Ghost Rider Novels & Stories

Gary says as the heavy winds blew his hair, his voice is not clearly audible because of the noisy vehicle down the road. Ghost now has some hard thinking right now, as he moves floating slowly on the air like some wizard, he does not want to leave his friend here and so he comes up with a plan, he starts backing up, his hands still on fire and this makes the other wolves strong again, they can now move easily, they all point their guns at him as they slowly walks towards him to match him out.

I called out, wiping a streak of grease across my forehead. Viper leaned over the workbench nearby, his fingers flying across a holographic display that Harrison had smuggled into our last supply drop. "It’s the stabilizing tech, El. These bikes aren't just engines anymore. If the thermal dampeners aren't perfect, Silas’s satellites will pick up the heat signature before you even clear the treeline." These weren't just motorcycles. They were "Ghost-Bikes." After the arena, we realized we couldn't run in wolf form across the state.

BILLIE I snap my jaw shut while Thorne gives me an amused but sympathetic look. I shake my head at him and follow Tristan down the stairs. “What’s with the helmet?” I ask. “You’ll see.” Talkative, this one. We walk outside over to a spot near the end and stop at a motorcycle. Not one of the huge, Harley Davidson, ear-splitting hogs from my old neighborhood, or a moped in fluorescent sport colors, but a stylishly small red and black roadster with the name Triumph on one side. It looks retro, like something Indiana Jones or Captain America would be riding around on during World War II. He helps me adjust the helmet on my head.

I shrieked, my teeth bared in a primal, animalistic snarl as the fragile ember of hybrid fire in my chest flared in response to the blinding light below. "You aren't leaving me," he growled back, his amber eyes locking onto the dark shadow hovering directly above us. "You’re anchoring me." The gargoyle reached the limit of its drop. Rearing back on its massive hind legs, its featureless brass head tilted downward, its jaw splitting open to reveal a massive, high-pressure liquid-aether nozzle designed to flush the shaft with superheated slag. Before the mechanical nozzle could ignite, the beast lunged, its massive brass weight descending directly toward the space we occupied.

"The Queen has many friends in the studio, my friend. And she has already begun the 'rehearsals' for the final scene. If you want to get inside, you won't do it with a pack of forty bikers. You'll be spotted before you cross the Third Mainland Bridge." "Then how do we get in?" I asked, stepping forward. Kola looked at me, a flicker of recognition crossing his face. "You are the Ghost Rider. The one they say has the 'spirit' of the machine. There is a stunt-call tomorrow for a new high-speed chase sequence. They are looking for riders who can handle the 'prototype.' If you can pass the audition, you get the pass." I looked at Dax, then at the silver key in my p

Not anger either, though that was closer. Instinct. The deep, wordless recognition of a predator that something larger is in motion. That the ground beneath your feet is shifting in ways you cannot yet see. Because the more I turned the last three months over in my mind, the more I kept returning to the same anomaly. The same thing that did not fit. A hired gun completes his contract. A rival consolidates his gains. An enemy eliminates his target when the window is open. The Ghost Rider had done none of those things.

The heavy blast doors of the garage ground open, letting in a swirl of blinding white snow. Ashren punched the accelerator, and we shot out into the dark. … The Ghost Road wasn't on any official map. It was an old smuggler's route that bypassed the main highways, cutting through the jagged, frozen ravines of the deep tundra. For the first six hours, the silence in the rover's cabin was absolute, save for the hum of the engine and the howling wind outside. I sat in the passenger seat, my arms wrapped tightly around myself. The rover’s heater was blasting at maximum capacity, making Valen sweat in the backseat. But my breath was still pluming in the air like white smoke.

Chad grabbed Ruby, who was deeply embedded in the ground, and pressed down on her lower abdomen before throwing her out! Dark Phoenix flew to retrieve Ruby and thanked Chad. "Thank you!" "Wait!" Chad asked her, "What's a guiding spirit?" Dark Phoenix carried Ruby on her back and said, "A guiding spirit is your past life. It exists in a special space. It's summoned by certain high-level members of the Zenith Organization using special techniques. It's used to guide specific people when they join the Zenith Organization! You can also understand it as brainwashing!" Chad was stunned by her explanation. So, the ghost represented his previous life?

he says as he walks past me with Rover over his shoulder with his ass exposed to the world to see. “I have a better idea,” I say, removing my own helmet and following Ghost inside. Thorn and Crybaby are in the van waiting for orders while Thorn erases our passage through cameras. “Where do you want this piece of shit?” Ghost asks and I point at the chair in the middle of the room. The only thing above it is a single lightbulb. I know it is very cliche, but I wanted him to be afraid as soon as his eyes opened again.

“We saw a scrap of material floating above his Hellhound and knew he had to be invisible. A few carefully aimed shots later, and he fell to the ground with an audible thump.” “We didn’t want to touch him without authorization,” added another, who sounded like he was part-snake. I clapped a hand over my mouth. Griff hadn’t checked his saddlebags. There were six in total, including the general, with their beasts of burden waiting at their sides. Two were white horses with manes of smoke, one was a black one burning red eyes with yellow flames for hair, and the other two looked to be some kind of rhinoceros chimeras that were shaped like triceratops. Then there was the fire-breathing drake.