Ghost Rider U.K.

GHOST RIDER
U.K.

Issue # 6

"All Through the House...."
Written by Barry Reese
Part of the Pendragons Universe

WHAT HAS COME BEFORE: Prime Minister Clive Winthrop has been revealed as the demonic Blackheart, moving forward with a plan to plunge Great Britain into an age of darkness and mysticism. Ghost Rider and Blaze have damaged Blackheart's plans by defeating two of his servants, Demogoblin and Blackout, but both are uncertain as to what they should do next. Meanwhile, Dakimh the Enchanter has been sent forth by the imprisoned mages of the world, in hopes that he can aid Jennifer Kale in freeing them....

John Blaze ran a hand over his stubble-lined chin, before reaching over to pick up a half-empty bottle of liquor. He cradled a phone between his ear and shoulder, listening to the heart-rending sound of his wife's tear on the other end of the line. "Listen, Rox... I'll be back as soon as I can. I promise."

"It's Christmas, Johnny! It's Christmas and instead of being here with me and the kids, you're in London on some sort of damned adventure! You're not a kid anymore -- and you're not a prisoner to Zarathos now. You don't have any more excuses."

"This isn't an excuse, baby, I swear... But Danny was my brother. There were so many years that I didn't know I had any family left... I can't turn my back on Danny's memory or on Jennifer. She needs me. And she's family."

"So am I. So is Craig. So is Emma." Roxanne sighed, sounding weary and alone. "Look, I don't want to fight with you. I just miss you. After all the time we've spent apart from each other over the years -- thanks to Zarathos, all the kidnappings and to my time spent in that... place*... I just don't want to miss any more with you. Please come home, John. If you love me, come home."

(*Roxanne was believed dead at one point, but was resurrected in Hell as a demonic being called Black Rose. When Noble Kale returned to Earth, he restored Roxanne to her mortal form.)

Blaze took a long sip from the bottle, draining its contents. He tossed it aside, where it landed noisily amidst a growing pile of similiar containers. "I wish you wouldn't put me in a spot like this," he whispered.

"It shouldn't be that hard of a choice, John." A meaningful silence seemed to appear between them, one that grew more noticeable with each passing second. "But I can see that it is. Do you have a thing for her?"

"For who? Jennifer?! Hell no -- the kid's just that, a kid! She's my cousin, Rox. Me and her, we're the last of the family and--"

"No, you're not!" The fervant anger in her voice made Blaze wince. "Your children are part of that same God-damned family, John! I wish you'd never found Danny at all, that you'd let all of this occult nonsense just go away. And maybe then you'd remember where your real responsibilities are!"

John heard the harsh click on the other end of the line and he closed his eyes, letting the phone drop limply from his fingers. Why was he still here? Ghost Rider could take care of himself and so could Jen... So why did he feel like he couldn't walk away from this one?

He glanced over to his right, at the full moon shining down over London. Snow was coming down hard and fast and the sounds of Christmas carols droned slowly and reverently from his barely-heard radio. "Merry Christmas, Rox. Merry Christmas."

The young man's parents had disowned him years ago, well before he'd ever become involved in the growing skinhead movement in London. But Robbie Sinclair had never regretted any of the things he'd done -- in his mind, they were all justified actions, actions which had to be taken in order to preserve the purity of the British people.

Now, Robbie Sinclair screamed and screamed, backing up quickly, trying to scurry away from the haunting, demonic figure that strode towards him. His buddies in the Aryan Brigade lay about like broken dolls, most of them unconscious, but some of them were rocking back and forth on their knees, sobbing. That scared Robbie more than anything.

The monster before him stopped, a loop of chain wrapped tightly about one closed fist. It wore a leather jacket, the Union Jack proudly emblazoned on the back, and tight, dark-colored jeans. Atop its shoulders, where a man's face should be, was instead a flame-enshrouded skull. The empty, hollow sockets where the eyes should have been were pulsing with a strange, magical glow. "The immigrants that you assaulted... They were innocent. You struck them down because, in your heart, you know only evil. I will teach you more than that. I will show you the pain that they felt, the pain that all your victims have felt."

"No... Please! I'm sorry....!" Robbie fell to his knees, holding his hands out in front of him. Sweat glistened on his forehead and a trail of slime leaked from his right nostril, giving ample evidence of his terror.

"Did you answer your victim's pleas? I think not." Ghost Rider, the Spirit of Vengeance, placed his gloved hands on either side of Robbie's head. He applied just enough pressure to make sure the youth could not look away. "Feel the pain you have caused. Feel the pain of my Penance Stare!"

Robbie Sinclair's mind exploded, as all the agonies he had ever delivered unto others was now poured forth into his own soul. He fell over onto his side, his mouth hanging open and a line of spittle running down his chin.

Noble Kale, the living spirit that had come to be the Ghost Rider moved away from the youth, leaving him to wallow in his own emotional filth. Whenever the need for vengeance came upon Noble, he felt compelled to act -- but in the aftermath, he rarely felt satisfied. In a city this size, there were always more victims to avenge.

Outside, in the snow, the Ghost Rider rested a hand on the handlebar of his enchanted motorcycle. In the few days since his battle with Blackheart and his minions, his mind had been increasingly uneasy. The Lord of Lies had revived dormant memories within him, dealing with his final days as ruler of Hell. What things lay just beyond his consciousness and why had Blackheart told him that the Caretaker could answer them*?

There is no guarantee that Caretaker even still lives. It has been years since he last appeared to me, and at that time Daniel told him never to return.

I wouldn't count him out, Jennifer answered, her consciousness floating in the otherdimensional void where she resided when Noble controlled their form. She had grown better at making her thoughts known to him when she was hidden away, thanks in no small part to her training in the mystic arts. He's a member of the Blood, remember? Immortals like him don't die off easily.

True enough, Noble thought. But now it is time for me to return to the Void. YOur work begins tomorrow.

Glad you remembered, big guy. I don't want to fall asleep on my first day at the bookstore.

The Hellfire that surrounded the Ghost Rider's skull flared brighter for a moment before beginning to burn itself out. Flesh seemed to restore itself and the overall body grew smaller and more feminine. Though not nearly as painful as the transformation into the Ghost Rider, returning to normalcy was still very stressful for Jennifer. She bent over the bike for a moment, panting. She wore jeans and a heavy sweater, but it was still very cold and she fought a shiver.

"You're not going to do anyone very much good if you insist on parading about in the snow underdressed. Then again, you never were one for subtlety when it came to fashion."

Jennifer whirled around, astonished to hear such a warm, familiar voice. There, floating in a field of golden light, was her mentor and father figure, Dakimh the Enchanter. "Dakimh! What are you doing here?"

Smiling gently, the wizened old mage said "I've come to set you back upon your proper path, child. The imprisoned mages need you -- and their time is running short."

Agent Amber Greene hurried down the hallway, holding a steaming cup of tea in one hand and a large file folder under her other arm. She was dressed professionally, in a tweed jacket, gray blouse and knee-length skirt, but she could help but turn a few heads as she passed. A devilishly attractive woman with shoulder-length auburn hair and green eyes, she had an air of sensuality about her that was impossible to miss.

She hurriedly stepped into a briefing room where a dozen or so people sat, many of them looking through folders of their own. "Sorry, everyone. Had to make a mad dash to get here."

James Heathrow nodded impatiently, gesturing for her to take a seat. An older man with a bushy white beard, Heathrow had been one of the main instigators in getting W.H.O.* reinstated. The whole Black Air fiasco had given Parliament a bad taste in their collective mouths and Heathrow was eager to prove that W.H.O. could reclaim its place as an essential element of British Intelligence.

(*W.H.O. stands for Weird Happenings Organization and is an X-Files esque organization within Great Britain.)

Noisily clearing his throat, Heathrow began an obviously well-researched speech. "Alright, everyone... Late last night we got our first big break. All of you know that we've been researching the rise in paranormal activity, much of which coincided with the arrival of the so-called Spirit of Vegeance. Well, last night, we got a very large break in this."

Amber leaned forward with mounting interest. She'd downloaded every bit of info on the Ghost Rider that she could and felt like she was now something of an expert on the matter. "Did one of our agents actually make contact with the Ghost Rider?"

"Not quite. But we have something almost as good." Heathrow picked up a remote control, pointing it at a large monitor on the wall. A split-screen image appeared, showing two very different beings in similiar situations: the monstrous Demogoblin and the vampiric Blackout, both bound by energy-dampening manacles. "These two beings were recovered from a decimated battlesite, reeking of Hellfire and magical energies. Neither of them have been very interested in sharing information with us, but we do know that they were defeated by Ghost Rider."

"And both of them are longtime foes of his," Amber added. "Especially Blackout. Some of their battles have been particularly bloody, indicating there may be some personal connection between them."

Heathrow nodded. "Amongst other things. We're also going to study their physiologies, see what makes them tick." He placed a hand on a folder and slid it down the table towards Amber. "And Ms. Greene is going to pursue our flame-headed friend in a different avenue."

Amber opened the folder, staring at a series of photographs. "John Blaze, the host to the demon Zarathos years ago." She held up another picture. "And Jennifer Kale, cousin to Blaze and practitioner of Atlantean magic." Amber ignored the rolling of eyes that accompanied her comments. Many of her coworkers saw her as a show-off, but that never bothered her -- she knew her job and did it very well. That was all that mattered to her, most of the time.

Heathrow smiled. "Quite right. They've both been spotted in London. A coincidence?"

"Not bloody likely," Amber replied. She ran a finger over Jennifer's picture, remembering that the girl's profile had indicated that, like Amber, she'd experimented with bisexuality over the years. In Amber's case, it had been less a matter of experimentation and more a matter of finally coming to terms with who she really was.

Amber realized with a start that she'd phased out into a daydream while staring at Kale's photograph. Blushing, she nodded and said "I'm fine, Mr. Heathrow. And I can't wait to get started."

"Good. Then make it your first priority -- find them both. Watch them. And see if they lead you to Ghost Rider."

Jennifer Kale balanced on the rolling ladder, carefully shelving a couple of ancient texts in the ever-expanding occult section of the shop. With the recent weirdness that seemed to be infecting the United Kingdom, people were turning more and more to the supernatural. From Jennifer's perspective, as one raised in a veritable cult of magic and superstition, it was far past time that the modern world recognized the other realms of reality.

"I cannot believe you are making them wait like this," Dakimh said. The aged wizard, reduced now to a mere shade of his past self, floated nearby, invisible to all but Jennifer.

Out of the corner of her mouth, Jennifer murmured "I've been sneaking glances into spellbooks all day, Dakimh. So far, I've found three promising rituals -- but all of them require the presence of moonlight to activate. Now, please, leave me alone so I can get some work done."

"Work?" Dakihm grunted at the thought. "You are a powerful sorceress, reduced to serving warm tea and shelving useless books, written by amateurs."

Jennifer held up a dog-eared copy of Dakimh's Atlantean History & Relics. "Yeah. It's horrible how much garbage gets published these days, isn't it?"

Dakimh's eyes blazed for a moment, but seeing the mirth in his former apprentice's face brought a smile to his own. "I do not mean to push you, my child... But Stephen and the others are in grave danger*."

(*Many of the world's greatest mages have been trapped on the Astral Plane since Black Mass.)

Jennifer sighed, hanging her head. "I know. And I have been trying to help them, but I've been so busy with Ghost Rider's activities... and now that I know that Blackheart is posing as the Prime Minister, I'm not sure where to go. I mean, do we attack him? Or should we try and expose him somehow first? It's all a big mess."

"You know, usually my employees are here for a few weeks before they start talking to themselves."

Jennifer turned to see Bansi, the owner of the shop, standing below. He was looking at her with a funny expression, but Jennifer knew that he couldn't have heard all of her words. Thank the Gods, she thought. The last thing she needed was for her secrets to be revealed on her first day on the job. "Sorry, it's so quiet today that my mind was wandering."

Bansi grinned. He was a handsome man of Indian descent and he'd been pleasant company for Jennifer today. She felt he was someone she could trust and grow to consider a friend. "You're right. Most of the gift-givers have already gotten all their presents. I don't blame them for not wanting to come out in this. The snow is really coming down hard."

Jennifer stepped down from the ladder, wiping dust from her hands. "Yeah. I nearly froze my butt off riding over to work."

Bansi looked concerned. "Hmm. You might want to consider leaving it here and taking the bus -- the streets are too slick for a bike."

Bansi nodded, clearing his throat. "Listen... Since you just moved to London, how would you like to come to a Christmas party that a friend of mine is throwing? You could meet a lot of new people there."

"I'd like that... but I can't." Jennifer looked over Bansi's shoulder, watching as Dakimh floated nearby. "I've already made plans. Maybe some other time... I really would like to make a few more friends."

Bansi put his hands in his pockets and nodded. He gave the impression that he wasn't surprised to have been turned down by Jennifer and she felt bad for him -- even though she suspected he was mainly just being nice by inviting her. "Okay. You have fun -- go ahead and take the last thirty minutes off. It's our last working day until after Christmas, anyway."

Jennifer watched as he moved into the back storeroom. With a sigh, she turned back to Dakimh. "C'mon. Let's go spread some Christmas cheer to those trapped wizards...."

John Blaze opened his eyes as the pounding in his head intensified. With a groan, he realized that it was the sound of someone at his door. With slurred words, he said "Who's there?"

Blaze rose from the bed, staggering across the room to open the door. "Yeah?"

Jennifer's expression was one of horror and fascination. "Oh... What's that smell?" She took in Blaze's appearance -- the dishelved clothing, the unshaven face, the barely-slitted eyes -- and felt her heart sink. "How long have you been drinking?"

Jennifer pushed past him, casting a worried glance at all the empty bottles that littered the floor. "I was hoping to make contact with Dr. Strange and the others. I'm going to be vulnerable when I do that and I wanted you to watch over me." She glanced at him. "Can you do that?"

John shrugged, not noticing that the spectral form of Dakimh had just passed him by. "Don't see why not." He moved to the bed and sat down on it, picking up his shotgun off the floor. Capable of firing pure Hellfire, it was a potent weapon. "It's not like I have anything else to do."

Jennifer began moving some of the furniture to give herself room on the floor. "Did you call Roxanne?"

Jennifer knelt on the carpet, looking up at him. "I'm really sorry for getting you involved in all this. I just didn't know where else to turn. If you need to go...."

John held up a hand. "No. You're family... and besides, I feel like this is my last chance to help out Dan. I know that doesn't make any sense, but when I leave here and go back home, it's over. Dan's dead. But as long as I'm here... it's not over yet."

Jennifer decided not to press the issue, realizing that John's marital problems were his own. She cast a glance over at the ever-present Dakimh before closing her eyes and shifting into a lotus-style position. "Okay... Just make sure nobody bothers me, okay?"

Jennifer didn't hear him, her consciousness already stretching forth outside her body. She'd memorized an incantation that would allow her spirit to access the Realm of the Just Dead... from there, she would be able to visit with the trapped mages and get their opinions on the options before her.

"She comes," Agatha Harkness said and, despite the frailty in her voice, all the surviving mages turned as one to face her. Even now, as her form was slowly fading into nothingness, she commanded nothing less than respect.

Stephen Strange, Earth's acting Sorceror Supreme moved closer to her. Like all the others, he, too, was beginning to come undone. A spirit could be removed from its physical form for only so long before it began to deteriorate -- already Modred the Mystic and Brother Voodoo had vanished into ethereal nothingness. "Let us hope that she arrives bearing good news."

Jennifer Kale appeared in a sparkle of golden energy, dressed as she normally would have been years ago -- during her days as Dakimh's apprentice. A metal bikini which barely hid her feminine form, with a blue cloak tied about her shoulders. Jennifer sighed inwardly, wondering why her astral form had taken to appearing in this grab as of late.

Strange moved forward to touch her, uncharacteristically hurrying her. "Speak, child! Have you found a way to free us?"

Jennifer fought hard not to show her concern. They looked horrible, much worse than when she'd last seen them*. "I have a few ideas," she offered

"Ideas aren't good enough," Wanda Maximoff, the Scarlet Witch, said. The former gypsy looked haggard, her astral self reflecting her spiritual pain. "We need results. Have you contacted Reed Richards or the Avengers? There are other paths besides the mystic that could be tried."

"I've been in contact with the Pendragons and they've been working with the Avengers. But, I've been active on other fronts. I know the person behind all of this -- it's Blackheart."

Strange snapped his fingers in the air. "Aha! I should have recognized his touch on this. So like his father...."

A sudden spasm on the Astral Plane made everyone pause. Ripples had appeared between them, visible to each. Again, there came a pulse and this time Agatha Harkness cried out in pain.

Strange looked worried, reaching out to grasp Jennifer's hand. "You must go back, my child! Remember this: a demon like Blackheart cannot abide what he cannot own! Love, beauty, sacrifice -- these are the things that are bane to a demon!"

Jennifer felt Strange's grip loosen on her own as a terrible wave of pain washed over the mage. All around her, the ensnared wizards howled in agony. She tried to summon forth some sort of protective spell, something to shield them from this attack, but found her mind empty, too frightened to think.

The Scarlet's Witch's astral form burst into a thousand pinpricks of light, her last words "Vision! I'm sorry...." echoing in the void. The next to go was Agatha Harkness, who died even as she reached out to comfort a frightened wizard next to her.

One by one, some quietly with dignity, others fighting to the last breath, the most powerful mages of Earth were destroyed.

As Jennifer Kale watched in helpless horror, the final two -- former lovers Stephen Strange and the beautiful Clea -- embraced. As tears streamed down Clea's face, Stephen kissed her sweetly. "I was such a fool."

Stephen Strange and Clea faded into nothingness, even as Jennifer Kale felt herself pulled back to the mortal plane*.

(*For more on how and why these events occurred, see Pendragons # 7.)

John Blaze sat up with a start, even as Dakimh the Enchanter looked away, his eldritch abilities sensing what had happened.

Blaze rushed to Jennifer, who was panting, her eyes wide with horror. "What happened? Jen... What happened?"

"They're dead. They're all dead... Oh, John, If I'd only tried harder, maybe I could have--"

Blaze pulled her head to his shoulder, holding her as sobs wracked her form. "Hey... Don't blame yourself. You can't."

Jennifer pulled away from him, flames beginning to flicker around her hair and face. She gritted her teeth through the pain and Blaze backed away, remembering all the times he himself had experienced this transformation.

Cloaked in leather, the Ghost Rider rose from the floor. His wrath was terrible to behold. "Jennifer has fled, to a place where her guilt and pain cannot be seen by others."

"Somehow, I knew you'd say that." Blaze picked up his shotgun and a pack of cigarettes. "What a way to spend Christmas, eh?"

Next Issue : "Isles of Magick" part II! Continuing forth from Pendragons # 8, the heroes of the Pendragons Universe continue their battle against Blackheart and Zarathos! The crossover to end all crossovers continues here!

It might seem odd that even as I'm moving towards a more mystically-inclined universe, I would dispatch so many powerful mages, but there are important story reasons for these things, as I hope you'll soon see.

Those of you who are surprised by Jennifer's sexual identity (i.e., her bisexuality), this was hinted at off-and-on in the last Ghost Rider series (vol. 2), before finally being confirmed in issue 92.

You got several hints of post-Isles of Magick plotlines here, with the return of W.H.O. and the set-up for the Caretaker's return. Hope you're intrigued!