Everything I touched was golden
Everything I loved got broken
On the road to Mandalay
Every mistake I've ever made
Has been rehashed and then replayed
As I got lost along the way.
--- "Road to Mandalay" by Robbie WWilliams

 The being known as the Furious staggered into the alleyway, feeling a strange weariness overtake it. It rested one gloved hand against the outside wall of a London apartment building, a soft sigh escaping its lips. 

After taking a moment to steady itself, it raised its hands up to the golden mask which hid its features from the world. The mask resisted for a moment, clinging to the soft flesh beneath, but it finally gave away with a sucking sound. 

Soft brown curls fell forth, no longer bound by the mask. Brushing the hair from its eyes, the Furious moved further down into the alleyway, hoping to avoid any pursuit that might have been coming from the Ghost Rider.

The young woman's face was beaded with tiny droplets of sweat and her eyes were wild as she stared nervously over her shoulder. Without the mask in place, she was no longer the strangely androgynous Furious, and her memories of her recent actions were blurred. She knew she'd killed someone, though, and that thought made her heart pound in her chest. Oh, God, what am I becoming? Is this what it was like for you, Dan? Changing into some kind of monster, doing things that were nothing like you....

The woman's thoughts scattered then, as she sagged to her knees. Since bonding with the Furies, she'd become something more than human -- but the eldritch forces took a heavy toll on her mortal form, leaving it drained and weary. 

"You okay, lass?"

She looked up into the worried face of a young man. He was dressed in a t-shirt depicting the pop group known as the Corrs, tight black slacks and a pair of thick glasses. He smelled like cheap fags and cheaper wine, but didn't look any more than twenty. Kneeling before her, he dropped a small bag of something into his pocket and she knew why he was here, in an alley. He'd just bought drugs.

Accepting his hand up, she raised herself to her feet. "I'm just a little tired, that's all," she managed.

"You look like 'ell," he laughed. He was staring blatantly at her dark clothing and gloves. She tried to pull away but his grip tightened on her hand. "'Ey, now, don't be runnin' off. I can help make you feel better."

She narrowed her eyes as he leaned forward to kiss her. The weariness was gone already, replaced by the kind of feral hunger that was oddly appealing to her. With a strength that surprised the man, she shoved him away and placed the golden mask once more upon her face. When she next spoke, her voice was calm and gender-neutral, containing hints of both masculine anger and feminine righteousness. "Poor, little man... Such a slave to his hungers. Drugs, alcohol, sex... All an excuse to blunt the pain. Let me help you."

The addict stumbled back, tripping over an overturned trash cannister. He fell to the ground and held up one hand to ward off  the Furious. "I dinna mean anything by it!"

The Furious laughed softly, clenching both hands into fists. It struck with its left first, alternating the blows until the young man was still and quiet. With blood dripping from its hands, the Furious stepped back and exited the alleyway. 

Inside, a frightened woman tried to find a hidden recess in her mind where she could hide away from it all. Hide from the pain and from the horror of what she had become.

Oh, Dan... I'm so sorry for not standing by you better. I'm so sorry.

And the woman named Stacy Dolan wished she were back in Cypress Hills, in the arms of her lover. 

But those moments were in the past, never to be reclaimed.

Now belonged to the Furious.

Jennifer Kale's Flat, London

"Stacy Dolan...? That's fucked up." Jennifer Kale drew her knees up, hugging them tight against her body. She was seated on her couch, dressed in a warm pair of pajamas. To her left, atop a small end table, was a steaming cup of tea. 

The man sitting across from her, dressed in filthy clothing that smelled like it hadn't been washed in years, was the man known only as Caretaker. A member of the immortal Blood, he had helped guide and protect the Kale clan throughout the years, aiding the various hosts of the Spirit of Vengeance in battling the likes of Lilith and  Zarathos. He scratched his stubble-lined chin and snorted. "I told you it wasn't a happy story. I don't know what you're expecting -- When have I ever told you something that you were happy to hear?"

"You've never told me much of anything," Jennifer pointed out.

"You're the host for the Ghost Rider, aren't you? And I've told his previous hosts plenty -- so it's the same thing."

"If you say so. Anyway, I'm pretty sure Dan and John were glad when you told them they were brothers."

Caretaker made a pained expression. "Yeah? Maybe they were. Too bad I wasn't there for 'em when it counted. Now we've got another Kale dead and buried." He pointed at Jennifer. "You know what'll happen if you bite it, sister? Noble can't go into Blaze because Zarathos is already there... He'll end up in the oldest of Blaze's kids. That's the way it works."

"I'm not planning to die anytime soon." Jennifer shook her head, feeling foolish. "I still know so little about Topaz... and she's the one who helped rescue me from the void. I'd be dead now if not for her*...."

(*See our first three issues.)

Caretaker watched her face, saying nothing. He'd always thought that Dan was too weak for the job he'd been given... After all, the power and responsibility should have gone to Dan's sister Barbara, but a twist of fate had given it to a sometimes weak in the knees kid. But you, Ms. Kale, are an entirely different kind of animal. You're strong, with or without Noble. That bodes well for the future. You're gonna need that strength. "Some things can't be helped, kid. You just gotta make sure her sacrifice was worth it."

Jennifer ran a hand through her blonde hair, which was growing longer than it had in years. "Okay... Let's get back on track. You said that Stacy Dolan is the host for the Furies. And that when Noble found out that the Furies had escaped Hell and were headed to the Dolan household, he sent Vengeance after them...."

"That's about right," he agreed. "But when Badilino didn't return, he abandoned his rule of Hell and came back himself. Good thing, too. The Spirit of Vengeance is wasted in that job."

Jennifer stood up, crossing over to the window. She looked out into the rising moon, which was still discolored from the recent Black Mass affair. Pinkish-red, it looked unnatural and frightening. "So, why Dolan? Is it because of her connection to Dan?"

Caretaker closed his eyes, his mind drifting back to other places and other times. "You could say that... The Dolans and the Ketches go way back. That's the way of the world, sometimes. Everything's one big circle, a dance that never ends. That's why you see families intermingled throughout history, always following the same paths. Because sometimes, debts have a way of living on, way past the ones who first cashed 'em in."

London, 1943

Cpl. Eugene Dolan struck his match again and again, but with no success. The rain that fell had soaked through his pockets, ruining the precious matchsticks. Without them, his smokes were pretty much useless. 

A sudden flame materialized before him, making him jump. It took him a second to realize that it wasn't floating there like some ghost, but was rather being supported by a handsome young man -- the reporter who'd been hanging around a lot lately. Mark Todd. 

Eugene leaned forward, pushing the tip of smoke into the reporter's match. "Thanks, pal. I owe you."

Todd grinned, his eyes twinkling. The two men had spoken only briefly in the past, but they had seemed to hit it off when they did. "You're up late tonight, Mr. Dolan. Midnight shift?"

Taking a long drag on his cigarette, Dolan cocked an eye at his companion. "Nah. I just couldn't sleep -- so I figured I'd strap on my equipment and stand guard in the rain for a few hours. Yeah... I got the midnight shift."

Todd shared a laugh with the soldier, looking behind them at the small building that had once been part of the university. With the near constant bombardment that London had been through since the war began, classes had been cancelled and the structure was now one of the many command posts for the Allied Forces in the city. "They have any idea what that thing they found is, yet?"

Dolan exhaled, licking his lips nervously. "You know I can't talk about that."

Todd smiled. "Off the record. I swear. I'm curious, that's all."

"Sure you are, pal. Look -- You want us to kick Hitler's horde all the way back to the Fatherland, right? So we gotta keep secrets."

"Aha! So it is something important, right?"

"C'mon, don't put me on the spot, okay? I got a wife waiting for me back home and I'd like to make it back in one piece. Talking to you is likely to get me put in the pokey!"

Todd patted his new friend on the shoulder. "Don't worry about it. I was just fishing around."

Dolan nodded, grateful. He didn't mind the company one bit, but he didn't want to be grilled like he was on trial or something. "You got family?"

"Cousins, yeah. Not too many on the Todd side of things -- my dad's folks have mostly died out, sad to say. But my mom was a Kale and there's plenty of them to go around."

Dolan was about to respond when both men were suddenly thrown to the ground by a powerful explosion. Debris rained down on them as both struggled to rise from the wet ground. 

Todd stared at the burning building behind them, hearing agonized screams from within. A burning soldier stumbled outside, waving his limbs in a futile attempt to extinguish the flames which danced over his body. It was too late for that poor soul, Todd knew, but there might others he could still help. 

He started to move towards the storage facility when Dolan grabbed his arm, holding tight. "You can't go in there, Todd! That place is burning hotter than hell!"

Dolan's mouth dropped open with a gasp. He watched as Todd rushed into the burning building, seemingly ignoring the roaring fire. "God in heaven! He's one of those mystery men -- like the Invaders!"

In truth, Mark Todd's mysterious origins were a bit more sinister than those of Captain America, the Human Torch or even the mighty Sub-Mariner. Given powers by a race of skull-headed mystics, he had been charged with combating evil wherever he found it. Though he himself did not know it, it was part of a long-standing family curse that the oldest member of every Kale generation experienced -- becoming blessed, or cursed, with the powers of their ancestor, Noble Kale.

In Todd's case, the merging was far less taxing than for many of the other hosts. Noble's personality was neglible in this time, allowing Todd to control their merged form almost completely, though it also meant that he lacked the full range of powers that should have been his.

The Blazing Skull, as he had come to be known, burst into the burning interior of the building. Immune to flame and virtually invisible when he wished, Todd had no fear of being harmed by the inferno... but he also knew that the fire would be the least of his concern.

In the center of the flames stood a trio of women, dressed in ancient battle armor. One of them, a tall, cruelly beautiful woman, held aloft a strange, glowing spear. The spear had been found by English soldiers a few weeks before and Todd had come here to investigate reports that it contained eldritch energies. 

The spear-wielder looked about her, smiling. "We are reborn on the world of man, sisters. And there is so much for us to punish, can you not sense it?"

"That I can," one of the others purred. Their features seemed to shift and shimmer with every passing second. At times they were achingly, hauntingly tantalizing, at others they were shriveled and full of horror. "And it looks as if one of our old compatriots has come to welcome us to the world."

As one, the trio turned to face the Blazing Skull. Somewhat unnerved, Todd had almost forgotten his main purpose for entering, but he quickly scanned for any other survivors who might need aid. Unfortunately, there were none. 

The Blazing Skull moved forward cautiously, still not sure about what he was facing. "Do I know you girls? You remind me of these triplets I met once back in Boston, but I can't be sure without me being half-drunk."

The blonde with the spear made a sneering expression. "You taunt us, Spirit? That is not wise. You above all others should know that." Energy lashed out from the spear, slamming into the Blazing Skull and causing him to scream in agony. 

"How intriguing, Tisiphone. He appears to be weaker than I remember."

Tisiphone looked at the sister who had spoken. "That is the way of men. Strong and vigorous when first you encounter them, but they weary with time."

"Care to fill me in on what the hell is going on?" Todd asked, rising to his feet. A section of the roof chose that moment to cave in, sending up a plume of smoke in between him and his opponents. "I don't want to fight any dames if I don't have to, so let's chat...."

"Dames...?" Tisiphone whispered. "He refers to us by native slang. I... don't think I like the word. Do you, sister Furies?"

"Not I," purred one.

"Nor I," murmured the other.

The Blazing Skull saw the three rush towards him at inhuman speed. He barely managed to blurt out "Uh... I'm sorry?" before the first of them struck him a back-handed blow to the chin. 

The other two followed suit, with Tisiphone slashing deep with the spear. Pain such as he had never experienced now rushed through the Blazing Skull and he saw... things.... on the periphery of his vision. A woman in flames, a preacher holding a bible high. He saw a man torn between heaven and hell, belonging to neither. He saw a skull ablaze.

To his own surprise, his hand darted out and grabbed Tisiphone's spear. He felt its searing touch but held on tight, wrenching it free from the Fury's grasp. He tossed it away, eager to disarm at least one of them. 

The Blazing Skull felt himself fighting on automatic now, and it seemed as if another was briefly in control of his form, for the words that came from his mouth were not his own. "Damnable witches! You will not wreak your havoc on this world, not now! It has problems enough without your curses!"

The Fury known as Megaera spat out something resembling blood as the Blazing Skull slammed a fist into her midsection. 

Her sister Alecto raged against the Spirit of Vengeance, slamming her clenched fists into his back. "Foolish Kale! We will destroy you! It is within our power!"

"We both know the lie in that, witch!"

"Do we now?" asked Alecto. "We are three and you are one! The blood debt between us has long been paid -- You are nothing to us now!"

The Blazing Skull grabbed Alecto by the throat and smashed her against a burning wall, shattering it into bits.

As he struggled to finish off Alecto and Megaera, the Spirit of Vengeance failed to notice Tisiphone approaching from behind. The Fury summoned a burst of eldritch power, preparing to assault the Blazing Skull from behind. 

The attack never came, however, as the Fury instead cried out in pain and alarm. She felt a sudden jab in her chest and looked down to see her own spear protruding from her flesh. It glowed with unholy power and she wailed in alarm. 

The Spirit of Vengeance turned, staring through the flames that were now engulfing the last of the building. The Furies, sharing in the pain of Tisiphone were fading now, their energies withdrawing into the spear. 

And there, in the doorway to the building, was Eugene Dolan, holding his sizzling hands out in front of him. Burned by contact with the spear, Dolan had fought through his own pain to save the Blazing Skull. 

Tisiphone pointed a finger at the soldier, her words echoing as she faded into nothingness and the spear clattered to the floor. "Mortal! You will be cursed for this -- When the age of magic is restored, the Furies will walk once more... and your family shall bear the brunt of our vengeance!"

Eugene staggered back, stung not only by the words but by the blinding pain that would haunt him the rest of his days. "What have I done...?"

"Something greater than you know, Eugene Dolan." The Blazing Skull picked up Dolan in his arms, carrying the man over his shoulder as the building collapsed. The soldiers outside parted in shock for the flaming-skulled being and the Spirit of Vengeance took the injured soldier to a place where the two could be alone -- a small alley not far from the university. Mark Todd felt his mind settling back into control of his body and it was once more his voice that came from the fiery visage of the Blazing Skull. "Pal... You okay?"

Eugene's eyelids fluttered and his hands smelled like burned meat. "I... owed you one."

"Paid back in plenty, Dolan. Believe me." Lowering his voice, he whispered "I just hope you don't end up regretting it."

 Jennifer Kale's Flat, London -- Modern Day

Jennifer let out a long sigh. "Yeah... I remember now. Or, rather, Noble does. When he heard you telling that story, it came back to him. It's funny. Even though he has all his memories now, they're so jumbled up that it's hard to sift through them and find what he wants."

"That's because he's been in so many different hosts," Caretaker answered. "Makes it hard to separate out his memories from theirs... plus all that time in the void makes memories fade with time."

The sorceress nodded. She glanced up at the clock on the wall and swore under her breath. "I gotta run, Caretaker. Dakimh wanted me to help him with some kind of ceremony for the magicians who were killed. He thinks their spirits need to be put to rest."

"A wise idea."

Jennifer leaned forward and kissed the immortal on the cheek. He seemed surprised -- and touched -- by the gesture. "Crash here if you want, okay? After the ceremony, I'm going to let Noble out to play... He wants the Furious bad. I think he blames himself for all this. Dan's death, the Dolan family curse, me being bonded with him."

"Do you think he should feel guilty for any of those?"

Jennifer paused. "No... Dan was a grown man, who sacrificed himself at the end. And Eugene Dolan made a choice, too. And as for me...."

"Yes?"

Jennifer smiled softly. "I don't mind this as much as I thought I would. I feel like I've got a real purpose. And that's not a bad thing, at all."

Yes, indeed, the Caretaker thought, You are a special one, Ms. Kale.

The Astral Plane

The spirits of the slain magicians floated like gossamer strands of webbing, each transparent to the point of near-invisibility. Dr. Strange, the Scarlet Witch, Agatha Harkness and so many more -- legends in the mystical field, one and all. 

But now their mortal forms were being laid to rest on Earth and their spirits... their spirits floated here, blocked from moving on to what planes awaited them.

The solitary, quiet figure who moved amongst them had tried to pierce the barrier between dimensions, eager to claim vengeance for Dr. Strange and the others. Clea had sought to come, as well, but her duties in her own realm had prevented that. 

The figure waited, patiently, for the moment he knew would come. He had sensed the wizard Dakimh preparing a spell that would free the trapped spirits and send them forth... Now that Blackheart was dead, much of the magic that had prevented this in the past was now gone.

And when the spirits were freed, this harbinger of vengeance would be able to return to Earth. He would seek out any and all involved in Dr. Strange's demise and he would accept his rightful mantle...

Sorcerer Supreme of Earth.

TO BE CONTINUED

Next Issue: "Road to Mandalay" concludes, as the ceremony to put the spirits of the world's greatest mages to rest leads to a  brand new star in the Pendragons Universe! Plus: the Furious battles Ghost Rider and Vengeance, with the life and sanity of Stacy Dolan at stake!

AUTHOR'S COMMENTS

We've got a letter this month, so here goes:

Thanks for writing in, Nick! The deaths of the world's mages was planned from the very beginning. I hoped it would not only be a shocking moment but it would also propel the surviving mages (like Jennifer and Wynter) into positions of great prominence within our little universe. As you'll see next issue, something very interesting will spin out of the mass slaughter. Thanks again for writing!

Beginning with issue 11, you'll see a very strong focus on establishing Jennifer's place in London. By that I mean lots more of her personal relationships with Caretaker, Bansi and Dakimh, plus one or two new folks. Noble is definitely a major part of the book (it's called Ghost Rider, after all), but Jennifer's his very-important human half and I promise not to neglect that.

See all of you next issue,

Barry