Reborn as a Ghost Rider

Sunlight filtered through the semi-transparent curtains, filling the Blaze family's kitchen with a soft morning glow. The table was already laden with food: fresh croissants, omelets, fruit salad, and coffee. Everything looked so perfect it could have been a scene from a commercial.

Johnny sat at the table, silently watching as his younger siblings exchanged lively jokes. He tried his best to appear fully engaged in the carefree family moment, but inside, a storm raged.

Last night had left its mark. He knew it would. He had prepared for it. Years of training, strategies, and mental fortitude—ten years of preparation for one purpose. And yet, the hellfire had been more destructive than he anticipated. The explosions and fiery flashes drew far too much attention. He was lucky to escape unnoticed before the superheroes arrived, but these fireworks needed to be addressed; they weren't meant for ordinary criminals.

"I almost got a picture of a superhero!" Danny suddenly exclaimed, proudly showing something on his camera.

Johnny glanced at the screen. It was a blurry photo with a scrap of a red cape visible in the corner.

"That doesn't count," Barb scoffed, smiling as she moved her teacup aside. "It's just a piece of fabric."

"It's not just fabric! It's a cape!" Danny insisted.

"Sure, and I played soccer with Captain America yesterday," Barb added sarcastically.

"Danny, if you want to be a photographer, maybe you should start with something simpler?" mom suggested with a gentle smile. "Nature, animals. Our cat Coal is very photogenic."

Hearing his name, the cat looked up from his bowl and twitched his ear amusingly.

"No!" Danny declared confidently, clenching his fist. "I'll photograph a real superhero! And The Daily Bugle will pay me for it."

"That's the spirit!" dad approved. "If you're going to do something, go all out. You know, my Guinness World Record still stands."

"Maybe because no one wants to risk their life for a line in a book," Melissa commented with a faint smirk. "Still, I won't discourage a death-defying venture."

Johnny listened quietly. On the outside, he remained as composed as always, but inside, he felt the burning flame of vengeance slowly filling every fiber of his being. Tonight, he would deliver justice again.

Suddenly, Melissa turned on the TV.

Footage of a burning building appeared on the screen. The anchor reported on a fire that had destroyed a Bronx building, where weapons and stolen goods were found. Six people had died.

Johnny felt nothing but a slight satisfaction from doing the right thing.

"Melissa, change the channel, please," Naomi suddenly requested. "I don't want to watch such news in the morning."

"I second that," Bart added, finishing his tea. "I get enough crime at work."

With a light sigh, Melissa switched the channel.

"This family doesn't appreciate my contributions to the atmosphere," she remarked sarcastically.

On the new channel, a talk show was airing. A man in a pristine white suit sat on screen. His smile was kind, his eyes radiating genuine compassion. Even Johnny's usually grim mind was drawn to his presence.

"Who's that?" Barb asked with interest.

"Zachariah Lightman," dad replied. "One of New York's most renowned philanthropists. I've crossed paths with him at City Hall."

Zachariah was talking about opening an orphanage. Melissa abruptly changed the channel again, as if burned. Johnny noticed her hold her breath for a second before her usual sarcastic smirk returned.

"Too much light for my dark vision," she muttered, adjusting her apron.

"What do you mean?" Naomi asked with a slight smile.

"Just that a white suit is too over-the-top," Melissa replied, quickly returning to her croissant.

Johnny remained silent, observing Melissa's reaction to Lightman. He made a mental note.

"Johnny, do you have the day off?" Barb suddenly asked.

"Yes," he answered after careful thought. "I've decided to scale back training for now and focus on other things."

"Then train me!" she asked with a beaming smile. "Show me a cool martial arts move."

"And teach me to shoot a rifle!" Danny chimed in.

"You couldn't even jump to the pull-up bar," Barb teased.

"At least I didn't fall off it like you," Danny retorted. "Besides, training with me is better—you don't even have the patience to load a rifle!"

Johnny suppressed a smile, watching his younger siblings continue their banter. Their constant fight for his attention always reminded him that, despite the training and the curse, he had to stay human—be their older brother.

"All right, kids, argument's over," Naomi intervened. "Johnny's coming to the store with me."

"What?" Barb and Danny exclaimed in unison.

"Give your brother a break," mom said, finishing her tea. "And he can help me in the bookstore."

"That's not fair!" Danny protested.

"Life isn't fair, son," Naomi replied philosophically. "You want to photograph a superhero, but you don't notice one right here."

"Mistress Naomi, your hint is so subtle it could slice cheese," Melissa commented with a smile, glancing at Johnny.

"And you're coming with us," Naomi countered. "You could use a break from house chores."

Melissa fell silent, then slowly nodded.

"Oh, of course. I'm sure it will be… unforgettable."

On that note, breakfast came to an end.

---

When the black family SUV stopped in front of the bookstore, Johnny paused for a moment, his gaze lingering on the sign. The metallic letters "Blood and Ink" looked as if they had been forged in the depths of hell, and beneath them was an intricate drawing of a serpent coiled around a quill.

"Pretty grim," he commented in his usual cold tone.

"It's meant to be," Naomi replied proudly, stepping out of the car. "I designed it myself."

"No one doubted that," Melissa added as she climbed out after her. Her tone was perfectly even, but Johnny caught a hint of sarcasm. "I've always known you were a witch, mistress Naomi."

"Thank you for the compliment," Naomi smirked, opening the shop door.

Johnny stepped inside and nearly froze in place. Shelves of black wood towered up to the ceiling, creating the impression of a labyrinth. Each section had a sign: Vampires, Werewolves, Demons. People milled about, and every corner of the store seemed alive. Quiet whispers and the rustling of pages echoed throughout. The air smelled of sandalwood, candles, and something reminiscent of aged paper.

"Is Stephen King releasing a new book?" Johnny nodded toward the crowd of customers.

"This is normal for us," Naomi shrugged. "The store attracts anyone interested in the mystical and the macabre."

Johnny said nothing, his eyes scanning the room. Behind the counter stood a woman in a long moss-green dress, a crown of dried leaves resting on her head. She smiled warmly at each customer, ringing up purchases with professional precision. A girl with black wings and a tail moved gracefully between the shelves.

"Is that Jen and Sarah?" Johnny squinted, barely recognizing his mother's friends.

"Who else would it be?" Naomi grinned. "We're all about creating an atmosphere here, and they're professionals at it. By the way, I've got my own vampire queen costume in the closet."

"Makes sense," Johnny said simply.

"With this crew, you might as well rename the shop The Witches' Trio," Melissa commented, adjusting her apron.

"With your talent for injecting venom into every remark, you'd fit right in," Naomi retorted.

"Then I demand a cut of the profits," Melissa replied, unfazed.

Naomi chuckled but didn't continue the banter. Instead, she waved at Jen and Sarah in greeting. Jen, in her witch costume, nodded cheerfully, while Sarah, her wings flaring slightly, continued explaining something to a customer.

"Girls, hold down the fort a bit longer," Naomi said. "I've got some family business."

She turned to Johnny and Melissa.

"Follow me."

Naomi led them through the store to a back door, which opened to a storage room. Boxes of books were stacked neatly but tightly, forming small walls. Naomi walked to a far corner, moved one of the shelves aside, and pulled out a dusty cardboard box covered in cobwebs.

"You keep it in a box?" Melissa raised an eyebrow. "The grimoire that sorcerers would kill each other for is stashed away like a yard sale trinket?"

"It does less harm here than in the hands of those who used it before," Naomi replied calmly, wiping the cobwebs from the box.

"What are you talking about?" Johnny asked, narrowing his eyes.

Naomi smirked.

"We're in a bookstore, son. Of course, I'm talking about a book."