By the time Sean and his group entered Bucharest, it was already half past six in the evening. The road toward dawn had proven far from smooth; they had not even completed half the journey before their vehicle stalled and broke down on the highway. Fortunately, heaven favored them. This strange group of Kamar-Taj sorcerers and Ghost Riders happened upon a hippie band traveling in an RV. After a round of not particularly friendly cordial negotiations, these people who claimed they were hurrying to stop demons and save the world set off once more.
They stopped and started along the way, but Sean did not rush to catch up with Carrigan. In his words, no matter how urgent things were, Mephisto would still be there. Before eagerly charging over, they should at least finish lunch and take a short rest.
Mordo had grown accustomed to this young man's occasionally unreliable laziness, and the facts had proved that Sean was usually right.
No one knew what they were about to face. Eastern Europe had practically become the last nest of Dark Creatures. God knew how many Blood Clan members and werewolves would be waiting for them in Bucharest, their final destination.
Before a battle, soldiers needed to load their ammunition and ready their guns for every emergency that might arise.
Johnny, who had only recently joined them, had no objections. He desperately needed a steak and a cream-filled meat roll to fill his ravenous stomach. Every transformation into the Ghost Rider placed no small burden on his body.
So while Mephisto dispatched his main force to wait for them, they were feasting in a roadside motel, enjoying lavish food and wine before lying down for a nap on beds that were not particularly soft, whiling away the entire afternoon.
Amelia, the