[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
body, hardening it into solid obsidian. Ghost Rider yanked back the chain and Gressil shattered into a
thousand pieces. The brittle stone cracked loudly, sounding like an explosion in a china shop. Only a
cascade of broken shards and a whiff of burnt charcoal testified that Gressil had ever walked the earth at
all.
No more Hiding for him, Ghost Rider thought.
He snapped the chain back to him. It wrapped itself across his torso like a bandoleer as its
incendiary radiance dimmed. Looking away from the elemental s cremated remains, Ghost Rider
scanned the grounds of the station for his other quarries. But Blackheart and the two surviving
elementals were gone.
No matter, he resolved. He would pursue the fugitive demons across the face of the earth if needs
be.
And not on foot.
Ghost Rider waved his fist in the air, beckoning silently to his ride. The roar of a motorcycle
responded to his summons as, riderless, Grace came racing through the archway to his side.
The venerable Harley-Davidson was an impressive machine, but not fully sufficient to his purposes.
Yet chat could be easily remedied.
He laid a bony hand upon the chopper s rear exhaust pipe. Hellfire spread from his fingers across
the length of the bike, transforming it beneath his touch. Solid metal twisted into new and more
intimidating configurations. The handlebars took on the semblance of writhing serpents. The front
fairing assumed the aspect of a large demonic skull. Blazing sockets flared instead of a headlight. The
chrome forks connecting the frame to the front tires turned into taut steel chains. Grace s blue-and-
yellow paint job was replaced by a glossy black luster. The entire chassis suddenly resembled the
sculpted vertebrae of some unearthly beast. The tires ignited into flame, changing into rings of literally
burning rubber. Bright orange flames crackled above the spinning wheels.
Within seconds, the customized Harley had become something else, a ride unique upon the Earth
and elsewhere: the Hellcycle.
Ghost Rider withdrew his hand and mounted the bike. Its supercharged engine snarled like a wild
animal as he opened up the throttle and raced away from the lifeless train station. Unlike Johnny Blaze s
involuntary trip here, this time the satanic cycle was firmly under its rider s control. The Hellcycle sped
off into the night, leaving behind a melted maelstrom of licking flames and burning asphalt.
The quarry could run, but it couldn t hide.
The Ghost Rider was hot on its trail.
10
Eddie Delgado lurked in an alley off Sundance Square. He needed cash-fast-and wasn t too picky
about how he got it. He peered around the corner, looking for a likely prospect.
A grin came across his stubble-covered face as he spotted a teenage Goth chick heading down the
sidewalk toward him, no doubt on her way home from a long night of clubbing. Oblivious to her
surroundings, she swayed to the rhythm of whatever morbid ditty was playing over her iPod. A tight
black T-shirt warned: I LEAVE BITE MARKS. Her frizzy hair was dyed pitch-black. Racoon makeup
shadowed her eyes. Her ivory complexion looked like it hadn t seen the sun in ages. A silver ankh
dangled on a chain around her neck. Studded wristbands adorned her pudgy arms. Apparently alone, she
had the brick-paved sidewalk to herself.
Eddie s bloodshot eyes zoomed in on the shining Egyptian amulet, as well as the lacy black handbag
slung over her shoulder. He wondered how much money she was carrying, and what he might be able to
get for her jewelry. Darting back behind the corner, he listened to her footsteps drawing nearer. His
fingers tightened on the grip of a rusty Bowie knife. He waited until she came into view, then pounced
on her from behind. She yelped in surprise and he clamped his hand over her mouth and dragged her
roughly into the unlit alley.
Eddie slammed her up against a graffiti-covered stone wall. His hefty body pressed against her,
pinning her to the wall. He held the knife to her throat, while his free hand yanked the bag from her
shoulder. She squirmed helplessly, unable to get away. Some sort of exotic perfume tickled his nostrils.
Shut up and be still! he hissed into her ear. Or I ll kill you!
Her eyes bulged in terror. She trembled uncontrollably.
The girl s obvious distress and vulnerability turned Eddie on. He sniffed her hair, inhaling another
deep breath of her fragrance, as he considered the possibilities of this situation. He had only intended to
rob this chick, but & now that he had her alone in the alley, he found he wanted more than just the
contents of her purse. She wasn t bad-looking, once you got past all the spooky Goth crap. Who knew?
Maybe he d even let her live afterward& .
The roar of an approaching motorcycle broke into his lustful fantasies. He glanced back over his
shoulder, just to make sure they weren t going to be interrupted, and started to haul the teenager deeper
into the alley. He froze in his tracks, however, as a skull-headed biker rode past the alley on a flaming [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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body, hardening it into solid obsidian. Ghost Rider yanked back the chain and Gressil shattered into a
thousand pieces. The brittle stone cracked loudly, sounding like an explosion in a china shop. Only a
cascade of broken shards and a whiff of burnt charcoal testified that Gressil had ever walked the earth at
all.
No more Hiding for him, Ghost Rider thought.
He snapped the chain back to him. It wrapped itself across his torso like a bandoleer as its
incendiary radiance dimmed. Looking away from the elemental s cremated remains, Ghost Rider
scanned the grounds of the station for his other quarries. But Blackheart and the two surviving
elementals were gone.
No matter, he resolved. He would pursue the fugitive demons across the face of the earth if needs
be.
And not on foot.
Ghost Rider waved his fist in the air, beckoning silently to his ride. The roar of a motorcycle
responded to his summons as, riderless, Grace came racing through the archway to his side.
The venerable Harley-Davidson was an impressive machine, but not fully sufficient to his purposes.
Yet chat could be easily remedied.
He laid a bony hand upon the chopper s rear exhaust pipe. Hellfire spread from his fingers across
the length of the bike, transforming it beneath his touch. Solid metal twisted into new and more
intimidating configurations. The handlebars took on the semblance of writhing serpents. The front
fairing assumed the aspect of a large demonic skull. Blazing sockets flared instead of a headlight. The
chrome forks connecting the frame to the front tires turned into taut steel chains. Grace s blue-and-
yellow paint job was replaced by a glossy black luster. The entire chassis suddenly resembled the
sculpted vertebrae of some unearthly beast. The tires ignited into flame, changing into rings of literally
burning rubber. Bright orange flames crackled above the spinning wheels.
Within seconds, the customized Harley had become something else, a ride unique upon the Earth
and elsewhere: the Hellcycle.
Ghost Rider withdrew his hand and mounted the bike. Its supercharged engine snarled like a wild
animal as he opened up the throttle and raced away from the lifeless train station. Unlike Johnny Blaze s
involuntary trip here, this time the satanic cycle was firmly under its rider s control. The Hellcycle sped
off into the night, leaving behind a melted maelstrom of licking flames and burning asphalt.
The quarry could run, but it couldn t hide.
The Ghost Rider was hot on its trail.
10
Eddie Delgado lurked in an alley off Sundance Square. He needed cash-fast-and wasn t too picky
about how he got it. He peered around the corner, looking for a likely prospect.
A grin came across his stubble-covered face as he spotted a teenage Goth chick heading down the
sidewalk toward him, no doubt on her way home from a long night of clubbing. Oblivious to her
surroundings, she swayed to the rhythm of whatever morbid ditty was playing over her iPod. A tight
black T-shirt warned: I LEAVE BITE MARKS. Her frizzy hair was dyed pitch-black. Racoon makeup
shadowed her eyes. Her ivory complexion looked like it hadn t seen the sun in ages. A silver ankh
dangled on a chain around her neck. Studded wristbands adorned her pudgy arms. Apparently alone, she
had the brick-paved sidewalk to herself.
Eddie s bloodshot eyes zoomed in on the shining Egyptian amulet, as well as the lacy black handbag
slung over her shoulder. He wondered how much money she was carrying, and what he might be able to
get for her jewelry. Darting back behind the corner, he listened to her footsteps drawing nearer. His
fingers tightened on the grip of a rusty Bowie knife. He waited until she came into view, then pounced
on her from behind. She yelped in surprise and he clamped his hand over her mouth and dragged her
roughly into the unlit alley.
Eddie slammed her up against a graffiti-covered stone wall. His hefty body pressed against her,
pinning her to the wall. He held the knife to her throat, while his free hand yanked the bag from her
shoulder. She squirmed helplessly, unable to get away. Some sort of exotic perfume tickled his nostrils.
Shut up and be still! he hissed into her ear. Or I ll kill you!
Her eyes bulged in terror. She trembled uncontrollably.
The girl s obvious distress and vulnerability turned Eddie on. He sniffed her hair, inhaling another
deep breath of her fragrance, as he considered the possibilities of this situation. He had only intended to
rob this chick, but & now that he had her alone in the alley, he found he wanted more than just the
contents of her purse. She wasn t bad-looking, once you got past all the spooky Goth crap. Who knew?
Maybe he d even let her live afterward& .
The roar of an approaching motorcycle broke into his lustful fantasies. He glanced back over his
shoulder, just to make sure they weren t going to be interrupted, and started to haul the teenager deeper
into the alley. He froze in his tracks, however, as a skull-headed biker rode past the alley on a flaming [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]