Chapter 25: Ghost Rider

Not much farm work was done the day Mac returned to his family. The entirety of the day was spent celebrating the return of Macintosh Apple, sharing the stories of all the years he had missed since that cursed night.

In all the time Mac had worked on the Apple Farm as Wild Blaze, he had never heard about the wedding between Soarin and Applejack. He had a minute by minute account of everything from the proposal, the bachelor party—to which Soarin had to endure the traditions of Apple stallions in much the way a shrub endures a hurricane— and the bachelorette party that ended with more black eyes and broken bones than an Appleossa bar after the home team lost. Photo albums were piled up before Mac, showing the wedding and what seemed to be every second of Little Macky’s life up to that very moment.

All day he was showered with the times he had lost, from how Braeburn and Fluttershy started to date, to even what they had thought about Wild Blaze when he was not around. In truth, in all those years he had spent away, all those long hours he had spent alone except for the company of a demon, he would go through all of it again just for this moment of utter joy.

A price he might soon have to pay.

As Celestia’s sun set in the east, the Apples began settling in for the night. Braeburn had left with Fluttershy to spend the night at her cottage, saying that he wasn’t going to leave her side till the day of their wedding, as it was a stallion’s duty to protect the mare they loved. Fluttershy’s face had briefly lit the room bright pink, but when Braeburn said he would be sleeping on the couch and that “nothin’ indecent” would happen till the wedding night she settled back into a pursed-lipped, rapidly blinking fret.

Rainbow Dash had elected to return to her own bed for the night, not wanting to get a stink eye from Applejack about spending the night in Mac’s bed… again. On her way out, Rainbow had made a more than obvious pass about having a sleepover with Mac that night if he so wanted to. Little Macky began jumping up and down asking if he could spend the night as well. The poor colt’s hopes were cut short when Mac declined the offer, wanting to spend the night with family for the first time in a very long time.

Though he would be spending the night with family, he would have very little sleep that night.

Mac sat at the kitchen table of the Apple homestead, his green eye locked on the clock ticking away on the wall. He had put a black cloth over his right eye to keep him from opening it by accident, mostly to save himself and others from the embarrassment—and discomfort— it would cause. He sat there alone in the dark just watching the clock, waiting till midnight to go finish this journey once and for all.

He would rather be asleep like everypony else; between the fighting in Canterlot to the revelations of the night, Mac was exhausted. He felt like he could sleep for a week straight. Even with Ghost Rider’s magic healing him and keeping his body working, he was still sore all over and needed to rest. Though there was work to be done still; there was always work to be done. Looking back to the clock, it was ten minutes till the witching hour. Ten minutes till he met that bastard again.

“Ah’m comin fer ya. Just ya wait,” Mac growled as he pushed himself out of the chair and over to the backdoor. He began to push the screen door open when a voice cut through the silence.

“Where ya goin’, Uncle Mac?” The large stallion nearly jumped out of his skin, fighting back the urge to turn around like a frightened teenager. Instead, Mac turned to face the young colt who stood in the doorway of the kitchen in his Wonderbolt pajamas.

“Little Macky, nearly gave me a heart attack,” Mac whispered as he looked at the colt. “What ya doin’ out of bed at this hour? Good little colts should be asleep now,” Mac said, walking over to him.

“Ah got thirsty and wanted some water,” the colt said. It was then Mac noticed that Little Macky had a sippy cup under one wing and a blanket under the other, patterned with his mom’s and dad’s cutie marks. “Then Ah saw you. Are you livin’ with us again?” Macky asked, he gave a nervous glance back towards the stairs, looking ready to fly off to get his mom to stop his uncle from leaving.

“Ah’m not leavin’. Not forever, anyway,” he said, as he leaned over so he could be on eye level with his nephew. “Ah’m just goin’ ta head out fer a bit ta settle some things, so Ah can stay here for a very long time.” Little Maky looked into Mac’s good eye, though he glanced over to his closed eye—a bit of curiosity there that Mac would have to get used to. The little colt twitched on his hooves, torn between believing his uncle. and running to get his mama.

Pulling his blanket closer to him, Little Macky’s green eyes darted around the kitchen before landing on Mac’s single green eye. Mac couldn't help but think of the whole thing as cute, the war in the colt’s eyes and pulling his blanket closer to him as though it would help him decide if he needed to get his Ma and Pa. Mac kept smiling as he lifted a hoof and ruffled his nephew’s mane.

“How about Ah fill up yer cup first, then ya can make up yer mind,” Mac suggested, putting on what he could only hope was his most trusting smile. The little colt nodded to him, holding out his sippy cup with his wing. Mac took the it from him and filled the Wonderbolt spangled cup with ice cold water. He had a feeling that his Aunt Dash was the one buying him all the Wonderbolt gear and not his father, as most of the items had Dash’s cutie mark on them. After filling up the small cup, Mac made his way back over to his namesake and got back on eye level with the young colt.

Little Macky took the cup eagerly and took a few large gulps of the water, a trickle running down the corner of his mouth. Once he had his fill, he looked back at Mac, shifting his weight as he looked uncomfortable.

“You promise to come home?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. “Mama and Bloom would be really sad if you were gone again.” Mac’s heart swelled up with those few words: he was such a young colt, but he had such an understanding of other ponies’ feelings. AJ and Soarin should be mighty proud of the colt they were raising.

“Ah promise,” Mac said, ruffling the top of Little Macky’s head again. “If Ah promise ta make pancakes in the mornin’, will you go back ta sleep fer me?” Macky’s ears shot straight up at the mention of pancakes, Mac could all but see the excitement growing in the colt’s eyes.

“Ah don’t know… are they as good as mama’s?” Mac smiled as he stood up straight again.

“Even better. Ah add chocolate chips.” Little Mac visibly had to keep his wings from buzzing, otherwise he would drop his cup and blanket. Mac just chuckled. “Watch yerself, don’t want ta wake up nopony. Otherwise Ah don’t get to make pancakes.” Little Macky nodded furiously as he put a hoof over his mouth to keep himself from shouting out in joy.

“Alright, off with ya, then. Ah’ll see you in the mornin’,” Mac said, watching the little colt trot away, his hoof steps exaggeratedly soft to make sure he wouldn't make the wood planks squeak as he went back to his room. On the way to his room each and every board he stepped on squeaked through, and the colt looked ready to jump each time.

Mac could only shake his head at the colt’s actions, he was just a ball of energy and delight. Mac’s happy thoughts didn’t last long as something flashed in his peripheral vision. He had been more startled by his nephew, as this flash had been familiar for the last few years, a constant in his life. Turning to the polished stove near him, Mac saw the golden flames and skull of Ghost Rider staring back him in the reflection. Mac rolled his eye as he started for the door again, ignoring the presence of Ghost Rider.

“He’s near,” Rider growled, his voice echoing in Mac’s mind.

“Ah know.” Mac could feel the presence just as clear as Rider now, that cold feeling of an empty void coming closer, intruding upon the ground where family love was so strong. “Right on schedule.” With that, Mac pushed open the screen door and made his way to where the meeting would take place.

The barn was much bigger than it had been when Mac had last been there, when it had burned down. Apples knew how to build, and Mac was more than certain everything inside the barn had been bought by Soarin when he and Applejack started talking, a way to help get them back to some kind of normal. Mac had to wonder if in his cadet days Soarin even considered the idea that one day he would start his mornings in a barn, getting ready for a day of chores with his wife and son. Mac just chuckled at that, raising a hoof and tracing it down a smooth support beam.

“My, my how strange to be in one of these without it already burning,” Mac didn’t flinch, he didn’t even freeze in place as he kept running his hoof down the beam, though his blood was suddenly icy. No matter how many times he met the bastard, how many evils he had faced, this creature was still by far the most terrifying. To underestimate the creature would be equal to suicide, he was always to be feared.

Ghost Rider growled within his mind, his attention taken up completely by the entrance of the one who had so wronged him and Mac, who had tortured the two of them for all this time. Ghost Rider didn’t share that same feeling of fear and apprehension, only seeking destruction of the creature. Mac glanced over at the pony entering the barn and spat.

The Devil was not in the appearance of Bleeding Heart this time, but somewhere between his monstrous Alicorn form and a normal pony. His coat was marble white, marred here and there with scars and blemishes; none of them taking away from his looks but instead enhancing it, giving him something approximating the look of a warrior king, each imperfection a medal he had earned. His mane and tail were of raven black, nearly shining in the limited light of the moon leaking in through the windows. His hooves were of the same darkness, the wooden planks of the barn rotted under each of his steps as black smoke rose up, clinging to him like a shroud. The Devil’s horn was not as it had been before in that demonic form he once took, but instead smooth and by all accounts noble looking with no blemish upon it. The same could be said of his wings: they were not bat like in appearance, but full and healthy looking like any other pegasus wings would be. He towered over Mac, having more than a head in height over the stallion, but no match in build, though Mac was sure that the Devil was far stronger than he appeared.

“I believe congratulations are in order,” the Devil said, edging closer to Mac, smoke still rising in the air, carrying the stench of rot with it. “For this morning I couldn't believe my eyes when I found Blackheart chained up and delivered to Hell like a late birthday present. He is already dealing with the…” the Devil stopped for a second, rubbing the tip of his hoof against his chin, forked tongue tracing his upper lip. “Consequences of his actions, is what you would say,”

Mac just glared at the Devil, though never looking into his cold black eyes. They were just empty pits in which no light could ever emerge from and Mac didn’t want to get sucked into that darkness, not so close to his journey's end.

“So talkative this evening, my dog. I don’t know how I will ever get a word in,” the Devil mused, as he walked in a slow circle around Macintosh. “Then again, with what will happen tonight I am sure you are excited, for your curse is almost over.” Mac couldn't suppress the shudder as Ghost Rider roared within his head, fighting to get out but Mac held him back. All the while the Devil just chuckled as he watched; in all probability he could probably see the soul of Ghost Rider chained to Mac and the conflict ensuing between them.

“I bet you can’t wait to get that voice out of your head,” the Devil said. His voice was still like silk, even to Mac’s tarnished ears; it was no wonder how he got so many deals with a voice like that. He closed the circle between the two of them as his horn glowing a deep red as they faced each other squarely. “All you have to do now is sign…” his words were low and almost sensual, a temptation that could make even those of the most holy orders give in. Mac could feel his will deteriorating at that voice; even though he was into mares, the Devil’s darkness and ease could tempt any pony into giving in. Just as the temptation sank in, red fire appeared midway between the two of them.

The red flame hovered in the air between them, sparks showering onto the barn’s floor in hellish light. From the red flame green sparks of energy emerged taking form of all too familiar scroll, smoldering with the details and accords that would release Mac from his previous contract with the Devil. As Mac watched the scroll opened itself up, the text so small that one would need a microscope to examine it, and hovered over to Mac with a jagged looking stone knife ready for him to sign in blood.

“Just a drop of blood and it will be done,” the Devil said, stepping closer to Macintosh. “I even put in a sub clause in there to return your body to perfect health. My poor bastard of a son really did a number on you.”

Mac eyed the contract floating before him, the line for the blood was the largest part of the entire contract, taking up the entire bottom. He knew the worth of the Devil’s word: He would remove Ghost Rider from him, but how it was done or what would be left of him was another matter.

“And what kind of state would Ah be left in?” Mac asked, his body shuddering slightly under the roaring of Ghost Rider’s protests.

“Just as the day you first signed the contract,” the Devil said, the rot of the wood spreading from his hooves, the smell of brimstone and sulfur heavy in the air. “You will be the same Macintosh Apple you were back then, nothing having been changed.” Wisps of smoke escaped the Devil’s mouth, as though the decay inside could not be contained in the form he held now.

Mac’s imagination couldn’t help but paint a picture of what his life would be, or maybe the Devil’s magic helped paint the picture, but he would be whole again. In his fight against Blackheart, the demon had cut the tendons in the back of his leg, crippling it due to Rider’s magic not being able to heal the connections properly. With his leg in such a way he wouldn't be able to get as much work done as he had in the past, the leg being a constant source of pain while plowing or tending to the orchard. Such an injury would be a burden on his pride as a farmer, not to mention what his eye was going to do to his work.A hoof rubbed over his destroyed right eye. During the day, he had excused himself from the gathering to visit the restroom. He had built up enough courage to open his right eye to see how much he had lost, and if he had truly been blinded. Three deep scars ran across his right eye, cauterized by Ghost Rider’s magic but were large and vicious looking. From the scars it looked as though Blackheart’s claws sank deep enough that they had just barely missed Mac’s skull. Miraculously his eye somehow remained, but was no longer anything that really resembled an eye: it had been completely shredded, all the color in it gone replaced with grey film, resembling the vacant stare of a corpse. Before Rider’s magic had healed the wound the best it could, Mac could only imagine the gore that had taken place that permanently robbed him of the sight in that eye.

Mac’s stomach turned at what his mind’s eye was conjuring him of the gore that had been his eye, he had to push that all away to focus on the matter at hand.

“Now that Ah think about it,” Mac drawled, rubbing his chin with his hoof. “Ah don’t think Ah like the old me that much,” as he spoke, Mac rolled his neck, letting the popping and crackling of his stiff joints echo in the air around them.

“Oh?” The Devil coked an eyebrow at him, watching Mac getting closer.

“After all Ah’ve been through, kinda seems like a shame ta just give it all up and go back ta bein’ a plain old farmer.” Mac could feel the power of Ghost Rider building behind him, the magic that they shared starting to wash over him. As the power raged, the Devil just watched Mac. His face never changing, keeping that wolfish grin he had been sporting since the beginning of this encounter.

Taking this to his advantage, Mac moved towards the Devil, passing the contract without so much as a second thought. As Mac’s hooves fell upon the wooden blanks, grey smoke rose up and left golden flames in the shape of his hoof prints with each step. Mac released some of the pent up power between him and Ghost Rider, letting the golden flames circle around him. He doubted the Devil had time to question his son, to figure out what had happened, not knowing the power he and Rider had gained.

“Thinkin’ of stayin’ a demon hunter,” Mac said, his voice barely above a whisper. “A hunter of all demons,”

The Devil’s smile widened at that, turning from something wolfish into something genuine, his long fangs visible with the smile. That wasn’t what Mac had been planning, even Ghost Rider —on some level— realized they weren't playing with a full deck, but Mac pushed on. The gold flames kept pouring out of Mac, if nothing else than to shield him from whatever the Devil was planning.

“Discord,” the Devil whispered, a chuckle bubbling out of his words. “Taken up with the ponies he once tormented,” he laughed turning to Mac. “I should have known he had broken his seal, the bonding between you is so much more… intimate,” he said, walking towards Mac, his smile never fading as the black smoke rose from his hooves.

Mac wanted to flee. He wanted to run from the Devil as fast as he could for as long as he could. To dig a hole and pull it in after himself to try to escape the Devil. He had thought the power granted to him and Rider would have given him some leverage, or at least made the Devil more wary of Mac’s new found power. Instead, he seemed to be delighted by it.

No. He was absolutely thrilled about it.

The Devil laughed. “That’s it? Broken one seal and you already believe yourself my master,” he chuckled, shaking his head as he laughed.

“Ah’m out of yer power,” Mac confirmed. “We’re stronger together. It ain’t exactly the friendship of the elements, but I think we can take a few lessons from them.” Mac took a step towards the Devil, even though every sane cell in his brain told him to run away. “Ghost Rider is rememberin’ Pendragon. You fear him.”

He wasn’t sure if he believed it. Ghost Rider surely didn’t, but it wouldn’t be the first time Mac had surprised him. Of two minds they might have been, but that didn’t break their bond. The Devil merely chuckled as he shook his head, Hellfire beginning to envelop him and the contract behind Mac.

“I take it you will not be signing that, will you?” the Devil asked, the Hellfire consuming him, taking him from this world and to his own. Mac glowered at the Devil, before spitting at the Devil’s hooves, to the Devil’s continuous laughter.

A cursed life was all Mac had known for so long, a life bound to a demon that only knew hunger. He had accepted that life years ago and was content with the knowledge that as long as the Ghost Rider roamed the street, some good was being done. Now, that had all changed with coming back to Ponyville, the power awakened by the seal Discord had broken, and the muted hope Mac had held that this Pendragon might be able to lift the curse one day. While darkness would always be present in him, and his curse would not be lifted anytime, and he would be doomed to live a life longer than all those he loved…

It was his choice.

He feared the Devil, there was no denying this. He was afraid of the future as an immortal, outliving those he loved and cherished. He also feared the new power and intimacy between himself and Ghost Rider and what changes could arise from such a connection. He had already felt Ghost Rider taking over his body and he could only shudder at what he might do with the rest of him.

The alternative was much more frightening however.

The good he and Ghost Rider accomplished was nothing to overlook; sure the work was sadistic and resulted in death, but only to those who at least deserved it. At the beginning of this whole mess, Ghost Rider had complained about the lack of darkness for him to hunt. As much as it pained him to say it, he and Ghost Rider were doing good.

Then there was the obvious. If the Devil wanted Rider back, it could only be for his own gains. With Ghost Rider regaining his memories and more power, the Devil would once again torture him and, as much as Mac might hate sharing his body with Ghost Rider, he wasn't going to subject him to that again. Besides, he had said earlier, they were brothers.

Staring the Devil head on, Mac couldn't help but smirk at the Prince of Darkness.

“So… you will oppose me, colt?” The Devil asked, that smile still plastered across his face. “As what? Macintosh Apple, the Ghost Rider?”

“Eeyup.”

Author's Notes:

Thank you as always to Arbarano and TotallynotaBrony for all their help with this chapter! Probably the hardest chapter to write as of yet

One more chapter to go and Ghost Rider is finally completed... holy shit.