Ghost Driver

I was shocked. I mean I'm a nice-looking woman. There have always been guys interested in me. I never paid them any attention though, because I was always interested in Terry. But the woman who stood in front of me was beautiful. It was scary how pretty she was. And she wasn't like the girls I'd grown up with who thought they were pretty. She wasn't the type of woman who layered on tons of makeup and had to have her hair done every five minutes.

She stood there between us, and even though she had no makeup on, she was prettier than all of the women in the building. And everybody there knew it. Even worse was her obvious intelligence. She was smart enough to recognize what she had in Terry, and she was not letting him go. She was also fierce enough to make a scene if necessary.

This was a woman who could probably have any guy she wanted, and she was standing there, prepared to fight for Terry when I, the woman he'd loved enough to marry had lost him over a few stupid outfits and the chance to go out and be seen in some clubs that no one will remember in a few months. I pissed my life away for pretty much nothing.

"It was nice seeing you again, Kathy," she said to my mother. "Come on Honey."

And then she walked out, pulling Terry with her. He never even looked back at me.

When I got out of the building, I heard the loud assed exhaust system on Terry's Mustang start up. I looked over and noticed another Mustang, a silver one, next to his. I knew without even looking that it was her car.

I came out of my thoughts and told my mother that we would talk about it when I got home. As I said her words had made me numb. I was hoping with all of my heart that there was something to what she'd said no matter how impossible it was. On the other hand, I was afraid that Terry might have worked some sort of miracle and come back to life. As much as I still loved him and ached for him, I didn't want Terry alive again.

Cherry and some of the other girls came over as my mom left. "What are you going to wear?" they asked. I showed them my bikini, and they all started coming up with outfits I could borrow. They looked me over and started vetoing some of the outfits off hand.

"Honey did you know that you have some cottage cheese on your ass," said one woman. "And your tummy is kind of pudgy," said another. "Your boobs are kind of saggy for your frame," said a third.

They came up with an outfit that included a corset. The idea was that the corset would push my boobs up and disguise my tummy.

They were giving me their honest opinions based in what they knew men wanted to see from their fantasy women. Apparently, that was what Mike wanted too. It made me long even more for what I had lost.

Terry loved women. He loved real women. I can remember Terry grabbing big handfuls of my booty every time he saw it. He loved the way my ass jiggled when I wore jeans or tight skirts. Terry loved me for the way I was not for the way men thought a woman should be.

Terry would hate the idea of me going out on a stage and taking my clothes off in front of a bunch of strange men. He always considered my body HIS property alone. Maybe this was just another way for Mike to piss on Terry's grave. Maybe it was another way for him to remind me that the two of us were tied together, even though he didn't love me, and I would never love him. Or maybe it was simply fate that was punishing me for my part in killing Terry.

I walked out onto the stage oblivious to the cheers of the drunk men seated around the stage. I danced the way I did in my room when I was alone. The cheers died. It's been said that any woman, no matter what she looks like can get a man under the right circumstances.

There were a few men out there who liked what they saw. They liked the fact that I reminded them of their sister or the girl next door. My dancing was amateurish at best and awful at worst. But when I started taking my clothes off, even my few fans looked away in boredom. I'd been told to go out and dance for a three-minute song. It was the longest two minutes of my life. I never made it past two minutes before the DJ started talking and telling the crowd to give me a round of applause. My music was still playing as they pulled me off of the stage.

The manager looked at me like he'd never seen that reaction before. He told me to go out and circulate. The idea was for me to try to sell lap dances.

I did get what I thought was a lot of takers until I looked over and saw men fighting to get close to Cherry, and she hadn't even gone onstage yet. There were three guys who wanted lap dances from me. And two of the three didn't really like them. They complained to the manager. The third guy broke the rules and tried to grind his dick into my ass. He also whispered in my ear that he'd give me ten dollars if I let him fuck me. It was the most demeaning experience of my life. I ran out of the room crying.

* * * * * *

Terry

As darkness settled over the area, I felt a sense of calm settle over me. It wasn't always this way. The second time that it had happened was the worst. The first time, I had no idea what was going to happen. I remember that I was in the car and had been knocked out or maybe killed by the impact.

A man stood in front of me. He looked like a game show host. He even had a big dumb assed smile and a shiny fucking suit. I looked around, and I was somewhere. I have no words to describe it. I know it was a pocket dimension that was moved out of the space-time continuum. It was neither here nor there. It was outside of the flow of time but still existed in our reality.

As I watched he waved his hand and time backed up like the rewind button on a cheap old VCR. He let time moved forward, and I saw myself as my car fell hit and then started to burn. He backed it up again and stepped inside of the accident. He paused it and gestured for me to come over.

We stood there inside of my car, or maybe the car was inside of us. We were there and occupying the same physical space but out of phase with the physical plane.

"Did you see the way your head bounced back from the airbag?" He asked. "But then since you were falling gravity slammed your head into the steering wheel. Lucky you were already knocked out. That would have hurt a lot. Wait until you see the marks on your skull from the impact. Your frontal bone, right by the glabella shattered like a thrown beer bottle.

I'm not sure, but I think that was the hit that killed you. In retrospect, I think it's a good thing. It means that you didn't burn to death. You were already dead when the flames started. But since you didn't burn to death, you have no subconscious fear of flames. That would be a bad thing." He was still smiling.

We stepped outside of the accident, and I saw myself again. "Hey, stop looking at that," he said. "I'm trying to have a conversation with you."

I just looked at him. I thought that maybe I was dreaming or something.

"You're not dreaming," he said. "I've been waiting a long time for you. Let's get out of here. The accident is too distracting for you."

The next thing I knew we were in a room. The room was white. The floor was white; the ceiling was white, and all the walls were white. There were no windows or doors in the room. I wondered how we'd gotten in.

"Okay now we can talk," he said. "You're as dead as disco. The question is whether or not you want to stay that way."

"What choice do I have?" I asked. "Are you going to like give me a do over like in the comic books or the movies?"

"Nope, I'm going to give you a job," he smirked. "Actually, I'm just the one who recruited you. You will probably do the occasional job for the other guys as well, but I'm your boss. When I call ... You come."

"So what would I do?" I asked.

"Basically, you'd be like my messenger ... Or like a delivery boy. Do you remember that movie the transporter? It's kind of like that. Mostly, it's a case where from time to time something gets out, and you have to deliver it back."

"I don't know," I said.

"You need to figure out something," he smirked. "Because no one knows exactly what to do with you. You're not really BAD enough to go to hell, but at the same time you're not GOOD enough to go to heaven.

I mean basically you swear occasionally, and you tell the odd lie every so often, but you're basically a good guy. And that lasts until something pushes you over the edge. You become a motherfucker when they piss you off. Look at what you did to your friend Mike.

They might've let you into heaven even after that, or maybe they would have sent you back to earth for a while and watched to see where your heart really was. But then you spent months torturing that woman. What was her name ... Darleen? You were needlessly cruel to that woman. I mean I understand what the bitch did to you, but you built exactly the life she dreamed of and then shut her out of it. You did it just beyond her reach. Sure, she cheated on you. But she was young and stupid and bored. She never meant to hurt you. But, everything you did was designed to cause her the most pain you could muster."

"She deserved it," I hissed.

"You might be downstairs material after all," he smirked. "Jeezus you have the capacity to carry a lot of fucking hate around with you. I'll tell you what I'll sweeten the deal. For every thirteen problems you take care of for me, I'll let you handle one of your own."

"Sold," I said. But before the word had left my mouth, we were standing in the morgue.

"I assume that you'd like your own meat sack back Jack?" he smirked at me. "Sorry, I sometimes have this thing for rhyming triplets."

I looked on the slab and found my own body lying there. He lifted one of my arms, and the head of my humerus broke free. "Crispy," he said. He put the arm back in place and then grabbed some of my charred clothing. He ran his hands over the floor as of gathering something from it. In his left hand, he sprinkled some of the ashes over the body. His right hand sprinkled what he's gathered from the floor.

"Ashes to ashes," he cackled. "Dust to dust. Etcetera. Etcetera, etcetera."

The body on the table writhed and changed in front of me. I walked around it looking at it from every angle. "What happened to my face?" I asked. "I look different."

"You died, dummy," he said. "We can't send you back looking like yourself. If anyone you used to know sees you, it could cause all kinds of problems. Now get in there."

"How," I asked. Before he could say anything, I felt myself drawn back into my body.

I felt good. I felt stronger than I had ever been. "Now we have to get you something to ride," he said. He snapped his fingers, and a horse appeared in front of us.

"A distant relative of yours used this one," he smiled. "You like."

"Do I look like a fuckin' cowboy to you?" I asked. He snapped his fingers again. A motorcycle appeared in front of us.

"How about this," he asked. "My last guy loved these. You've heard of Johnny Blaze, right?"

"Read about him in the comic books," I said. "Things didn't work out well between the two of you did they?"

"Okay, what do you want?" he asked. He looked over at me. "Alright I'll give you a car." He snapped his fingers, and a black Audi sedan appeared in front of us.

"Fuck you," I said. "I have too much hair for that car. And I can't fake Jason Statham's accent."

The Audi disappeared and in its place was a silver BMW. I glared at him. "What now," he asked.

"What's with you and these euro trash sedans?" I asked. Another snap of his fingers swapped the BMW for a red Lamborghini.

"You're getting closer," I said.

"Oh alright, God dammit," he said. He snapped his fingers, and my Mustang was there in front of us.

"Perfect," I said.

"You can't have that fucking car," he hissed.

"Why not," I asked.

"For the same reason that I didn't give you your own face back," he said. "Pick another one."

"There are lots of Mustangs out there," I said. "It'll blend in better than any of the cars you wanted. Just paint it a different color. How about black?"

"You'd better be worth it," he grumbled. And then he vanished, along with the car.

"Hey, wait," I said. He reappeared.

"What do I do now?" I asked.

"You have a couple of hours until nightfall," he said. "Go out and drive around in your little car. But from now on, you are the Devil's Bitch. When I call, you come. And I will be calling soon. In the meantime, stay away from places you used to go and people you used to know."

As I said before, that first night, it was too much of a surprise for me to be apprehensive about it. There was some pain to be honest about it, but I was so charged up that I paid it no mind. What I did freak out about was what happened to my car.

I had, as I told Satan, seen Johnny Blaze in comic books. I knew that he had ridden that same dried out motorcycle that cheap bastard had tried to palm off on me. I knew that when Blaze changed, his bike did too. It became a thing of hellfire with skulls and shit all over it.

My blacked out Mustang glowed with amazing sky blue flames. The pony emblem on the grill was the same color as the flames. The rims were still black, but the brake calipers and tires were blue flames. The headlights were like snake's eyes, but they were made of blue flames.

Another interesting thing about the car was that in its normal mode, the car was a truly beautiful extremely high gloss, glass black. But in demonic mode, the car was a flat black. The lettering across the back of the car was funny. It read, Hellby. Not Shelby ... Hellby.

The front quarter panel emblems weren't 5.0 badges or running ponies or even snakes. There was a 13.0 on each quarter panel. I wonder if like on the regular Mustang GT the number referred to the engine's displacement. If it did the car would have to be scary fast. If a normal 5.0 five liter engine could put out over 600 horsepower with a supercharger, this thing would be incredible.

"Don't just stand there gawking at that thing," said a voice over my shoulder. "Get to work." Inside my head, an image formed. I knew what the thing was. I knew I could track it using my car's Hellby GPS system, and I had a vague idea of what to do with it once I caught it.

That was twelve cases ago. This would be my thirteenth. And after this case, I was allowed one of my own. I already knew that Michael was responsible for my death. He would follow me soon only he would be sent to the pit to burn for all eternity.

As the last embers of the fading sun disappeared, my body burned. My face and head were no longer visible, hidden beneath what appeared as a race car driver's helmet surrounded by the same blue flames that framed my car. My clothes were replaced by a racing suit that also glowed with the blue flames.

Beside me, my car changed as well. I got into the car and revved the hellish 13 liter engine. The roar of my exhaust system was loud as ... Hell. But surprisingly only the truly evil could hear it.

I looked down at my console and saw not one demon but two. The first one a smaller one called Pythius looked like something I could bring in while still in my human form. The second one Agravon was the one I saw at the riot. He had been wearing a different body, but I could recognize the essence of his foul soul no matter what he wore or how he tried to disguise himself.

* * * * * *

Callie

I was excited. I had never before been invited to a party of any size or any type. And now I was holding a huge party. The last time I had even thought about having a party had been my eleventh birthday party. That was also the last time I ever showed my feelings. That had been a real disaster. I was going to have ice cream and cake and soda and chips. I wanted to play games and watch my favorite movie.

I found out the day of the party that none of the cool kids in school were coming. That meant that none of the kids who were trying to be cool would come either. So with the exception of two of my friends who were as nerdy and needy as I was, no one came.

It was the quickest saddest little party ever. We sat around looking at each other. The games were no fun with only the three of us. We watched the movie, but since we had all seen it several times, we didn't even watch it all the way. I got two nice presents from them, mostly because I'd given them presents on their birthdays, too. We each had a piece of cake, a scoop of ice cream and called it a night.

The party was over in just over an hour. They made a lot of jokes about it in school the next day. They called it a kiddie party. And since they were all trying to be seen as teenagers, I guess they were all above such things.

From then on, I have never had another party. You can only be kicked in the teeth so many times before you close your mouth. On the other hand, I haven't been invited to any parties since then either.

And what Agravon was holding tonight wasn't exactly a party. It was a full-fledged rave. He somehow got one of the biggest DJs in town to spin at the party. He had people supplying liquor, which of course would not be free. We got a share of the profits for that. There would, of course, be several drug dealers there, and we got a cut of that as well.

Agravon had a way with people. Besides his own need for Chaos to feed upon, which was the real reason for the rave, he had somehow taken over Pythius' power of lies. That was how he convinced people that they were getting the better end of the deal.

I heard him talking to the drug dealers. He made them think that this party was only an audition for our next party in three days. He told them that our Halloween party, The Rave to the Grave, would be the biggest party ever held in our state.

The strange thing about it is that I realize now how pathetic I was. Over the last few days, my life has changed to the point of being unrecognizable.

There are men at school following me around like puppies. I see them all the time trying to sneak a look at my boobs. Chunky girls usually have big boobs, but before now, no one wanted to look at them. Dealing with Agravon raised my confidence level considerably.

Agravon had made me realize that barely one person in a million could have performed the spells that I had. I still remember reading all of those comments on the Internet about how even the most simple spells I had done, hadn't worked for most of them. I realized that you had to have a certain type and amount of innate power for the spells to work. I also realized that I had it.

Then a few days ago, I heard some of the girls at school who thought they were cute or special talking about going to the rave. They were bragging about how much fun it was going to be and what they were wearing.

I surprised myself, by speaking up.

"You're not going," I said.

"What did you say," asked one of them.

"You heard me," I said. "You aren't going. You can go there if you want. But once you get there you won't get in. No matter how much money you bring or who you come with you won't get in."

"And why is that?" she asked. She was trying to act tough, but suddenly I could see how nervous she was. She wasn't just nervous; she was scared. She was just as afraid as I used to be.

"Remember last week when you and your dumbass friends made fun of me?" I asked.

"Well, we always make fun of you," she smirked. "You're weird."

"Do any of you idiots have the website that advertised the rave on your laptops?" I asked. "Pull it up. You'll notice that this one is only a warm-up for our Halloween Rave. You should also notice that my associate Agravon, and I are hosting both parties. We're going to make a lot of money doing it, so I don't need yours."