.Hissneeringfaceflutteredinthebreeze.He
casuallylitacigarettebeforesmirkingatBlackheart.Thesmokefromthecigaretteformedaminiature
whirlwind.

“Abigor,”Blackheartgreetedhim.Hecontemplatedtheuncannytriobeforehim.Thesewerethe

Hidden,demonicelementalsthatdweltunseenuponthemortalplane.Capableofblendingwiththe
materialsubstanceoftheworld,theyhideasilyfromthepatheticsensesofthehumans.Asfarasthe
mortalswereconcerned,theHiddencouldbealmostanywhere.

Evenasleazybikerbar.
“ThelastoftheFallenAngels.”Hegrinnedatthedemons.“Whereyoubeenhiding,boys?”
Thethreeelementalsexchangednervouslooksamongthemselves.
“Whydidyousummonushere?”Abigorwhispered.“We’vestayedhiddenalltheseyears.If

Mephistophelesshouldfindus…”

“Mephistophelesisdead,”Blackheartdeclared,cuttinghimoff.Thedemonsstaredathimin

disbelief.“Hejustdoesn’tknowityet.”

“Whatdoyouwantfromus?”Gressilaskedsuspiciously.Hisraspyvoicesoundedlikehewas

garglingwithrocks.

“I’vecometostartaNewHellonEarth,”Blackheartinformedthem.“Youcaneitherjoinme…”

Hegesturedtowardtheabundantcorpses.“Oryoucanjointhem.”

Understandingdawnedinthedemons’eyes.Wallowsteppedforwardfromhiswindowsill.“You’ve

cometostarttheWar.”

“Butyouhavenosoldiers,”Abigorprotested.“Noarmy.”

“I’llbemyownarmy,”Blackheartsaid,“onceIhavetheContractofSanVenganza.”
Thedemons’eyeswidenedinsurprise,aswordofthelegendmettheirears.“TheContractofa

ThousandSouls,”Wallowgurgledinawe.

Blackheartnodded.“Thesoulshavegrownmorepowerfulwithtime.InHell,they’dtipthebalance

inMephistopheles’sfavor.ButhereonEarth,inmyhands,they’llbecomemorepowerfulthanevenhe
couldeverimagine.”

“ButtheContractwaslost,”Gressilrecalled.
Blackheartshookhishead.“Notlost.Stolen.Legendsaysitwashiddeninagraveyardnotfarfrom

here.You’regoingtohelpmefindit.”Hebeamedinanticipation.“Andthenwe’lltakethisworld…
onecityatatime.”

Theelementalsgrinnedbackathim,thenotionobviouslyappealingtothem.Butbeforetheycould

reply,aboomingvoicecalledangrilyfromoutsidethesaloon:

“BLACKHEART!”
Naturally,Blackheartthought,undisturbedbytheinterruption.Hehadbeenexpectingthis.
Heedingthecall,Blackheartburstthroughthetavern’sswingingdoorsandstrodeconfidentlyonto

theporchoutside.Awickedsmilecreptacrosshisfaceashespottedafamiliarfigurewaitingforhim
beyondtheparkedmotorcycles.

Thegolden-hairedoldmanleaneduponhisdistinctivesilvercane,withacrystalskullgrinningatop

it.Theman’slongblackcoatstretchedfromhisneckdowntohisankles.Blackeyesfixedonthe
youngerman,whoappearedtobealoneupontheporch.Sofar,theHiddenwerelivinguptotheirname.

“Hello,Father,”Blackheartsaidcoldly.
Mephistopheleswasinnomoodforpleasantries.“Howdareyoudefyme?”
“It’smytimenow,oldman.”Intruth,Blackhearthadbeenlookingforwardtothisinevitable

encounter.Hebeckonedsilentlytohisallies,whoremainedconcealedfromview.

“Idecideyourtime!”theDevilroaredfuriously.Hisangermomentarilyshreddedhismortalfacade,

revealinghistruefeatures.Demonicblackeyesandshriveledblueskinwerebrieflyexposed.

“Notanymore,”Blackheartdeclared.Athiscommand,theHiddenmaterializedaroundhisfather.

TheygnashedtheirfangsastheycircledMephistopheleslikeapackofhungryjackals.“Didyoureally
thinkIwasgoingtowaitaroundforyourpermission?”

TheDevilignoredthefallenangelssurroundinghim.Thathewasoutnumberedfourtoonedidnot

seemtotroublehim.“YouviolatetheOrderbycominghere.”

“What‘Order’?”Blackheartaskedincredulously.“Takealookaround.You’replayingbytherules

ofaforgottengame.Nobodycareswhatyoudo.EvenGod’slostinterest.”

Mephistopheleslimpedtowardhisson.Theneonlightsofthebardimmedathisapproach.“I’ve

workedtoolongandtoohard.Yourtimewillcome,”hepromised.“Butnotnow.”

“YouthinkIwanttoruleyourobsoleteHell.Please.”Hesighedtheatrically.“Iwasmeantforbetter

thingsthanthat.”

TheDevil’sexpressiondarkened.“Youwillsufferforthis….”
“TheonlythingI’msufferingfromisyou.”Blackheartcouldn’tresistthetemptationtobaittheold

man.Emboldenedbytheirleader’sshowofdefiance,theHiddencackledlikehyenas.“Webothknow
youcan’tharmmehere.I’mnotlikeyou.I’veneverFallen.”Hesneeredathisfather’sskull-capped
walkingstick.“AndIneverwill.”

Mephistophelesglaredattheyouth.“Imaynothavepoweroveryouinthisworld,”hewarned

ominously.“ButmyGhostRiderdoes.”

TheHiddencringedattheoldman’swords.Theirmockinglaughterwascutshort.Blackheartwas

faintlydisappointedbyhisminions’weaknerves,butnomatter.Hedidnotfearsofeebleathreat.

“Ofcourse.TheGhostRider.Yourfavoritecreation.”Blackheart’seyesglowedcrimsonasanew

flavorofresentmententeredhisvoice.“ThepowerofHellfirewastedononepathetichumanafter
another!Ifyouhadtrustedinme,ifyouhadgivenmewhatwasrightfullymine…”

“It’stoolateforthatnow,”theDevilinterruptedhim.HedismissedBlackheart’sjealousywitha

waveofhishand.“Runalonghomenow,son.”

Hisfather’sarroganceinfuriatedBlackheart.Mephistopheles’sbestdayswerebehindhim.Why

couldn’theseethat?

“SendyourGhostRider,”hechallengedhissatanicsire.“I’llburyhimjustlikeI’llburyyou,

Father.”

Mephistophelesgloweredbackathim.Thunderboomedinthedistanceas,scowling,theDevil

dissolvedintothedarkness.Theneonlightsflickeredbackon.

Blackheartsmirkedathisfather’sabruptdeparture.Nodoubttheoldman’spridewouldnotallow

himtoconcededefeat.Well,hethought,Pridegoethbeforeafall.

Ashisfatherofallpeopleshouldknow.
Hiseyesnarrowedintoangryslitsashegatheredhiscompanionsaroundhim.Blackheartstepped

downfromtheporchandturnedhisgazetowardthehorizon,wherethebrightcitylightscouldbeseen
frommilesaway.Itwastimetogetbackdowntobusiness.

“Let’sgototown,”hesaid.

6

“BLAZE!BLAZE!BLAZE!”
ThethunderouschantingpenetratedtheinnerwallsofTexasStadium,reachingtheprivatelocker

roomwhereJohnnypreparedforhismuch-hyped“TouchdownJump.”KarenCarpenter’ssoulfulcover
of“Superstar”playedsoftlyoverthesoundsystemashezippedhimselfintoabrand-newred-and-white
ridingsuit.Themellowmusichelpedtosoothehistroubledsoul.Aflame-detailedcrashhelmetrested
onabenchbehindhim.

Hewasalmostready.
Despitetheexcitementofthecrowd,Johnny’sownmoodwassubdued.Hestaredsolemnlyintothe

mirroroverasink.Hauntedeyes,lookingevenmoreapatheticthanusual,gazedbackathim.Itwas
fifteenyearstothedaysincehisfatherdied.Johnnycouldn’thelpwonderingifthiswasalsotheday
thathepushedhisownlucktoofar.Thedayhedidn’twalkaway.

Wouldthatbethestranger’sideaofjoke?Ithadbeennearlytwodecadessincehehadlastseenthe

stranger,atthatlonelycrossroadsoutsideofSweetwater.Althoughhehadpromisedtoreturnsomeday,
hehadleftJohnnyalonesofar.Johnnyrealizedwithastartthathehadnowspentnearlyhalfhislife
dreadingtheinevitabledaywhenthestrangercamebackintohislife,toclaimhishalfoftheFaustian
bargaintheyhadstrucksolongago.Fifteenwastedyears…withonlythedubiousconsolationsof
celebritytooccupyhistime.

Nowonderhewasn’tafraidtodie.Atleastthewaitingwouldbeover.
“J.B.?”
Mack’sreflectionappearedfrombehindinthemirror.Hefidgetedinthedoorwayleadingoutofthe

lockerroom,thenopenedhismouthtospeak.

“Shhh,”Johnnysaid,holdingafingertohislips.“You’resteppingonKaren.”Hewaitedforthelast

fewbarsof“Superstar”toplayoutbeforelookingbackoverhisshoulderathisfriend.“Whatwasit
youweregoingtosay?”

Lookinguncomfortable,Mackworkeduphisnervetospeak.“Just…youdon’thavetogothrough

withthis,youknow?”

WasthatwhatMackwasworryingabout?Johnnydidn’tbothertoanswer.Mackalwaysfretted

beforeabigstunt.Sometimehethoughtthemechanicwouldbehappierworkingforsomeonewho
didn’triskhislifeforaliving.

“Thissuitfitalright?”Johnnyasked,changingthesubject.“Itfeelsalittleloose.Ilikeanicetight

fitintheback.”

Mack’sshouldersslumpedinresignation.“No.It’sgood.”
ThepoorguylookedsomiserableJohnnyfiguredhehadtosaysomethingtoboosthismorale.“You

can’tliveinfear,”heremindedMack.

Ifyoucancallthisliving…
“BLAZE!BLAZE!”
Itwasalmosttimetoanswerthecrowd’sdemand.Cradlinghishelmetunderhisarm,Johnnylet

Mackguidehimthroughtheconcretemazeoutsidethelockerroom.Thebarewallswerepaintedan
institutionalshadeofwhite.Stadiumpersonnelandsecurityofferedthemgreetingsandgoodluckas
theymadetheirwayfromthedressingrooms.Johnnynoddedpolitelyatthegrinningwell-wishers,but
resistedgettingdrawnintoanylongconversations.Hehadoversixty-fivethousandfanswaitingfor
him.

“We’reupaheadandtotheright,”Mackexplained.
Johnnytookhiswordforit.Afteryearsontheroad,allthesebackstageareaslookedthesameto

him.HetrustedMacktotellthemapart.

Awomaninacrispblueblazerfellinbesidethem.“Hi.AmyPage.Eventpublicity.”Aplasticname

badgeconfirmedherI.D.“IwaswonderingifMr.Blazehadtimeforaquickinterview.”

Mackgaveheranincredulouslook.“Lady,Idon’tknowhowlongyou’vebeendoingyourjob,but

Johnnydon’tdonointerviews.”

“Notevenforanoldfriend?”ahuskyvoiceintruded.
Johnnystoppeddeadinhistracks.Hisbrain,whichhadbarelyregisteredtheyoungpublicist’s

presence,suddenlysnappedtoattention.Eventhoughithadbeenfifteenyearssincehelastheardthat
voice,herecognizeditatonce.

Roxanne.
Shestoodatthefarendofthecorridor,silhouettedbythestadiumlightsoutside.Aspotlesswhite

dressflatteredhervoluptuousfigure,whichhadfilledoutnicelysinceherteenageyears.Herlustrous
auburnhairwaselegantlycoiffed.Coolbrowneyesflashedwithstrengthandconfidence.Timehad
beenmorethankindtoher;maturityhadonlyenhancedhernaturalbeautyandmagnetism.Nolongera
coltishadolescent,shewasnowawomantobereckonedwith.

Amicrophoneresidedinherrighthand.Hercameraman,askinnywhitedudeinabaseballcap,

hoveredbehindher,renderedallbutinvisiblebyherradiance.Johnnywaswellaware,ofcourse,that
Roxannehadbecomeatopcablenewsreporter.Lateatnight,whennobodyelsewasaround,hehad
spentmanylonginsomniachourswatchingheronTV.HehadevenGoogledheracoupleoftimes.But
noneofthathadpreparedhimfortheshockofunexpectedlyfindingherrightinfrontofhimafterall
theseyears.Allthestadiumsinalltheworld,hethought,andshehastowalkintothisone.

Distracted,Mackdidn’tpickuponJohnny’sstunnedreaction.“Look,miss,”hebegan,“nooffense,

but-“

“I’lldoit,”Johnnysaidimpulsively.
MackstaredatJohnnyindisbelief.Hecouldn’thavelookedmoresurprisedifJohnnyhadsuddenly

tradedinhisHarleysforaPrius.

Seizingtheopportunity,thecameramanhastilygotintoposition.Hedidn’tneedtotellJohnnynotto

lookdirectlyintothecamera;theworld-famousdaredevilcouldn’ttakehiseyesoffRoxanne.An
awkwardmomentensuedasJohnnywonderedwhathecouldpossiblysaytoheraftersomanyyears.
Thelasttimehe’dseenRoxanneSimpsonintheflesh,shehadbeenashrinkingfigureinGrace’srear-
viewmirror.

Shelookedhimovercoolly,herimmaculatelycomposedfacebetrayingnohintofwhatevershe

mightbefeelingatthemoment.Hadsheeverforgivenhimforabandoningherwithoutexplanationthe
dayhisfatherdied?

Howcouldshe?
“Oh,you’relookingatthesuit,”hesaidnervously.Hesuddenlyfeltextremelyself-conscious.“I

knowitlookssilly,butthefanslikeitsoIkeeponwearingit.”

Roxannenodded,herexpressionneutral.
Shewasn’tmakingthiseasyonhim.Whyshouldshe?
Thecameramansignaledthathewasready.”Okay,infive,four…”
“How’syourdad?”Johnnyblurted.
“One!”
Roxanneinstantlywentintoaction.Acamera-readysmileappearedonherface.
“JohnnyBlaze,thankyoufortalkingtousbeforeyourbigjump.”Shewasallbusiness,

professional.“Noonehaseverattemptedsuchadistancebefore.Threehundredfeetfromfieldgoalto
fieldgoal.”Shethrustthemiketowardhim.“What’sgoingthroughyourmindrightnow?”

Notthejump,thatwasforsure.

“Youlookreallygood,”hesaid.“Youknow,I’veseenyouonTV.IwatchalotofTVandyoudoa

reallygreatjob.Likeanangelsentdownfromheaven.Withamicrophone.”

Roxanneblinked,butmanagedtomaintainherimpartialdemeanor.Shedidn’tevenblush.“Johnny,

whatdrivessomeonetorisktheirlifeforentertainment?”

“Iheardyougotmarried?”HehadstoppedGooglingherafterseeinganitemaboutherengagement

intheLifestylessectionofaDallasnewspaper.Ithadseemedwrongsomehow.

“No,thatdidn’thappen,”shemurmured,sottovoce.Raisinghervoice,sheturnedtofacethe

camera.“Mostofthetime,thepressfocusesonthecrashes,thebrokenbones,thetangiblecostsofwhat
youdo.”SheclosedinonJohnny,pushinghimtoopenup.“Butarethereothercosts?”

Thequestionstruckhome,perhapsevenmorethansheintended.Onceagain,Johnnyremembereda

youngerRoxannestandingforlornuponCrowleyHill,aconfusedandheartbrokenexpressionuponher
lovelyface.Hehesitatedbeforeanswering,lettingthesilencestretchoutabeattoolong.

“Uh…yeah.”
Roxannetookthemicrophoneback,lookingabitflummoxed.ShegazedatJohnnywithaslightly

morevulnerableexpression,likeshebothwantedanddidn’twanttoknowwhathemeant.Hethought
hesawahintofthesixteen-year-oldgirlhehadonceheldinhisarms.Outofthecornerofhereye,she
spottedMacktappinghiswatch.

“Okay,well…”Ittookheramomenttoseguebackintoreportermode.“Thankyouforthis…

revealing…peekintothelifeofJohnnyBlase.”Sheturnedbacktothecamerawithanalmostpalpable
lookofrelief.“I’mRoxanneSimpson,liveatTexasStadium.”

Thecameramansignaledthathehadthesign-offinthecan.Hestartedtopackuphisgear.Johnny

spokeupquickly,beforeshecouldgetaway.

“You’regoingtostayforthejump,right?”
Roxanneloweredhermicrophone.Sheshookherhead.“We’vegottogetback.Besides,Inever

likedwatchingyoujump.”

That’snothowIrememberit.Hevividlyrecalledheryoungerselfcheeringhimonfromthefront

rowofthecircusbleachers.

Butalothadchangedsincethen.
“Itwasgreatseeingyou,Johnny,”shesaidpolitely.Spinningaroundonherheels,shewalkedout

thedoorbeforehecouldevensaygood-bye.Talkaboutkarmacomingbacktobiteyou.Ihadthat
coming.Hewatchedherdisappearouttheexit.

Mackfinallycaughton.“I’mgoingtogooutonalimbandsayyoutwohavesomekindofhistory.”
“Thatwasit,Mack,”Johnnysaidinahushedtone.“Thesign.”
Maybetherewassuchathingasecondchanceafterall?Forthefirsttimeinyears,hefoundhimself

excitedaboutthefuture.MaybetheDevildidn’treallyownhissoul.Perhapshewasn’tcursedafterall.
Suddenly,hewaseagertofindout.

Assuminghesurvivedthenextthirtyminutes…
TexasStadium,ordinarilythehomeoftheDallasCowboys,hadbeendoneupproperforJohnny

Blaze’s“TouchdownJump.”Coloredbanners,emblazonedwithbrightredcartoonflames,festooned
thebleachers,whichwerepackedtocapacity.Today’seventhadbeensoldoutforweeks,withscalpers
chargingobscenefeesforeventhenosebleedseats.Thedomedceilingcoveredthebleachers,butnot
thefielditself.Alargerectangularopeningletinthebrightafternoonsunshine.Texanslikedtojokethat
theholeintheceilingwastheresothat“GodcanwatchHisteam.”

Specialmodificationshadbeenmadeforthecycleshow.Aninsanelyverticalskirampranfromthe

topofthestadiumanddownthroughthegoalposts,withthelandingrampintheotherendzoneone
hundredyardsaway.JumbotronTVscreensflankedthecherry-redtake-offramp.Alengthyexpanseof
greenAstroTurfstretchedbetweenthetoweringyellowgoalposts.Therhythmicchantingofthe

audienceexplodedintoadeafeningroarasJohnnyappearedatthetopoftheramp.ThehumongousTV
screenstreatedthefanstoaclose-upofthecelebrateddaredevilatophisbike.

Johnnypumpedhisfistsandbothgoalpostsburstintoflame.
Thecrowdsomehowmanagedtocheerevenlouder.
Herewegoagain,Mackthought.Heavoidedlookingdownthevertigo-inducingskirampashe

handedJohnnyhiscrashhelmet.Insteadhegazedoutacrosstheintimidatinglengthofthefootballfield
below.Theotherrampseemedimpossiblyfaraway.Acidateawayatthepitofhisstomach.Hewould
havekilledforaTurns.

“ThankGodyoulistenedtomeandtookoutthecars,”Macksaid,raisinghisvoicetobeheardover

theroarofthecrowd.“Thatwouldhavebeensuicide.Nowifyoucomeupshort,you’lljustlandon
somenice,softAstroTurf.”Ashadowpassedoverhisfaceandhelookedupinconfusion.“Huh?”

Tohisdumbfoundedamazement,asquadronofsixblackLynxhelicoptersdescendedthroughthe

rectangulargapintheceiling.Theirspinningrotorswhippeduptheairinsidethearenaastheytouched
downonthefootballfield,liningupinarowbetweentheflaminggoalposts.Theirbladeskepton
spinning.

Slack-jawedandspeechless,MacklookedtoJohnnyforanexplanation.
Johnnyshruggedhisshoulders.
“Itookoutthecars.”
Theparkinglotwaspacked.Roxanneandhercameraman,Stuart,hadtotrekthroughacresof

parkedvehiclesbeforetheyreachedtheirnavy-bluenewsvan.Thehotsunbeatdownonthem,turning
thepavementintoafryingpan.Roxannesweatedbeneathherprofessionalattire-thecrispwhitedress
begantowilt.

Theheatwasn’ttheonlythingbotheringher.Eventhoughshehadpreparedherselfemotionallyfor

herreunionwithJohnny,thedamnriderhadgottenunderherskinanyway.Theadoringlookinhis
eyes,thelonelinessinhisvoice,hadtouchedsomethingshehadthoughtdeadandburiedforyearsnow.
ThesweetfragranceofTexasbluebonnets,spreadoutacrossagrassyhillside,surfacedfromher
memory.SherememberedholdingtightlyontoJohnny’swaistassherodebehindhimonhisfather’s
powerfulHarley-Davidson.Therewasatimewhenshewouldhavegivenanythingforthatridenotto
end,backwhentheirfuturehadseemedaswide-openastheendlesshighwaystretchedoutbeforethem.

Onceuponatime,shehadthoughtJohnnyfeltthesameway.
Getoverit,shetoldherself.Thatwasalongtimeago.We’renotthesamepeopleanymore.
Stuartopenedupthevanandstartedstowingawayhisgear.Fromwhereshewasstanding,he

seemedtobetakinghisownsweettimeaboutit.Shetappedherfootimpatientlyagainstthehot
blacktop.

“Canwegetoutofherealready?”
Thehelicopters’bladeswhirredlikegiantbuzzsaws.Mackcouldn’tbelievehiseyes.“Youreplaced

thecarswithhelicopters?”heshouted,findinghisvoice.“Soifyoucomeupshortyou’llbeslicedand
dicedinahumanfoodprocessor?!”

Ofallthecrazy,suicidalstunts…!
“Takeiteasy,”Johnnysaid.
Washefreakingserious?Mackthrewuphishands.“Whydidn’tyoutellmeaboutthis?”
“Becauseyouwouldhavethrownafit,”Johnnyexplained.MacktriedtofigureouthowJohnny

couldhavepossiblyarrangedallthisbehindhisback.

“Yeah,I’mfunnythatway!Humansacrificesmakemeuncomfortable!”Mackforcedhimselfnotto

blowhistop.Hesearchedhisfriend’sface,genuinelytryingtounderstand.“Why,Johnny?”

Johnnysmiled,asadlookonhisface.“Mydadthoughtitwouldbecool.”
Hisdadwhodiedfifteenyearsagotoday.Nowthathethoughtofit,Mackdimlyremembered

JohnnytellinghimsomethingaboutBartonBlaze’sdreamstunt,theonehe’dhadinmindrightbefore
crashinghisbikeforthelasttime.MackslowlygraspedthatthiswasJohnny’swayofhonoringhis
father’smemory.

Hell.Howcouldhearguewiththat?
Thetwomenstareddownatthesleekblackcopters.Theylookedinfinitelysnazzierthananyrowof

burningtruckseverhad.Damn,butitwashardtofaulttheshowmanshipinvolved.

“Hewasright,”Mackadmitted.Takingadeepbreathtosteadyhisnerves,hetriedtoadjusttoa

wholenewgameplan.“Okay,nowremembertohityourNOSmid-waythroughthetake-offramp.
Don’twaitforliftofforyou’regonna…”Johnnywasstaringoffintospace,barelylisteningtohim.
“Hey,where’syourheadat?”

Johnnyremainedlostinthought,adreamyexpressionuponhisface.“Ishouldhavestoppedher.”
Her.7MackwonderedbrieflywhoJohnnycouldpossiblyhavehisheadinthecloudsoveratsucha

time,thenrealizedwhohehadtobetalkingabout.Thatsmokin’reporterbabe.Theoneheknewfrom
before.

“Well,I’llbedamned,”hesaid,chucklingtohimself.InalltheyearsMackhadknownhim,Johnny

hadneverfallenhardforanychick,despiteallthegreasegroupiesthrowingthemselvesathim.There
weretimesMackhadwonderedwhetherhisfriendhadantifreezeinhisveinsandcojones.“Lookslike
you’refleshandbloodafterall.”

Thevan’sair-conditioningwasablessedreliefaftertheheatoftheparkinglot.Roxannesettledinto

thepassenger’sseatwhileStuarttookthewheel.Sheknewsheshouldbethinkingaboutherdeadlines,
butinsteadshekeptreplayingherinterviewwithJohnnyinhermind.I’llhavetoeditoutsomeofthe
mushierparts,sherealized.Likethatbitwherehecomparedmetoanangel.

Whatwashethinking?
Thevanpulledoutoftheparkinglotontothefreeway.Despiteherself,shecouldn’tresistadjusting

therear-viewmirrortowatchthestadiumrecedeintothedistance.ShewonderedifJohnnyhad
attemptedthatcrazyjumpyet,butwasafraidtoturnontheradiotofindout.Forallsheknew,hewas
alreadydead-justlikehisdad.

HerfiddlingwiththemirrordidnotescapeStuart’snotice.“Leavesomethingbehind?”heteased.
Shesilencedhimwithalook.
Thecrowdinsidethestadiumgrewrestlessasthebigmomentapproached.Apairofannouncers

shamelesslyhypedtheeventoverthearena’spublicaddresssystem.“BlazeandChiefMechanic
RandallMackenzierunonefinalcheck,”thefirstannouncerobservedasoversizedimagesofthetwo
menflasheduponthegiganticTVscreensatbothendsofthestadium.Abrand-newXR750replaced
theoneJohnnyhadtrashedatthemotorway.

“Youcanfeelthetensionallthewayuphereinthebooth,Jim,”hispartneradded.Hishushedtone

onlymadetheoccasionseemmoredangerous.“ThesemenknowthattheslightesterrorcancostJohnny
Blazehislife.”

Atthetopoftheramp,though,Johnnywasn’tatallworriedaboutthat.Hisbrainwaselsewhere.

“She’sprobablyontheinterstatebynow,”hecommentedtoMack.

“Johnny?Hello?”MackwavedahandinfrontofJohnny’sface.Hisboss’snewfoundpreoccupation

withthathotreporterchicacouldnothavecomeataworsetime.AshappyasMackwasthatJohnnyhad
finallysuccumbedtoCupid’sarrow,therewasstillthelittlematterofacertaindeath-defyingstunt.
“Sixty-fivethousandpeoplecametoseeyoujump.”HecheckedtomakesureJohnny’scrashhelmet
wasonsecurely.“Yougottafocus,man!”

Tohisrelief,adeterminedexpressioncameoverJohnny’sface.Helookedmorefocused-more

motivated-thanhehadinyears.Foronce,heseemedtotrulycarewhetherhelivedordied.

“Howmuchgigglegasdidyouputinthetanks?”heaskedurgently.

“Enoughtoshamethespaceshuttle,”Macksaid,gladtoseeJohnnytakinganinterestinhisown

survivalatlast.Maybethatreporterwasagoodinfluenceonhimafterall.“Why?”

Johnnyjustgrinnedandslappeddownhisfaceshield.
Gunningtheengine,hewhackedopenthethrottleandtookoffdownthesickeninglysteepramp.

Plumesofwhitesmokejettedfromthe750’sexhaustpipes.

Thecrowdleapttoitsfeet.Thiswaswhattheyhadbeenwaitingalldayfor.
“AndheregoesBlaze!”theannouncerexclaimed.
Mackcouldbarelywatch.Hesqueezedhiseyesshutasthespankingnewstuntbikerocketeddown

therampandtookoffthroughthefieryuprights.HadJohnnyfiredoffthenitrousoxidesystemintime?
Itwashardtotell,especiallywithyoureyesclosed.

“He’snotgoingtomakeit,”theuptightgearheadmuttered,justlikehealwaysdidwheneverJohnny

attemptedanewstunt.Acidrefluxclimbeduphisthroat.“He’snotgoingtomakeit….”

HepeekedbetweenhisfingersasJohnnysoaredabovethewhirringbladesofthehalf-dozen

helicopters.Acollectivegaspnearlysuckedinalltheairinthestadium.Thesmellofburningnitrous
reachedMack’snostrils.Hittingtheapogeeofitsairbornearc,thebikebegantodescendtowardthe
distantlandingramp…withthreemorecoptersstilltoclear.

“He’snotgoingtomakeit….”
Mackwasconvincedthathehadaclosed-coffinfuneralinhisfuture.
Johnnyclearedthefinalcopterbylessthanayardand,justbarely,toucheddownontheslopingred

rampbeneathanothersetofburninggoalposts.

Thecyclewobbledslightlyonimpact,butstayedupright.Johnnykeptthebikeundercontrolashe

cruiseddowntheramp.

“Blazehasdoneit!”theannouncershoutedintohismike.Tensofthousandsofcyclefanswhooped

andholleredandthrewtheirsouvenirprogramsintotheair.PandemoniumbrokeoutinsideTexas
Stadium.Fireworksonthefieldsprayedfountainsofwhitesparksintotheair.Therehadn’tbeenso
muchcheeringandclappingbeneaththeopenroofsincethelasttimetheCowboysmadeitintothe
SuperBowl.

“Unbelievable!”theotherannouncerenthused.“Absolutelyincredible!”
RelieffloodedMack’sentirebody.Beaming,heuncoveredhiseyesandholleredbackatthestage

crewbehindhim.

“Itoldyouhe’dmakeit!”
Straininghiseyes,hewatchedJohnnyslidetoastopattheoppositesideofthestadium.The

helicopters’rotorsslowlystoppedspinning.Johnnyremovedhishelmet,revealinghisdisheveledblack
hair,andpumpedhisfistintheair.TheJumbotronscreensrevealedanuncharacteristicgrinonthe
daredevil’sface.

Mackfelthisinsidesrelax.HeimmediatelywantedtosendflowerstoRoxanneSimpson.
“JohnnyBlazehassetanewworld-“
Then,toeveryone’ssurprise,Johnnyjammedhishelmetbackonandrevvedhisengineagain.Mack

blinkedinconfusionasthebikespedtowardtheexitrampbehindthegoalposts.Hedidn’tknowwhat
washappening.

Neitherdidanyoneelse.
“Hey!”thestartledannouncerblurted.“Where’shegoing?”

7

ThenewsvancruisedeastdownTX-183,headingfordowntownDallas.Suburbanparksand

developmentsrushedpasttheirwindows.StreetsignspointedoutthewaytotheUniversity.Traffic
wasn’ttoobadyet.Roxannewasgladtheyhadleftthestadiumbeforethebigrushaftertheevent.She
settledbackintoherseat.

“I’llsayonething,”Stuartcommented,breakingthesilence.“Theguy’sgotguts.TheothernightI

waswatching-“

Roxannebristled.“CanwepleasestoptalkingaboutJohnnyBlazealready?”
Thecameramanglancedattherear-viewmirror.“Thatmightbealittlehard….”
What’sthatsupposedtomean?Peeringbackoverhershoulder,RoxannewasshockedtoseeJohnny

Blazehimself,zoomingafterthemonhisgarishstuntcycle.Heflashedhisheadlighttogether
attention.WasthemodifiedHarleyevenremotelystreet-legal?Johnnydidn’tseemtocare.Switching
lanes,hepulledalongsidethevan.Heflippedupthevisoronhiscrashhelmet.

“Imadeit!”heshouted,grinning,hisvoicemuffledbythewindowbetweenthem.The

unmistakableroarofaV-Twinenginepenetratedthevan’sfrontcabin.“Ineedtotalktoyou!”

Roxannedidadouble-take,caughtoff-guardbyJohnny’sunexpectedappearance.Alltheseyears

andhecomeschasingaftermenow?Sherolleddownherwindow.

“1needtotalktoyou!”herepeated.
Thisisinsane.Bitingdownherlip,shestruggledtomaintainhercomposureasherpastcaughtup

withheratsixtymilesperhour.Thesoundofthemotorcycle’senginestirredhermemory,throwingher
backtohercarnivaldays.Stuarthelpfullysloweddown.

“Youwantmetopullover!”heasked.
Hell,no!“Drive!”sheordered.
“Driving.”Stuartsteppedonthegasandsherolledherwindowbackup,cuttingoffJohnny’sfervent

pleas.Iamnotdoingthisrightnow,shedecided.Johnnyhadnorightcrashingbackinherlifelikethis,
justwhenshethoughtshewasoverhim.He’dhadhischancefifteenyearsagoandhe’dherleftinthe
dust.Jdon’towehimanything.

Johnnydroppedbackbehindthevan,and,foramoment,shethoughtthathe’dgottenthemessage.

Shebreathedasighofrelief,tryingnottoacknowledgeasimultaneoustwingeofdisappointment.
“Ahem,”Stuartmuttered,cockinghisheadtotheleft.Roxanne’seyeswidenedatthesightofJohnny
comingupfastonthedriver’ssideofthespeedingvan.

Apparentlyhewasn’tgivingupsoeasily.
Roxannedidn’tknowwhethertobeflatteredorseriouslypissedoff.
JohnnypulledupalongsideStuart’swindow.Thelankycameramangaveherahelplessshrug,as

thoughtoaskwhatsheexpectedhimtodo.Roxannewishedsheknew.

AllIwantedwasaninterview…right?
DeterminednottolookatJohnny,shefixedhergazeontheroadahead,onlytoexperienceasudden

surgeofpanicasshesawaeighty-tonsemitrailerbarrelingstraighttowardhim.Intentongetting
throughtoher,Johnnyseemedoblivioustotheoncomingvehicle.

“Johnny,lookout!”
Helookedupintimetoseethebigrigrushingtowardhim.Thebikeburnedrubberasitsurged

aheadandveeredsharplytotheright,barelymissingthesemi’sfrontfender.

“Jesus!”Stuartyelpedasthemotorcyclescreechedtoahaltdirectlyinfrontofthevan.
Thestartledcameramanslammedonthebrakes,throwingbothhimandRoxanneforwardintheir

seats.Atautseatbeltkeptherfromflyingthroughthewindshield,butshewastooscaredforJohnnyto

evennoticetherestraint.Sheheldherbreathasthespeedingnewsvanskiddedtoahaltonlyinches
awayfromthestationarybikeandrider.Hornshonkedandbrakessquealedbehindthevanastheir
suddenstopsetoffachainreactionallalongthefreeway.Howtheymanagedtoavoidamulticarpileup
shewouldneverknow.Besideher,Stuartslumpedforwardoverthesteeringwheel,gasping.Hisnarrow
facewaswhiteasasheet.

ThecolorgraduallyreturnedtoRoxanne’sfaceaswell.Shetookasecondtothankeveryangelin

heaventhatJohnnyhadnotbeenflattenedbeneaththevan’swheels…thenhertempergotthebetterof
her.

Whatthehellwashethinking,pullingalunaticstuntlikethat?Hashelosthismind?Shewouldn’t

besurprisedtofindoutthateveryhaironherheadhadturnedwhite.Howdarehescaremeoutofmy
witslikethat?

Shethrewopenthevandoorandclambereddownontotheasphalt.Achorusofangryvoicesand

blaringcarhornsassailedher,butRoxannewasonlyinterestedinwhatoneparticularriderhadtosay.
Shemarchedto-wardJohnny,ashewalkedhisbiketothesideoftheroad.Wavingapologeticallyback
atthedriversbehindhim,Stuartobliginglypulledthevanontotheshoulder,too.

“Youalmostgotyourselfkilled!”sherailedatJohnny.Herpoised,professionalmannerhadgone

bye-bye.“Whatareyoudoing?”

Johnnysatmeeklyastridehisbike.“Iwantedtotalk.”Hetookoffhishelmetandhungitonthe

handlebarsinfrontofhim.“Ihaven’tseenyouinsolongandthen,blam,hereyouareand…”

“Thisiscrazy!”sheinterruptedhim.“You’recrazy.”Shethrewherhandsupintheair.Shedidn’t

knowwhethertopunchhimorhavehimcommitted.“I’vegotapiecetoedit.Idon’thavetimeforthis,
Johnny.”

Shespunaroundandstompedbacktowardthevan,leavinghimbehindforthesecondtimethis

afternoon.Maybethistimeitwilltake.

“Youcouldhavesaid‘no,’”hecalledafterher.Shepausedandlookedbackathimwithascowl.A

skepticaleyebrowarched.“Whentheyaskedyoutointerviewme.Youcouldhavesaid‘no.’“

Actually,theinterviewhadbeenheridea,butshedidn’tfeellikementioningthatnow.Shedidn’t

wanttodoanythingtoencouragehim.

Ordidshe?
Againstherbetterjudgement,shemarchedbackovertowherehewassitting.“Whatareyoutrying

tosay?”

“I’mtryingtosaythatmeanssomething.”
Youwish,shethoughtbitterly.Theintensityofherangersurprisedherandshemadeanefforttoget

heremotionsundercontrol.Shesoftenedhervoice,anuncertainexpressionuponherface.“Johnny,
we’reonthesideofafreeway.You…”

“Doesn’thavetobehere,”heinsisted.“Howaboutdinnertonight?Iknowthisgreatribplace.”
Sheshookherheadsadly.“It’snotsuchagoodidea.”
“Ithoughtmaybeyoumightwantanexplanation,”hesaid,“aboutwhathappenedthatday.Theday

Ileft.”

Hisguiltandregretwerepainfullyobvious.Roxanneguessedthathehadbeenbeatinghimselfup

overhisbrokenpromiseforwaytoolong.Shesuddenlyfeltterribleaboutgivinghimsuchahardtime.

“Johnny,”shesaidgently,“youwerejustseventeen.Youwitnessedahorribletragedyandyouran.

Itmadesensetomethen,itmakessensetomenow.”Aftertheinitialshockofherabandonment,she’d
hadplentyoftimetothinkthingsoverandreachsomesortofunderstandingaboutwhathadhappened
thatday.“Ihavenohardfeelings.None.Thereasontheycallitthepastisthat,well,it’spast.Overand
donewith.”Themoreshetalkedaboutit,themoreshealmostbelievedit.“We’recompletelydifferent
peoplenowthanwewere…”

Beforeshecouldfinish,Johnnyleanedforwardandkissedher.Hislipsfoundhersand,foran

endlessmoment,shewasinstantlytransportedbacktoagoldensummerafternoonbeneathashadyoak
tree.Roxannesurrenderedbrieflytothekissbeforeshecametohersensesandrealizedthatthiswas
neitherthetimenortheplace.Shereluctantlypulledawayfromhimandshookherhead.Sheturned
backtowardthevan,stridingalittlelessdecisivelythistime.Herlegsfeltdistinctlyrubbery.

“Itdoesn’thavetoberibs,”hecalledout.“ItcouldbeChinese,Italian…younameit.”
Shestopped,sighed,andlookedbackathim.Familiarhazeleyesentreatedher.God,shecould

neverresistthoseeyes.…

I’mgoingtoregretthis,sherealized.“Okay,okay,fine.There’sarestaurantatmyhotel-thePlaza.

Eighto’clock.”

Hiswholefacelitup.“Thisisasign,Roxanne!”heshoutedexuberantlyassheclimbedbackinto

thevan.Stuartgaveheraquizzicallook,whichshedidherbesttoignore.It’sjustadinner,she
rationalized,tryingtoconvinceherselfthatshehadn’tjustmadeaghastlymistake.Maybeachanceto
achievealittleobsureafteralltheseyears.Hershrinkwouldapprove.Whoknows?Perhapsshe’deven
getagoodstoryoutofthis.DinnerwiththefamouslyreclusiveJohnnyBlaze.Sheknewreporters
who’dselltheirsoulsforanopportunitylikethat.

Thetasteofhiskisslingeredonherlipsasthevanpulledbackintotraffic.Passingmotorists,

recognizingJohnnyinhissnazzywhitesuit,honkedtheirhornsingreeting.Johnnywavedbackat
them,lookingalmostembarrassinglyhappy.

Roxannewonderedwhatexactlyshewasgettinginto.
Hewasn’ttheonlyonewhotookabigleaptoday.

8

ACLOCKONTHEWALLREAD7:15P.M.JOHNNY’SDATE
withRoxannewasstillforty-fiveminutesaway,buthehadbeenreadyforhours.
Sortof.
He’dshowered,shaved,combedhishair,and(decidingtooptforcasualattire)changedintohisbest

blackleatherjacket,T-shirt,andjeans,yethestillhadnoideawhathewasgoingtosaytoherwhenhe
finallygotthechance.Hepacednervouslyinfrontofanantiquemirrormountedabovethebathroom
sink,practicing.

“Roxanne,thatday,thedayIleft…well,thereasonIdidthat-andIfeltbad,horribleaboutit-butthe

reasonwas…”Hehesitated,workingupthenervetosaytheactualwords.“…well,IthinkIprobably
soldmysoultotheDevil.”

Itwasthefirsttimehehadeversaidthosewordsaloud,admittingwhathehadalwayssuspectedin

hisheart.

Hecouldn’tbelievehowridiculousitallsounded.
“No,that’snogood,”herealized,stillpacingbackandforth.“That’sbad.Thisisgoingtobea

disaster.”

Foramoment,hewashalf-temptedtocallthewholethingoff.IfhehadactuallyknownRoxanne’s

cellphonenumber,hemighthavecalledtocancel.Maybe.

“No,no.Don’tgothere.”Hesteeledhimselftotryagain.“That’stoonegative.Gottabepositive.

Powerofpositivethinking.”Godknowshe’dreadenoughself-helpbooksandspiritualguidesonthe
subject.“I’mokay,you’reokay.It’sallgoingtobeokay.”

Hestoppedpacingandlookedhimselfsquarelyinthemirror.HisreflectionshowedhimJohnny

Blaze,stuntcyclistextraordinaire.Notavictimdoomedtoperpetualunhappinessbecauseofastupid
mistakehemadeasakid.

“Youmadethatjump,”heremindedhimself.“Nobodyelsemadethatjump.You’rethebestrider

andyoudeserveasecondchance.”

WhatwasithetoldMackearliertoday?“Youcan’tliveinfear.”
Fishingapackoutofhispocket,helitupacigarillotosteadyhisnerves.Hisfather’slungcancer

hadn’tstoppedJohnnyfrompickingupthehabit.Thenagain,BartonBlazehadhardlydiedfrom
cancer.Johnnyrathersuspectedthesamemightapplytohim.Inhislineofwork,crashlandingswere
moredangerousthannicotine.

Ormaybehejusthadadeathwish.
Tohissurprise,theflamefromhislighterbenttowardhim.Johnnysnappedthelightershutand

staredatitinbewilderment.Heliftedafinger,butdidn’tdetectanysortofdraftthatmightexplainthe
flame’soddbehavior.Theairwasperfectlystill.

Weird.
Beforehecouldgivethefreakishphenomenonanymorethought,asuddenheatrushedoverhis

body.

Hisfaceflushedandhefelthot,feverish.Turningonthetap,hesplashedcoldwateroverhisface,

butthewaterdidnothingtorelievethesuddenincreaseinhistemperature.

Johnnywenttodryhishandsonatowel,onlytoseethewaterinstantlyevaporateoffhisflesh,

turningtosteamrightbeforehiseyes.Heatradiatedfromhishand,causingtheairaroundthemtoripple
likeitdidabovehotasphaltonaparticularlyscorchingday.Whatthehell?Johnnywondered.Ihaven’t
beensickinyears.

Amotorcycleenginerevvedoutsidethebuilding.Johnnystiffenedinshock.Eventhoughhehadn’t

hearditinyears,he’drecognizethatdistinctiverumbleanywhere.Hespunaroundandlookedoutthe
bathroomdooratthecycle-crowdedlivingquarters.Hiseyeszeroedinononeparticularcornerofthe
loft,alreadyguessingwhathewouldfindthere.Stacksofesotericpaperbacksandhardcovershad
tumbledoverontoaconspicuouslyemptystretchoffloorspace.

Gracewasmissing.
Zippinguphisjacket,Johnnyhurrieddownthestepsleadingtothebackexit.Thefamiliar

reverberationgrewlouderbythemoment,drawinghimoutintothedimlylitalleybehindtheconverted
warehouse.Steeldrumsandwoodenpalletswerepiledupagainsttheouterwall.Adumpsterwasfilled
tooverflowingwithworn-outtires.Potholesdefacedthepavement.Heburstfromthedoorway,then
frozeindisbelief.

Hisfather’smotorcyclesataloneinthealley,lookingasgoodasnewforthefirsttimeinovera

decade.Thechopper’sbrilliantblue-and-yellowskin,andpolishedchrome,gleamedbeneaththelight
fromastreetlampoutsidethealley.Thewheelswerefullyinflatedoncemore.Everynickandscratch,
everylastbitofrustandcorrosion,wasgone.TheBigTwinenginespurredlikealion.

Evenstranger,thebikewasrunningbyitself.
Thisisimpossible,Johnnythought.Hisbodystillfeltlikeitwasburningup,andhewondered

brieflywhethertheinexplicablefeverwascausinghimtohallucinate.Hereachedoutexperimentally
andfoundthebikesolidtothetouch.Thisisnomirage,herealized.Thisisreallyhappening.

Grace’sbrightsilvertankreflectedhispuzzledexpression.Johnnygazedathismirror-image,then

jumpedbackinsurprisewhenasecondfaceappearedrightbehindhim.Afaceheknewalltoowell.

Johnnyspunaroundtofacehispast.“You…”
“Hello,Johnny,”thestrangersaid.
Fifteenyearshadpassed,butthemanhadnotchangedabit.Johnnyrecognizedthesamelongblack

coat,swept-backblondhair,goldrings,andsilvercane.Hehadjustbeenateenagerwhenhelastmet
thestrangeratthatlonelycrossroadsoutsideSweetwater,buttheothermandidnotappeartohaveaged
aday.ThecrystalskullgrinnedatJohnnyfromatopthestranger’scane,lookingpleasedtoseehim.

“Getawayfromme,”Johnnywarned.
“Oh,it’salittlelateforthat,”thestrangerreplied.
Johnnyhadbeendreadingthismomentforalmosthisentireadultlife.Nowthatitwashere,he

couldonlybackawayfromthestranger,puttingGracebetweenthem.

Thetwomencircledthegrowlingmotorcycleinakindofmacabredance.Thestrangertookhis

time,limpingleisurelyaroundthebikeonhiscane.Heseemedtobeenjoyingtheslow-motionchase.

“Nicebike,”hecommented.
Johnnywasinnomoodtotalkshop.“Whyareyouhere?”heaskedfearfully.
“I’vealwaysbeenhere,Johnny,”thestrangeranswered.“Allalong.Phoenix.Denver.Houston.

Seattle…”

AhorriblethoughtoccurredtoJohnny.“Today.Itwasyou.Keepingmealive.”Maybethesuccess

ofhistouchdownjumphadnothingtodowithhisowntalentasarider.Maybehisentirecareerwasa
joke.“You’rethereasonIcan-“

“Oh,no,Johnny.”Thestrangershookhishead.“It’sallyou.You’rethebest.Andme?Well,I’m

yourbiggestfan.Theposters.Thevideogames.Thecrowdschanting‘john-ny!john-ny!John-ny!’”He
beamedattheyoungerman.“Makesmesoproud.It’slikewatchinganinvestmentthatkeepsgrowing
andgrowing…untilthedayyoucashitin.”

HeregardedJohnnylikeacateyingatastymouse.“Thatdayistoday,Johnny.”
Grace’senginesgrowledsteadilylouder.Heatwavesradiatedoffitschassisandsuspension.
“IwantyoutofindtheoneknownasBlackheart,”thestrangersaid.“Bringhimtome.”
Blackheart?WhothehellisBlackheart?

“Doityourself,”hesaiddefiantly.
“Itdoesn’tworkthatway,”thestrangeranswered.“YouhavethephysicalpowersthatIlack.”

Leaninguponhiscane,hecastaruefullookattheheavens.“Iamboundbytherulesofthedeal.”

Johnnyrememberedthebrownparchmentscrollhehadbledonsomanyyearsago.“Anotherdeal?”

hesaid,thebitternessdrippingfromhisvoice.

Thestrangersmiled.“Always.”
Well,I’mnotplayingbyyourrulesanymore,Johnnythought.HeswunghislegoverGrace,

preparingtorideoff.Afterall,hehadnointentionofstandingRoxanneupasecondtime.“Iwon’tdo
it.”

Beforehecouldeventwistthethrottle,thebike’sreartirestartedspinningfuriously.Acloudofblue

smoke,bettersuitedtoarocketlaunchthanamotorcycle,ventedfromtheHarley’sexhaustpipes.
Johnnyinstinctivelygrabbedontothehandlebars.

“Youdon’thaveanychoice,”thestrangersaid.Hetappedhisskull-headedcaneagainstthe

pavement.InvisiblebondsgluedJohnny’shandstothehandlebars.Hetriedtopullaway,butitwaslike
hewasweldedtothemetal.TwistingthechokedidnothingtoquiettheHarley’srevvingengine.

VRRROOOOOMMM!
Gracerocketedoutofthealley,takingJohnnywithher.Thejet-likethrustshovedhimbackinthe

saddle.Heheldontothehandlebarsfordearlifeasthepossessedchopperzoomeddownthestreet.

…sofastthattheasphaltwaschurnedupinmeltedchunks.
…sofastthatafierytrailstreakedthepavementbehindhim.
…sofastthathischeeksrippledfromtheg-forceshewaspulling.
Ahelplesspassengeronabreakneckrideacrosstown,Johnnyfeltascreamtearitselffromhis

lungs.Theinvoluntaryshriekwaslostinthebike’sdeafeninggrowlandthehowlofthewindwhipping
pasthisexposedface.Nocrashhelmetorvisorprotectedhisfragilehumanfeatures.Barehandsgripped
thehandlebarssohardthathisknucklesturnedwhite.

Forthefirsttimeever,JohnnyBlazefoundhimselfridingsofastitscaredhim.

​​​

RoxannearrivedatthehotelrestaurantaheadofJohnny.Norealsurprisethere;shehadbeenonlya

fewfloorsaway,notacrosstown.Sheglancedatherwristwatch.7:53.Sheexpectedhe’dbehereany
minute.

Headsturnedasthewaiterguidedhertoatablefortwo.Afterwaytoomuchagonizingoverwhatto

wear,shehadfinallysettledonapleatedskirtandaglitzyVeraWangtop.Nottooformal,butnottoo
casualeither.Athingoldnecklaceandmatchingearringsaccentedhernaturalbeauty.ChanelNo.5
addedatouchoffragrance.

“Willsomeoneelsebejoiningyouthisevening?”thewaiterasked.
“Yes,”Roxannesaid,smiling.
Toherastonishment,shefoundshewasactuallylookingforwardtothedinner,andcouldn’twaitto

seeJohnnyagain.

Despitehowitendedbetweenthemsomanyyearsago,perhapsabsencedidmaketheheartgrow

fonder.

Theyhadalottocatchupon.
ThespeedometerclockedGrace’svelocityatovertwohundredmilesperhour.
SkyscraperswarpedpastJohnnyinascreamingblurofsteelandglass.Hesqueezedhardonthe

brakes,buttheout-of-controlcycledidn’tevenslowdown.

Theyblastedpastarowofparkedcars,whosesidewindowsexplodedintheHarley’swake,setting

offacacophonyofshriekingcaralarmsallalongseveralcityblocks.Astreamoffiretrailedbehind
Gracelikethetailofacomet.Heatedblacktopbubbledandboiled.

Apotholesentabone-shakingjoltthroughtheberserkchopper.Alicenseplatetoreloosefromthe

rearfenderandwentclatteringdownthemiddleofthelanebeforefinallycomingtorestinagutterat
thesideoftheroad.Johnnydidn’tevennoticeitwasgone.

Pottedshrubs,plantedalongthesidewalks,burstintoflameasGracesnickedintohighgear.Parking

metersdroopedfromtheheat.Shatteredshopwindowssprayedglassontothestreet.Parkedvehicles,
mercifullydevoidofpassengers,explodedintofireballsastheirgastanksignited.Mangledmetalrained
downonthebusinessdistrict.Billowingcloudsofblacksmokerosefromthewreckedvehicles.

Thecitystreetslookedlikeawarzone.
ThebikeanditsunwillingpassengerleftdowntownFortWorthbehindinamatterofminutes.

Headingnorth,theyburnedrubberalongMainStreet,weavingrecklesslythroughtheeveningtraffic.
Exertingallhisstrength,Johnnydownshiftedenoughtokeephismeteoricpassagefromsettingthe
othercarsablaze.Startleddrivershonkedtheirhornsandsworeatthedaredevilriderseeminglyrisking
lifeandlimbasthespeedingHarleyzippedinfrontandaroundtheothervehicles,neverslowingfora
second.EvenothermotorcyclistsgapedinamazementatGrace’swildride.“Where’sthefire,you
freakingmaniac?!”anangrybikershoutedatthetwo-wheeledmissilethathadjustlefthiminthedust.

ApanickedJohnnywishedheknew.
Ahead,afewmilesuptheroad,amotorcyclecophidbehindalargewoodenbillboard.Hislefthand

grippedahandlebar,whilehisrighthelduparaisedspeedgun.Ithadbeenaslownightsofar;hehad
onlyticketedtwodriversforspeedingandbustedanembarrassedcollegekidfordrivingunderthe
influence.Hewashopingforalittlemoreactionbeforehisshiftwasup.

Adistantrumblingcaughthisattention.Thatsoundspromising,hethought.Hetookaimwithhis

speedgunandleanedforwardonhisbike.Hegunnedhisenginejustincasetheperpetratortriedto
makearunforit.Hisleftheelraisedthekickstand.

whooooosh!
AbrightblueHarley-Davidsonrocketedpasttheroadsignfasterthanthecopwouldhavethought

mechanicallypossible.“Holycrap!”heexclaimed.Heglancedhurriedlyattheread-outontheradar,
whichtrackedthechopper’sspeedat190mphandclimbing.Thedisplayburnedoutcompletelyasthe
speedgunheatedupinhisgrasp,thencaughtonfire.Thecopyelpedinpainanddroppedtheflaming
deviceontotheground.Onlyhisthickleatherglovessavedhimfromaninstantthird-degreeburn.A
blastoffieryexhaustknockedhimontotheground,astheentirebillboarderuptedintoaraginginferno.

Theshockedpoliceofficerscrambledawayfromtheburningsign.Hestarednorthinconfusion,but

theanonymousbikewasalreadylonggone.Onlyalongstripofburningasphalt,theblazingbillboard,
andthefriedradargunathisfeetconfirmedthatthemysterycyclehadeverexistedinthefirstplace.

Thecopwonderedhowthehellhewasevergoingtoexplainthisbackatthestation,evenas,onthe

othersideofthebillboard,ahelpfulnoticetodrivefriendly-thetexasway!wentupinflames.

8:30.AnemptyglassofwinesatonthetableinfrontofRoxanne.Shecheckedhercellphonefor

messages.NothingfromJohnny.Evenifhecouldn’tgetmynumber,shethoughtimpatiently,hecould
havealwayscalledthehotel.HeknowswhereIam.

Shestaredattheentrancetotherestaurant,hopingtoseeJohnnyarriveatanyminute.Eachpassing

minutetuggedatherheart.Hereyeswateredassheadmittedtoherselfjusthowmuchshehadwanted-
no,needed-toseeJohnnytonight.Oldwounds,thatshehadthoughtlonghealed,bledfreshlyintoher
soul.ThiswasCrowleyHillalloveragain….

Thefriendlywaiterapproachedhertable,lookingsympatheticandslightlyembarrassed.“MayIget

youanythingelse,miss?”heaskedgently.

Screwthis.Shefeltangryandhumiliatedandstupid.RoxannehadbeenafooltoevergiveJohnny

Blazeanotherchancetobreakherheart.

Shestoodupandthrewahandfulofbillsontothetable.“No.I’mdone,”shetoldthewaiter

emphaticallybeforestormingoutoftherestaurant.

9

Theoldtrainstationwaslocatednorthofdowntown,nearthehistoricstockyardsandmeatpacking

plantsthathadgivenFortWorthitsnicknameof“Cowtown.”TheflavoroftheOldWesthungoverthe
antiquedepotthathadonceservicedtheSantaFeline.Anopencourtyard,wideenoughto
accommodatedeliverywagonsandtrucks,stretchedbetweenthetwo-storybrickdepotandtheelevated
woodenplatforminfrontofthetracks.Adiesellocomotiveslumberedontherails.Theunevenfloorof
thecourtyardwaslitteredwithdeadleavesandmuddypuddles.Trainschedulesandsafetynoticeswere
postedontheexteriorofthedepot,alongwithafewold-timeWANTEDposters,justforcolor.Rusty
chainsdangledfromtheroofofanarchedtunnelthatranthroughthecenterofthedepot,connectingthe
courtyardwiththeparkinglotbeyond.Awarmbreezerustledthefallenleaves.Theairwashotand
humid.Afarawaytrainwhistledseveralmilesdownthetrack.

Blackheartpaidlittleattentiontothestation’sdecor.Accompaniedbythethreeelementals,he

searchedthedesertedcourtyardforcluestothelocationofhislong-soughtprize.Noobviousmarker
presenteditself.

Butappearancescouldbedeceiving….
“Hey!”abrayingvoiceinterruptedhisefforts.Aportlymortalwearingastationmaster’suniform

camewaddlingtowardthemfromthedepot.“Youcan’tcomeinhere!Thisisprivateproperty!”

Themanheldupakerosenelanterninsteadofaflashlight.Atraditionalist,Blackheartconcluded.

JustlikeFather.

Hedislikedthishumanalready.
ThelightfromthelanternfelluponthesinistervisagesoftheHidden.Thestationmasterblanched,

hiseyesbulginginfrightbehindapairofbifocals.Hebackedawayuneasily.Thelanterndippedatthe
endofanunsteadyarm.

ItsuddenlyoccurredtoBlackheartthatthistimidmortalmightpossesssomeusefulinformation.

“Therewasacemeteryhere,”heprompted.

“Y-yeah,”thehumanquavered.Heactedlikehewasreadytoboltattheslightestprovocation.“A

longtimeago.”

Blackheartnodded.Itseemedthathisinformation,whichhehadtakenpainstoextractfromthe

dog-earedpagesofhistory,wascorrect.“Whathappenedtothegraves?”

“Theyweremoved,”thestationmastersaid.
“Where?”Blackheartasked,hisdarkeyesnarrowing.
“Idunno.”
Blackheartfrowned.Thatwasnotwhathewantedtohear.Hebegantofearthathewaswastinghis

timehere.“Whowouldknow?”

“St.Michael’sChurch.Theyweretheonesincharge.”Theman’seyesshiftednervouslyfromone

demontoanother,uncertainwhomheshouldbemostafraidof.Heattemptedtomusterwhatlittle
authorityhehadleft.“Youknow,youreallyshouldn’tbehere.”

Blackheartsmiledashestalkedtowardthestationmaster.“That’swhattheykeeptellingme.”
Hewonderedwhatthechubbymortalwouldlooklikeinblue.
Gracespedtowardwhatlookedlikeaclosedtrainstation.Johnnycouldn’ttakeanycreditforriding

here,norforchoosingtheirdestination.Thepossessedchopperhaddrivenlikeithadamindofitsown.

Thebikescreechedtoahalt,throwinghimfromthesaddle.Hehitthepavementhard,then

stumbledtohisfeet,gratefultobestandingonhisowntwolegsagain.Hewouldhavekissedthe
groundifhehadn’tbeendistractedbytheragingfurnaceburninginsidehim.

Thewindgeneratedbyhisheadlongrideacrosstownhadonlyslightlyeasedthefeverishinferno

thatseemedtobeconsuminghim.NowthatJohnnywasstationaryoncemore,thevolcanicheatquickly
becameunbearable.Rivuletsofperspirationcascadeddownhisface.Hisfaceturnedcrimson.Hisblood
feltlikemoltenlava,coursingthroughhisentirebody.Hestumbledacrosstheemptyparkinglot,not
knowingwherehewasorwhyhewasthere.Asfarasheknew,hewasstillinTexas,butitfeltlikehe
wasalreadyroastinginthefierydepthsofhell.Hethrewbackhishead,cryingoutinagony.

“What’shappeningtome?!”
Tearsoffireleakedfromhiseyes.Theasphaltmeltedbeneathhistread,sothatheleftatrailof

smolderingbootprintssunkintothepavement.Johnnyclutchedhisheadascracklingcoilsofyellow
flamesnakedoutofhisblazingsockets.Smokerosefromhisdarkhairandeyebrows.Somewherepast
theunbearablepain,hismindregisteredthesmellofhisownburningflesh.

Deathwouldbeawelcomerelief.
Makeitstop!heprayed.FortheloveofGod,pleasemakeitstop!
Hisfaceignitedlikeburningparchment,theskinscorchedfromhisskullasthoughfroman

explosionwithin.

NotraceofJohnnyBlaze’sfamouscountenanceremained;insteadableachedwhiteskull,

envelopedinahaloofdancingyellowflames,satatoptheleather-cladshoulders.Hellfiresmolderedin
theshadowydepthsofhiseyesockets.

Theblazingfigureshouldhavebeendead,yetitfeltstrongerthaneverbefore.Thescaldingpain

wasjustafadingmemory.

TheGhostRiderhadbeenreborn.
Heraisedaskeletalhandbeforehimandclencheditintoafist.Power,andanewfoundsenseof

purpose,surgedthroughthemarrowofhisbones.

Thewaitingwasover.HeknewwhyhewalkedtheEarth.
Hehadadutytoperform.
Blackheartdrainedthelastpaltrydregsoffearfromthestationmaster’swizenedbluecorpse.

Releasinghisholdonthemummy’sthroat,helettheemptycarcassdropontotheleaf-strewncourtyard.
Theman’skerosenelanternlayonthegroundafewfeetaway,itssputteringflameslowlydyingout.

1believeourbusinesshereisconcluded.Itwasobviousthattheirprizewasnottobefoundinthis

dismalsetting,butatleasttheunfortunatemortalhadpointedthemintherightdirectionbefore
outlivinghisusefulness.Blackheartintendedtoproceedtotheirnextdestinationwithnofurtherdelay.
HeturnedtoinformAbigorandtheothers-Wait!Blackheartsuddenlysensedanotherpresenceamong
them,onethathehadbeenanticipatingeversinceconfrontinghisfatheroutsidethebikerbar.

Mephistopheleswasfinallymakinghismove,albeitbyproxy.
Blackheartglancedtowardthearchwayleadingtothecourtyard.Hisearsdetectedadetermined

treadapproaching.Heglimpsedaflickerofhellfireatthefarendofthetunnel.

“Whatisit?”Abigorasked.Blackheartgrinnedinanticipation.“TheRider.”
GhostRiderwalkedfearlesslythroughthearchwayintothecourtyardinfrontoftherailroadtracks.
Sarcasticapplausegreetedhisarrival.
HespiedBlackheartstandingseveralpacesahead,seeminglyquitealone.Thehuskofamurdered

mortallayuponthegroundattheyouth’sfeet.Paperyblueskinindicateddeathbynecroplasm.

“Lookingforsomeone?”Blackheartasked,nolongerclapping.
GhostRiderknewhispreyonsight.Hepointedabonyfingeratthedevil’srebelliousson.

“Violator,”heaccusedinaneerie,sepulchralvoicethatbrookednodissent.Blackhearthadtrespassed
againsttheimmutablelawsofHell.Therewouldbeareckoning.

“Youshouldn’tbefightingme,Rider.”Blackheartappealedtothebountyhunter’spersonalagenda.

“Webothwantthesamething.”Hesmiledslyly.“ToberidofMephistopheles.”

JohnnyBlazemighthaveagreed,buttheGhostRidercouldneverbebargainedwith.Hestepped

decisivelytowardsBlackheart.“BacktoHell.”

“Idon’tthinkso,”Blackheartreplied.
ThewindwhistledinGhostRider’snonexistentear.Acyclonicgustoffilthyairblastedagainsthim,

drivingthebountyhunterbackunderthearchway.Theairbornegritwouldhavescouredthefleshfrom
hisface,hadanytraceofskinstillbeenpresent.Abigor’sdemonicfacecackledwithintheswirlinggrit
astheSpiritofVengeancewasblownbackintothemurkytunnel.Ahangingchainwrappedaroundthe
nakedvertebraebeneathhischin.Therustyironnoosethreatenedtobreakhisneck.

Undaunted,GhostRiderstayeduponhisfeet.Hereachedupandtuggedtheconstrictingchainaway

fromhisthroat.Withasavagemotion,heyankedthechainfreefromtheceilingandturnedhisattention
backtoBlackheart.

Chaininhand,hemarchedtowardtheerrantdemonspawn.Hisheavyblackbootsplasheddowninto

agreasypuddle-andstuckthere.Hisglowingsocketslookeddownattheturbidwatersandsawtwo
liquidhandsholdingontohisfoot.Wallow’svulpinefeaturesrippledacrossthesurfaceofthepuddle.
GhostRidertriedtopullhislegfree,buttheelemental’ssoggygripheldhimfast.

Heraisedthechain,intendingtolashoutathiswaterycaptor,onlytobedistractedbythesudden

roarofapowerfulengine.Theburningskullpivotedonitsneck-boneintimetoseeamassivetractor-
trailerbarrelingacrossthecourtyardtowardthetrappedspecter.Blacksmokebillowedfromthe
eighteen-wheeler’sexhauststack.ThegrilleofthetruckslammedintoGhostRider,propellinghim
acrossthetraintracksintotheparkedlocomotive.Thesoundofmetalsmashingviolentlyrangout
acrossthestation.Thefrontofthesemifoldedinwardlikeanaccordion.Hotsteambillowedfromthe
crumpledhood.

ThecabindoorswungopenandGressilsteppedoutontothetracks.Theearthelementalwas

unharmedbythecrash.Thickblacksmokeobscuredthesiteofthecollision,wheretheRiderhad
presumablybeenflattenedbetweenthetruckandthetrain.Aleeringgrinexposedamouthfulofdirty
brownteeth.

“Heweren’tsotough,”thedemonsaid.
Turninghisbackonthetrain,hestartedtowalkbacktowardthestation.Hehadonlytakenafew

steps,however,beforeaskeletalhandclampeddownonhisshoulder.Gressilspunaroundinshockto
seeGhostRiderstandingrightbehindhiminallhispreternaturalfearsomeness.Thevengefulentity
drewbackhisfistandthrewahaymakerpunchthatknockedoffachunkoftheelemental’sfaceand
sentGressilflyingthroughtheairtocrashtothegroundovertwentyfeetaway.Thedemonlandedface-
firstamidstthescatteredleavesandlitter.Hescrambledtohisfeet,stillreelingfromtheunexpectedand
awesomeimpactoftheRider’sblow.

“Please!”hebegged.Shatteredteethfelllikegravelontothefloorofthecourtyard.Hisyelloweyes

werefilledwithfear.“Havemercy!”

GhostRiderraisedhischain.Hellfireignitedalongthelengthofit,causingtheheavymetallinksto

takeonared-hotglow.

“Nomercyforme,”heproclaimed.“Nomercyforyou!
Hecrackedtheblazingchainlikeabullwhip.Theburninglinkssnappedoutandlassoedthe

squirmingdemon.Gressilhowledinagonyasheburstintoflame.Eldritchfireheatedtheelemental’s
body,hardeningitintosolidobsidian.GhostRideryankedbackthechainandGressilshatteredintoa
thousandpieces.Thebrittlestonecrackedloudly,soundinglikeanexplosioninachinashop.Onlya
cascadeofbrokenshardsandawhiffofburntcharcoaltestifiedthatGressilhadeverwalkedtheearthat
all.

NomoreHidingforhim,GhostRiderthought.
Hesnappedthechainbacktohim.Itwrappeditselfacrosshistorsolikeabandoleerasits

incendiaryradiancedimmed.Lookingawayfromtheelemental’scrematedremains,GhostRider

scannedthegroundsofthestationforhisotherquarries.ButBlackheartandthetwosurviving
elementalsweregone.

Nomatter,heresolved.Hewouldpursuethefugitivedemonsacrossthefaceoftheearthifneeds

be.

Andnotonfoot.
GhostRiderwavedhisfistintheair,beckoningsilentlytohisride.Theroarofamotorcycle

respondedtohissummonsas,riderless,Gracecameracingthroughthearchwaytohisside.

ThevenerableHarley-Davidsonwasanimpressivemachine,butnotfullysufficienttohispurposes.

Yetchatcouldbeeasilyremedied.

Helaidabonyhanduponthechopper’srearexhaustpipe.Hellfirespreadfromhisfingersacross

thelengthofthebike,transformingitbeneathhistouch.Solidmetaltwistedintonewandmore
intimidatingconfigurations.Thehandlebarstookonthesemblanceofwrithingserpents.Thefront
fairingassumedtheaspectofalargedemonicskull.Blazingsocketsflaredinsteadofaheadlight.The
chromeforksconnectingtheframetothefronttiresturnedintotautsteelchains.Grace’sblue-and-
yellowpaintjobwasreplacedbyaglossyblackluster.Theentirechassissuddenlyresembledthe
sculptedvertebraeofsomeunearthlybeast.Thetiresignitedintoflame,changingintoringsofliterally
burningrubber.Brightorangeflamescrackledabovethespinningwheels.

Withinseconds,thecustomizedHarleyhadbecomesomethingelse,arideuniqueupontheEarth

andelsewhere:theHellcycle.

GhostRiderwithdrewhishandandmountedthebike.Itssuperchargedenginesnarledlikeawild

animalasheopenedupthethrottleandracedawayfromthelifelesstrainstation.UnlikeJohnnyBlaze’s
involuntarytriphere,thistimethesataniccyclewasfirmlyunderitsrider’scontrol.TheHellcyclesped
offintothenight,leavingbehindameltedmaelstromoflickingflamesandburningasphalt.

Thequarrycouldrun,butitcouldn’thide.
TheGhostRiderwashotonitstrail.

10

EddieDelgadolurkedinanalleyoffSundanceSquare.Heneededcash-fast-andwasn’ttoopicky

abouthowhegotit.Hepeeredaroundthecorner,lookingforalikelyprospect.

Agrincameacrosshisstubble-coveredfaceashespottedateenageGothchickheadingdownthe

sidewalktowardhim,nodoubtonherwayhomefromalongnightofclubbing.Oblivioustoher
surroundings,sheswayedtotherhythmofwhatevermorbiddittywasplayingoverheriPod.Atight
blackT-shirtwarned:ILEAVEBITEMARKS.Herfrizzyhairwasdyedpitch-black.Racoonmakeup
shadowedhereyes.Herivorycomplexionlookedlikeithadn’tseenthesuninages.Asilverankh
dangledonachainaroundherneck.Studdedwristbandsadornedherpudgyarms.Apparentlyalone,she
hadthebrick-pavedsidewalktoherself.

Eddie’sbloodshoteyeszoomedinontheshiningEgyptianamulet,aswellasthelacyblackhandbag

slungoverhershoulder.Hewonderedhowmuchmoneyshewascarrying,andwhathemightbeableto
getforherjewelry.Dartingbackbehindthecorner,helistenedtoherfootstepsdrawingnearer.His
fingerstightenedonthegripofarustyBowieknife.Hewaiteduntilshecameintoview,thenpounced
onherfrombehind.Sheyelpedinsurpriseandheclampedhishandoverhermouthanddraggedher
roughlyintotheunlitalley.

Eddieslammedherupagainstagraffiti-coveredstonewall.Hisheftybodypressedagainsther,

pinninghertothewall.Heheldtheknifetoherthroat,whilehisfreehandyankedthebagfromher
shoulder.Shesquirmedhelplessly,unabletogetaway.Somesortofexoticperfumetickledhisnostrils.

“Shutupandbestill!”hehissedintoherear.“OrI’llkillyou!”
Hereyesbulgedinterror.Shetrembleduncontrollably.
Thegirl’sobviousdistressandvulnerabilityturnedEddieon.Hesniffedherhair,inhalinganother

deepbreathofherfragrance,asheconsideredthepossibilitiesofthissituation.Hehadonlyintendedto
robthischick,but…nowthathehadheraloneinthealley,hefoundhewantedmorethanjustthe
contentsofherpurse.Shewasn’tbad-looking,onceyougotpastallthespookyGothcrap.Whoknew?
Maybehe’devenletherliveafterward….

Theroarofanapproachingmotorcyclebrokeintohislustfulfantasies.Heglancedbackoverhis

shoulder,justtomakesuretheyweren’tgoingtobeinterrupted,andstartedtohaultheteenagerdeeper
intothealley.Hefrozeinhistracks,however,asaskull-headedbikerrodepastthealleyonaflaming
chopper.

“Whatthef-?”
Heexchangedastartledlookwithhisvictim,whoseemedsimilarlystunnedbythebizarre

apparition.Didwereallyjustseethat?

Maybeheshouldjustgrabthegirl’smoneyandrun?
Butitwasalreadytoolate.Theblazingcycle,alongwithitsspectralrider,backedupinfrontofthe

alley.Theskull-headedbikergotoffthechopperandstoodominouslyatthemouthofthefilthy
passageway.Lambentflamesdancedaroundhisfleshlesscraniumlikeademonichalo.Hisburning
socketsstaredatEddieandhisintendedvictim.

“Oh,crap,”thehoodlummuttered.Sensinghehadrealtroubleonhishands,hereleasedthegirl,

whoquicklydashedawayfromhim.ShehesitatedmomentarilybetweenEddieandtheghostly
motorcyclist,apparentlyuncertainwhorepresentedthegreaterthreat,thendecidedtotakeherchances
withthedevilshedidn’tknow.Herawestruckeyesgotagoodlookattheeeriebikerasshesprinted
pasthimasquicklyasshecouldmanageonhertotteringheels.Franticfootstepsrecededintothe
distance,leavingEddiealonewiththerider.Thenightmarishentitypaidnoheedtothegirl’sdeparture.
Hisfearsomegazeremainedfixedonthetremblingmugger.

“W-whothehellareyou,man?”Eddiedemanded.Theknifetrembledinhisgrip.“What’syour

problem?”

“I’mGhostRider,”thespecterreplied.Hisstentorianvoiceemergedfromtheopenjawsofthe

burningskull.

ThiswastoomuchforEddie.Heturnedandran,desperatetobeanywherebuthere.Startledrats

scurriedbeneathanoverstuffedgarbagedumpstertogetoutofhisway.Brokenglasscrunchedbeneath
hisfeet.Thebottomrungofarustymetalfireescapebeckonedtohim,andhejumpedontoatrashcan
totrytoreachthehangingladder.Hisfingersclosedaroundthepaintedsteelbarandhefeltasurgeof
hopeashestartedtopullhimselfupwardontothefireescape.

Hewasgoingtogetaway!
Eddie’sbloodsuddenlyturnedtoiceastheGhostRider’sskeletalhandgrabbedontothebackofhis

belt.Withunbelievablestrength,hepulledEddiebackdownontothefloorofthealley.Hespunthe
muggeraroundsothatEddiehadnochoicebuttostarerightintotheskull’sblazingeyes.

Inapanic,Eddiestabbedhisknifeintothemonster’sshoulder.ThebladeslicedthroughGhost

Rider’sleatherjacket,butwasquicklyconsumedbythehellishflamesblazingunderneaththeleather.
Eddieyelpedinpainastheknifeturnedred-hot.Moltenmetaldrippedontothepavement.Hehastily
droppedtheknife,leavinghimunarmedanddefenselessbeforethewrathoftheghastlyavenger.

ItwasthesinglemostterrifyingmomentofEddieDelgado’spatheticlife.
GhostRiderpronouncedjudgmentonhiswretchedsoul:
“GUILTY!”
TheburningskullwasonlyinchesawayfromEddie’sownface.Hetriedtotearhiseyesaway,but

thecavernousblacksocketsseemedtosuckhimin.Atfirst,hesawonlytheplutonicflamesburning
wheretheskull’seyesshouldhavebeen,but,withinaheartbeat,facesbegantoappearwithintheroiling
fires.

Thefacesofallthemen,women,andchildrenhehadeverabusedoverthecourseofhisshort,

brutalexistence.

HerecognizedthewrinkledRussianwidowhehadmuggedonherwayhomefromchurch,thefour-

eyedgeekhehadbeatenthecrapoutofinjuniorhigh,theassholehe’dstabbedinthatbarfight,theex-
girlfriendheusedtoslaparound,thewitnesshe’dcrippledfortestifyingagainsthim,the“dates”hehad
forcedhimselfupon,theyuppietouristswhosebodieswouldneverbefound,thehomelessguyheset
onfire,thefagswhomheandhisbuddieshadputinthehospitalthatonetime,andsomanyothers,
morethanhecouldevenremember,namesandfacesthathethoughthehadlongforgotten.Theendless
stringofvictimsblurredintoagorymontageofpainandsuffering.Theirpitifulcriesandwhimpers
echoedinsidehisownskull,addingtothedownwardspiralofhisalready-slippingsanity.

“Yoursoulisstainedbythebloodoftheinnocent,”GhostRiderdeclared.“Feeltheirpain.…”
ThetorturedfacesmergedintoasinglecontortedvisagethatEddiealmostdidn’trecognizeashis

own.Heopenedhismouthtoscream,butallthatescapedhislungswasathin,plaintivewhistle,likethe
airbeingletoutofleakytire.Hislimbsrefusedtomove.Hefeltparalyzedfromtheneckdown.

“…Ahundredfold.”
Allatonce,Eddiefelteveryactofviolence,everyevilhehadevercommitted,revisiteduponhim

…withinterest.Aphantomknifetwistedinhisgut,invisibleblowsraineddownonhim,illusory
flamessearedhisskin.Everyinchofhisbodycriedoutintorment.Alifetime’sworthoffearandguilt
lefthisconsciencerawandbleeding.

Hedroppedontothetrash-strewnfloorofthealley.Shudderingfromheadtotoe,hecurledupintoa

fetalposition.Alowmoankeenedfromhislips.

EddieDelgado’sglassyeyesstaredinwardintowhatremainedofhissoul,relivinghiscopioussins

forever-more.

GhostRiderlefthimlyingthere.
Awrought-ironfencesurroundedtheoldcemetery,whichwasseveralmileswestoftheurban

metroplex.Weatheredtombstonesandmausoleumsrosefromtheparchedsoil.Tallgrassandweeds
clottedtheovergrowngraveyard.DawnwasrisingasGhostRidermotoreduptotheopengate,drawn
byapowerfulcompulsionhedidn’tfullyunderstand.TheHellcycle’senginebegantosputterasthe
sun’sraysfellupontheinfernalchopper.

Night,andnightalone,wastheRider’srightfuldomain.
TheHellcyclechuggedtoahaltjustinsidethecemetery.GhostRiderstumbledoffthebikeand

totteredwoozilyuponhisfeet.Anoverpoweringweaknesswashedoverhiminconjunctionwiththe
risingsun.Hereachedoutforanearbyheadstone,hopingtosteadyhimself,buthisstrengthevaporated
withthedawn.Hetoppledforwardontotheground,hittingtheearthwithaclatterofbones.Unwilling
torelinquishhisholdonexistence,hecrawledacrossthegraveyard,dragginghimselftowardstheshade
ofalargemarblemonument.Hisflamingaurabegantosputterweakly.

Themercilesssunlightbroughtonabizarretransformation.Freshskinspreadoverthenakedskull.

Thickblackhairsproutedfromhisbonydome.Theburningemberswithinhiseyesocketscongealed
intoconfusedhazelorbs.Itwaslikewatchingaburningcadaverdecomposeinreverse.Theeldritch
flamesdiedout.

JohnnyBlazeliftedhisshakyheadfromtheground.Bleary-eyed,helookedaboutinconfusion.He

triedtolifthimselffromthedirt,butexhaustionovercamehim.Histremblinglimbswouldnotsupport
himandhecollapsedontotheearth.Hiseyelidsdroopedshut.

Thesoundofashovelstrikingtheground,onlyafewinchesawayfromhishead,brieflyroused

him.Johnnylookeduptoseeatall,masculinefigureloomingoverhim,leaningagainstthehandleof
theshovel.Silhouettedagainsttherisingsun,theman’sfeature’swereobscuredbytheglare,but
JohnnygotanimpressionofagrizzledcowboywholookedlikehehadjuststeppedoutofanoldLouis
L’Amournovel.AbatteredbrownStetsonsatatoptheman’sbrow.Hespatamouthfuloftobaccojuice
onground.

“Mornin’,bonehead.”
Hisgruffvoicesoundeddistinctlyunimpressed.
Who?
Johnnypassedoutattheman’sfeet.

11

ThefirstthingJohnnyBlazesawuponwakingwasanangelhoveringoverhim.Heblinkedatthe

surrealimage,thenrealizedthathewasstaringupatastained-glassportraitofSt.Michael,complete
withheavenlywingsandaflamingsword.Lookingaround,hediscoveredthathewaslyingonacot
insideadimlylitshack.Anopendoorlookedoutuponadilapidatedoldgraveyardthathevaguely
rememberedfromthenightbefore.

HisheadwaspoundingwiththemotherofallhangoversandhismouthfeltasdryastheMojave.

Sittingup,hefoundahalfdozenglassesofwaterlineduponabedsidetable.Hegratefullychuggedthe
waterdown.Ithelped…alittle.

Confusedanddisoriented,herolledoffthecotandontohisfeet.Hestartedtostandup,onlytobe

overcomebyasuddenwaveofdizziness.Theshackseemedtospinaroundhimandhehurriedly
droppedbackdownontothecot.Hesatwithhisheadbetweenhisknees,waitingforthespinning
sensationtostop.Wincinginpain,herealizedthathehurtlikehell,likehe’dbeenhitbyatruck.

Maybehehad.
Thedizzinesspassedandhestoodupagain.Thistimehemanagedtostayupright,althoughhishead

stillfeltlikeitwasburningup.Lookingforanswers,hestaggeredoutoftheshack.

Crumblingmarblemonumentspopulatedthecemeterygrounds.Old-fashionedtombstones,their

inscriptionshalfwornawaybythepassageoftime,juttedfromtheearthatoddangles,liketeethbadly
inneedoforthodontia.Thelargebrickshack,withitsstained-glasswindowsandshingledroof,squatted
amidstthecryptsandheadstones.Acrudetimbercrosswasplasteredtoonesideoftheshack.Aheavy
woodendoorguardeditsinterior.Highgrassthreatenedtooverrunthecemetery,whichhaddefinitely
seenbetterdays.ThewholeplacehadadistinctlyBootHillvibe.

Dirtandgravelclatteredonthegroundnearby.Johnnylookedovertoseeanoldermandigginga

graveafewyardsaway.Dustybrownworkclothescoveredtheman’stall,rangyframe.Acowboyhat
protectedhisgrizzledfacefromthehotafternoonsun.Abandanawastiedaroundhisneck.Asmall
silvercrossdangledonachainfromhisopenvest.Hescoopedupanotherloadofdirtwithhisshovel
andtossedittooneside.Johnnydimlyrememberedseeingthissamemanearlier,rightbeforehelost
consciousness.

AthousandquestionsrushedthroughJohnny’sbrain.WhereamI?WhatamIdoinghere?Fevered

memoriesofhellfireanddemonsandunearthlyvengeanceflashedacrosshismind.Helookedanxiously
athishands,halfexpectingtoseenothingbutnakedbonesemergingfromhissleeves.Hisfingers
exploredthecontoursofhisface,relievedtofeelthewarmskincoveringhisskull.Thatwasjusta
nightmare,right?Nothingthatreallyhappened.

Didit?
Thesunlighthurthiseyes.
“Y’allright?”theold-timerasked,observinghisdiscomfort.Heturnedawayfromthegrave,still

clutchinghisshovelwithbothhands.

Johnnyshrugged.“I’mgood.”Perspirationdottedhisbrow.“Feelslikemyskull’sonfire.ButI’m

good.”

Theothermanchuckledtohimself.
“DidIsaysomethingfunny?”Johnnyaskedirritably.
“Notfunny,ironic.”Silverhairhungbeneaththebrimoftheman’shat,matchinghisbushy

mustacheandbeard.Gravedustaccumulatedinthedeepcreasesofhisface.Themanwassixtyifhe
wasaday,yetlookedtougherthanmostmenhalfhisage.“We’rebigonironyhere.”

HeambledtowardJohnny,stilltotinghisdirt-stainedshovel.

“FolkscallmeCaretaker.”
Suddenlyrememberingsomething,Johnnylookedanxiouslyaroundthecemetery.Wherehadhis

ridegone?

“Iputyourbikebehindtheshack,”Caretakersaid,asifreadingJohnny’smind.Henoddedatthe

one-storybrickstructure.

Mybike,Johnnythought.Spinningwheelsoffireracedacrosshismemory.Hestaredattheshack,

wishinghecouldseestraightthroughitssturdywallstotheotherside.DoesGracelooknormal…or
likesomethingelse?

“Itdoes,”Caretakersaid.
Johnnygavethemanastartledlook.“What?”
“You’rewonderin’ifitlooksnormal,”Caretakerconfirmedwithunnervingaccuracy.“Itdoes.”He

swungtheshoveloffhisshoulderandstuckitintothegroundinfrontofhim.“Andtoansweryour
otherquestions…lastnightdidhappen,itwasn’tadream,anditwillhappenagain.”

Howdoesheknowallthis?Johnnywondered.HestaredatCaretaker,notunderstandingwhatwas

happening.“Whoareyou?”

Theoldermanshrugged.“Thequestionis:whoareyou?”
Whoorwhat.Therewasnothinghumanaboutsomeofthefebrilememoriesofthenightbefore.He

startedwalkingtowardtheshack,wantingtocheckonGraceforhimself.Hewonderedhowfarhewas
fromhisloftbackinFortWorth.Homewassoundingbetterandbetter.Homeand…

Roxanne!Hesuddenlyrealizedthathehadstoodheruponceagain,justlikehehadbackat

CrowleyHillsomanyyearsago.Hewassupposedtomeetherattherestaurantlastnight,before…
everythinghappened.She’snevergoingtospeaktomeagain,letalonegiveusanotherchance.He
ponderedthehorrorshowhislifehadjustbecome.

Maybeit’sjustaswell.
CaretakergaveJohnnyasternlook.Hewasn’tdonewithhimyet.
“You’retheRider,kid.Getusedtoit.It’seasierthatway.Ifyoudon’t…”Hegesturedtowardthe

opengrave.“…gotacozyspotpickedoutforyou.”

Johnnydecidedhe’dheardenough.Allhewantedwastogetoutofhereandforgetthatanyofthis

hadeverhappened.HecircledaroundtheshacktowhereGracewasstandingamidsttheunderbrush.A
heavychainwaswrappedaroundthesissybarattherearofthesaddle.

Caretakerfollowedhimaroundtheshack.HeseemedintentonmakingJohnnyfullyawareofthe

cold,cruelrealitiesofhisnewexistence.Whoknewwhathismotivewas.

“They’veseenyounow.Theyknowwhattoexpect.You’llneedmyhelpifyouexpecttolastthe

night.”

Johnnywasdubious.“LasttimeIletastrangerhelpme,itdidn’tpanoutsogood.”
HeclimbedontoGraceandfireduptheengine.
“Thisain’tsomethingyoucanrunfrom,kid.”Caretakerrammedhisshovelintothedirt.“Thisday’s

beencomin’eversinceyoumadeadealbyputtingadropofyourbloodonthatpaper.”

Despitehimself,Johnnyinstantlyrecalledthatlong-agoeveningintheice-coldmaintenancetent.

Hisfingertiptingledwherethestranger’sparchmenthadslicedthroughhisfleshthenightbeforeBarton
Blazedied.Hestartedtorideaway,thenlookedbackoverhisshoulder.MaybeCaretakerknewwhathe
wastalkingabout?Hesureseemedtoknowenoughabouthowthisnightmaregotstarted.

Johnnyhitthebrakesandkilledthemotor.
“Congratulations,”Caretakersaidlaconically.“Yourchancesjustwentfromnonetoslim.”
Yellowcrime-scenetapecordonedoffthetrainstation,keepingoutthecompetingnewsteams

mobbingaroundthesite.Roxannestoodinfrontofthetape,withtheantiquateddepotpositioned
behindher,asshehelduphermicrophoneandspokedirectlyintothecamera.

“…sourcesclosetotheinvestigationconfirmthattheremaybelinksbetweenwhathappenedhere

inthedowntownhistoricdistrictandthe‘FallenAngels’massacreinthedesertoutsidethecity.”

“Andwe’reout,”Stuartannounced.Thecameramanlookedawayfromtheviewfinderandgaveher

the“okay”sign.

Roxanneloweredhermikeandlookedaround.Therehadtobemoretothisstory,sheguessed,than

thepolicewerelettingon.Whywouldarivalbikergangwanttomurderthenightmanageratan
obsoleteoldtraindepot?Shewasgratefulforthepotentialscoop;itgavehersomethingtoconcentrate
onbesidesJohnny’sno-showlastnight.

Anoldermanwithgrayhairandasevereexpressionwasleavingthesite.SherecognizedCaptain

GerardDolanoftheFortWorthPoliceDepartment,whomshehadinterviewedoncebefore.Signaling
Stuarttofollowher,shehustledtowardhim,mikeinhand.Thecameramanhurriedafterher,already
startingfilming.

“CaptainDolan?”Shecaughtupwiththeveterancopjustashesteppedpasttheyellowtape.A

rumpledsuitandtiedistinguishedDolanfromtheuniformedofficersunderhiscommand.Sheshoved
hermiketowardhim.“RoxanneSimpson-“

“Nocomment,”hesaidbrusquely.Judgingfromhisexpression,hewasn’thavingagoodday.
Roxannewasn’ttakingnoforananswer.“Isittruethey’vefoundaconnectionbetweentheBiker

BarMassacreandlastnight’svictimfoundhereinthetrainyards?”

“Nocomment.”Dolangloweredatthecamerainhisface.
RoxannewavedStuartaway.Gettingthemessage,heswitchedthecameraoff.“Look,offthe

record,okay?”

“Offtherecord?”Dolanlookedherintheeye.“Pissoff.”
Heturnedandstalkedtowardawaitingpatrolcar.
Asshole,Roxannethought.“Ihavefriendsinthedepartment.…”
“I’mnotoneofthem,”Dolansnapped.
Ayoungerdetectivescurriedovertothecaptain,clutchingamanilafolder.Roxannewasalmost

positivehisnamewasEdwards.Clean-cutandneatlygroomed,helookedlessirasciblethanhisboss.
Shehadheardabouthimfromsomeofthelocalstringers.Energeticandambitious,wasthewordonthe
street.

“Forensicsonthebikersandstationmastercamebackwiththeexactsamecauseofdeath,”he

reportedeagerly.Hehandedthefoldertohisboss,whopausedtoleafthroughthelabreports.Dolan
squintedatthebottomline.

”‘Sulfurpoisoning’?”hereadaloud.Hisbrowfurrowedinconfusion.“Ididn’tthinksulfurwas

toxic.”

“Itisinmassivedoses,”Edwardsexplained.“Andthesestiffsareswimminginit.Couldbe

evidenceofachemicalattack?”

“Orareligiousnut,”Roxanneinterjected.
Thetwocopsturnedaroundtofindthereporterstandingrightbehindhim.Dolanobviouslythought

hehadalreadyleftherbehind.Sometimesitpaystohavealightstep,shethought,especiallywhenyou
needtolisteninonsomethingyouweren’tmeanttohear.

Edwards’seyeswidenedatthesightoftheattractivenewswoman.“Hey,Iknowyou!”heblurted.

“I’veseenyouon-“

Dolansilencedtheyoungdetectivewithaglare.HereluctantlyturnedtodealwithRoxanne.

“There’snothingheretosuggestanykindofreligiousM.O.”

Roxannedisagreed.“Thesulfur,”shepointedout.“Or,asitwasknownbackintheday,brimstone.”
Shesavoredthepolicemen’sflummoxedexpressions.Itamusedherthatneithermanhadmadethe

satanicconnectionyet.

How’sthatforinvestigativereporting?
Sunlightfilteredthroughthestained-glasswindowsofCaretaker’sshack.Lightedcandlesdispelled

whatevershadowsremained,revealingspartanquartersthatboastedlittleinthewayofmodern
appliancesorconveniences.Themeagerfurnishingsincludedacot,anold-fashionedroll-topdesk,and
awood-burningstovethatprobablysawlittleuseduringthesummer.Anunfinishedgameofsolitaire
restedatopaplainwoodentable.Acalendar,showcasingtheWesternartofFredericRemington,was
pinnedtoonewall.TherewasnoTV,nocomputer,notelephone,noair-conditioning.Apotofwater
simmereduponhotplate.Ahorseshoewasnailedoverthedoor.Thewholeplacehadanaustere,almost
monasticfeeltoit.

JohnnyguessedthatCaretakerdidn’tgetoutmuch.
Thebiker’sleatherjacketwasdrapedoverthebackoftheantiquewoodenchairhewassittingon.

Hisleftsleevewasrolledupasfarasitwouldgo.Abloodygashscarredhisshoulder.Hevaguely
recalledacrazedhoodlumstabbinghimwithaknife.Theinjuryhadn’taffectedGhostRideratall,but
thismorningJohnnywasdefinitelyfeelingit.Theuglywoundthrobbedpainfully.

“TheRideristheDevil’sbountyhunter,”CaretakerexplainedashetendedtoJohnny’sshoulder.

Hydrogenperoxidestunglikefireashecleanedoutthewound.“Senttohuntdownanythingthat
escapesfromHell.”Heheldupastainlesssteelneedle.“Sterilizethisforme.”

Johnnyeyedtheneedle.HerememberedthehellfirethathehadwieldedasGhostRider,howithad

flowedfromhisbodyintohischainandmotorcycle,infusingthemwithdemonicpower.Hetentatively
reachedoutandpressedhisfingeragainsttheneedle.

Nothinghappened.
Caretakerchuckledandnoddedtowardthehotplate.“Trytheboilingwater.”
Feelingslightlyembarrassed,Johnnygotupanddippedthetipoftheneedleintothewaterbubbling

inthedentedtinpot.HehandedtheneedlebacktoCaretaker.HowamIsupposedtoknowwhatthe
rulesare?hethoughtdefensively.Noneofthismakesanysense!

Exceptthatitdid.
Caretakerspelleditoutforhim.“Duringtheday,you’llbenormal.Butatnight,inthepresenceof

evil,theRidertakesover.”Heattachedaslenderthreadtotheneedleandstartedtostitchupthegash.
Johnnyflinched,butdidn’tpullaway.Hebitdownonhislowerlipastheoldermancontinuedhis
explanation.

“Thelasttimewasonehundredandfiftyyearsago,inalittleMexicanvillagecalledSanVenganza.

Usedtobeanicetown,nicepeople,untilastrangercamealongpromisingwealthandprosperity,one
dealatatime.Onefellaprickshisfingerandsigns,getsrich.Othersseethat,theysign,too.Everyone
signs.”Hesighedinrecollection.“Butprettysoonnobodylovesnuthin’butwhat’sintheirpocket,or
theirneighbor’spocket,ortheirneighbor’sbed.…”

Hepulledthethreadtautandkeptonstitching.Johnnyignoredthepain,caughtupintheold-timer’s

narrative.HeknewjustwhatkindofdealsCaretakerwastalkingabout,andhehadaprettygoodidea
heknewwhothestrangerwas,too.Thenamepoppedintohisbrainfromlastnight’sencounteratthe
trainstation-BlackhearthadcalledtheDevil“Mephistopheles.”

Itwasasgoodanameasany.
“Whereevillives,”Caretakerwenton,“nothinggrows.Nocrops,notrees,nochildren.Thetown’s

dying.Thewellrunsdry.Theycursethestrangerwiththeirdyingbreaths,theircursedsoulstrapped
foreverinthatgodforsakenplace.”

Johnnycouldbelieveit.SoundslikethepeopleofSanVenganzagotscrewedoverinthedealthe

sameway1did.BartonBlaze’suntimelydeathstillhauntedhisdreams.

“WhatdoesthishavetodowithBlackheart?”heasked.
“Blackheart?”Caretakerfrozeinmid-stitch,takenabackbythename.“Hesentyouafter

Blackheart?”

Johnnynodded.“Alongwithsomeothers.”
“TheHidden,”Caretakerguessed,hisexpressiongrim.“FallenangelscastoutofHeavenbySt.

Michaelhimself.”Heglancedupatthestained-glasswindow.Hefinishedstitchingupthewoundand
bitofftheendofthethread;obviouslyhe’ddonethisbefore.“Youshouldstayhere.Theycan’tsetfoot
onhallowedground.”

JohnnywonderedifthatwaswhyCaretakerlivedhere.Whatwashisinvolvementinthiswhole

businessanyway?What’shisstakeinallthis?

Whothehellisthisguyanyway?Howdoesheknowallthis?
“Great,”Johnnysaidsarcastically.“IfeelsomuchbetternowthatIknowI’mtheDevil’sbounty

hunter.”Hegotupandputhisjacketbackon.

Caretakerfrowned.“Whereareyougoing?”
“There’ssomeoneIgottosee,”Johnnysaid.EvenifRoxanneneverwantedtohaveanythingtodo

withhimagain,hecouldn’tjustdisappearfromherlifewithoutexplanationagain.Hehadmadethat
mistakebackin1989,andhadspentthelastfifteenyearsregrettingit.1havetotalktoheronemore
time,ifonlytosaygood’bye.

“That’sabadidea,”Caretakersaid.
Johnnyshrugged.“Wouldn’tbemyfirst.”
Heheadedforthedoor.Caretakerfollowedhimoutintothegraveyard,whereGracestoodwaiting.

Johnnyworriedthatthegritty-lookingold-timermighttrytophysicallystophimfromleaving,but
CaretakerseemedtosensethatJohnny’smindwasmadeup.Johnnywasgratefulthattheold
gravediggerrespectedhisdecision.

“Hey,”CaretakersaidjustasJohnnywasabouttoclimbontothebike.Heturnedaroundtoseewhat

theothermanwanted.“Why’dyoudoit?Why’dyoumakethedeal?”

Johnnydidn’twanttogetintoit.“Iwasjustakid.”
“What’dyougetinreturn?”Caretakerasked.
Thatwasaneasyone.
“Heartache,”Johnnyreplied.

12

AsJohnnyrodehomethroughdowntownFortWorth,therewasnoignoringthedamageleftbehind

byhishellishridethenightbefore.Scorchmarksscarredthecongealedasphalt.Burningwheelshadleft
deepfurrowsdownthemiddleoflanes.Parkedcarsandtruckshadbeenturnedintoburned-outhulks,
manylyingupside-downorinpieces.Atwistedfenderprotrudedfromthepuncturedwallofasmall
SavingsandLoanbuilding.Brokenwindowshadbeenboarded-over.Meltedparkingmetersdrooped
towardthesidewalk.Abillboardhadbeenreducedtoacoupleofcharredwoodenposts.Pottedshrubs
wereburnedtoacrisp.Apostmanscrapedheapsofashesoutofametalmailbox.Insurance
investigatorswereeithergoingtoshaketheirheadsinbewildermentorhitthebarsearly.

Allbecauseofme,Johnnythought.Orrather,GhostRider.
AfamiliarbluenewsvanwasparkedatthecurbjustpastSundanceSquare.Slowingdown,Johnny

wassurprisedtoseeRoxannestandinginfrontofanalley,interviewingateenageGothchick.Hecame
toastopandparkedhisbikerightbehindthevan.Intentongettingtheirstory,neitherRoxannenorher
cameramannoticedasheapproachedthemonfoot.Althoughanxioustospeakwithher,Johnnykepta
respectfuldistanceawayfromthealley,notwantingtointerruptRoxanneatwork.Hequietlylistenedin
ontheinterview.

“CanyoudescribetheGoodSamaritantous?”Roxanneaskedtheteenager.Johnnythoughtthegirl

lookedvaguelyfamiliar.Do1knowher!

Shenodded.“I’llneverforgethim,that’sforsure.Hewastall,broadshoulders,thin…superthin,

likebony…andhehadthisreallyradchopper.Itwasallflamesandstuff.”Shesearchedhermemory
formoredetails.“Oh,andhisfacewasaskullanditwasonfire.”

Johnnysuddenlyrememberedwhereheknewthegirlfrom.Lastnight,inthisveryalley.He

instinctivelybackedaway,asifafraidofbeingrecognized.She’sdescribing…me.

“Onfire?”Roxannewasmomentarilythrownoffbythegirl’sresponse.
“Yeah,like…”Sheheldherhandsuparoundherhead,pantomiminganinvisiblehalo.“Likethis

muchfire.”SheshruggedatRoxanne’sbewilderedexpression.“Iknowitsoundsweird,butitlooked
okayonhim.Imean,it’sanedgylook,sure,buthepulleditoff.”

Goodtoknow,Johnnythoughtwryly.
Roxanneturnedtowardthecamera.“Notsurewhattoaddtothat,”sheadmitted,tryingtopresenta

lighttone.“I’mRoxanneSimpson,onthesceneofanabortedmugging.Theallegedperpetrator,one
EddieDelgado,iscurrentlyundergoingpsychiatricevaluationafterbeingfoundinanear-comatose
stateearlierthismorning.”

Stuartloweredthecameraandstartedloadinghisgearbackintothevan.Roxannethankedthegirl

forhercooperation…thennoticedJohnnyatlast.Herfacefrozeintoanicymask.

“Roxanne,”hesaid,steppingtowardher.“LastnightIwasonmyway,Iswear,but-“
Sheheldupherhand.“Stop!Noapologies.”Behindherunforgivingexpression,fifteenyearsof

pent-upangersmolderedinherdarkeyesandvoice.“Youdidmeafavor.Becauseitforcedmetothink
aboutthen…andnow.Whenyouleftmestandingatthattree,sure,ithurtlikehell.ButIgotoverit,
wenttocollege,gotagreatjob,startedapromisingcareer.”Shelookedhimoverlikehewassomething
shehadfoundstucktothebottomofhershoe.“Butyou,Johnny,you’rethesame.Betterpay,morefans
…butyou’restilljustacarny.”

TheaccusationhitJohnnyhard,worsethananymugger’sknifeorspeedingsemi.Nosupernatural

powersshieldedhimfromthescorninhervoice.Heprobablydeservedeveryword.

“Mydadwasright,Johnny.Youwereaphase.”
Johnnyfelthislastgoldenmemoriesgoingupinflames.Somuchforsecondchances,he

mournfullythought.Mephistopheleshadprettymuchdrivenastakethroughthatpipedream.How
couldheeveraskRoxannetobewithhimnowthathewastheDevil’sownbountyhunter?

“Hewasright,”Johnnyagreed.“Wecan’tbetogether.”
Roxannelookedlikeshewassurprised,andmaybeevenalittledisappointed,athowquicklyJohnny

hadgivenuponher.Shakingherhead,sheturnedawayandslowlymarchedbacktowardthevan.

Shegotintothevananddroveaway.
Johnnycouldonlystandthereandlethergo.
Severalblocksaway,aforensicexaminerinspectedthecharredpavementonthestreetleadingtothe

trainstation.Hespottedacrumpledpieceofmetallyinginagutteratthesideoftheroad.The
criminalisttuggedablackenedsteelplatefreefromthecongealedasphalt.

“Gotsomething!”heyelledtohissupervisor.
Hewipedthesootfromtheevidencewithhissleeve,confirmingitsidentity.
Itwasalicenseplate,allright.
Thesunwasslowlysinkingonthehorizon,causingominousblackshadowstostretchoutuponthe

groundsoftheoldcemetery.ThemanwhocalledhimselfCaretakertooknoteoftheapproaching
twilightashecarefullywipedthebirddroppingsoffaweatheredgranitetombstonethatrestedinthe
shadeofagnarledhickorytree.Thetree’sbrancheshadbeenstrippedcleanbythewind,butunlike
manyoftheothergravesaroundthem,thisparticularmoundhadbeenkeptfreeofdust,weeds,and
fallenleaves.Theinscriptionuponthetombstoneread:

CARTERSLADE

1806-1866

IntoParadiseMayAngelsLeadYou
Caretakerreadtheinscription,eventhoughheknewitbyheart,thenglancedbackoverhisshoulder

atastatueofSt.Michaelstandingguardoverthelonelycemetery.Caretakerrose,tuckinghiscleaning
ragbackintohispocket.Hespatawadoftobaccojuiceontothedirt,thensurveyedthegrounds,just
likehedideveryevening.

Everythingseemedinorder.
HetippedhisStetsonatSt.Michaelasheheadedovertohisshack.Hisflintyeyeswatchedthesun

setinthewest.Deepredandpurplebandssuffusedtheskyabovethehorizon.Theshadowsthrownby
thescatteredtombstonesgrewlongerbythesecond.ItwasalmosttimeforGhostRidertorideagain.

HewonderedwhatJohnnyBlazewasupto.

​​​

Johnnystaredintothemirrorathisloft.
Heranhisfingersthroughhishair,findingitfirmlyrootedtohisscalp.Skinstillcoveredhisskull.

Hazeleyesgazedbackathim,asopposedtoburningblacksockets.Heletoutasighofrelief.

Sofar,sogood.
Leavingthebathroom,hewentbacktohislibrary.Gracerestedonthecementflooroftheloft,

surroundedbydisorganizedpilesofocculttexts,manyofthemlyingopentoonepageoranother.
Johnnyhadbeenporingthroughthetomesallafternoon,lookingformoreinformationon
Mephistopheles,Blackheart,andtheirdemoniccronies.HeextractedallthebooksontheDeviland
SatanismfromthegeneralNewAgeclutter.Squattingdownonthefloor,Johnnyflippedthroughthe
pagesinahurry,scanningthetitlesandchapterheadingsinsearchofanythingthatmighthelphimget
throughthecomingnight.TheGrandGri-moire.TheLesserKeyofSolomon.Pseudomonarchia
Daemonum.HadCaretakerreadanyofthesesamebooks?Thecagyold-timersureseemedtoknowhis
stuffwheredealswiththeDevilwereconcerned.

“UnhappyspiritsthatfellwithLucifer,
“ConspiredagainstourGodwithLucifer,
“AndareforeverdamnedwithLucifer.”
JohnnyskimmedtherelevantpassageinMarlowe’sDoctorFaustus.Herippedoutthepageand

addedittoagrowingstackofpapersthatalsoincludedchoiceextractsfromDante’sInferno,TheBook
ofRevelation,ParadiseLost,MemoirsoftheGoldenDawn,andtheMalleusMalificarum.Hedidn’t
wastetimelookingforawayoutofhisdealwithMephistopheles;iftherewasloopholetobefoundin
thesetexts,hewouldhavefoundityearsago.

WasthereasinglebookondemonologyIdidn’tread?
Finally,inarose-coloredleatherboundvolumetitledTheRiseoftheMidnightSon,hestumbled

ontoanunsettlingillustration.Acenturies-oldwoodcutshowedayouthfulfigurethatsomewhat
resembledBlackheart,holdinguphisarmsasateemingswarmofevilsoulsweredrawnintohisbody.
Gothictypewarnedthat“theBeastheraldstheEndofDays.”

Johnnydidn’tlikethesoundofthat.
Helingeredovertheforebodingillustration,takingineverydetail.Couldthishaveanythingtodo

withtheconflictbetweenBlackheartandMephistopheles?AndwhereexactlydidtheGhostRiderfit
in?

Abellfromtheelevatorstartledhim.Someonewascominguptotheloft.Johnnyflaggedthepage

withthewoodcutonit,thenclimbedtohisfeet.Hislegsachedfromsittinginthesamepositiontoo
long.HisshoulderitchedwhereCaretakerhadstitcheduphiswound.Hewalkedovertofacethe

elevatordoor.

Whocouldthisbe?hewondered.Mack?
SomehowhedoubtedthatMephistopheleswouldbothertoringthebellbeforeshowingup

uninvited.DittoforBlackheartandhispals.

Hewasn’texpectinganybodyelse.
Theelevatordoorslidopen,andRoxannewasstandinginside.
Johnnystaredatherinshock.Shewasthelastpersonhehadeverexpectedtofindonhisdoorstep,

especiallyaftertheemphaticwayshehadwrittenhimoffonlyafewhoursago.

”‘Hewasright?Wecan’tbetogether?’“
Shewasthrowinghisownwordsbackinhisface.“What…?”Johnnystilldidn’tunderstandwhat

washappeninghere.

“That’swhatyousaidtome,”sheremindedhim.“Yousaidmyfatherwasrightandthatwecouldn’t

betogether.”

ShepushedpastJohnnyintohisapartment.
“Urn…comeonin,”wasallhemanagedtogetout.
Roxannepacedrestlesslybackandforthacrosstheloft,dressedcasuallyinabrownleatherjacket,

whiteblouse,andbluejeans.Asmallgoldencrosshungaroundherneck.Shekeptontalking,likeshe
hadalottogetoffhermind:“Iwasthinkingaboutitand…youneveragreedwithmyfatherabout
anything.Whynow?”

Becauseyou’dneverbelievethetruthinabillionyears.
“Andyousaidwe‘couldn’t’betogether,”shepointedout.“Ifyouhadsaid,‘wedon’tbelong

together,’orthat‘weshouldn’tbetogether’…well,thatwouldmakesense.”Sheshothimadirtylook
acrosstheroom.“Andbytheway,I’dtotallyagree.But‘can’tbetogether’soundslikethere’sanother
reason,someoutsideforcemakingthedecision.”

Yeah,tellmeaboutit,Johnnythought.“You’rereadingtoomuchintoit.”
Roxannewasn’tbuyingitforamoment.“Isaidahorrible,cruel,untruethingtoyou-forwhich,by

theby,Ireallyapologize-andyou…youactuallyagreedwithme.”Sheshookherhead.“IknowI
haven’tseenyouinfifteenyears,butthat’sjustnotyou,Johnny.”

I’mnotmeanymore.Juststickaroundforawhile,untilthesungoesdown.
Unnervedbyhissilence,sheglanceddownatthefloor.Curiosityshoweduponherfaceasshe

discoveredthatshewasstandinginthemiddleofJohnny’sscatteredbooksandpapers.Wait!hethought
asshereacheddownandselectedatitleatrandom.Justhisluck,shepickedupTheRiseofthe
MidnightSon.HecringedinsideassheflippedthebookopentothedrawingoftheEndofDays.How
amIgoingtoexplainthisone?

Shefrownedattheillustration,obviouslytroubledbythedisturbingimageandsubjectmatter.

ConcernshowedinhereyesasshelookedupatJohnny.

“What’sgoingon?”sheasked.
Johnnysteppedforwardandpluckedthebookfromherhand.Hestartedcleaningupthefloor

aroundher,stickingtheloosepileoftornpagesintothenearestconvenientdrawer.Withanairof
finality,heslammedthedrawershut.

“We’renotthesamepeoplewewerebackthen,”hesaid,knowingfullwelljusthowlamethat

sounded.HepiledthesatanictomesbackbehindGrace.“That’sallIwastryingtosay.”

Hethenwalkedovertothekitchen.“Wantadrink?”
“No,”Roxannesaidflatly.Shestrolledovertotheunlitfireplace,whereastripofblack-and-white

snapshots,thekindtypicallyfoundatacarnivalphotobooth,occupiedapositiononhonoronthe
mantel.Hervoicesoftened.“Irememberthatday.”

SheturnedtowatchJohnnypourjellybeansintoamartiniglass.Sheraisedaneyebrowatthe

unusual“cocktail.”

“Idon’tdrink,”Johnnysaidwithashrug.“Nightmares.”
Hesaiditcasuallyenough,butshepickeduponthewordrightaway.“Nightmares…?”
“Look,Roxanne,”hemumbled,tryingdesperatelytochangethesubject.“IknowI’vebeenacting

strangeand…I’msorryaboutdinner,aboutallofit.Chasingyoudownonthehighway,standingyou
upagain…”

“Areyouokay?”sheaskedhimintensely.Shedidn’tsoundmadatallanymore,justworried.About

him.

Johnnypaused,atalossforwhattosay.Hecouldn’tlietoRoxanne.Sheknewhimtoowell.

Alwayshad.

Buttherewasnothingshecoulddotosavehim.Hisfatehadbeendecidedfifteenyearsago,ina

maintenancetentoutsideSweetwater.

“I’mfine,”hesaidfinally.
“Youdon’tseemfine,”sheinsisted.Herenowwasthepersistencethathadmadeheratop

investigativejournalist.“Youseemanythingbutfine.Talktome.Whateveritis,youcantrustme.”

Couldhereally?Hestaredintoherdeepchestnuteyes,wantingsomuchtoopenuptoher,hut

afraidtorevealtheunholyshamethathadhauntedhimalltheseyears.Asidefromhisrecentrun-inwith
Caretaker,hehadneverspokenofhiscursewithanotherlivingsoul,letaloneawomanhetrulycared
about.

Shesawthehesitationinhiseyes.“Tellmethetruth,Johnny.”
“Youwouldn’tbelieveme,”hewarnedher.“Iwouldn’tbelieveme.”
Sheploppeddownonthecouchandpattedtheseatbesideher.“Tryme.”
“You’llthinkI’mcrazy,”hesaid,reluctantlyjoiningheronthecouch.Washeactuallythinkingof

doingthis?

“Inmyjob,I’veseenandheardjustabouteverything,”sheassuredhim.“Twice.There’snothing

youcansaythatwouldsurpriseme.”

Okay,youaskedforit.
“ImadeadealwiththeDevil,”Johnnysaid.
Sheblinkedathim,stunnedintomomentarysilence.Whatevershehadbeenexpectingtohear-that

hewasgay,thattherewasanotherwoman,thathewasanaddict,thathewasdeeplyindebttothe
Mafia,whatever-therealtruthhadnotbeenonherradar.Tohercredit,though,shekeptamostly
straightface,onlysneakingaquickglancebackattheheapofoccultvolumesstackedbehindGrace.
Shenoddedslowly,encouraginghimtocontinue.

“That’swhyIleftyouatthattree,”heexplained,“tospareyou.”
“Sparemefromwhat?”
“Fromwhathappenedlastnight.Hecametocollectonthedeal.”Shelookedconfused,sohe

spelleditoutforher,growingagitated.“TheDevil.Mephistopheles.AndnowIworkforhimandhe’s
gotmechasingthisguynamedBlackheart.Andtheseotherguyswhochangeshape.That’swhyI
missedourdinner.”

Ohman,thisisnotgoingwell.
“Becauseyouwereatwork,”sherepeated.“FortheDevil.”
Henodded.“I’mhisbountyhunter.TheGhostRider.OnlywhenIhunt,Idon’tlooklikethis.I

change.SodoesGrace.We’reonfire…literally.Andwhenthesuncomesup,Ichangeback.Caretaker
explainedittome.”

“Caretaker?”
“ThisguyImet,”Johnnyattemptedtoexplain.“Kindofanoldcowboy…worksatthiscemetery.

Heseemstoknowalotaboutallthis,butI’mnotsurehow.”

Roxanneglancedattheclockonthewall.Sunsetwasuponthem.“Sotonight,you’ll…”Shecurled

herhandintoaclawanddidherbestwerewolfimpression.“…arrrgh?”

“Ibelieveso,”hetoldher.
Sheseemedtoneedamomenttoprocesswhatshehadjustheard.Theystaredateachotherin

silenceforthespaceofaheartbeat.Wasshegivinghimthebenefitofthedoubt?Thensheshookher
headsadly.Abitterchuckleescapedherlips.“Andthat’syourexcuseforfifteenyearsago,forlast
night,foreverything?”

“Yeah,”headmitted.Whatelsecouldhesay?
“Okay…”shestarted,angersmolderingonherface.“ThewayIseeit,I’vegotacouplechoices

here.One,IacceptthatyoureallybelievethatwhatyoujusttoldmeistrueandItakeyoutothenearest
psychiatrichospital.Ortwo,Iacceptthatyou’drathermakeupridiculousstoriesthanbehonestwith
me…andIwalkoutthatdoorforever.”

Neitheroptionsoundedveryappealing.Oryoucouldjustbelieveme.Butthatwasprobablyasking

toomuch.

Thetensionintheairwasgrowingthickerbythesecond.JohnnywaitedtoseewhatRoxanne’snext

movewouldbe.

Shegotoffthecouchandheadedforthedoor.
Ofcourse.Whatdidyouexpect?hetoldhimself.
Crushedanddefeated,hefollowedherdowntothestreetandwatchedruefullyassheopenedthe

doortohercar.Foronce,hercameramanwasnowherearound.Roxannepausedbeforegettingintothe
driver’sseat,turningaroundtotakeonelastlookatthedejectedmanstandingonthecurb.Hermoist
browneyesheldatraceofregret.

“Takecareofyourself,Johnny,”shesaidsoftly.“Imeanthat.”
Shegotinthecaranddroveaway.Hewatchedhertaillightsdisappeararoundthecorner.
Twilightwasalreadyfallingoverthecity.Itprobablywouldn’tbelongnowbeforeGhostRiderhit

thestreetsagain.

God,hewasalreadyacceptingthisinsanityasparforthecourse.
Maybeit’sbetterthiswaythen,hetoldhimself.Roxannedeservedmorethantowasteherloveona

souldoomedtoeternaldamnation.Hehopedshecouldfindsomeoneelse,someonewhocouldmake
herhappy.

Someonewhoisn’tcursed.
“JohnnyBlaze?”
Agray-hairedmansteppedoutofanearbyalley.Heheldupabadge.“CaptainDolan,”heidentified

himself.“FortWorthPolice.”

Whatthehell…?“Theresomekindofproblem?”
“Yeah,youcouldsaythat,”Dolananswered.
Twoblack-and-whitepolicecarszoomeduptothecurb.Abunchofuniformedcopshurriedoutof

thecars-gunsdrawnandpointedatJohnny.Heliftedhishandsinconfusion.

Metalcuffsjangledinaburlyofficer’sgrip.“TakehisbiketoImpound,”Dolanordered.Oneofthe

copsheadedfortheelevator.

Grace?TheywantGrace,too?Whatthehellwashappening?Whatdidthepolicewantwithhim?
Hesuddenlyimaginedhismugshotbeingsplashedalloverthenightlynews.Thetabloidswould

haveafielddaywiththis,butthatwastheleastofJohnny’sconcernsrightnow.

Whathappenswhenthesungoesdown?
Thecuffsclickedshutaroundhiswrists.

13

St.Michael’sChurchwasclosedfortheevening.FatherAnthonyIsabellalockedthefrontdoorsand

tookafinaltourofthebuildingbeforeretiringforthenight.Hewalkeddownthecenteraislepastrows
ofemptypews.Thedyingsunlightfilteredthroughthestained-glasswindowsoverlookingtheinterior
ofthecathedral.Redvotivecandlesglowedbrightlyuponthealtar.Bouquetsoffreshflowersadorned
thesanctuary.Ascentofincensehungintheair.Everythingseemedtobeinorder.Hecrossedhimself
asheapproachedthealtar.

“Forgiveme,Father,forIhavesinned.”
Avoicebehindhimcaughtthepriestbysurprise.Turningaround,hediscoveredayoungmanina

blacksuitstandingonlyafewstepsaway.Wickedamusementglintedintheyouth’sdarkeyes.He
smirkedattheolderman’sshockedexpression.

“I’vesinnedalot.”
Arustlingsoundcamefromanalcovetotheright.Waterdrippedloudlysomewheretotheleft.

Lookingaroundhastily,FatherIsabellasawtwomorefigureslurkingatbothendsofthetransept.
Greasydreadlocksblewaboutthepalefaceofoneoftheintruders.Longdamphairconcealedthe
featuresoftheother.

Lordpreserveme,thefrightenedpriestthought.Hesensedinstinctivelythathewasinthepresence

ofgenuineEvil.Hehelduphiscrossandrosary.Satan,gettheebehindme!

Theblack-garbedyouthslappedtheholyobjectsoutofFatherIsabella’shands.Thecrucifix

clatteredagainstthemarblefloor.Therosarycameapart,spillingbeadsinalldirections.Aghast,the
prieststaredatthefallenitemsthathadfailedtoprotecthimfromhisenemies.WhyhadtheLord
forsakenhim?Washisfaithnotstrongenough?

TheyouthlungedforwardandseizedFatherIsabellabythethroat.“Iamsearchingforagrave,”he

informedhiscaptive.“Onethatusedtobeburiedwheretheoldtrainstationisnow.Yourchurch
relocatedthegraves.”

“Idon’tknowwhatyou’retalkingabout,”thepriestgulped.Hefeltduty-boundnottofurtherthis

foulbeing’spurposes,whatevertheymightbe.Perhapsifhefeignedignorance,thisevilwouldpass
himby….

Theyouth’sgriptightenedaroundhisthroat,sothatFatherIsabellacouldbarelybreathe.“Oh,I

thinkyoudo,”hesaid.“Infact,Icanfeelyouthinkingaboutitrightnow.…”

Thepriestgaspedforbreathastheyouth’sblackeyesseemedtoboreintohisverysoul.Theyouth’s

palefacetookonademoniccast.Whiteteethsharpenedintofangs.Allthoughtofresistanceevaporated
fromFatherIsabella’smind,replacedbyanoverwhelmingdesiretosavehisownskin.Forgiveme,
Lord,heprayed.Forgivemypitiablehumanweakness.

“There…arerecords,”headmitted.
Trembling,FatherIsabellaledtheyouthandhistwounnaturalcompanionsdowntothechurch

basement.Dustandcobwebssuggestedthatnoonehadpokedaroundintheoldrecordsforyears.Mice
scurriedawayattheirapproach.Hisshakinghandextractedaleather-boundvolumefromashelf.He
crackedthebookopen,raisingacloudofdustthatlefthimcoughingforaspell.Insidethevolume,
handwrittennotationsfilledtheyellowpages.Hescannedthepages,butcouldmakenosenseofthe
entries.

“Thesearetherecords,”hevolunteered,“but…Idon’treadLatin.”
“Adeadlanguage,”theyouthconceded.HepluckedthevolumefromFatherIsabella’shandsand

beganleafingthroughthepages.Heseemedtohavenodifficultydecipheringthescrawlednotations.
Liftinghiseyesfromthepages,henotedthepriest’spuzzledexpression.

“Privateschool,”heexplained.
“Thosethingswillkillyou,”CaptainDolanremarked.
Johnnylitupthecigaretteanyway.“They’llhavetogetinline….”
Hehadneverbeeninapoliceinterrogationroombefore,butJohnnyrecognizedthedecorfrom

countlessTVcopshows.Hesatbehindacheappinetable,staringintoalonghorizontalmirrorthatwas
undoubtedlyaone-waywindow.Thebareconcretewallswerepaintedinstitutionalgreen.Anashtray
restedonthetablebeforehim.Thelegsofhischairscrapedagainstthescuffedtilefloor.

“Actlikeatoughguy,fine.”Dolanfacedhimacrossthetable.Ayoungerofficer,Edwards,slida

foldertowardJohnny.Insidewereaseriesofphotographs.Johnnyglimpsedseveralshotsoftorn-up
blacktopandaclose-upofamangledlicenseplate.Sothat’showtheygotme,herealized.Hehadn’t
evennoticedtheplatewasmissing.Guess1hadotherthingsonmymind.

Dolanrandowntheevidenceagainsthim.“Yourplateandatreadfromyourtiresatthecrimescene.

Awitnessthatwilltestifythatthesuspectusedsomekindoffireeffect.Liketheonesyouuseinyour
stuntshows.”

“Itoldyou,”Johnnyinsisted.“Idon’tknowanything.”
Anythingyou’llbelieve,thatis,youidiot.
Dolanranoutofpatience.HegrabbedJohnnybythecollarandforcedhimtolookatanotherphoto

inthefile.Thisoneshowedamummifiedcorpsethatappearedtohavebeendyedanunnaturalshadeof
blue.Thebodyworethetatteredremainsofastationmaster’suniform.Bifocalsperchedonthe
mummy’sindigonose.

“Thisguywasthreeyearsfromretirement,”Dolaninformedhim.“Neverharmedafly.Andtakea

lookatsomeoftheothercorpsesthathaveturnedupsinceyoucamehome.”Hespreadthephotosout
infrontofJohnny,confrontinghisprisonerwithshotaftershotofwitheredcorpses.Tautblueflesh
stretchedoverthegrotesquebluecadavers,wholookedlikethey’dhadtheverylifesuckedoutofthem.

Johnnystaredatthepictures,unabletolookaway.Foronehorriblemoment,hewonderedifmaybe

theGhostRiderwasresponsibleforthekillings.DidIdothis?

No.Thestationmaster’sbodyhadalreadybeenlyingatBlackheart’sfeetwhentheGhostRiderhad

arrivedatthedepot.

“Ididn’tkillanyone,”hemurmured,asmuchtohimselfastothecops.Exceptmaybethatone

freakydemon,theonewhodrovethetruckintome.Avividmemory,oftheearthelementalbeing
reducedtoshardsbyGhostRider’sfierychain,flashedthroughhismind.Isincineratingademona
crime?Maybenotonthisearth.

“Maybenot,”Dolansaid.“ButI’mguessingyoucantellmewhodid.”HeletgoofJohnny’scollar.

“Weknowthecrimesscenesareconnected.Forensicsconfirmsit,theyalldiedthesameway.Theold
guyatthedepotandtheonesatthebikerbar.”

Bikerbar?Johnnyrecalledhearingsomethingaboutsomesortofmassacreonthenews.Had

Blackheartbeenresponsibleforthattragedyaswell?Whatwasheuptoanyway?Whydid
MephistopheleswanttherebelliousdemonandhisbuddiesdraggedbacktoHell?Johnnytriedtofitthe
piecestogetherinhismind.HewonderedhowmuchCaretakerknewaboutwhatwasreallygoingon.

NotthatDolanseemedinclinedtoletJohnnygoanytimesoon.“ThefamousJohnnyBlaze,”thecop

saidmockingly,lettingtheprisonerknowthathiscelebritystatuswasn’tgoingtodohimanygoodhere.
“Seemstomethatyourfanswouldn’tbetookeenonyoubeingwrappedupinamurderinvestigation.
Nottomentioncorporatesponsors,eventpromoters…”

DetectiveEdwardsnoddedalongwithhisboss,lookinglikeheexpectedJohnnytocrackunderthe

pressure.ButJohnnycouldn’tcarelessaboutthepolicemen’sthreats.TheDevilownsmysoul,he
thoughtmordantly.Yeah,likeI’mreallyworriedaboutmyticketsalesandproductendorsements.

Heleanedbackinhischairandcrossedhisarmsatophischest.Therewasnothingthecopscould

dotohimthatcouldmatchthebottomlesspithehadalreadydugforhimself.Thiswasjustasideshow.

“So,”Dolangrowled,“youwannatalk?Ordoyouwannaspendthenightinthetank?”
Johnnytookanotherdragonhiscigarette.
Momentslater,hewasbeingroughlyescortedbyarmedofficerstowardaholdingcellenclosedby

sturdyironbars.Overadozeninmates-aprettyunsavory-lookingcrowd-glaredathimfrombeneaththe
sicklyfluorescentlights.Prisontattoosandsurlyscowlsadvertisedanti-socialtendencies.Oldscars
hintedatpastbrawlsandgangwars.Clenchedfistspromisedmoreviolencetocome.

Caretaker’swordsechoedinsideJohnny’sskull.“Atnight,inthepresenceofevil…”
Johnnyglancedataclockonthewall.Nightwouldbefallingsoon,ifithadn’talready.
Hesawaverybadsituationdeveloping.
“Youdon’twanttoputmeinthere,”hewarnedtheguards.
“Sorry,”oneofthecopsreplied.“TheRitzwasbooked.”
HiscolleagueopenedthedoortothecellandshovedJohnnyinside.Thedoorslammedshut,

lockingJohnnyinwiththeotherprisoners.Uglysmiles,whistles,andcatcallswelcomedhim.

“Hey!”asix-foot-tallskinheadsnarledathim.Wearingastuddedleatherjacket,thepunkelbowed

hiswaythroughthecrowdtowardJohnny.“YoulooklikethatJohnnyBlazedude….”

Great,Johnnythought.Anotherfan.Hedidn’tfeellikesigningautographsrightnow.“Yeah.Iget

thatalot.”

“Nah,thatisyou!”theskinheadinsisted.“You’rehim!Isawyoujumpatthatstatefairafewyears

ago.”Hescowledatthememory.“Ipaidtenbuckstoseeyousplatter.Butyoudidn’t.”

“Sorrytodisappointyou,”Johnnysaid.
Aheftyredneckwearingfadedmilitaryfatigueslumbereduptohim.AConfederateflagadornedhis

blackbaseballcap.“Youmightbeabigshotoutthere,Blaze,”hejeered.Hecrackedhisknuckles
ominously.“Butinhere,you’rejustanothermonkeyinthecage.”

“I’mnotlookingforanytrouble,”Johnnysaid.Wasthereanywaytokeepthisscenefrom

escalatingoutofcontrol?

Therednecksnorted.“Looksliketroublefoundyou.”Withoutwarning,herammedhisfistinto

Johnny’sstomach.Thepainwasimmediate,intense,andJohnnydoubledover.Theskinheadgrabbed
ontoJohnnyandspunhimaround-thebettertopeelhisleatherjacketawayfromhim.

“Nicejacket,”hechortled.
AslimteenageAfrican-Americannervouslysteppedforward,lookingextremelyoutofplaceamong

theotherinmates.SensitivefeaturesbetrayedhisdiscomfortatthebrutaltreatmentJohnnywas
receiving.

“C’mon,man,”hepleaded.“Leavehimalone.”
“Getlost!”theskinheadbarked.Hebackhandedtheguyacrossthemouth,sendinghimflying

acrossthecell.Theotherprisonerspracticallytrampledoverthepoorkidintheirrushtojoininbeating
upthelegendaryJohnnyBlaze.Punks,bikers,andgangbangersfelluponJohnnylikeapackofwolves
tearingapartawoundeddeer.FistsandbootscollidedwithJohnny’stenderflesh,knockinghimtothe
floor.Hisfacewaspoundedintothecement.Hefeltthestitchesinhisshouldercomeloose.Freshblood
drippeddownhisarm.

“Igethisboots!”theredneckbellowed.
“Gimmethatwatch!”anotherprisonershouted.
“Goddamnprettyboy!”ashaggyHell’sAngelcursed.Therockersonhisvestproclaimedhis

outlawstatus.Symbolicpatchesbraggedofpastcrimesandsexacts.“Callshimselfabiker…”

“Letgoofthatjacket!Isawitfirst!”
Johnnydisappearedbeneathapileofthrashingcriminals.
Thenallhellbrokeloose.

Thetransformationcaughteveryoneoff-guard.
Onemoment,theywereallgleefullybeatingthefamousJohnnyBlazetoapulp.Thenext,aneerie

orangeglowemanatedfrombeneaththeheapofbodies,followedbyablindingburstofwhite-hotfire
thatblastedtheinmatesintothewallsofthecell.Ironbarsrangliketuningforks.Spotsappearedbefore
theeyesofon-lookingprisoners.

GhostRiderrosefromthefloor,animbusofcracklingyellowflamessurroundinghisgrinningskull.
Theflamessetoffthesprinklersystem,butthesprayingwaterfailedtodousetheRider’sfieryaura.

Hisblazingsocketsspottedtheskinheadlyingonthefloornearby.Thebaldhoodlum’sfacehadbeen
bakedredbyGhostRider’svolcanictransmutation.Helookedlikehewassufferingfromtheworld’s
worstcaseofsunburn.Therestoftheinmateslookedtoastedaswell.

“Oh,hell,”theskinheadfearfullymurmured.Askeletalhandclosedaroundthepunk’sthroat,the

mysticflameslickingagainsthisskin,asGhostRidereffortlesslyliftedhimoffthefloor.Theskinhead
yowledinpainashisfeetdangledintheair.Hetuggedatthebonyclawwithbothhands,butwas
unabletoprytheburningfingersawayfromhisneck.GhostRiderlookedhimoverwithoutmercy.

“Nicejacket,”heintoned.
Johnny’sownjacketlaycrumpledonthefloor,tornbythegreedyhandsofcompetingfelons,so

GhostRiderclaimedtheskinhead’sjacketashisown.Metalstudspoppedashepulledthejacketover
hisskeletalframe,adaptingittohisuse.Shiningsilverspikesrosefromthejacket’sshoulders,giving
theRideranevenmoreforbiddinglook.Badtothebone,inmorewaysthanone.

Theflamingskullsurveyedthecrowdedcell,astheterrifiedinmatesbackedawayfromthehellish

apparitionthathadsuddenlyappearedintheirmidst.

TheyweretrappedinsidethecellwithGhostRider,withnowaytoescapehissternandunforgiving

justice.

“Guilty,”hepronounced.Hisunforgivinggazesweptfromfacetoface.“Guilty.Guilty.Guilty.…”
Onlyafewyardsaway,aboredguardwhiledawaythehoursinthesurveillanceroom.Hisheels

restedontheelectroniccontrolpanelinfrontofhim.Closed-circuittelevisionscreenskeptwatchover
theprecincthouse,buttheguard’seyesweregluedtothePlayStationPortableinhislap.Histhumbs
workedthecontrolsashetriedtobreakhisrecordonJohnnyBlaze-Airtime!Onthehandheldgame’s
displayscreen,theCGbikercrashedandburnedfortheumpteenthtime.

“AndBlazeisdown!”thegameannounced.
Theguardgroaned.“Thisgameisimpossible.”Hetossedtheconsoleontothecontrolpanel,then

gavethevariousscreensacursoryglance.Afterall,that’swhattheypaidhimfor….

Thefirealarmwentoff.
Hesatupstraightinhischair,droppinghisfeetbackdownontothefloor.Hiseyesbuggedoutashe

tookacloserlookatthemonitors.“Holycrap!”

Intheholdingcell,askull-headedbikerwassummarilykickingtheassesofoveradozenhardened

criminals.

Abrilliantyellowflameencircledtheskeleton’scranium.Savagespikesjuttedfromhisglovesand

shoulders.Hetossedtheterrifiedperpsaroundliketheywereragdolls.Flyingbodiescrashedintoclots
ofhystericalinmates,whowerepracticallyclimbingthewallstogetawayfromthefearsomebiker.The
sprayfromthesprinklersfloodedthefloorofthecell,causingtheprisonerstoslipandfall.Coldwater
sluiceddownthebiker’sblackleathergear,whichdriedalmostinstantaneously.Steamrosefromhis
headandshoulders.Steel-toedbootssplashedthroughthespreadingpoolbeneathhim.Bonyfists
clobberedtheotherprisoners.

Thecoprubbedhiseyes,buttheincredibleimagesdidn’tgoaway.Hishanddroppedinstinctively

ontothegripofhisbaton.Who-orwhat-didtheyhaveinthatcell?

Hehitthepanicbutton.

Theimpoundgaragewaspackedwithconfiscatedvehicles,invariousstatesofdisrepair.Deputy

GaryFriedrichworkedhiswaythroughthecrowdedgarage,fillingoutevidencereportsonhis
clipboard.Hefoughtbackayawn.Oneofthesedayshereallywasgoingtoputinforatransfertothe
dayshift.Workingnightssucked.

AvintageHarley-Davidsonoccupiedaformerlyemptyslot.Friedrichwhistledinappreciationof

thefine-lookingmachine.Hewouldn’tmindtakingaspinonthatchopper.Hewalkedtowardthebike,
checkingitagainstthedescriptionontheoriginalreport.Hisinterestinthebikeincreasedwhenheread
thatitbelongedtoJohnnyBlaze,thefamousdaredevil.HehadcaughtBlaze’sshowatthestadiumthe
otherday-thathadbeenaprettyimpressivestuntwithallthosehelicopters.

HewonderedwhatBlazewasinfor.ProbablydrugsorDUI,heguessed.Thatwasusuallywhatgot

celebritiesintotrouble.Toomuchmoneyandfreetime.

AsuddenroarfromtheHarley’senginecausedhimtonearlyjumpoutofhisskin.Theenclosed

garageamplifiedtheechooftheengine’sfuriousgrowl,creatinganalmostdeafeningracket.“Whatthe
hell?”

Beforehiseyes,Blaze’sbikeburstintoflames.Themetalchassiswrithedlikeathingalive,taking

onamoresatanicdesign.Askull-likevisageemergedfromthefairings.Thewheelsignited,turning
intospinningringsoffire.Friedrichtumbledbackwardontohisbutt.Hethrewhishandsupinfrontof
hisface,justincasethegastankexploded.Thetransformedcycleshiftedloudlyintogear,likeitwas
abouttorunhimover.Therewasnochancethathecouldgetoutofthewayintime.

Insteadtheriderlessbikelauncheditselfintotheair,sailingoverthesprawleddeputyandtouching

downonthepavementbehindhim.Flamesspewedfromitsexhaustpipesasitzoomedfortheexit.A
trailofmoltenasphaltmarkeditspassage.

That’sit,Friedrichthought,pale-facedandsweating.I’mdefinitelytransferringtodays!
Twitchingbodieslitteredthefloorofthecell.Eventheworstamongtheinmateshadprovenno

matchforGhostRider’svengefulfistsandPenanceStare.Ofalltheprisoners,onlythefragileteenager
remaineduponhisfeet.Hecoweredinthefarcornerofthecell,watchingtheRiderwithundisguised
dread.Theskinhead’sblowhadleftanuglypurplebruiseuponhischeek.

“You,”GhostRideraddressedhim.Hepointedabonyfingeratthefrightenedyoungman.

“Innocent.”

Heturnedawayfromthekidandkickedopenthecelldoor.Thesteelbarsclangedagainstthefloor

ashestrodeoutofthecellanddownthehallwaybeyond.Unabletobelievehisgoodfortune,the
teenagerwatchedtheSpiritofVengeancedepart,thenfainteddeadawayontothefloor.

TheHellcyclewaswaitingforGhostRiderashemarchedoutthebackexitoftheprecincthouse.

Acrossanarrowstripofpavement,alightedredsignspelledoutgarageabovetheentrancetothe
impound.AnamingtrailstretcheddowntheramptowheretheHellcyclenowstood.

“Holdit!”
Thesurveillanceguardchargedupandcrackedtheflamingskullinthefacewithhisbaton.Ghost

Riderturnedtolookathisattacker.Theguardgulpedashesawthattheskull’slowerjawhadcome
unhinged;thebonymandiblehunglooselytooneside.Yellowflamesrippledalongthedislocatedjaw.

That’snomask,theguardrealized.Hefeltsicktohisstomach.
GhostRidercasuallyreachedupandresethisjaw.Itclickedbackintoplace.Hewavedhisfingerin

theguard’sface,chidinghimforhisrashmove.

Theguardswallowedhard.“Mybad.”
GhostRiderclimbedontotheHellcycle.Hepeeledawayfromthepolicestationinatorridburstof

flame.Hellfireflaredfromtherearofthebike,shatteringthefirstthreelettersofthegaragesign.

Onlythewordrageremainedintact,glowingbrightlylikeawarningtothewicked.
Vengeancerodethestreetsofthecity.

14

AnarmadaofpolicecruiserspursuedGhostRideralongthewaterfront.TheHellcyclesplitthe

lanes,zoomingbetweenrowsofciviliancarsandtrucks.Shockeddriversstaredinfearandamazement
astheskeletalbikerspedpastthem,leavingatrailoffirerightdownthemiddleofthedrive.Wailing
policesirensdisturbedthenight.Law-abidingTexanspulledtheirownvehiclestothesidetoletthe
fleetofflashingcopcarsthrough.Policehelicoptersjoinedinthepursuit,racingtokeepupwiththe
flamingchopper.AirbornesearchlightstargetedtheHellcycle.AmplifiedvoicescalledonGhostRider
tostopandsurrender.

ButtheSpiritofVengeanceansweredtonoearthlyauthority.Hedidn’tevenlookupatthe

helicopters,letaloneslowdown.Intentuponhismission,hewouldletnothingcomebetweenhimand
hisfoes.Ifhecouldjusteludethesetroublesomemortals,hemightbeabletopickupBlackheart’strail
again.

ThewestforkoftheTrinityRiverflowedsluggishlyalongtherightsideoftheroadway.Pedestrians

strollingtheriverfrontyelpedanddivedforcover.Bravercitizensgrabbedfortheircamerasandcell
phones,hopingtocatchingapictureofthehigh-speedchase.Dogsonleashesbarkedwildlyatthe
spectralbiker.

Upahead,arailroadbridgecrossedtheriver.Hopingtoshakehispursuers,GhostRidertooka

sharpturnontothebridge.Heleanedintothecurve,scrapingthebikeagainstthetarmac.Flaming
wheelsrodetherails,emittingashowerofsparks,untilGhostRiderspottedthepoliceroadblock
waitingforhimontheotherside.Hehitthebrakes,haltinginthemiddleofthebridge.SWATteams
tookuppositionsatbothendsoftheirontrestle.Woodenbarricadesandthrongsofparkedpolicecars
addedtotheblockades.Helicopterswhirredoverhead.Hundredsoffeetbelowhim,themoonlitsurface
oftheriverrippledslowly.

We’vegothimnow,CaptainDolanthought.Heslammedafistintohispalminsatisfaction.Blaze

wastrappeduponthebridge,withnowheretogo.Dolancouldn’twaittoripthatfreakymaskoffthe
daredevil’shead.Hestillcouldn’tfigureouthowBlazehadescapedfromjailinthefirstplace.Noway
ishegettingawayfromusagain!

Standingbehindabluewoodensawhorse,hegavetheSWATteamsthego-ahead.Hedidn’tbother

tryingtotalkBlazeoffthebridge;theberserkcelebrityhadalreadyhadplentyofchancestosurrender
willingly.“Gogethim!”hebarkedintohiswalkie-talkie.“1wantthatbiker’sskull!”

TheSWATteams,wearingfireproofbodyarmor,convergedontheflamingapparitionfromboth

sides.DolanwaitedtoseeifBlazewouldbestupidenough,orcrazyenough,toputupafight.

ButGhostRidertookanotherroute.Heswungthefrontwheelsofthechoppertowardtheedgeof

bridge,gunnedhisengine,anddroverightoverthebrink.Dolanwatchedinshockastheblazingcycle
plungedovertwohundredfeetintothefiverbelow.Thebikehitthewaterwithanenormoussplash,
thendisappearedbeneaththesurface.Steamingripplesspreadoutacrosstheriverfromthepointof
impact-Thatcrazyidiot!Dolanthoughtangrily.Hekilledhimself!

ThetwinSWATteamsranoutontothebridge,thenpeeredovertheedgeattheunsettledwater

below.Dolanhurriedouttojointhem.Lookingdownfromthebridge,hewassurprisedtoseeadim
yellowglowslowlyfadingbeneaththeroilingcurrent.“Let’sgetsomenetsoverhere!”heordered.If
theymovedquickly,maybetheycouldstillsnagontothebiker’sbodybeforetherivercarrieditaway.
Hewantedtoconfirmonceandforallthattheso-calledGhostRiderwasactuallyJohnnyBlazein
disguise.

Shamethingshadtoendthisway,hethought.Theguyseemedtohaveeverythinggoingforhim:

wealth,fame,ahotgirlfriend.Sowhathadcausedhimtogoberserkallofasudden?Suicideisnoway

togo.

BeforetheycouldevenbegindraggingtheTrinity,however,theriverbelowthemsuddenlychurned

andbubbled,likewatercomingtoaboil.Arumblingnoisecamefromsomewherebeneaththesurface,
growinglouderbythesecond.SteamandwhitewaterfrothedviolentlyatoptheriverastheGhostRider
suddenlyeruptedoutofthemurkywater.

“What-?”Dolangasped.Besidehim,aSWATteammemberliftedthevisorofhishelmet,seemingly

unabletobelievehiseyes.StartledshoutsandexclamationssoundedallalongthebridgeasGhost
Rider’sflamingcycle,undousedbyitsimmersionbeneaththeTrinity,zoomedawayontopoftheriver
…likeahydrofoilfromHell.Fierywheelsoutracedthecurrent,spewingatrailofeerieblueflamesthat
burnedatopthewaterlikeaflamingoilslick.GhostRider’sblazingsocketsglancedbackbrieflyatthe
stupefiedpoliceofficersuponthebridge.Forasecond,Dolanfeltasiftheglowingskullwaslooking
rightathim.Anamusedgrinappeareduponthebonyvisage.

Thecyclerocketedawaydowntheriver,swiftlyleavingthepolicehelicoptersbehindhim.Dolan

couldn’tevenbegintoguesshowfastthedemonicbikewastraveling,andoverthewater,noless.All
histheoriesandsuppositionsregardingJohnnyBlaze’ssecretlifeastheRiderwentupinsmoke.Junior
officersturnedtohimforanswers,wantingtoknowwhattodonow.Dolanwatchedthesputteringblue
flamesslowlydieaway.

Hedidn’thaveaclue.
Theunconsciouspriestwassuspendedabovethebasementfloor,Blackheart’sfingersstilltight

aroundhisthroat.TheDevil’ssonflippedthroughtheoldchurchrecordswithhisfreehand.Hesmiled
asheperusedthepages,realizingthathewasnearingtheendofhisunholyquest.Myhourof
ascendancedrawsnigh,hethought,andthereisnothingmyfathercandotostopit.

Satisfiedthathehadreadenough,heclosedthemolderingbookandreleasedhisgriponFather

Isabella,whocollapsedontothebarestonefloor.Onlytheflutterofhiseyelids,andadistinctlackof
bluepigmentation,testifiedthattheunluckypriestwasstillalive.Eagertoattainhisultimategoal,
Blackheartwasintoomuchofahurrytodisposeofthepriestproperly.

“IhaveeverythingIneed,”heinformedhisremainingfollowers.AbigorandWallowlingeredinthe

shadowsofthebasement,awaitingBlackheart’snextcommand.Themuffledsoundsofwindandwater
betrayedtheirpresence.

Theunmistakableroarofamotorcyclepenetratedthebasementwalls,comingfromoutsidethe

church.Thesoundgrewlouderbythesecond.

TheRider.
“He’scomingforus!”Wallowgurgled.Anxietyliterallydrippedfromhisface.
BlackheartwaslessalarmedbytheRider’sapproach.Hehadneverimaginedthathisfather’s

bloodhoundwouldnottrackthemdownagain.Onewayoranother,theRiderneededtobedealtwith.

“Abigor.”
Theairelementalwhippedhisheadaround,hisfeaturesablurofmotion.Thebreezesblowinghis

dreadlocksaboutincreasedinintensity.HelookedtoBlackheartforhismarchingorders.

“Youknowwhattodo,”hisleadersaid.
GhostRiderraceddownthestreet,drawnbythestenchofthehellbornevilatlargetonight.Drivers

andpedestriansalikefledfromthesightoftheavengingspiritonhisincendiarychopper.Hescreeched
toahaltinfrontofaCatholicchurchwedgedinbetweenseveralofdowntown’slargerbuildings.He
listenedintentlytothesoundsofthenight,strainingallhissensesinordertozeroinonhisprey.His
chainwasslungacrosshischest.Spikedgauntlets,foundinthepocketsofhis“borrowed”jacket,
encasedhishands.Helookedupanddownthestreetinfrontofthechurch.

I’mclose,herealized.They’resomewherenearby.
Hepeeredupattheupperfloorsofthechurch.Somethingflutteredinthebreezeabovetheparapet.

Stonegargoylesleeredathimfromthebaseofthesteeple.GhostRidersensedthattheywerenotalone.

Atremendousblastofwindblewhimoffhiscycle.Hecartwheeledbackwardintoaparkedcar,

dentingitdeeplyinonesideandshatteringthepassenger-sidewindows.Hisflamingaurascorchedthe
paintoffthecar.

Aswirlingcloudofdirtyairgustedfromthechurchsteepletotheroofofatwo-storyofficebuilding

acrossthestreet.AbigorhowledatGhostRiderfromhisvantagepointhighabovethestreet.

“Calloffthehunt,Rider!”
Never!GhostRiderthought.Extricatinghimselffromthecrumpledcar,hemountedhisHellcycle

oncemoreandrodetowardtheofficebuilding.Aboarded-upnewsstandburstintoflame.

ButAbigordidnotstayinoneplaceverylong.Hiscorporealformdissolvedintoaninsubstantial

mistasheblewacrosstheskytowardaloomingglass-and-steelskyscraperafewblocksaway.Revving
hisengine,GhostRiderchasedafterthefugitivedemon,butnoteventheHellcyclecouldoutrunthe
wind.Abigorblastedhimselftothetopoftheskyscraper,thenrema-terializedupontheledge.His
demoniclaughtercarriedacrossthedistanceashecrouchedattheedgeoftherooftop,beckoningfor
theRidertofollowhimuptowherehehadtheadvantage.“Comeandgetme!”hetaunted,capering
upontheledge.“Ifyoudare!”

GhostRider’sflamesheatedup,growingbrightenoughtolightupthedarkness.Snarling,hepoured

hispowerintotheHellcycle’sinfernalengine,acceleratingtowardtheskyscraperatbreakneckspeed.
Angerblazedinhiseyesockets.

Thevileelementalwouldeludehisjudgmentnolonger.
Burningtirestoreupthestreet.
OfficerHowardMackiewasbehindthewheelofhispatrolcarwhentheflamingmotorcyclezipped

byhim.ThebizarresightmatchedtheAPBshe’dreceivedearlierregardingabikerinaglow-in-the-
darkHalloweenmaskridingaburningchopper.HehadbrieflywonderedwhethertheganginDispatch
hadbeenpullinghisleg,butseeingwasbelieving.Firecrackledaroundthebonyskullofthebikerup
aheadasheveeredaroundthecornerintoamazeofnarrowalleyways.

“MackietoBase!MackietoBase!”heyelpedintohismike.“Ihaveasuspectfleeingweston

Cherry.Repeat,westonCherry.Suspectmatchesthedescriptionofthefugitivewhobrokeoutofthe
precincthouse….”

Activatinghislightsandsirens,hetookoffinpursuitoftheflamingbike.Hestaredinconfusionat

thechopper’sblazingwheels.Howdoesthatwork?hewondered,tryingtofigureoutwhatkindoffuel
thebikermighthavedousedthetireswith.Whydoesn’ttherubbermelt?

“That’sadeadend,”headquartersreportedback.“Yougothim.”
“10-4onthat!”Mackiereplied.LookslikeI’mgoingtogetachancetocheckoutthosetrickwheels

firsthand.

Sureenough,atoweringsteelskyscraperloomeddirectlyinthemotorcycle’spath,blockingany

possibleescaperoute.Stonestepsledupfromanenclosedplazatothefrontofthebuilding.Banners,
affixedtothestonecolumnsflankingthesteps,advertisedthecity’sdailylonghorncattledrives.The
skull-facedbikerhadnowheretogo.Mackieturnedthewailingpolicecarsidewaystokeepthechopper
frompullingaU-turnandheadingbackoutofthealley.Hehitthebrakesandreachedforhisservice
pistol.Intheory,thebikerwasn’tsupposedtobearmed,buthewasn’ttakinganychances.

Endoftheroad,cowboy.
Hesteppedoutofhiscarintimetoseethemotorcyclereachthebaseoftheskyscraper-andride

straightupthesideoftheseventy-fivestorybuilding.

Mackie’sjawdropped.Hisarmsfelllimplytohissides.
Avoicefromhispoliceradioaskedforanupdate.“Whatisthesuspect’s10-20?”
Hisgazestilllockedontheascendingcycle,hepulledthemiketowardhim.

“Up,”hereportedflatly.
Dispatchsoundedunderstandablypuzzled.“What?”
“Thesuspectisgoingup!”
OnthefourteenthfloorofthePlazaHotel,Roxannewaspackingherbags.Shehadareturnflightin

themorning,whichwasnotnearlysoonenoughasfarasshewasconcerned.Shecouldn’twaittoleave
theDallas-ForthWorthareaandgetbacktoherhometerritoryinAtlanta,wherehopefullyshewould
neverhavetodealwithJohnnyBlazeagain.Her“brilliant”ideatointerviewtheelusivedaredevilhad
onlysucceededinbreakingherheartalloveragain.

DidhereallyexpectmetobelievethathewasinthralltotheDevil?Sheshookherhead,

rememberingthatinsaneencounterinJohnny’sloft.HowgullibledidhethinkIwas?Sheangrilyfolded
aspareoutfitandstuffeditintohersuitcase.Ohwell,sheconsoledherself,atleastIgottocovera
coupleofjuicystorieswhile1wasouthere.

Herbagswerespreadoutatopthequeen-sizedbed.Sheturnedawayfromthebedtoretrievesome

itemsfromtheclosetwhenhergazewascaughtbyatrailoffirestreakingupthesideoftheskyscraper
acrossthestreet.Shestaredinamazement,notentirelygraspingwhatshewasseeingatfirst.Wasthat
actuallyamotor’cycledefyinggravityasitheadedupthebuildingataninety-degreeangletothe
street?Panesofglassexplodedinthechopper’swake,rainingdownonthesidewalkbelow.

SheinstantlythoughtofJohnny-andwhatheclaimedwouldhappentohimwhenthesunwent

down:

“We’reonfire…literally.”
Herjawhangingopen,shewatchedtheblazingcycleclimbthebuildinglikeabatoutofhell.Who

elsecouldpulloffastuntlikethat…

…exceptmaybetheDevil’sbountyhunter?
“OhmyGod,”shewhispered.Thetopoftheskyscraperwasrightinfrontofhim.GhostRider

launchedtheHellcycleovertheledgeandarcedthroughtheairbeforetouchingdownontherooftop.
Tarpaperigniteduponcontactwithhiswheels.Thethrobbingengineidledbeneathhimashescanned
theareaforhisfoe.Ventilationfanswhirredupontheroof,alongsidewirelessantennaeandsatellite
dishes,butAbigorwasnowheretobeseen.

AcyclonicblastofwindstrucktheRider,sendinghimskiddingacrosstherooftowardthewaiting

precipice.Fightingbackagainstthewind,heduginhisheelsandstoppedhimselfonlyinchesfromthe
ledge.HeclenchedhisfistsasAbigormaterializedonlyafewpacesaway.

“Youshouldhavejoinedus,Rider,”theelementaltaunted.Hishairandclothingflappedaboutina

perpetualwhirlwind.Hestrokedhisgreasygoatee.“Nowyou’llonlybeafootnoteinthehistoryof
NewHell.”

GhostRidergloweredatthedemon.“WhereisBlackheart?”
Abigorlaughedinhisface.“BlackheartistheBeast,”heboasted.“Andhe’sheretocreateHellon

Earth!”Hedissipatedintotheair,vanishingfromsight.

GhostRiderspunaroundinsearchofthedemon,onlytobeknockedoffhisfeetbyan

overpoweringgustofwind.Abigorfloatedupfromtherooftop,risingovertwentyfeetintheair.Storm
windsgatheredaroundhim,howlinglikethedamned.Smogrushedinfromalloverthecity,soilingthe
veryair.Hethrewouthisarms,summoningallhiselementalpowerforonefinalassault.Thetailofa
whirlwindlashedtherooftopbelow.

RoxanneburstfromthefrontentranceofthePlaza.Sheracedacrossthestreet,heedlessofthe

oncomingtraffic.Hornshonkedandbrakessquealed,butshepaidthemnomind.Allherattentionwas
ontheravagedskyscraperupahead.Shelookedintentlyatthetopofthebuilding,butcouldn’tseethe
GhostRideranymore,onlyatrailofbrokenwindowsleadinguptotherooftop.Asulfurousodorhung
intheair.

Likebrimstone,sheremembered.CouldJohnnyhavekilledallthosepeople?1justdon’tknow

anymore.

Apolicecarwasparkedatthebaseoftheskyscraper.Adazed-lookingcoptriedtowaveheraway,

butsheranrightpasthim.Shatteredglasscrunchedbeneathherheelsassheranupthestepstothe
building.Meltedasphaltclungtohersoles.Shetuggedonthefrontdoor,onlytofinditlockedforthe
night.Herfistspoundedagainsttheunyieldingglassandsteel.

Somebodyletmein!
Theconcernedcopgentlypulledherawayfromthebuilding.Shestaredbleaklyattheskyscraper’s

dauntingheights.Shewouldhavegivenanythingtoknowwhatwashappeningupontheroof.Her
wholeworlddependedonit.

“Johnny!”

​​​

Atoptheroof,GhostRiderfacedoffagainstAbigor.
TheelementalhoveredintheairabovetheearthboundRider.Whirlingwindswhippedupthedust

andsootaroundGhostRider’sfeet,aswellastheflamesencirclinghisskull.Thefiresflickeredweakly
inthewind,likeacandleonthevergeofbeingblownout.

“You’reaslowlearner,aren’tyou?”Abigormockedhim.“Youcan’tcatchthewind,Rider!”
“Wrong!”GhostRiderdeclared.Uncoilingthechainaroundhischest,heinfusedtheadamantine

linkswithhellfire.Hespunthechainbeforehim,creatingawhirlingringoffire.Brightorangeflames
blurredintoafieryloop.

“What…?”Abigorblurted,ashefeltasuddensuctionpullingathisimmaterialform.Thespinning

chaingeneratedapowerfulbackdraftthatdrewthedemondownward.Realizinghisdanger,hetriedto
fleeintothecloudyTexassky,butthepullfromthewhirlingflameswastoostrong.Againsthiswill,he
wasdraggedbacktowardthecircleoffire.“No!”hehowled.

GhostRiderwhirledthechainfasterandfaster,turninguptheheatandintensity.Thevoracious

backdraftsuckedAbigorintotheconsumingflames.Hellfireengulfedthescreamingelemental,
immolatinghimonthespot.Abigorturnedintoachurningpillarofashesthatquicklyflaredoutand
disappeared.

ThewindsbuffetingGhostRiderfellstill.Ahandfulofashesdrifteddownontotherooftop.No

breezeremainedtoblowthemaway.

Vengeanceismine,GhostRiderthought,butthehunthadbarelybegun.Blackheart,aswellasthe

lastoftheHidden,stillawaitedhisjudgment.Andmanyhoursremaineduntildawn.Hischaincooled
downandhewrappeditbackacrosshischest.Letthewickedbe-ware.

GhostRidersaddledupandrodetheHellcyclebackthewayhehadcome.Heshotovertheledge

andoutintotheair,seventy-fivestoriesabovetheground.Theblazingchainlashedoutandcaughtonto
thesideofthebuilding,shatteringanotherwindowintheprocess.Thechainwenttaut,anchoringthe
soaringchoppertotheskyscraper.Flamingwheelsgrabbedontotheverticalsteelandglass,andthe
Hellcycleroaredstraightdownthesideofthebuilding.Firegushedfromitsexhaustpipesasthe
pavementseemedtocomerushingupatthebikeratoveronehundredmilesperhour.

“Ohhell,herehecomesagain!”
Roxanneheardthecopyelloutashedraggedherbacktowardhiscar.Shelookeduptoseethe

flamingchoppercareeringdownthesideoftheskyscraper,headingstraightfortheground.Herheart
seemedtosurgeintoherthroat.Sheputherhandsoverherface,almostafraidtolook.Anxiouseyes
peekedthroughherfingers.

Themotorcyclehitthegroundwiththeforceofamissile.Thestonestepsexplodedintopieces.

Sewercoversbouncedintotheair.Thepavementshookbeneathherfeet,throwingheroff-balance.She
threwoutherarmsandbracedherselfagainstthesideofthepolicecar.Thecopsworeunderhisbreath.

GhostRiderdidn’tevenlosehisseatonthebike.Landingonthewreckedpavement,onlyafew

yardsaway,hepumpedhisfistinexhilaration.Roxannerecognizedthemove.

OhmyGod,Johnny,shethought,gazingattheunearthlyapparitionbeforeher.Itreallyisyou.
Whichmeantthat…everythinghehadtoldherintheloftwas…true?
Herawestruckeyesstaredattheblazingskull,searchingforsometraceofJohnny’shandsome

features.GhostRidersawherlookingathimandturnedtowardher.Wasitjustherimaginationordid
sheseeasparkofrecognitionglowingatthecoreofhisemptyeyesockets?

Thespecteractedlikeheknewher.Hismaneoffirecooledtoafaintblueflame.Gettingoffhis

demoniccycle,hewalkedtentativelytowardher,likehewasafraidofherreaction.Aspikedglove
reachedoutforher;aplaintiveexpressionappeareduponthemacabreskull-face.Roxannesuddenlyfelt
likeshewasstarringinsomeghoulishversionofBeautyandtheBeast,orperhapsDeathTakesa
Holiday.Shetookahesitantstepinhisdirection.

“Johnny…”
Thepoignantmomentwasshatteredbythenoisyarrivalofthethreemorepolicecruisers.The

black-and-whitevehiclescamescreechingintotheplazainfrontofthebuilding.Spinningbluelights
andwailingsirensassaultedRoxanne’ssenses.Thecopwhowashelpingherbeforeranforwardand
draggedherbacktowardhiscar,evenashiscolleaguespiledoutofthecruiserswiththeirgunsraised.
NextaSWATteamarrivedonthescene,addingautomaticriflestothemix.Visoredhelmetsandbody
armorconcealedthereinforcements’humanity.

“Letmego!”Roxannepleaded.StronghandskeptherawayfromGhostRider.“Ineedtotalkto

him!”Policemarksmenaimedtheirweapons.Roxanne’sfacefilledwithfear.“No!”sheshouted,
althoughnoonewaslistening.“Don’tshoot!”

GhostRidershookwhatappearedtobeanangryfistatthepolice.Awalloffireeruptedbetween

theRiderandthecops,causingthepoliceofficerstofallbackinretreat.Roxannefeltthescorchingheat
oftheflamesagainstherface.Thefierybarrierwasatleastsevenfeettall.Thebannersonthestone
columnswentupinablaze.

Throughtheflames,shesawGhostRidergetbackontohisuniquelycustomizedchopper.She

rememberedJohnnysayingthatGracetransformedaswell,butthegrotesquecyclebeforeherboreno
resemblancetohisdad’soldHarley-Davidson.Askull,serpents,andsculptedvertebraegleamedinthe
hellishlightoftheflames.Shedidn’tknowwhatlookedmoreterrifying-theGhostRiderorhisride.

TheDevil’sbountyhuntertookonelastlookatRoxanne.Foraninstant,shethoughtsheglimpsed

Johnny’sfamiliareyesstaringbackatherfromtheshadowyrecessesoftheskull’seyesockets.Thenhe
peeledawayinaburstoffire,leavingRoxanneandthepoliceofficerstrappedontheothersideofdying
flames.Thebikesmashedthroughthefrontdooroftheskyscraperandouttheothersideofthe
building.Thesoundofsmashedglassandfurnitureechoedacrosstheplaza.

RoxannewatchedGhostRiderdisappear.Charredpavementandflooringmarkedhispassage.
Forgiveme,Johnny,shethought.1shouldhavebelievedyou.
Butwhatwasshesupposedtodonow?
Abovethetrashedplaza,Blackheartpeereddownovertheledgeatthetableauseventy-fivestories

below.HisdarkeyeszeroedinonthewomanwhohadtriedtogototheRider,theonehehadso
patheticallyreachedfor.Thewomanhesoobviouslyyearnedfor.

Blackheartdidn’tknowwhethertolaughorvomit.
“Andnowweknowhisweakness,”heannouncedtoWallow.
ThelastoftheHiddenwasbusyscoopinguphisbrother’sashesfromthescorchedrooftop.Heblew

gentlyupontheashes,settingthemfreeuponthewind.ThenhejoinedBlackheartattheledge.Angry
watersroiledbeneaththesurfaceofhisface.TheDevil’ssonknewWallowwouldstopatnothingtoget
hisrevengeupontheGhostRider.

Holdthatthought,Blackheartmused.

15

CaretakerwaschoppingfirewoodbackbehindhisshackwhenJohnnyBlazepulleduptothe

cemeteryonhisbike.Sunlightexposedtheexhaustedcirclesundertheyoungerman’seyes.Helooked
beat…likehehadbeenchasingdemonsallnight.

Nottomentionescapingfromthepolice.
“TheyknowwhoIam,”hetoldCaretaker.
Theold-timerputdownhisaxe.“Who’sthat?”
“Everybody.”JohnnyparkedGracebytheshack.Hewearilyclimbedoffthebike.“Don’tyou

watchTV?What’sthematterwithyou?”

Caretakerspitontotheground.“Toldyoutostickaround.”
“Isthisevergoingtoend?”Johnnyasked.
“It’llendifyoucancatchthem,”Caretakersaid.
Makessense,Johnnythought.That’swhatbountyhuntersdo,Iguess.HeexaminedCaretaker’s

grizzledface.Hecouldn’thelpfeelingthatthemysteriousold-timerknewmorethanhewaslettingon.

Well,that’snotgoodenoughanymore.
“What’sreallygoingon?”heasked.
Caretakerlookedaway,unwillingtomeetJohnny’seyes.Hefiddledwithhisaxe,wrestlingwith

someinnerdilemma.Isitthathedoesn’ttrustme?Johnnywondered.Isthatwhatthisisabout?

“Look,”hesaid.“AtleastgivemethecourtesyoftellingmewhatitisI’mfightingfor.”
Caretakernodded,likehecouldn’targuewiththatlogic.HeturnedbacktowardJohnny,looking

himsquarelyintheeyes,andseemedtomakeuphismind.

“Comewithme.”
HeledJohnnytoaweatheredtombstonenotfarfromtheshack.Aknottyoldhickorystretchedits

skeletalbranchesabovethegrave.Johnnyhadtostraintoreadthefadedinscription.”‘CarterSlade’?”

“Legendhasit,”Caretakersaidgravely,“thathestartedoutaTexasRanger,amanofhonor.Buthe

gotgreedyandfoundhimselflockedup,waitin’onthegallows.Thenthestrangercame,offering
freedomfromthenoose.Slademadethedeal…andendedupasaPhantomRider.”

Icanrelate.Butaccordingtothetombstone,Sladehaddiednearlyone-hundred-and-fiftyyearsago.

“What’shegottodowiththis?”

“RememberthecontractthestrangermadewiththepeopleofSanVenganza?”Caretakerstooda

fewfeetbackfromthegravesite.“ThestorygoesthatSladewassenttheretocollectthesouls,but
whathefoundwassoevilthathetookthecontractandrodeoff.”

“Hestoleit?”Johnnyasked.Hewonderedwhathadeverbecomeofthatrolled-upparchmenthehad

bledonfifteenyearsago.IfonlyIcouldstealthatoneback…!

Caretakernodded.“TokeepMephistophelesfromgettinghishandsonitagain.Athousandevil

soulscanstartahelluvawar.”HetippedhishatatCarterSlade’sgrave.“Somepeoplebelievehewas
buriedwithit.”

“Washe?”Johnnyasked.
Theold-timerthoughtaboutitforamoment.“Idunno,”hesaidfinally.“ButwhatIdoknowisthat

Blackheart’scomingforit.Andhe’lldoanythingtogetit.Toanybody.”Hedidn’tmincewords,giving
Johnnythehardtruthstraightup.“That’swhyyouhavetostayawayfromfriends,family,anyonethat
hecoulduseagainstyou.”

“Roxanne,”Johnnywhispered.HerememberedmeetingherasGhostRiderthenightbefore,right

afterhisbattlewiththatairelemental.Aterrifyingthoughtchilledhimtothemarrow.Whatif
Blackheartorhisotherminionhadbeenlurkingaroundafterward?

Theymighthaveseenustogether.
HerantoGraceandfiredupherengine.TheHarleytookoffattopspeed,throwingupasprayof

gravelbehindher.TherewasnotimetoexplaintoCaretaker.JohnnyknewinhisheartthatRoxanne
wasindanger…becauseofhim.

Thisisallmyfault,hethought.AhotwindblewagainsthisfaceashepushedGracetoherlimits

andbeyond.Theoldcemeteryrecededbehindashetoretowardthecity.Ihavetowarnher!

RoxanneglancedupatthedarkeningskyasshewalkedbrisklytowardJohnny’sapartment.Despite

aday’sworkreviewinghernotesandvideotapes,shewasnoclosertofindingoutwherehehad
vanishedto.Meanwhile,themediawashavingafielddaywithhisarrestandmysteriousescape.A
newspaperheadlinescreamedatherfromasidewalkstand:celebritydaredevileludespolice!A
publicityphotoofJohnnywasplasteredonthefrontpage.Thesamephotowasalloverthecablenews
channels,includingherown.NowonderherbossesbackinAtlantahadn’tobjectedtoherstayingin
FortWorthtocoverthestory.

Thankheavenforsmallfavors.
Sheshudderedinvoluntarilyatthememoryoftheskull-facedentitythathadreachedouttoherlast

night.PartofherstillfoundithardtobelievethatitwasactuallyJohnnybehindthatgrotesquedeath’s-
headandhellishflames,butshehadlearnedherlessonwhenitcametobelievinginthesupernatural.
TheGhostRiderwasreal-andsowasJohnny’scurse.

ShearrivedatJohnny’sloft,herthoughtstroubledbythetrailofbodiesthatseemedtofollowin

GhostRider’swake.TheBikerBarMassacre.Thepoisonedstationmaster.NomatterwhatJohnnyhad
become,shecouldn’timaginethathecouldhaveanythingtodowithkillingallthosepeople.Hehadn’t
injuredanyofthosecopslastnight,evenaftertheyhaddrawntheirweaponsonhim.Someoneelsehad
toberesponsibleforthemurders.Maybethat“Blackheart”hehadmentioned?

Butwho-orwhat-wasBlackheart?
Sheshookherheadinconfusion.Blackheartsandbountyhuntersandburningflesh,cursesand

caretakers…shewasinwayoverherheadhere.Ineedmoreinformation,shedecided,thinkinglikea
reporter.Ineedtounderstandhowallthismysticalbusinessworks.

Thedoortotheelevatorwaslocked,butshemanagedtopickthelockwithouttoomuchdifficulty-

thiswashardlythefirsttimeshehadindulgedinalittlebreaking-and-enteringforthesakeofastory.
Thistime,though,thestakeswerehigherthaneverbefore.Johnny’ssoul-andpossiblytheirverylives-
hunginthebalance.

TherehastobesomethingIcandotosavehim!
Sheglancedaroundtheroomyloft,whichlookedjustassherememberedit.Motorcyclesand

motorcyclegearconsumedmostoftheapartment,asidefromascatteringoffurnitureandthekitchen
unitonthemezzanine.ATVwasplayingsoftlyinthebackground.Theoverheadlightswereturned
downlow.Herfingersexploredthewall,gropingfortheswitch.Sheflickeditonandbrightfluorescent
lightfloodedtheloft…exposingafigurerightinfrontofher.

16

Caretakersatathisrough-hewnwoodentable.Anold-fashionedkerosenelamplightedtheinterior

oftheshack.Outside,nighthadfallenoverthecemetery.Lostinthought,theoldcowboysoberly
contemplatedthetarnishedsilverpocketwatchinhishand.Aninscriptionuponthewatchread:

“ForBraveryBeyondDuty.”
Thewatch’shandswerestuckatmidnight.Notickingsoundsemergedfromtheantiquetimepiece,

whichhadstoppedalongtimeago.Caretakerheldontoitanyway.

]ustanotherbroken-doumrelic,hethought,likeme.
Anoiseoutsidebrokehistrance.
Frowning,hegotupandwalkedtothedoor.Heunlockedthedoorandlookedaround.Aworn

leatherdusterprotectedhimfromtheunexpectedchilloftheevening.Hiscowboyhatrestedatophis
silverhair.Hescannedthegrounds,butsawnothinginthedarkexcepttombstonesandfallenleaves.
Aneeriemist,unusualforthesummer,spreadoverthefloorofthecemetery.

Hesensedhostileeyeswatchinghimfromtheshadows.
“Who’sthere?Showyourself.”
Heftinghisshovelinbothhands,hesteppedofftheporch.Hepeeredpastthewrought-ironfence

surroundingthegraveyard.

Asinisterfigurestoodjustoutsidethegate.Waterdrippedfromthefigure’ssoddengarments.Damp

hairhungoverthevisitor’sface.WallowsmiledevillyatCaretaker,whorecognizedthelastofthe
Hidden….

“Thisishallowedground,”heremindedthedemon.EventhoughheknewthatWallowcouldnot

comeanynearer,Caretakerheldhisshovelbeforehimlikeafightingstaff.Hemightbeold,buthe
couldstillhandlehimselfinabrawl.“Yourkind’snotwelcomehere.”

Theelementalkeptonsmiling.HisgazeshiftedfromCaretakertosomethingfartherinsidethe

graveyard.Caretakerheardanamusedchucklebehindhim.

Blackheart.
Theold-timerspunaround,swinginghisshovelattheDevil’sson.Blackheartdeftlycaughtholdof

theweaponandswungitbackatCaretaker.ThebluntedgeoftheshovelstruckCaretakerintheface,
knockinghimbackward.Theoldmantrippedoveraheadstoneandlandedflatonhisback.Hishatflew
offhishead.Blackheartlaughedandchuckedtheshovelaway.Itclatteredagainstthegranitewallofa
mausoleum.

“DidyouthinkIwasliketheothers?”hemockedthefallencowboy.“Ihaveallmyfather’s

strengthsandnoneofhisweaknesses.”

Caretakerlayhelplessupontheground,dazedbytheblow,hisfacebruisedandbleeding.Hetriedto

getup,butjuststayingconsciouswasalmostmorethanhecouldmanage.Darknessencroachedonhis
vision,yethehelditoffthroughsheerwillalone.

Blackheartkneltdownbesidehim.“TheNewHellawaitsinSanVenganza,”hesaid.“Ijustneed

thecontract.Iknowit’shere.Giveittome.”

Oh,I’llgiveittoyou,allright,Caretakerthought.Musteringhisstrength,herosefromtheground

anddustedhimselfoff.Hisancientbonescreakedalarmingly,buthewasn’tgoingdownwithoutafight.
HisfistclenchedandhetookaswingatBlackheart’sjaw.Takethis,youfancysonofabitch!

Blackheartcaughtthepunchinhisrightpalm,squeezingituntilCaretakerheardthebonesgrinding

together.ThenhebackhandedCaretakerwithaleft.Theblowknockedthestrugglingold-timerback
ontotheground.Hefellacrossamarbleheadstone,hisheadringing,bloodflowinginhismouth.

“Giveittome!”Blackheartdemanded,losingpatience.

Caretakerspitbloodinhiseye.
Afisttohisfacerewardedhisdefiantgesture.Blackhearthammeredtheoldmanagainandagain,

hisfistsrainingdownonCaretakerlikeameteorshower.Thebrutalattacklackedbothmercyand
finesse.Blowafterviciousblowslammedintothecowboy’sbatteredface.Severalyardsaway,Wallow
cackledwithglee,clearlyenjoyingtheshow.

“Give.It.To.Me!”Blackheartrepeated,relentingforonlyamoment.TheDevil’ssonhadworked

upasweat,andwasbreathinghard.WipingCaretaker’sbloodawayfromhisface,hegazeddownathis
pulverizedopponent.Moreblooddrippedfromhisknuckles.

Caretaker’sfaceborewitnesstothesavagebeating.Blackeyeswereswollennearlyshut.Hislip

wassplitandhisnosewasbroken.Crimsonstreaksinfiltratedhissilvermustacheandbeard.Purple
bruisesmarredhisleatherycomplexion.Looseteethclungweaklytohisbleedinggums.Helookedlike
hehadjustbeendraggedbehindacaroverseveralmilesofbumpyroad.

ButCaretaker’sspiritwasunbroken.Flintyresolveglintedinhisbloodiedeyesashegazedupatthe

demonspawnstandingoverhim.“You’regonnaFall,”hepredicted,“justlikeyourdaddydid.”

Blackheartkickedhimintheribs,elicitinganagonizedgaspfromtheoldcowboy.Heglanced

aroundthecemeterybeforenoticingthemotorcycletracksleadingupthoughthefrontgate.Thedirtand
weedsaroundthetrackswerecharredblack.Hesmiled,evidentlypleasedbyhisdiscovery.

“Ifyouwon’tgiveittome,Iknowwhowill.”
Blaze,Caretakerthought,tryingtoconcealhisreaction.Abadsituationwasgettingworsebythe

moment.Heknowsthepoorkidwashere.

“TheRider,”Blackheartsaid.Heleanedoverhispulpedvictim.“Whereishe?”
“Gone,”Caretakersaidtersely.He’dbedamned,again,ifhe’dhelpthisuppitydemontrackdown

thenewRider.Iowethekidthatmuchatleast.

Blackheartconsideredthepossibilities.Extractingasilkhandkerchieffromhispocket,he

fastidiouslywipedCaretaker’sbloodoffhisknuckles.Hispalefacelitupashehitontheobvious
answer.

“Oh…thegirl.”
Caretakerfiguredthathadtobethe“Roxanne”Johnnyhadmentionedbefore.Dammit,hethought

infrustration.Itoldhimtogiveupallthat.TheGhostRidermustalwaysridealone.That’sthewayit
was,thewayithadalwaysbeen….

“Youhurther,”hewarnedBlackheart,“he’llbethere,likelightningbeforeastorm.”
Blackheartgrinned.“I’mcountingonit.”
Helefttheold-timersprawledinthedirtatopaforgottengrave.
AfullmoonthreatenedtoexposeJohnnyasherodethroughFortWorthinsearchofRoxanne.He

kepthisheadlow,toavoidbeingrecognized,andstuckmostlytobackroadsandalleys,avoidingthe
majorthoroughfares.Chanceswere,thepolicewerestilllookingforhim,especiallyafterthat
supernaturaljailbreaklastnight.HewonderedifDolanhadputtwoandtwotogetheryet,andfigured
outthatJohnnyBlazeandtheGhostRiderwereoneandthesame.Hewouldn’tneedtobeSherlock
Holmestoworkthatoneout.

Allthemorereasontostayawayfromthepolice,hethought.Hecouldn’taffordtogetarrested

tonight,notbeforehe’dhadachancetowarnRoxanneofthedangershewasin.Onceshewassafe,
thenhecouldstartingworryingaboutwhatwasleftofhis“normal”life…ifthatwasevenanoption
anymore.

Roxanne’snewsvanwasparkedoutsidetheofficesofhernetwork’slocalaffiliate.Johnnyspotted

hercameraman-Stuart,wasn’tit?-packingsomeequipmentintothebackofthevan.Motoringuptothe
curb,Johnnygotoffhisbikeandapproachedtheskinnyyoungmanfrombehind.Intentonhiswork,
Stuartdidn’tevenhearJohnnycominguntilheturnedaroundandsuddenlyfoundthefugitivedaredevil

standingrightinfrontofhim.

“Jesus!”heexclaimed.
Johnnydidn’twastetimewithsmalltalk.“Where’sRoxanne?”
Thecameramanneededamomenttocatchhisbreath.Hewipedsomesweatfromhisforehead.

“Everybody’slookingforyou….”

Tellmesomething1don’tknow,Johnnythoughtimpatiently.Hegrabbedtheothermanbythe

collartogethisattention.“Whereisshe?!”

“She’soutlookingforyou!”Stuartreplied.

17

AFIGURELURCHEDOUTOFTHESHADOWS.
“Aaah!”Roxanneyelped.
“Aaah!”itshoutedback.Atunafishsandwichfelloutofitsmouth.
Roxannejumpedandreachedforthemaceinherhandbag.Thenshegotabetterlookatthescruffy,

heavy-setdudestandingbeforeher,aboxofpistonswedgedunderonearmandasix-packunderthe
other.AbrownbeardandHarley-DavidsonT-shirtgaveherlittletofearassherememberedRandall
MackenziefromthatafternoonatTexasStadium.ShehadmetthemechanicrightbeforeJohnny’sbig
jump.

Wonderhowmuchheknowsabouthisemployer’sdealwiththeDevil.
“Sorryaboutthat,”sheapologized.
“Youandmeboth,”Macksaid.
Heregardedherwithconfusionasshewentstraightforthestacksofbookspileduponthefloor

whereGracehadoncebeen.Shesiftedthroughtheesotericvolumes,scanningtheirspines.DeVermis
Mysteriis,TheMontesiCodex,CultesdeGoules…thebizarretitlesmeantlittletoher.Wherewere
thosebooksJohnnyhadtriedtohidefromherbefore?

“Uhh…haveyouseenJohnny?”Mackasked.
Shelookedupfromabookonspiritpossession.“He’sintrouble,Mack.”
“Noshit,”hesaid.Hedroppedthepistonsandsix-packontoanalreadyclutteredcounter.“Thecops

havebeenonmeonmelikewhiteonrice.Didyouknowhegotarrested?”

“Yes,”sheadmitted.Shetossedasidetheghostbookandstartingleafingthroughamodern

translationofFaust.Maybetherewassomethinginthereshecoulduse?

“Eversincehisarresthitthenews,”Mackgrumbled,“oursponsorshavebeenfreakingout.”He

lookedlikehewasreadytotearhishairout.Presumablyhehadbeencopingwiththepublicrelations
crisisallday.“Wecouldloseallourendorsementdeals!”

RoxanneputFaustasideforlaterandpickedupsomethingontheDeadSeaScrolls.Underthe

circumstances,shehadtroubletakingthemechanic’shistrionicsseriously.“Sponsorsaretheleastof
Johnny’sworries.”

“Easyforyoutosay,”Mackgroused,“butI’vegottenprettyusedtoeating,lady.”Hecastawistful

lookathisfallensandwich,thenscowledatRoxanne.“Youknow,allthisstartedwhenyoushowedup.
Whydon’tyoujustgetthehelloutofDodge?You’vedonemorethanenough.”

Roxannetunedouttheindignantmechanic.Shekeptsearchingthroughthestacksofocculttomes.

TheDeadSeaScrollsdidn’tseemtocontainmuchinthewayofhelpfulhintsfordealingwith
supernaturalbountyhunters,soshechuckeditasideandmovedontosomethingnew.Apaperback
biographyofasupposedlyfamousexorcistcaughthereyeandsheskimmedquicklythroughthetable
ofcontents.MaybethisDaimonHellstromguyknewsomethingaboutbeatingtheDevil?

Unhappyatbeingignored,Mackstompedovertojoinherbythebooks.Heglaredatthemystical

textswithopendistaste.Roxanneguessedthathedidn’tapproveofJohnny’sinterestintheoccult.
“Whatthehellareyoulookingfor?”

“Answers,“shestated.LookingupatMack,shedecidedtotakeadvantageofhislongacquaintance

withJohnny.“Didhekeepadiary,anotebook,anythinglikethat?”

NowitwasMack’sturntoignoreher.Hestartedtostormawayinahuff.
“Look,Mack,”shecalledouttohim.“Webothcareabouthim.Idon’thavetimetoexplain.You’re

justgoingtohavetotrustme.”Hermoistbrowneyesbe-seechedhim.“Diary?”

Macklookedbackather,thinkingitover.Fromherresearch,sheknewthatthestressed-out

gearheadwastheclosestthingJohnnyhadtoafriendthesedays.Theyhadbeenontheroadtogether
foryears,touringthecountrywithJohnny’scycleshow.ShecountedonthatbondtoovercomeMack’s
reservationsabouthelpingher.

Hesighedandgavein.“Doesn’tsoundlikeJohnny.”
Thatwasn’tgoodenough,sosheeyedhimsternly.
“Okay,I’llgocheckthebedroom.”
Macklefttheroom,leavingheralonewithJohnny’sspookylibrary.Sortingthroughanotherstack,

sherecognizedthelargeleatherboundvolumeJohnnyhadtakenfromheryesterday.Nowwe’regetting
somewhere,shethought.Shegrabbedontothemassivetomeandpeeredatthetitle:TheRiseofthe
MidnightSon.

SheflippeditopentothepageJohnnyhadflaggedbefore.Thechapterheading,“Blood

Covenants,”madeherwinceevenbeforeshereachedtheengravedillustrationshehadbrieflyglimpsed
yesterday.Onceagainshewasconfrontedbythedisturbingimageofanevil-lookingyoungman
surroundedbyacloudoffiendishspirits.Theleeringwraithsseemedtobeflowingintotheyouth’s
bodyashegrinnedinsatanictriumph.Gothictypeforetoldof“TheEndofDays.”

“Jesus…”shewhispered.
“Notevenclose,”avoicecorrectedher.
ShelookeduptoseeMackstandingafewfeetaway,ashockedlookuponhisface.Amidnightblue

taintseepedacrosshisskin.Swollenblueveinsandcapillariesbulgeduponhisface,whilehisflesh
assumedanunhealthyhypoxictint.Evenhisbristlingbrownbeardtookonabluishhue.Sulfur
poisoning.ShescreamedasMackdecomposedrightbeforehereyes.

Hisuncomprehendingeyessankintotheirsocketsbeforedissolvingaltogether.Indigoskin

contracted,stretchingtightagainsthisskull.Thestenchofputrefaction,mixedwiththeacridodorof
brimstone,issuedfromthegapingblackcavitythatwashismouth.Hisextra-largeT-shirtfellloosely
overhiswitheredframe.Adeathrattleemanatedfromsomewheredeepwithinhisconstrictedthroat.
Therewasnotimeforanylastwordsbeforehismummifiedremainsdroppedontotheflooroftheloft,
revealingtheintruderstandingdirectlybehindhim.

Thepale-facedyoungmanboreanuncannyresemblanceto“theBeast”intheoldwoodcut,right

downtotheominousblackshadowsunderhiseyes.ThebookslippedfromRoxanne’sfingersand
crasheddownuponthefloor.ShegazedinhorroratMack’smurderer.

”‘Abashedthedevilstood,”theyouthrecited,“andfelthowawfulgoodnessis,andsawvirtuein

hershapehowlovely….’”RoxannerecognizedtheexcerptfromMilton’sParadiseLost.Hesmiledat
her,obviouslyapprovingofthesentiment.“Howawfulgoodnessis.”

Roxannebackedawayfromthesmirkingkiller.Suddenly,therewasnolongeranymysterybehind

whohadkilledthestationmasterandallthoseoutlawbikers.Themurdererwasrightinfrontofher.
Blackheart,1presume.

“You’retheonewhohashisheart.”HesteppedoverMack’slifelessbody,forcingRoxanneintoa

corner.HekickedTheRiseoftheMidnightSonoutofhisway.Shestumbledclumsilyoverthebooks
scatteredoverthefloor,butmanagedtostayonherfeet.Herbackcollidedwithanunyieldingbrick
wall.Sheheldupthetinygoldencrossaroundherneck,butBlackheartkeptoncoming.“AndnowI’m
goingtobreakit.”

Shelookedaroundfrantically,searchinginvainforsomewayout.Johnny!shethoughtdesperately.

Herfrightenedeyeslookedtotheelevatordoors.Helpme,please!

TheunmistakableroarofaHarleyDavidsonansweredhersilentplea.
JohnnyleftGraceintheliftashechargedintotheloft.“Roxanne!”heshoutedfrantically,terrified

thathewasalreadytoolatetosaveher.WhatifBlackhearthadgottentoherfirst?

Thesightofawitheredbluecorpsestoppedhiminhistracks.Theshriveledfacewassodistorted

thathealmostdidn’trecognizeitatfirst.Thentheawfultruthsunkin.

Mack?
Johnnylookedaway,unabletobearthesightofhisbestfriend-hell,hisonlyfriendlyingdeadupon

thefloor.Thisisallmyfault,herealized.Mack’smurdermayhavebeentheworkofBlackheart,but
Johnnyknewthathewastoblameaswell.Thebig-heartedmechanicwasonlythelatestvictimof
Johnny’sdealingswiththeDevil.HisthroattightenedasherecalledallthetimesMackhadfrettedover
Johnny’ssafety.Therewassomethinggrosslyunfairaboutthefactthat,intheend,itwasMackwho
hadendedupdead.Thisisn’thowitwassupposedtobe….

Anagonizedmoan,comingfromafewyardsaway,sentashockthroughhissystem.Johnnylooked

pastastandofsilentmotorcyclestoseeRoxannelyingonthefloornearby,gaspingforbreath.An
hypoxicbluetintsuffusedherpain-wrackedface.Indigoveinswrithedbeneathherskin.

“Roxanne!”
Herushedtohersideandkneltdownbesideher.Cradlingherheadinhislap,hegentlystrokedher

hairashegazeddownatherinhorror.Guiltsearedhissoulmorefiercelythaneventhehottesthellfire.
Please,no,hethoughtdesperately.Nother,too.“I’msosorry.…”

Herparchedlipsmoved,likeshewastryingtotellhimsomething,butallthatescapedherlipswasa

pitifulgasp.Shewashavingtroublebreathing.Thinbluestreaksinfiltratedthewhitesofhereyes.
Necroplasm.Therewasnoquestionwhohaddonethistoher…evenasRoxanneslowlyliftedher
fingerandpointedacrosstheroom.

“Lookingforme?”
JohnnyjumpedtohisfeetjustintimetoseeBlackheartsurgefromtheshadows.Hispalefeatures

takingonabestialcast,thedemonspawnslammedJohnnyintothewalloftheloft.Brickworkcracked
beneaththeimpact.Plasterraineddownfromtheceiling.Acircuspostercrashedloudlytothefloor.

“BecausehereIam!”Blackhearttaunted.
AngerflaredinsideJohnny,ignitingtheRiderwithinhim.Hisfleshandhairspontaneously

combusted.Burntskinflakedawayfromhisface.Red-hotflamesrippledaroundhisskull.Spikes
protrudedfromhisjacket.

“Lookintomyeyes!”GhostRiderdemanded,lungingathisfoe.Hisblazingsocketslookedintothe

demon’sownblackorbs.LettheDevil’sheirfacejudgmentatlast!

ButBlackheartmerelylaughed.“YourPenanceStaredoesn’tworkonme.Ihavenosoultoburn.”
Withthespeedofastrikingcobra,hegrabbedontoGhostRider’sfleshlessneck-bone.Necroplasm

flowedfromhisneatlymanicuredfingertips,contaminatingGhostRiderwithitssupernaturalpoison.
TheRider’sbrightorangeflamesturnedblueandnoxious,asthoughfueledbythegasfromarotting
corpse.Hedroppedtohisknees,felledbythevenomoustaint.Blackheart’sfistremainedtightly
grippedaroundhisthroat.

“IguesstheCaretakerforgottomentionthat,huh?”Blackheartmockedhim.“Surprise.”Ghost

Riderconvulsedbeneaththedemon’sfoultouch.Hisbonesrattlednoisilybeneathhisleathers.“Well,
youknowwhattheysay:‘Betterthedevilyouknow-‘“

BlackheartsmackedGhostRider’sbonyfaceintothefloorhardenoughtocracktheconcrete.The

concussionlefttheRider’sskullringing.Hairlinefracturesweakenedsolidboneashestrugglednotto
loseconsciousness.Blackheart’ssardonicvoiceseemedtocomefrommilesaway.

“-thanthedevilyoudon’t.’“
Blackheartcrouchedoverthefallenbountyhunter.GhostRider’scorruptedflamesflickeredand

diedout.BruisedfleshspreadacrossthesplinteredskullasJohnnyBlazerevertedtomortalform.His
preternaturalstrengthandpowerabandonedhim.

“Listenup,”Blackheartinstructed.“Andtrytogetthisthroughthatthickskullofyours.Youdon’t

workformyfatheranymore.Youworkforme.”HegotupandwalkedovertowhereRoxanne

remainedsprawleduponthefloor.“GettheContract.BringittomeinSanVenganza.Andinexchange,
Imightspareyourgirl’slife.”

Hegrabbedherbythehairandroughlyyankedhertoherfeet.Roxannewhimperedinpain,too

depletedbythepoisontoeventhinkaboutfightingback.Grinningcruelly,hestrokedhercheck.His
caressinfectedherflesh,causingmoreblueveinstospreadacrossherface.Sheflinchedfromhistouch,
butherefusedtolethergo.

“Don’tmakemewait,”hewarnedJohnny,“orI’llbeforcedtofindwaystoamusemyself.”He

lickedhislipssalaciously.“AndIhaveaverytwistedsenseoffun.”

Johnnycouldn’tbeartoseeRoxannetorturedlikethis,notafterallthetimeshehadhurtherbefore.

Hetriedtorisetohisfeet,cometoherrescue,butthenecroplasmandthebeatinghadtakentoomuch
outofhim.Blackheart’stoxinhadchilledhimtothemarrow,leavinghimcoldandshaking.Hishead
throbbedwitheveryheartbeat.Hisfacefeltswollen.Hetastedbloodinhismouth.Eveninthepresence
ofsoloathsomeanevil,theGhostRiderwasunabletoemergefromJohnny’sbatteredform.
Blackheart’sleeringfacefilledhisvisionuntilawaveofdarknesswashedoverhim,carryingawaythe
lastofhisstrength.Theworldwentblackandhecollapsedontothefloor….

“Roxanne!”
Heawokeabruptlytofindhimselflyingaloneintheloft,notfarfromMack’sdessicatedcorpse.

Gaspingforthebreath,helookedaroundfrantically,searchinginvainforthewomanheloved.But
therewasnoonethere.Blackhearthadgone-andhetakenRoxannewithhim.

HowlongwasIout?Johnnywonderedanxiously.Minutes?Hours?
Allheknewforsurewasthattimewasrunningout.

18

BythetimeJohnnyrolledintothecemeterythatnight,thefullmoonwashighinthesky.Awind

whistledthroughthetombstonesasGracecametoastopinfrontofCaretaker’sshack.Thedoorwas
open,henoted,spillinglightoutontothesombergroundsofthegraveyard.Marbleangelsstoodwatch
amidstthedecayingmonuments.

Hehadbrokeneveryspeedlimitgettinghere,butwouldthatdoRoxanneanygood,nowthatshe

hadfallenintothehandsofhisenemies?Blackheart’sthreatsagainstRoxanneechoedincessantly
withinJohnny’smind,alongwithhisdemandforthelong-lostcontractofSanVenganza.

“GettheContract.BringittomeinSanVenganza,”thedemonhadsaid.
“Hello?”Johnnycalledout.Hisheadlightshoneitshighbeamonthecemetery.Heneededtofind

Caretaker-andtheContract-rightaway.ForRoxanne’ssake,nottomentiontheworld’s.“Caretaker?”

Agroanansweredfromtheshadows.Peeringintothedarkness,Johnnyglimpsedtheold-timer

limpingtowardhim,usinghisshovelasacrutch.HesteppedintothemoonlightandJohnnysawatonce
thatCaretakerhadbeenbadlybeaten.Hisleatheryfacewascoveredbybruises,cuts,andabrasions.
Botheyeswereblackened,hislipwassplitopen.HewalkedtowardJohnnypainfully,likeeverystep
wasabattle.

“Whathappened?”Johnnyasked.
Caretakerspitamouthfulofbloodysalivaontotheground.“Blackheart.”
He’sbeenhere?TheDevil’ssonseemedtobeonestepaheadofhim.Caretaker’sbatteredstate

madeJohnnyworryevenmoreaboutRoxanne’ssafety.WhatifBlackhearthadthesametreatmentin
storeforher?

Orworse.
“He’sgother,”hetoldCaretakerurgently.“WhereistheContract?Ican’tendthiswithoutit.”A

horriblethoughtoccurredtohim.WhatifBlackhearthadalreadystolentheContractfromthecemetery
whileJohnnyhadbeenunconscious?Ifso,Blackheartwouldhavenofurtherreasontobargainwith
JohnnyforRoxanne’slife.Hemighthavealreadydisposedofher.

No!hethought.AnightmarishvisionofRoxanne’slushbeautyandvibrantspiritreducedtojust

anothershriveledbluecorpseflashedacrosshisbrain.Gapingblacksocketsswallowedupher
intelligentbrowneyes,alongwithhereternalsoul.Heronce-lovelyfacewascontortedwithhorror.

HerushedovertoCarterSlade’sgravesite,butwasrelievedtofinditundisturbed.Hecastan

anxiouslookatCaretaker.PleasetellmethatBlackhearthasn’tfoundtheContractalready?

ThebloodiedCaretakershookhishead.“Butyousaythey’vealreadygotyourgirl?”
Johnnynodded,thethoughtfillinghimwithdread.HesnatchedtheshovelfromCaretaker’shands

andfranticallystarteddiggingupthepackedearthinfrontofthecursedRanger’stombstone.Shovelfuls
ofdirtwereheavedaside,butJohnnydidn’tseeanythingthatlookedlikeitmightholdthemissing
Contract.“Whereisit?”hebeggedCaretaker.“I’lldigupthewholeplaceifIhaveto!”

“It’snotthere,”theoldcowboysaid,sparinghimtheeffort.Helurchedforwardandgentlytookthe

shovelfromJohnny’shands.Heftingthetoolinhiscallousedhands,heswungitwithsurprising
strength.Forasplitsecond,JohnnythoughtCaretakerwasattackinghim,butthentheshovel’shandle
collidedwiththetrunkoftheoldhickorytreebehindthetombstone.

Thehandlesplitopen,revealingahollowcavityinsidetheshovel…andthetipofarolled-up

parchmentscroll.

Thebusinessendoftheshoveldroppedontotheground.Caretakerextractedthescrollfromthe

splinteredhandle.Heheldituptothemoonlight.

“TheContractofSanVenganza,”hesaidgrimly.“Hellonearth.”

JohnnycouldtellthatCaretakerwasreluctanttohandtheContractovertohim.Hewonderedhow

longtheoldcowboyhadbeenguardingthescroll.“You’regoingtohavetotrustme.”

“Why’sthat?”Caretakerasked.
“Hemayhavemysoul,”Johnnyinsisted.“Buthedoesn’thavemyspirit.”
Theoldermannodded.“1believeyou,”hesaid,soundingasthoughJohnnyhadfinallywonhis

trust.“Anymanwhohasthegutstotradehissoulforlovehasthepowertochangetheworld.You
didn’tdoitforgreedorlust.Youdiditfortherightreason.ThatputsGodonyourside.”

HehandedthescrolltoJohnny.“Tothem,thatmakesyoudangerous,unpredictable,andthat’sthe

bestthingyoucanberightnow.”

JohnnygratefullyacceptedtheContract.Thedrybrownparchmentremindedhimofthedocument

hehadbledontosomanyyearsago.Hetuckedthescrollbeneathhisjacket.

“SanVenganza’sfivehundredmilesfromhere,”Caretakercommented.“Ontheothersideofthe

RioGrande.Webettergetmovin’.”

“We?”JohnnylookedatCaretakerskeptically.Theold-timerdidn’tlooklikehewasinanyshapeto

goanywhere,exceptmaybeahospital.Andwasheplanningonhitchingarideonthebackofthe
Hellcycle?

Caretakerraisedhisfingerstohislipsandwhistled.
Ahorse’swhinnyansweredthewhistle.Theclop-clop-clopofhoofbeatsreachedJohnny’searsas,

tohissurprise,asleekblackhorsetrottedoutofthemistandshadows.Awell-wornleathersaddlewas
fitteduponthestallion’sback.Adouble-barreledshotgunwasstrappedtothesaddle.

Johnnygazedatthemagnificentanimal.TheWesternfaninhimwasdulyimpressed.Where’dyou

comefrom?

Caretaker’sgavethehorse’smuzzleanaffectionatepat.“Goodboy,Banshee.”Heclimbedslowly

intothesaddle.Hisagedhandstookthereins.“FigureIgotonelastrideinme.”

Withasuddenwhoosh,Caretakerburstintoflames.Leatheryskincrispedaway,exposingaflaming

skullbeneaththebatteredcowboyhat.Fireracedovertheman’sbody,burninghisfingerstothebones.
Withinseconds,anOldWestversionoftheGhostRidersatastridetheunfrightenedblackhorse.
Flickeringorangeflameslickedatthecowboy’slongleatherdusterandspurs.Hisbandanahungaround
nakedvertebrae

Johnnyinstantlyputtwoandtwotogether.
“CarterSlade?”
Theflamingspecternodded.
NowonderheknewsomuchabouttheDevilandhisdo-ings,Johnnyrealized.TheagelessRanger

hadbeendealingwithhisowncurseforoveracentury.HetoohadbeentheDevil’sbountyhunter,until
he’dstolentheContractofSanVenganzabackintheday.Hashebeentendingtothisgraveyardever
since?

Johnnylookeddubiouslyatthemortalsteed.“Canyoukeepup?”
TheotherGhostRidercrackedafierybullwhipintheair,andBansheeignitedaswell.Flames

consumedthestallion’sebonycoatandmane,untilonlyitsblazingskeletonremained.Thefearsome
night-mountreareduponitshindlegs,pawingtheairwithitsbonyhooves.Ironhorseshoesglowedlike
brandingirons.

“Tryme,”thePhantomRidersaid.
JohnnygrinnedandclimbedontoGrace.
“Let’sride.”Johnnyknockedbackthekickstandwithhisheelandgunnedhisengine-

simultaneouslyandvoluntarilywillingthetransformationforthefirsttime.Hellfirescouredawayhis
flesh.Graceshape-shiftedintotheHellcycle.

ThetwoRidersracedoutofthecemeteryinaburstoftrailingorangeflames.

Thedeserthighwaywasallbutempty.Onlysnakesandcoyoteswitnessedtheunearthlyspectacle

takingplacebeneaththelambentmoon.Side-by-side,theGhostRidersraceddowntheroad.The
skeletonhorse’shoovesstrucksparksagainstthepavement,whiletheHellcycle’srevvingengine
drownedoutthestallion’spoundinghoofbeats.Parallelstreamsoffiretrailedbehindthespectralbounty
hunters.

Itwasasighttoinspirelegends…ornightmares.
AstheynearedtheMexicanborder,theyveeredoffthemainhighwayontoadustydirtroadthat

lookedlikeithadn’tbeenusedsincethedaysofSantaAna.Cactiandmesquitesproutedinthemiddle
oftheroad,forcingtheGhostRiderstoweavethroughthehighchaparral.Thedesertbrushburstinto
flameastheRiderspassed.Tumbleweeds,blazinglikebonfires,rolledacrossthebadlands.Jackrabbits
andhornedtoadsleaptawayinfear.

AforgottentributaryoftheRioGrandesoonlaybeforethem.ThePhantomRiderpulledbackonhis

reins,bringingBansheetoastop.Glowingredhoovespawedtheground,leavingscorchmarksupon
theearth.GhostRiderhithisbrakesaswell.Theskeletalcowboypointedabonyfingerattheriver.

“Myterritoryendshere.”HeturnedhisglowingskulltowardsGhostRider.“Yougotaplan?”
“Don’tknowifI’dcallitaplan,”GhostRideradmitted.TheHellcycleidledbeneathhim,eagerto

resumethehunt.“ButI’vegotashot.Oneshot.”

ThePhantomRiderreacheddownandunhitchedtheshotgunfromhissaddle.Hehandedthe

double-barreledgunovertohismoderncounterpart.

“Here’stwomoreshots,”hesaid.“Careful.She’sgotakick.”
Consideredmewarned,GhostRiderthought.Hegratefullyacceptedtheshotgun,whichhestowed

awayinhissaddlebag.

TheflamesbeneaththePhantomRider’scowboyhatcooleddown,goingfromfieryorangetopale

bluebeforedyingoutentirely.ThegrizzledfaceofCarterSladegrewbackovertheyellowedskull.The
skeletalhorsealsoacquiredfleshandbloodagain.AtickingsoundcamefromSlade’svestpocketand
heextractedashiningsilverpocketwatch.Heheldthetimepieceuptohisear.Itseemedtoberunning
perfectly.

Sladechuckledandreplacedthewatchinhispocket.HesmiledatGhostRider,seeminglyatpeace.

ForthefirsttimesinceJohnnyhadmethim,helookedhopefulforthefuture,likehe’dachievedsome
sortofredemptionatlast.

GhostRiderallowedhisownflamestoexpire.JohnnyBlazemettheold-timer’seyes.“Thankyou.”
“No,”Sladesaid.“Thankyou.”
HecrackedhisbullwhipandBansheetookoffacrossthedesertsands.Johnnywatchedastheranger

andhistrustysteedgallopedintothewest.HerememberedtheinscriptiononCarterSlade’stombstone:

IntoParadiseMayAngelsLeadYou.
Johnnyprayedthattheprophecycametrueatlast.CarterSladehaddonehisdutybyguardingthe

contractalltheseyears-andbyhelpinghissuccessorcometotermswithhisdestiny.

Nowit’smyturn.

19

BlackheartwalkedtheemptystreetsofSanVenganza.Nighttimehidthedesolateghosttownfrom

view.Onlytheraggedoutlinesoftheoldbuildingscouldbeglimpsed.HecarriedRoxanne’s
unconsciousbodyinhisarms.SubduingtheRider’sparamourhadrequiredjustasmidgenofhispower.
Herbarefeetdangledabovethedustystreet.

Wallownervouslywatchedthehorizon.“He’scoming.Canyoufeelit?”
“Goandslowhimdown,”Blackheartcommanded.He,too,feltthepresenceofhisfather’sbounty

hunterdrawingnear.“Iwanthimhereafterdawn,inthelight,whenhe’sameremortal.”

“Slowhimdown?”Wallowhesitatedattheprospectoffacingtheentitywhohadalreadyincinerated

hisbrothers.Sweatmixedwiththepollutedfluidsstreamingdownhisface.Hewrunghisdamphands
together.Apparentlyhisconcernforhisownself-preservationwasmorecompellingthananyneedfor
revenge.

Blackheartwasdisappointedinthedemon.“Dealwithhim,ordealwithme!”
Theelementaldissolvedintoacascadeofbrackishwater.
Themoonwassinkinginthesky.Johnny’swristwatchhadbeenconfiscatedwhenthepolice

arrestedhim-wasthatreallyonlyyesterday?-butheguessedthatithadtobesomewherearoundfivein
themorning.Nightwouldbeoversoon,alongwithhisabilitytochangeintoGhostRider.Hewas
runningoutoftime.

HerodeGracethoughashallowriver,likeamountedcowboyfordingastream.Heeyedthesilty

wateruneasily,rememberingthewayWallowhadattackedhimfromthepuddletwonightsago.His
eyesprobedthemurkywaters,lookingfortheelemental’sfiendishfeatures,butsawonlytherushing
current.Grace’swheelssearchedfortractionontheslipperyflooroftheriver,churningupthewet
slurry.TheHarleywobbledawkwardly.Halfwayacross,Johnnythought,hisglovedhandsgrippingthe
shakinghandlebars.He’dbegladwhenthebikewasbackondrylandagain.Almostthere…

AsuddensprayofwaterstruckthebackofhisneckasWallowsurgedoutoftheriverbehindhim.

ClammyhandsgrabbedholdofJohnny’sshoulders,yankinghimoffthechopperandunderthewater.
Johnnydidn’tevenhavetimetofillhislungsbeforehesuddenlyfoundhimselfimmersedinthedeepest
partoftheriver.Airbubbledfromhislipsandnostrilsashefoughttoholdontowhateverbreathhehad
left.Heflailedwildly,tryingtobreakfreefromthefallenangel’swaterygrip,butWallowwasinhis
elementnow,wherehisstrengthwassupreme.Thedemon’smalevolentcountenanceleeredathim
triumphantly.Longhairdriftedinthecurrentlikeclingingstrandsofseaweed.Piranhaliketeethfilled
Wallow’sgrinningmouth.

Johnny’scheeksbulged.Hislungsscreamedforoxygen.Hisvisiondimmedashefelthislife

ebbingaway.Hereacheddowndeepinsideforthestrengthtofightback…andhiseyeslightedupwith
satanicfire.

Hetransformedbeneaththewater.
Hellfireturnedthecoursingriverintoaboilingcauldron.Wallowshriekedinagony.Hejerkedhis

handsawayfromJohnny,ashetriedtoescapewiththecurrent,butGhostRidergrabbedontohimand
wouldnotlethimgo.Transparentectoplasmblisteredandburstbeneaththebountyhunter’sscalding
touch.ThelastoftheHiddenscreamedintormentbeforeexplodinginageyserofbillowingsteam.
WallowwenttojoinhisbrothersinHell.

Vengeanceismine,GhostRiderthought.Herosefromtheswirlingwaters,theheatofhisflames

instantlydryinghissoddenleathers.NowonlyBlackheartawaitedhisjudgment.Nomoreunderlings,
hevowed.Itistimefortheinstigatorofthisblasphemousinsurrectiontofacehisdoom.

Butthesunwouldberisingsoon,takingawayhispower….

ItwasalmostdawnbythetimeJohnnyBlazerodeintoSanVenganza.Gettingoffhisbike,heslung

theshotgunoverhisshoulderandwalkeddownthedustymainstreetoftheforgottenghosttown.Some
long-agoconflagrationhadconsumedmuchofthevillage,andtimewasslowlyfinishingwhatthefire
hadstarted.Falsefrontshidsaggingroofsonthevergeofcollapse.Crowsnestedinthechinksof
disintegratingbrickbuildings.Rustychainsweredrapedoverthecharredremainsoftheoriginal
hitchingrails.Anolddancehallleanedprecariouslytooneside.Driedstuccohadcrumbledinto
powder,exposingthebakedadobebeneaththeplaster.Atotteringweathervanespunatoparamshackle
structurethatlookedlikeitmighthaveoncebeenthetownhall.Ocotilloandmesquitesproutedinthe
middleofthestreet,andthroughgapsinthedilapidatedplankporchesandsidewalks.Awagonwas
half-buriedbeneathfallenrubble.AsmalltumbleweedbouncedagainstJohnny’sboots.Looseboards
andshuttersbangedinthewind.Hefeltlikeanold-timegun-slingerpreparingforhisfinalshowdown.
Thechainacrosshischestevenjingledlikespurs.

Hiseyessearchedthegapingdoorsandwindowsoftheghosttown.SanVenganzaappearedtobe

completelydeserted,asidefromthekeeningwind.Theunquietdeadseemedtopermeatetheveryair.
Keepingthecontractsafebeneathhisjacket,herecalledwhatCarterSladehadtoldhimofthetown’s
accursedhistory.IfMephistopheleshadpromisedthevillageanditspeopleprosperity,thenthat
corruptingaffluencewaslonggone.SanVenganzawasnothingbutamemorynow.

Butthepastwasn’twhatinterestedJohnny.AllhecaredaboutwasrescuingRoxannefromthe

unholycreaturethathadtakenhercaptive.HelookedforBlackheart,readytoplayoutthefinalactof
thisapocalypticdrama.Onewayoranother,thehuntfortheDevil’srebellioussonwascomingtoan
end,evenifitcostJohnnywhatwasleftofhissoul.ItwastimetocarryouthisendoftheFaustian
bargainhehadmadesolongago.

Let’sdothis,hethought.
Wickedlaughtergreetedhim,andhespottedBlackheartstandingoutsidetheoldSpanishmissionat

theendofthestreet.HewaitedforJohnnyinfrontofagraveyardadjacenttothechurch.Crudewooden
crossesmarkedtheburialsites.Arustycopperbellhungfromawoodenarchwayinfrontofthe
cemetery.Abrickwall,whichonceenclosedthegraveyard,hadcrumbledtopiecesinplaces.Buzzards
perchedatopshatteredmonuments.Dustcloudsblewinthewind,obscuringthescenery.Johnny
decidedhe’dspenttoomuchtimearoundcemeterieslately.

Blackheartwasnotalone.HisslimwhitehandsqueezedthebackofRoxanne’sneck.Shewincedin

pain,butthebluishtaintofthenecroplasmseemedtohavefadedawayatlast.Akhakidress
accentuatedherfigure.Herloosehairtumbledpasthershoulders.Johnnysawfearinhereyes,butshe
seemedtobeholdingittogether.KnowingRoxanne,shewasn’tgoingtogivehercaptorthesatisfaction
ofscreamingorcrying.HerbottomliptrembledwhenshespottedJohnny.Asingletearworkeditsway
downhercheek.Wassheweepingforherself-orforthemansheloved?

Thedemon’spresencerousedtheRiderinsideJohnny.Afamiliarheatcameoverhim.Perspiration

beadedonhisforehead,atrickleofsweatrandownhisface.Aburningsensationspreadthroughhis
veins.Steamboiledoffhisscaldingflesh.Hellfiresparkedbehindhiseyes.Heballedhisfistashe
strodetowardBlackheart.Adeepgrowlrumbledupfromthedepthsofhissoul.Thechangewasalmost
uponhim….

“Stop!”Blackheartcommanded.HesmirkedatJohnny,lookingmoreamusedthanintimidated.His

fisttightenedaroundRoxanne’sthroat,elicitingawhimperofpainfromhiscaptive.“Youchange,she
dies.”

Johnnyclenchedhisjaw,strainingtoholdingbackthetransformation.HisbloodboiledastheGhost

RiderfoughttobreakfreefromJohnny’smortalform.Heglancedtotheeast,wheretheskywas
alreadyturningpink.Onlyafewmoreminutesofnightremained,yettheGhostRiderwouldnotbe
denied;ittookallJohnny’sstrengthandconcentrationtokeepthehellfirefromsurgingthroughhis

veins.Hisfaceturnedscarlet.Smokerosefromhishairandeyebrows.ButhekepttheRiderlockedup
insidehimforRoxanne’ssake.Hereachedbeneathhisjacketanddrewoutthecontract.

“Lethergofirst!”hedemanded.
Blackheart’sdarkeyesgleamedatthesightoftherolled-upparchment.Innomoodtohaggle,he

casuallytossedRoxannetotheside.Shelandedhardupontherockyground.Johnnywantedtorunto
her,tomakesureshewasokay,butknewthathehadtodealwithBlackheartfirst.Thepale-facedyouth
wasacheatandasadist,justlikehisoldman.Holdingoutthescrollbeforehim,Johnnywalkedtoward
theDevil’sson,comingtoahaltonlyastepawayfromthewaitingdemon.

BlackheartsmiledwolfishlyashereachedeagerlyfortheContract.Butashetriedtoclaimthe

document,Johnnyheldontotheparchment.Frowning,Blackhearttuggedonthecontract.Theshadow
ofanabandonedstorefrontfelloverthetwomen,prolongingthedarknessjustafewminutesmore.

That’scloseenough,Johnnythought.
Momentarilyshieldedfromtherisingsun,helettheGhostRiderfree.Hellfireengulfedhim,

burningawayhisfrailhumanity.Askeletalfistdeliveredatitanicup-percutthatsentBlackheartreeling.
Tomfromhisfingers,thecontractwentblowingdownthestreet.Anguishedvoiceshowledinthewind.

Furiousatbeingcaughtoff-guard,BlackheartcamebackwithanexplosivepunchtoGhostRider’s

chin.Theflamingskullsnappedtooneside,throwingoffasprayoffierysparks.Knockedoffhisfeet,
GhostRiderflewbackward,landingonhisbackhalfwaydownthestreet.Blackheartturnedhisbackon
thevengefulspiritandhurriedafterthepreciousscroll.

Lyinginthedust,GhostRiderspiedtheglowingbeadsofflamescattereduponthegroundaround

him.Abestialgrowlemanatedfromdeepwithinhimashehastilyscoopedupthebrightorangesparks
andsqueezedtightly,clenchingtheminsidehisfistsuntilhefeltthevolcanicenergiesbuildingbeneath
hisbonyfingers.HethrewouthisarmsandastreamofunleashedhellfirestruckBlackheartintheback.

Thedemonscreechedastheblasthurledhimawayfromthelong-lostContract.
Risingtohisfeet,GhostRidergatheredupmoreflamesfromthesmolderingearthandpackedthem

intoanincalescentfireballthathehurledatBlackheartlikeaMajorLeaguepitcherthrowingafastball.
Theburningspherehitthedemonsquarelyintheface,knockinghimintoapileofbrokentimbers.
Blackheartshriekedinpainandfrustration.Hispallidfacewasscorchedandblackened.

Encouragedbythedemon’scries,GhostRiderattemptedtoscrapeupenoughflamingresiduefor

anotherstrike.But,tohisdismay,thistimethefieryfragmentsdiedawayinhispalms.Helookedupto
seethehotMexicansunrisingabovetherottingstorefronts.Harshwhitelightpoureddownoverthe
ghosttown,dispellingtheshadowsthatgrantedtheRiderhispower.Hethrewuphishandstoprotect
hisemptysocketsfromtheblindingglare.Hisflamingaurabegantosputterout.

“Lookslikeyou’reoutoftime,”Blackheartgloatedasheclimbedbackoutoftherubble.Heavy

woodenplankswerethrownaside.Hiselegantblackattirewassingedandsmoking.Hewipedthesoot
fromhisface.

GhostRiderfelthisstrengthslippingaway.Theflamesaroundhisskullflickeredandfailed.The

spikesonhisleatherjacketstartedtoretractbackintothegarment’sshoulders.Achillspreadoverhis
burningbones.Unwillingtosurrenderhisprey,however,hedrewtheshotgunwithonehandand
uncoiledhischainwiththeother.Thelastofhishellfirecoursedalongthelengthofthechainashe
snappeditlikeawhipatBlackheart.

PerhapstherewasstilltimetosendtheDevil’ssonbacktoHellwherehebelonged?
Thechainlashedoutlikeaboltoflightning-andBlackheartsnatcheditoutoftheairwithonehand.

Heyankedhardonthechain,jerkingGhostRideroffhisfeetandintothebrickhousingofthetown
well.Thehero’sspinecrackedaudiblyagainstthecrumblingmasonryandtheshotgunwentflyingfrom
hisgrip.Hewatchedhelplesslyastheweaponlandedonthetopoftheslopeleadinguptothemission.
Itwasonlyafewfeetaway,butitmightjustaswellhaveendeduponthemoonfortheallthegoodit

coulddohimnow.AshebegantotransformbackintoJohnnyBlaze,despairinghazeleyespeeredfrom
thedepthsofhisbonyeyesockets.

Hehadfailed.
Blackheartdroppedthechainontothegroundandcaughtupwiththefallenparchment.Heplucked

thecontractfromthedirt,takingpossessionofitatlast.Thewind’sceaselessmoaningtookonamore
urgenttone,asthoughathousandrestlesssoulswereclamoringforrelease.

No!GhostRiderthought.Heroseunsteadilyfromthebaseofthewell,hisbrokenvertebrae

clatteringlikecastinets.Therelentlesssunlightextinguishedhisflames.Patchesofskinformedatophis
skull.TheRider’sfearsomevisagedisappearedbeneathJohnny’swearyfeatures.Hegrimacedinpain.
CarterSlade’sshotgunlayuponthegroundafewfeetaway,justoutofreach.

Sorry,Caretaker,hethoughtbitterly.GuessIletyoudown.
Inthemiddleofthestreet,Blackheartgotdowntobusiness.Dismissingthedefeatedmortalfrom

hismind,heraisedtheContractabovehishead.Theghastlymoaningofthewindintensified,whipping
upthedrywhitedustaroundhisfeet.Hisblackcoatflappedabouthim.Heclosedhiseyesandbegan
aneerieinvocation.

“BeholdtheContractofSanVenganza,”heproclaimed.“Cometome!”
Blackheartloweredthescrollandslowlyunrolledit.Ancientparchmentcrackledlikeautumnleaves

ashereadaloudfromthecontract.

“TobiasSanderson…”
Asingledropofbloodfellfromtheparchment,andwasquicklyswallowedupbythearidsoil.

Somethingrustledwithinadried-outwell,and,aheartbeatlater,afrighteningapparitionrosefromits
depths.Animmaterialwraith,withthefaceofmolderingcorpse,flewrestlesslyabovethestreet,
summonedfrometernallimbobythebindingpowerofthestolencontract.Theanguishedhowlofthe
spiritaddedtotheinescapablemoaningofthewind.Itsectoplasmicsubstancewasadeathlyshadeof
greenish-gray.

“MiguelEspinoza…”
Anotherdropofbloodhitthedirt,andthistimethespiritinquestionrosefromtheabandoned

graveyardbehindBlackheart.ItjoinedthecursedsoulofTobiasSandersoninthedarkeningskyabove
SanVenganza.Theghostshoveredunhappilyabovetheirsummoner,wailingindespair.Theywrung
theirbonelesshands.

“YolandaAponte.EzraTravis.NataliaParker.HernandoRodriguez….”
Morenamesfollowed,eachaccompaniedbythesheddingofthesigner’sblood,andtheriseof

anotherearthboundspirit.TheyswarmedintheairaboveBlackheart,likeanoisomecloudofmoral
corruption.Withastart,JohnnyrecognizedthescenefromthatpropheticwoodcutinTheRiseofthe
MidnightSon.TheBeastcallingthesoulsofthedamneduntohiminpreparationforthefinalbattle
betweenGoodandEvil.

TheEndofDays…Armageddon…
“Johnny!”
Recoveredfromherfall,Roxannerushedtohisside.Shekneltdowninthedustbesidehim.Johnny

wishedthatshehadescapedinstead,thatshehadtakenGraceandgottenasfarawayfromhereas
possible.

“Let’sgo,”sheurged,tryingtohelphimtohisfeet.“He’sgotwhathewants.”
Sheleanedoverhim,inadvertentlyblockingoutthesun.HershadowfelloverJohnny’shand-which

instantlycaughtonfire.Askeletalhandflexedbeneaththedancingflames.Caretaker’swordscame
backtoJohnny:

Anymanwhohasthegutstotradehissoulforlovehasthepowertochangetheworld.
Johnnyshookhishead.Heknewwhathehadtodo.“Yougo,”hetoldRoxanne.“Ihavetogethim

intheshadows.I’vegottoendthis.”

“Why?”shepleaded.Shestaredbleaklyathisburninghand.“Whyyou?”
Heprayedshewouldunderstand.“It’sbeenmesincetheday1madethedeal.”Fleshandbloodby

day,ablazingspecterbynight.“I’mtheonlyonewhocanwalkinbothworlds…becauseI’mGhost
Rider.”

Hecrawledtotheshotgunandgrabbeditwithbothhands.HelookedoveratBlackheart,who

appearedtobetooengrossedinhisblasphemousritualtonoticewhatthetwomortalswereupto.

“Go!”JohnnytoldRoxanne.Unwillingtoleavehimentirely,sherantothecemeteryandtook

shelterbehindthedecayingmonuments.Johnnywaiteduntilshewassafe,thenclimbedtohisfeet.
Shotguninhand,hetookaimatBlackheart,evenasthedemoncontinuedhisnecromanticinvocations.

“DickRamos.MariaCartwright.LeeDoherty….”
Themoaningofthewindgrewlouderwitheachdoomedspiritcalledforthfromitsunhallowed

grave.Growingimpatient,Blackheartthrewouthisarmsandsummonedtheremainingsoulsatonce.
Heclosedhiseyesinconcentration.

“COMETOMEALL!”
DoomedspiritsflockedtoBlackheartfromalldirections,fromthewell,fromthegraveyard,from

thevacantwindowsanddoors.Overathousandstrong,themiserablewraithsfilledtheskyabove
Blackheart.Foramoment,theythrongedaroundtheDevil’sson.Thenhiseyesopenedandtheteeming
stormofspiritsbegantoflowintoBlackheartthroughthoseverysamewindowstohissoullesscore.
Hisbodyconvulsed,rivetedinplaceasthoughstruckbymysticlightning.Fearfulsoulstriedtoavoid
beingsuckedintohishungryeyes,butwerecaughtinamysticvortexbeyondtheirfeeblepowersto
resist.AveritabletornadoofcapturedspiritswhirleddownintoBlackheart,whoexultedinhis
burgeoningpower.Hisfistclosedaroundthescroll,squeezingthelastdropsofbloodfromthe
parchment,beforetheContractcrumbledtodustwithinhisgrasp.

TheDevil’ssonclaimedhisfather’sarmy.
Hisskindarkened,turningthesameindigoshadeashismortalvictims.Butinsteadofpoisoning

him,therushofnecroplasmonlymadehimstronger.ThewailingghostsofSanVenganzadisappeared
entirelyintohiseyesashisunholyapotheosisreacheditszenith.Hiseyesglowedwiththefervorof
overathousandsouls.Hethrewbackhishead,relishinghislong-awaitedascendance.Ivoryfangs
showedwithhisopenmouth.Talonsgrewattheendsofhisfingers.Hehadneverlookedmore
diabolical.

“CallmeLegion,”heproclaimed,andhisvoicenowechoedwithtimbreofcountlesslostsouls.

“Forwearemany!”

Johnnysqueezedthetrigger.Ablastofbuckshotgotthedemon’sattention,butthatwasallitdid.

BlackheartstalkedtowardJohnnywithahideoussmileonhisinhumancountenance.

That’sit,Johnnythought.Keeponcoming.Walkingbackwardtowardtheoldmission,hefiredoff

anothershot.Baitingthemonster.

Blackheartscowledasthebuckshotshreddedhissomberattire.Hepausedinhispursuit,asthough

unsurewhetherJohnnywasworththeeffort.Whatwasonemeremortalafterall,whentherewasan
entireworldtobeconquered?

Noway,Johnnythought.Hestoodatthefootofthestepsleadinguptothechapel.Heavyoakdoors

barredtheentrancetodesertedchurch.Don’tquitonmenow.

“C’mon,yousonofabitch!”heshouted.
Thatdidthetrick.BlackheartsnarledandpouncedatJohnny,landingrightinfrontoftheimpudent

mortal.Withasingleswipeofhisarm,thedemonknockedtheshotgunoutofJohnny’shands.Thenhe
flungJohnnystraightatthechapeldoors.Johnnycrashedthroughthewormyoakdoorslikeamissile,
knockingthemofftheirhinges.Hittingthehardstonefloorofthechapel,heskiddedbetweenrowsof

rottingwoodenpews…awayfromthesun.

Thechurchandmissionhadbeenneglectedbythetownspeopleevenbeforethevillagebecamea

graveyard.Thedustofgenerationscoveredthesimplestonealtaratthefarendofthesanctuary.Faded
bluefrescoesdepictedtheFalloftheRebelAngels,withtheArchangelMichaelpersonallycasting
MephistophelesdownintothePit,wheretheeternalfiresofHellawaitedhim.Statuesofthesaints,now
chippedandcrumbling,gazedblindlyfromthealcoves.Cobwebshungfromtheceilingandarchways.
Fallenrubblelitteredthefloorandbenches.Weedssproutedfromtheunevenstonefloor.Atoppled
lecternlayuponitsside.Spidersscuttledintheemptybowlofthebaptismalfont.Snakesslithered
throughthepews.Nosunlightenteredthroughthestained-glasswindows,whichwerecrackedand
smearedwithsoot.Moth-eatentapestrieshunguponthewalls.Thebonesofsmallanimalswerestrewn
aboutthefloor.Arancidsmellcontaminatedthemustyatmosphere.

Batteredandbleeding,Johnnylayonhisbackatopthecoldstonetiles,lookinglikejustanother

rottingcarcass.Herolledoverandstartedcrawlingtowardashadowycornerofthechapel.Themurky
darknessbeckonedtohim.

Justafewmorefeet…!
Blackheartpursuedhimthroughthesundereddoors.Hesparedamomenttocontemplatethefaded

portraitofhisfather’scelebratedFall.Hegrowledatthetime-wornfresco,whichservedasareminder
ofwhatmightbefallhimshouldhisplansgoawry.

“NOTTHISTIME,”hevowed.
Lookingawayfromthefresco,hespottedJohnnycrawlingacrossthefilth-riddenfloor.Eagerfor

thekill,heclosedinonJohnny.Heraisedhistalonsandgazeddownathisvictimwithsadisticglee.

“ALLOFYOURWORLD.ALLOFYOURSOULS.ITBELONGSTOMENOW!”
Butbeforehecouldstrike,anotherblastofbuckshottorethroughhischest.Spinningaround,he

staredinshockat…

RoxanneSimpson,holdingthePhantomRider’sshotguninthesunlitdoorway.Smokerosefromthe

shotgun’stwinbarrels.

Blackheartglaredbalefullyatthemortalwoman.Hestalkedtowardherwithmurderinhiseyes.
BLAM!Theshotgunwentoffagain,butshotgunshellsbarelyslowedBlackheartdown.Johnny

watchedanxiouslyasthedemonadvancedonRoxanne.Shetriedtoshootagain.Nothinghappened-
somethingwaswrongwiththeweapon.Johnnyknewshedidn’tstandachance.

Unless…
Awildideaoccurredtohim.
“Throwmethegun!”heyelled.
RoxannebackedawayfromBlackheart,nervouslyhangingontotheshotgun.“It’sjammed!”
Therewasnotimetoexplain.“Throwit!”
Takinganenormousleapoffaith,shetossedtheweapontoJohnny,leavingherselfunarmed.

Blackheart’seyestrackedtheshotgunasittumbledthroughthestuffyairinsidethechapel.Aquizzical
expressioncameoverhisdemonicfaceasJohnnyreachedupandcaughtthegun.Nodoubthewas
wonderingwhatonEarth-orHell-Johnnywashopingtoaccomplish.

Getaloadofthis,Johnnythought.Hethrusthisarmintotheshadowcastbyatotteringstatue.A

fieryskeletalhandsuddenlygrippedthestockoftheshotgun.Johnnygrittedhisteethandconcentrated
withallhismight.Hellfirefloweddownhisarmintotheshotgun,causingthemetalbarrelstotwistinto
anunearthlynewconfiguration.JustasGhostRidercouldtransformanordinarychopperintoatruly
demonicmotorcycle,Johnnynowconvertedthemundanefirearminto…theHellfireShotgun.

Abonyfingersqueezedthetriggerandaburstofeldritchfirebelchedfromthewrithingblack

barrelsoftheshotgun.TheblastscorchedBlackheart’sshoulder,charringtheazurefleshbeneathhis
darksuit.Unlikemerebuckshot,theshotgun’snewammostaggeredtheDevil’sson.Hestaredin

disbeliefathissearedandsmokingshoulder.

That’smorelikeit,Johnnythought.Sulfurousfumesrosefromthebarrelsofthegun.
HesqueezedoffanothershotandtendrilsofblueflameblastedthroughBlackheart.Noxiousblue

ichorsplatteredacrosstheinteriorofthechapelastheHellfirecutthedemonintwo.Theseparate
halvesoftheBeastfloppeddownintothedust.Cobalt-coloredgorespilledfrombothendsofhis
truncatedtorso.Thebones,intestines,andotherentrailslookedsurprisinglyhuman.

Blackheart’seyes,stilldemonicallyalive,castavenomouslookinhisdirection.Grunting,the

demon’stophalfdraggeditselftowardtherestofhim.Hisseveredlegsandhipswriggledtomeethim.
Viscousstrandsofnecroplasmflowedbetweenthebisectedparts,drawingthemtogetherwith
frighteningspeed.Withinseconds,theslimyblueviscerahadgluedBlackheartbackintoonepiece.
Confidentinhisnewfoundinvincibility,hecalmlyfacedtheshotgun-totingmortal.Whatwasone
transfiguredfirearmcomparedtothepowerofathousandevilsouls?

Malicegleamedinhisdarkblueeyes.Necroplasmswirledaroundhisfingertips.Hestoodpoisedto

devourthemortal’ssoul.

JohnnylookedupatBlackheart,unafraid.“Howdoesitfeeltohaveallthatevilinsideyou?”
“Alltheirpower,”Blackheartboasted.
Johnnysteppedforwardintotheswathofshadows.Flamesengulfedhisface.
“AMtheirsouls,”GhostRidercorrectedhim.
Blackheart’sjawdropped.Hiseyeswidenedinalarm.Allatonce,herealizedthathehadbeenset

up.

“Athousandsouls.Amillionsins.”Asfastasaspreadingbrushfire,GhostRidersatupandgrabbed

ontoBlackheart’slapels.Hepulledthedemon’sdistraughtfaceclosertohisblazingsockets…andthe
PenanceStare.

“Lookintomyeyes!”
TheDevil’ssonletoutanungodlyshriekasthesoulswithinhimsuccumbedtothePenanceStare.

Hetriedtolookaway,butGhostRider’svengefulgazeheldhimfast.Murders,rapes,theft,blackmail,
extortion,adultery,beatings,lies,hatred,greed,cruelty,deceit…theaccumulatedsinsofSanVenganza
exertedanirresistiblepulluponBlackheart’seyes.Thebrutalsightsandsoundsheldhimtransfixed,as
athousandwickedlivespassedbeforehiseyesatdizzyingspeed.

“Youarestainedbythebloodofthedamned….”GhostRiderheldontightlytohisprey.The

toweringwallsoftheoldcathedralechoedwithhiswrath.Hellfireflaredfromthegapingblacksockets.
“Nowfeeltheirpain…ahundredfold!”

“Nooooo!”Blackheartscreamed,unabletoaverthisgazefromtheunendingparadeofhorrorshe

sawwithinGhostRider’seyes.Hefoundhimselftrappedatthecenterofthehellishvisions,playingthe
roleofthehelplessvictimoverahundredthousandtimes:

Abarbedwhipcruellylashedhisback,flayingtheskintothebone….
Brutalfistsknockedhisteethdownhisthroat.…
Anoosetightenedaroundhisneckasanangrymobcalledforhislynching….
Poisonburneditswaydownhisthroat.…
Abrandingironsearedhisskin….
Gunshotstoreintohisback.…
Asteel-toedbootkickedhimoutintothestreetstostarve….
Acidscaldedhisface….
ABowieknifeplungedintohisthroat.…
Leeringeyesogledhisdegradedflesh,lustfulhandsabusedhisbody.…
Hisbleedingscalpwasrippedfromhisskull….
Ajealoushusbandblewhisbrainsout.…

Callousfacesignoredhispleasashebeggedatacorner….
Glassshatteredashewasthrownthroughasecond-storywindow….
Hisbestfriendheldhisheadbeneaththewater….
Desperadoesforcedhimtodighisowngrave….
Hisowndaughtersmotheredhimwithapillow….
Atomahawksankintohischest.…
Hescreamedinagonyashewasburntalive.…
Onanditwent,aceaselesspageantofcrimeandsuffering.GhostRidertossedhimontothefloor,

whereBlackheart’stwitchingbodycurledintoaquiveringballofpain.Themidnightbluecoloringfled
hisskin,andhislimbsatrophied,ashisbodyspasmedwitheveryillusoryblowinflicteduponhis
overwhelmedpsyche.Hiseyesstaredblanklyintoaneternalpurgatoryonlyhecouldsee.Hiscontorted
facewaslockedintoamaskofperpetualhorror.BlackhearthadfoundthelostsoulsofSanVenganzaall
right,andnowhewouldforeverbetheirvictim,trappedinaprisonmadeupofathousandangryspirits.

GhostRiderlookeddownatthepatheticcreatureBlackhearthadbecome.Mymissioniscomplete,

hethought.Vengeanceisserved.

“Johnny…?”
HeturnedtoseeRoxannestandinginthedoorway.Heretreatedintoashadowyalcove,unwillingto

letherseehimlikethisoncemore.

Shesteppedintotheruinedchapel.“Lookatme,”sheentreated.
“No,”GhostRideranswered.Demonshecoulddealwith,buthecouldn’tbeartoseehisghastly

formreflectedinhereyes.HetriedtochangebackintoJohnnyBlaze,butencounteredresistance,asthe
Devilstilllurkednearby.Darknessclungtotheinteriorofthechapel.

“Please,”Roxanneurgedhim.Shedrewnearer,holdingoutherhands.
Heturnedhisblazingskullawayfromher.“Monster.”
Roxannequietlyjoinedhimintheshadows.Shereachedoutforhim.
Wait!hethought,fearfulofhersafety.Tohissurprise,however,thescorchingflamespartedbefore

herhand.Gentlefingerstouchednotbone,butJohnny’sownmortalflesh.Sheleanedtowardthe
ripplingheathazeblurringhisfeatures.Hepulledbackinstinctively.Don’t…

Hermoistlipswerecoolagainsthisswelteringskin.GhostRiderhesitated,thensurrenderedtothe

kiss.Hisskeletalarmsembracedher.

Apillarofwhite-hotfireengulfedthemboth,thenquicklyfadedtorevealJohnnyBlazeinthearms

ofhisonetruelove.Suddenly,itfeltasthoughalltheyearsandheartachethathadcomebetweenthem
hadevaporatedalongwithBlackheart’spower.Thiswashowitwasalwayssupposedtobe.

Anicychillabruptlydescendedoverthechapel.
Asilvercanerappedsoftlyagainstthefloor.
JohnnyturnedtoseeMephistophelesstandingbeforethedespoiledaltar.Roxannewassurprisedby

thestranger’ssuddenarrival.Confusionshoweduponherfaceasshetrembledfromthecold.He
realizedthatshehadneveractuallybeeninthepresenceoftheDevilbefore.

Unlikeme,hethought.Hehadknownexactlywhattheunnaturalcoldsnapsignified.JohnnyBlaze

hadfeltitforthefirsttimeinatentoutsideSweetwaterfifteenyearsago.Ishouldhaveknownhe
wouldbeheretoclaimhisson.

“Congratulations,Johnny,”theDevilsaid,spoilingthemoment.Helimpedtowardthem,pausing

brieflybeforeBlackheart’sbody,whichremainedcurledinafetalpositionuponthefloor.
Mephistopheleskneltandgentlystrokedhisson’sunfeelingcheek,justlikeanyotherfatherwould.The
catatonicdemondidn’tevenseemtoknowtheoldmanwasthere.Blackhearttwitchedspasmodically
amidsttherubble.Hiseyesremainedfixedonhisownpersonalhell.

Mephistophelessighedandmovedon.Theunnaturalchillonlyincreasedashedrewclosertothe

twomortals.Johnny’sbreathmistedinfrontofhismouth.Goosebumpsbrokeoutoverhisskin.
Roxanneshudderedfromthecold.LettinggoofJohnny,shehuggedherselftostaywarm.

Mephistophelessmiledlecherouslyattheyoungwoman,whorecoiledinfear.Perhapsshehad

guessedwhothenewcomerwas?Roxannenervouslyfingeredthetinygoldencrossaroundherneck.
Johnnydidn’tblameherforbeingscared.

MephistophelesturnedhisattentionbacktoJohnny.“You’veupheldyourendofthebargain.It’s

timethepoweroftheGhostRiderreturnedtome.”Hepeeledoffablackcalfskinglove,revealinglong
talonedfingersunderneath.RoxannegaspedatthelefthandoftheDevil.

“Yougetyourlifebacknow.Theloveyou’vealwayswanted.Maybeyou’llevenstartafamilyof

yourown.”HecastapainedlookatwhatremainedofBlackheart.“Nothingmoreimportantthan
family.”

JohnnygotthedistinctimpressionthatMephistopheleswasnotexactlypleasedwiththe

performanceofhislatestbountyhunterandwasanxioustopassthejobalongtoamoresuitable
candidate.Perhapssomeonelessconcernedwithsparingtheinnocent?

“LetsomeoneelsebeartheburdenoftheGhostRider.Letsomeoneelsecarrythecurse.You’refree

now.”

HereachedouttotouchJohnny,toreclaimthehellbornpowerhehadinstilledintheunsuspecting

mortalatthatdistantcrossroadssomanylongyearsago.

“Afterall,adeal’sadeal.…”
AngerflaredwithinJohnnyattheprospectofanotherpoorsoulbeingsnaredinMephistopheles’s

weboftwistedpromisesandlies.HegrabbedtheDevil’swristbeforetheoldmancouldlayhis
inhumanhanduponhim.

“No,”Johnnysaid.
Mephistopheleswastakenaback.“What?”
“Thedealisoff,”Johnnysaidfirmly.HesharedasomberlookwithRoxanne.Shenoddedbackat

him,seemingtocomprehendwhathehadtodo.Whathewasnow.

TheDevilwaslessunderstanding.Hestampedhiscaneuponthefloor.Asoundlikeathundercrack

resoundedthroughthedesecratedchurch.“ThepoweroftheGhostRiderismine!”

“Notanymore.”Johnnyshrugged.Hewasn’tlettingthisspitefuloldmancalltheshotsanymore.

“Freewill.Maybeyou’veheardofit?”

Hegazedthoughtfullyattheangelicfrescoesuponthewalls,commemoratingtheDevil’soriginal

defeatatthehandsofSt.Michael.Thearchangel’sblazingswordsuddenlyremindedhimofthehellfire
atGhostRider’scommand.

“Thisismysecondchance,”herealized.“Achancetomakethingsright.I’mgoingtotakethis

curseanduseitagainstyou.”

“No,”Mephistopheleschallengedhim.“Youwouldn’tdare.”
Johnnyknewhehadfoundhisdestinyatlast.“Whereveradealismade,whereverevilishiding,

whereverinnocentbloodisspilled,you’llfindmefightingyoueveryinchoftheway.”

TheDevilseethedwithimpotentfury.Unabletocontainhisrage,hishumanmaskbegantosplit

aroundtheedges.Aleatherybluehidecouldbeglimpsedthroughthecracks.Gnashingfangsfilledhis
maw.Spittlesprayedfromhislips.Hisrisingvoicepositivelydrippedwithbile.

“I’llgetyouforthis,JohnnyBlaze.”
Johnnygrinnedatthefumingfiend.“You’vealreadygotJohnnyBlaze.”HefacedtheDevilboldly.

“NowdealwiththeGhostRider.”

AlookofutterhatredblewapartthelastsemblanceofMephistophele’shumanfacade.Bestialand

inhuman,herevealedthesheermalevolencethatlurkedattheheartofEvilitself.Eternalragetwisted
hisfaceintotheveryportraitofthePrinceofDarkness.

“Don’tlook,”Johnnysaid.HecoveredRoxanne’seyestoshieldherfromthehorrorandsqueezed

hisowneyelidsshut.Adeafeninghowlshookthechapel.

Thensilence.
Afterafewanxiousmoments,theycautiouslyopenedtheireyesandfoundthemselvesaloneinthe

oldchurch.Blackheart,inhisvegetativestate,wasgone,andsowasMephistopheles.

Fornow.
JohnnyputhisarmaroundRoxanne.Leavingtheruins,theystrodeoutintothebrilliantsunshineof

abrandnewday.

Thekeeningwindhadfallensilentatlast.
Therewasn’tacloudinthesky.

20

J&RFOREVER.
Theirinitialswerestillcarvedintothebarkoftheoldoaktree,whichhadonlygrownlargerand

moreimpressiveoverthelastfifteenyears.JohnnyandRoxannestoodoncemoreatopCrowleyHill.
Ontherollingprairiesbelowthem,thefragrantbluebonnetshadreturnedwiththespring.Abrightblue
sky,asbigasTexas,stretchedoutabovethemasfarastheeyecouldsee.Goldensunlightgently
warmedthehappycouple.

JohnnystoodbehindRoxanne,hisarmsclaspedaroundherwaist.Sherestedherweightagainst

him,justlikeshehadonthatgoldenafternoonsolongago.Hefeltabittersweetpanginsidehisheartas
hecontemplatedthepromisehehadonceinscribedupontheoak.

“ThiswholenightmarestartedwhenIdidsomethingforus.Sothatwecouldbetogether.”He

sighedruefully.“I’msosorry,Roxanne….”

Andnotjustforthemselves.HetookamomenttomournMack’sdeathoncemore.Hewould

alwaysregretthatBlackheart’smurderousmachinationshadcosthisbestfriendhislife,butatleastthe
GhostRiderhadmanagedtoavengeMackintheend.AndRoxanneandIarefinallytogether….

“Iknowthat,”shesaidgently,smilingupathim.Therewasnobitternessorangerinhervoice.

Theywerepastthatnow.Allwasforgiven.

Hestillcouldn’tbelievehowluckyhewastohaveherbackinhislife.“DoyouknowhowmuchI

loveyou?”

Sheturnedaroundtofacehim.Hereyesglistenedmoistly.Herlushbeautytookhisbreathaway,

justlikealways.“Whydon’tyoushowme?”

Gladly,Johnnythought.Theykissedbeneaththespreadingbranchesofthemajesticoaktree.Acool

breezewaftedthroughendlessfieldsofflowers.Noone,noteventheDevil,couldspoilthismoment.

Notanymore.
Hourslater,backinthestudio,Roxannerecordedhervoice-overforanewpieceontheSouthwest’s

latesturbanlegend,thatofamysterious“GhostRider”whorodethehighwaysbynight,punishingthe
wickedandprotectingtheinnocent.Officially,theauthoritiesrefusedtoacknowledgetheRider’s
existence,dismissingacertainhigh-speedchaseasa“publicitystunt”thathadgottenoutofhand.A
shrewdlawyer,securedwithRoxanne’sassistance,hadmanagedtogetallchargesdroppedagainst
JohnnyBlazebypointingoutthattheevidenceagainstthecelebritywaspurelycircumstantial.
ForensicstestshadproventhattheblackenedtreadmarksleftbytheflamingHellcycledidnotmatch
Grace’swheels,northoseofanyotherchopperinJohnny’spossession.

Nomurderweaponwaseverfound.ExpertsweredividedonhowexactlyMackandtheotherswere

killedinthefirstplace.Afewblamedfreakenvironmentalconditions.Otherssuggestedindustrial
pollution.Accusationsofcover-upsandconspiraciesabounded.

“Necroplasm”wasneverconsideredasacause.
Tough,Roxannethought.SherememberedthefrustratedlookonCaptainDolan’sfacewhenJohnny

walkedoutofthepolicestationafreeman.ToobadJohnny’sbig-timeNewYorklawyercouldn’tsee
Dolan’sreactionaswell;unfortunately,MattMurdockwaslegallyblind.

Takingadeepbreath,shewonderedwhatthesuspiciouscopwouldthinkofherlateststory:
“ItissaidthattheWestwasbuiltonlegends.Andthatlegendsareawayofunderstandingthings

greaterthanourselves.Forcesthatshapeourlives.Eventsthatdefyexplanation.Individualswhoselives
soartoHeaven,orfalltotheearth…”

Severalmilesaway,ablackribbonofopenhighwaystretchedtothehorizon,holdingthepromiseof

endlesspossibilities.JohnnyBlazeroaredtowardthefutureonhisfather’soldchopper,carryingouthis

eternalmission.Forgetfameandfortune,andlonelynightswastedregrettingpastmistakes.Hehada
newpurposenow,anewdestinytofulfill.

Brightorangeflameslitupthenight.TheHellcyclethrobbedbeneathhim.Ablazingskullsought

outnewdemonsandevildoerstosendscreamingdowntoHell.Somewhereinhisunholyrealm,the
Devilgnashedhisteethinfrustration.

TheGhostRideropenedupthethrottle.
“Overtime,thelegendswillfade.Buttheywillneverdie….”
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
When,asanavidcomicbookfan,IfirstencounteredGhostRiderbackin1972,1neveranticipated

thatIwouldsomedaygettheopportunitytochroniclehisadventuresmyself.AndjustlikeJohnnyBlaze
andhisstuntteam,Ihadplentyofgoodpeopleonmyside….

IwanttothankEdSchlesingeratPocketBooksforrecruitingmeforthisproject,andmyagents,

RussGalenandAnnBehar,formakingitpossible.ThanksalsotoMarvelComicsandColumbia
PicturesforsupplyingmewiththereferencematerialsIneededtowritethenovelization.Ialsohaveto
thankRoyThomas,GaryFriedrich,MikePloog,andalltheothertalentedMarvelComicswritersand
artistswhoseworkonthevarious“GhostRider”comicbookswereafrequentsourceofinspiration.

Inaddition,Iwanttothankmyparents,forloaningmetheircomputerwhenIneededone;Rick

Palinko,forlettingmegrillhimaboutmotorcycles(eventhoughanyerrorsaremyown);SumiLee,
Laura,andKatieforhelpingmedownloadthemovietrailer;CaptainBlueHenComicsinNewark,
Delaware,andActionCityComicsinFederalWay,Washington;andanyoneelseImayhaveforgotten.

Finally,asalways,IreliedonthesupportofKarenandourgrowingfamilyoffour-leggedhelpers:

Alex,Churchill,Henry,Sophie,andlittleLyla.

Let’sride!