Soul Eater - Part 4

     “Your drinks, sir!” the attendant called out, lifting steaming mugs to the dispensing trestle. 

     Hanan glanced toward the service window, and then back to Eyja with a smile as he began to pull his hands free from their clasp.  She, however, did not move hers.  So, he let his fingers trail softly along her skin, until he turned to retrieve his order.  Handing the attendant a few coins from his pants pocket, he then grabbed the piping drinks and motioned to Eyja.  

     Finding a free, sturdy little table in the cleared area outside the café, they sat down.  

     “Thank you, kind sir,” she giggled, taking her cup from him.  Hanan, meanwhile, pulled his chair out and closer to Eyja.  The area was overrun with patrons huddled in tight, trying to grab a rest and some refreshment from the night’s events – so crowded in fact, that although they were positioned across from each other, they ended up in a very close fit with her knees pressed between by his inner thighs.  

     Neither of them seemed to mind.    

     As they sipped their hot cider in the cold night air, Eyja chattered on about how much she loved the drink, and how it reminded her of the one her mother used to make.  Her chitchat soon drifted to silence though, as she stopped to stare off into the distance with a melancholy sigh.  Picking up on her change of mood, Hanan dropped his hand to rest on her lap, giving her knee a gentle squeeze.  She looked to him with a small appreciative smile, and then revealed that her mother had passed on recently.  He could see that she missed her terribly, as she went on to tell him more about her family.

     Hanan listened carefully, or at least pretended to.  He was a master at appearing to hang off of every word, asking appropriate questions and making the right comments at the right time.  He had acquired this skill early and found it worked well, especially with women, as most everyone he ever encountered was far too self-absorbed to notice anything else.   So he continued to play the attentive listener as she carried on, while concentrating instead on their surroundings, watching and listening to what was taking place around them.  At last, he found his opening.

     “Speaking of which, what of your new husband?” he asked as casually as he could.  “Shouldn’t it be his arm you take for a walkabout on this night?”  

     “Oh, he’s off on business… over in Helvagrön, I believe it is,” she replied with a resigned smile and a shrug.  “I was with him for several days out in Klundlön, but…” she paused, “…he sent me home yesterday.  So, here I am.”

     “I see...” he nodded, and then pressed his lips together trying to repress a smirk.  It was much too easy to get information out of this one, he thought…  So that is what you’re up to, you old jackass…  Money, might, and a little divine assistance… and then continued setting his revenge in motion, “It must be quite lonely there at Holier Court without him.” 

     “It’s not so bad.  I keep myself busy as best I can, but…” lowering her gaze to Hanan’s hand still resting on her knee before slowly looking back up to him, “you get used to being alone.”  

     Hanan smirked noting the suggestive flicker in her eyes, as she added, “Well, he’s due home later tomorrow.”  

      A small silence enveloped the pair as they both savoured the subtle erotic build up between them…  


**all work copyrighted** 

Soul Eater - Part 3

     Setting a beautiful contrast to the dark green of her flared dressed and overcoat, the subtle flicker of the fire reflected against the wisps of amber highlights throughout her loose auburn hair, as Eyja stood trying to warm her tiny frame.  Even hidden behind her small matching mask with its long black plumes, he could tell by the gentle curve of her face that she was young and pretty.

 
     Hanan knew a lot of pretty women, but quite frankly, pretty didn’t matter right now.  This was work, not pleasure.  …Well, maybe a little of both, he admitted to himself, as he did thoroughly enjoy his work.

     Then spotting the same group of jostling teenagers nearing her, Hanan anticipated the action to come and seized his opportunity.  Engrossed in their overly enthusiastic antics, they bumped Eyja, as predicted, putting her perilously off balance and about to fall into the fire pit.

     By her side in an instant, Hanan quickly put out his arm to grab her around the waist.  Pulling her up against him, he snapped her immediately back to safety.  “Whoa, my dear,” he chuckled, “they stopped sacrificing virgins on this night ages ago.  You don’t have to jump in.” 

     Gasping in shock from her near death experience, she looked up to her rescuer as his hood fell back.  She stood, pressed against his solid body, mesmerized by his bright blue eyes sparkling in the firelight against the glinting shaded silver of his mask, all framed by soft golden hair.  Unable to find her voice, she watched his smooth lips spread into a seductive smile as he continued.

     “But you needn’t worry.  You’re no longer a...” he leaned in slightly to whisper, “…virgin.”  And then bent even closer, murmuring sensually as his lips brushed her ear, “congratulations…  Mrs. Chief Magistrate.”  Stating her husband’s high office, Hanan revealed that he knew her identity despite her festive disguise. 

     Mm, do I detect a mixture of embarrassment and arousal?  He laughed inwardly seeing her skin flush, a rosy hue spreading over her neck and bosom.   

     “Sir, I... I…” she stammered nervously, trying to pry her eyes from his. 

     “It’s alright,” he assured and moved to face her.  “My lips,” he paused, leaning in close to her mouth as though to kiss her, “are sealed.”  With that, he pulled back and offered his arm.  “Come, you need a proper escort through this crowd.”  He smiled graciously, nodding towards the drunken revellers.  “It’s going to get rowdy out here.” 

     “Oh, but I do have escorts,” she tried to prudently protest.  Looking around, she attempted unsuccessfully to locate them.  “Constables from the... from the…” 

     “Do you mean that one there, stuffing his face with sausages and ale?” he pointed through the crowd to a small concession stand.  “…And that one over there trying to purchase... services... for the evening?”  He laughed nodding towards the alley, while she stifled a giggle behind a tiny gloved hand.

     “Yes, those constables,” she conceded with a sigh, and then took his arm willingly.  “I see your point, sir.”

     “Then come.  Where would you like to go next?”  His free arm gestured to the festal scene all around them.  Night had slowly crept in, revealing more and more twinkling stars as the din of the exuberant mob blended with the live music in the square.  Taking in a deep breath of fresh, cool air, Hanan looked at his catch, waiting for her reply. 

     Her eyes lit up like an excited little girl as she looked around trying to decide, and then pointed.  “There!”  Looking back up to Hanan, she squeezed his arm with both hands.  “I’d love to get a warm cup of cider, if you please.” 

     “Then mulled cider it is.” Nodding his approval, he guided them through the raucous people and around obstacles to reach the café without slipping.

     While Hanan ordered the drinks through the small window, Eyja removed her gloves and began to rub her hands together, muttering something about frozen fingers. 

     Ever the observant hunter, Hanan couldn’t pass up another opportunity to display his charms and sway his unsuspecting prey further into his trap.  So turning, he reached out, carefully taking her cold fingers into his own large, warm hands.  The seductive smirk returned to his smile, he lifted them to his lips and began to gently blow hot air over them, while rubbing lightly with smooth thumbs. 

     Her skin flushed with its aroused tint once again, as she stepped closer to him, drawn by the warmth of his entire hard, masculine body. 

     Poor, innocent little rabbit, Hanan teased in mind, watching her succumb to his sensual manipulations…

**all work copyrighted

Soul Eater - Part 2

     Late dusk set in as Hanan stepped out into the snow-covered street.  Stopping to light a cigarette, he sucked back a long drag as he watched the crowds milling about the square for the night’s revelry under the fading orange-tinted sky.  Large bonfires crackled and roared along the streets, spitting sparks high into the air, while people from all over the city gathered to dance and laugh in their bright masks.

 
     Hanan sighed, exhaling another puff as he murmured to himself, “Ötalnoi f Ukalam,” and then shook his head with a quiet chuckle.  Ötalnoi f Ukalam, Called to Darkness, was Carwyn’s winter festival, two weeks of sanctioned debauchery to see out winter’s darkness before the renewal of spring… and the people loved it.

 
     Watching a nearby group of tipsy teenagers fall about themselves as they attempted their national dance, his thoughts fell upon festivals past when he was their age…

                                            *****

     “Hanan, you’ll freeze,” Laenja fretted, trying to pull the lapels of his overcoat closed against his neck to shut out the cold.  She had just run across the snowy square to meet him there for the evening.

 
     Tucking a lock of hair behind his ear, her breath suddenly hitched.  “You’re hurt,” she bit her lip in a worried frown as she reached up to carefully stroke his face under the cut and bruise on his left cheekbone.  Her eyes then quickly scanned him for other injuries she knew he always tried to hide.

     “I’m fine, Leanja,” he smiled in greeting.  “Really… I am,” he assured her.  Curling a finger under her chin, he gently lifted her face to receive his slow kiss.  Then rubbing her arms over the thin jacket she wore, he stared into her eyes before taking her hands.  “Um, Laenja…” he asked, “…where’s the coat I bought you?”

     “I…” she began, her eyes dropping to watch their fingers play.  “I gave it to my sister.”

     Cocking his head, Hanan’s smile grew wider as he listened to her explanation.

     “…she had to walk to my aunt’s house to help with all the cooking for tomorrow.”  Laenja glanced up the street, watching the people filling the square, and then hurriedly back to Hanan.  “You’re still coming, right?”  He nodded as she went on with a relieved sigh, “…she’s still not too well, and it was snowing, and…” she continued before Hanan finally shushed her.

     “Laenja…” unbuttoning his overcoat, he slid it from his back, and then slipped it over her shoulders.  “Laenja, it’s okay.  She can keep that one.”  He then added with a nonchalant shrug, “we’ll go to the shop tomorrow and I’ll just buy you another.”

     “Han, no,” she protested both the expense and his gallant gesture.  “You need this,” she said, trying to give it back, but Hanan held her shoulders tight, keeping her from removing the coat.  “And besides, my sister and I can share the other one.”

     “Wear this,” he insisted, buttoning her into it.  “You need it more than I do.  And tomorrow…” fastening the top clasp, he then lightly tapped her nose with a fingertip, “…tomorrow, you’ll choose another coat.”

     “Hanan…” she tried to protest again…

     …but he just stood there shaking his head, “wear it.”

     Laenja’s shoulders dropped, yielding to his gentlemanly demand.  “Hanan,” she called to him again holding her arms up with a grin.  The long sleeves flopped down well past her small hidden hands.

     “So it’s a little big,” he grinned back, “but you’ll be warm.”

     “And how will you stay warm?”  Finding her fingers, she wrapped her arms around his waist, pressing her hands up his back.  “You only have your jacket.”

     “…and two other layers underneath,” he replied, giving her a squeeze.  “Like I said; I’m fine, Laenja.  Plus…” spinning her towards the fire and holding her tight back against him, he continued, “I have you to keep me warm.”

 
     Hot tingles tore through him like an explosion of inner fireworks, as he started to kiss and suckle at her neck.  Feeling the curves of her warm body so close to his own, he began to harden pressed into her.  “See,” he murmured softly into her ear, “it’s working already.”

  
     They both chuckled, as Laenja turned her face to meet his deep lingering kiss.  Wrapped up in each other, they stood contented, rocking as one to the music being played across the way.

                                             *****

     Hanan let out another puff of smoke as he looked up through the clear sky to the stars slowing coming into view.  Fixing on one bright twinkling dot in the darkness, he remembered how beautiful she looked by the firelight, with a few scattered snowflakes sparkling in her hair.  Her sweet laughter still rang through his mind, and her soft voice so lovingly saying his name…
 

     He closed his eyes and swallowed hard.  That was the last festival he spent with Laenja.

     But that was a long time ago, he reminded himself.  Reaching up to loosen the scarf around his neck, a small sentimental smile touched his lips before he pulled it free, and then tucked it into his pocket.  Happy memories yes, he sighed, as he took his festival mask from the other deep pocket of his overcoat, but not for tonight… tonight he was on the prowl.  Tonight he had a score to even.

     Flicking his spent cigarette to the snow, Hanan donned his dark slivery mask and flipped up the hood of his coat.  As he moved discreetly through the revellers, he scanned the crowds, searching for his target.    Looking up and down the streets and across the square, a strange feeling suddenly came over him.  He turned, following the sensation and honed in on a pair of eyes staring at him.  “There she is,” he whispered through a smirk, spotting Eyja like a wolf spots its prey.

  
     Pretending not to have noticed her gaze, Hanan strolled on casually, nodding politely to a couple of young ladies giggling shyly as they sized him up.   Any other night would be a delight, ladies, he mused in mind, returning their flirtatious smiles.  But tonight, turning his eyes back to the square, I want that one.  Moving ever closer, he continued to watch Eyja, stalking and preparing to pounce. 

 
     She stood looking around, seeming somewhat unsure of herself… of what to do or where to go.  So Hanan remained camouflaged by the crowd and watched her shoulders drop with a dejected sigh, before she finally wandered over to the central blazing bonfire.

 
     Aw, all alone, dear lady?  For Hanan, this was far too easy a hunt.  Searching the vicinity and finding no one to acquaint with her, his lips curled into a sinister smile as he made his sly approach...

Soul Eater - Part 1

     “Where is it, Rignar?” Hanan slammed his fist against the wall next to the clerk’s head.  He had come to collect a parcel that, as he discovered, still hadn’t arrived.  

     Candles flickered in the wall sconces from a cold draft as someone entered the store, bells dinging overhead.  Feeling eyes upon him at the sound of a hoarse cough, he glanced over his shoulder through the door to the front of the small chemist’s shop.   One man stood absorbed reading the labels on the various vials and containers on the shelves, while an elderly gentleman waited for service at the little counter, trying to avoid eye contact.

     Quickly flinging the door to the backroom shut with his boot for privacy, Hanan then grabbed the shop owner by the collar with both fists and pulled him close.  Towering a full foot over him, he continued through clenched teeth, holding him locked in a fearsome stare.  “I’m tired of delays and fed up with your excuses, old man.  Where’s the package?!”

     “It… It’s coming, sir.  I swear it’s on its way,” blurted the terrified shopkeeper before carrying on in a quick stream of explanations.  “It’s the snow… been snowing for days.  Well, you know that.”  His last word finished in a gurgled squawk as Hanan tightening his grip and lifted him off of his feet, but he somehow found the courage to go on.  “The mountain pass, you see... deliveries have slowed right down, sir.  Some aren’t even getting through.  Please...  Please sir,” he begged, “your package has been ordered and should arrive any time now.”  Held aloft, nose-to-nose with Hanan, the little man reached up with a shaking hand trying to adjust his slipping spectacles.  “I’ve had word the Svelgevar team broke through the heaviest patch and should make it within hours.  I promise, sir.  I’ll deliver it directly to you as soon as it arrives.”

     Hanan continued his cold glare, until finally exhaling in a short, heavy sigh.  “Fine,” he grunted, releasing the man with a menacing sneer.  “…but I’ll be expecting a discounted price on it now.”  He added, as the clerk fell with a thud. 

     “Y-yes, sir.  Of course, sir,” the shopkeeper promised, smoothing his shirt and rubbing his throat.  “You shall have it.  Your bill will be adjusted handsomely.” 

     The sound of gunshots suddenly rang out, followed by loud crackling and popping.  Both men turned immediately towards the grimy little window, spotting the bright coloured flashes and lingering glow of small ground fireworks outside. 

     Hanan narrowed his eyes and tightened his jaw as cheers roared up from the streets.  He just wanted to get back to the festival… and back to business.

 
     Turning his attention again to the clerk, he reached inside his coat to his shirt pocket.  “Here,” he nodded at the small man looking up at him from the floor, “and while you’re at it, track these down too.”  Absently tossing a folded piece of paper at him, Hanan turned and swiftly left the shop, through the chime of the tiny tingling bells.

Out of Haellador

This is me… from a time about ten years before I formally met Fallan Quoren, a time shortly after I left the Haelladoren.  What… Haellador?  You don’t know what the Haelladoren are?  Ah well, then let me tell you.
 

Haelladoren roughly translates to Hael’s Golden Ones. 
 

Now, it has grown into a global corporation specializing in high profile security issues… on the surface that is.  Underneath, however, it is corrupt to the core and dealing mainly in arms, drugs and human trafficking.  They weren’t much more than thugs and petty thieves when I first joined them though… or I should say… when they found me.  That was a few centuries ago, by Taqqaran years.

You see, I left home when I was eighteen.  I was young and angry and looking for somewhere to fit in.  So I made my way to the nearest city – Naveera.  Naveera wasn’t much either at the time, nothing like the sprawling, thriving modern metropolis it is now – thanks to me by the way.  It’s amazing how quickly things can deteriorate after a couple of hard winters and crop failures.  But nonetheless, that’s where I went.
 

A few underling members spotted me buying food in the market one day.  Determined to take what little I had, they followed me.  What those tough guys didn’t count on though was that I could fight… and fight I did, knocking them all on their asses, leaving one with a broken arm and cracked ribs, the other with a busted nose and a few missing teeth, and the last with a concussion.  Now you would think that would have been the end of it.  But no…  It was the start of a wonderful relationship and my introduction to Haellador. 

In exchange for my services, I had a new home – a new home among young men all full of piss and vinegar, and, luckily for me, more bravado than brains, living together under a code of crime.  And so, I spent the next five years with the Haelladoren.  Rising quickly through the ranks from a mere underling, to a prizefighter, and beyond, I earned my keep… and made them a hael of a lot of money off my back.  I was everything from a collector, to an enforcer, to a bodyguard, a hitman and more.  If it needed doing, I did it… no questions, no hesitation, no regrets.  And that’s how it remained until some jealous goon went sticking his snot-nose into my personal business, and got too close to the truth of who I really was…  So I killed him.  By rights I should be dead.  Those boys don’t let one of their own go very easily; especially not one they consider a traitor.  But respect and reputation can do wonders when you’re choosing sides.  And that’s when I left, carving a path towards becoming the crime lord you read about in Hael’s Bells.

And so my friends, interested in finding out how I pave my own highway to hael?  Read on…

**Artwork by Kachinadoll.
 

My Interview with PT for Hael's Bells

Hi Hanan,

Congratulations on completing Hael’s Bells. 

     Thanks!

How long did it take you to write it?

     Let’s see, I started writing it at the end of May and posted the final part in September, so it took about 4 months off and on.  Of course, that was over summer, so there were plenty of …distractions… slowing things down.

Distractions?  Like sun, sand and surf?

     More like bikinis, bonfires and beer. lol

Well then that brings us to… what do you like to do when you're not writing?

     When I’m not working or writing, I just like good times with good friends, playing hockey, and getting things done.

So back to writing… What would you say is your interesting writing quirk?

     Hmm… Do I have a writing quirk…? Probably that I need to have music on while I write - rock music; I normally listen to Virgin Ottawa.  
 
So music gets the muse flowing, does it?
 
     Yep, it helps to relax and open the mind.
 
Speaking of music, we like the added touch of AC/DC’s Hells Bells in part 5.  It really adds to the atmosphere at the end.  Was this story inspired by the song?
 
     It wasn’t inspired by the song, no.  But it did fit perfectly with the overall theme and atmosphere, like you’ve said.  Music is a big part of us at Passion Tales.  The core group listens to the same rock radio station, mentioned above, both while at work and at play, and most of the stories are either inspired or accentuated by certain songs.  So I felt strongly about adding Hell’s Bells to the ending of… well… Hael’s Bells. lol
 
So what do you have in the works for us next?

     I’ve been working on my novel, Soul Eater, since the winter – Hael’s Bells is a prequel to it.  With thirteen chapters planned, I have about half of the book written so far.  I’m also working on a joint novel with Lindy called Whispers in the Dark.

Can you tell us a little about Soul Eater?

     Sure.  It picks up where Hael’s Bells leaves off and goes deeper into the character’s dark life, his dysfunctional/brutal relationship with his family, and his search for …something more.  Soul Eater pretty much has it all: mystery and intrigue, humour, dark spirituality, sex and seduction, bloody fight scenes …and more of Hanan’s suave badassness. 

Sounds fantastic!  When can we expect it to be published?

     Thanks.  Well, I’m aiming to complete the manuscript by the end of October.  Then it goes through editing and illustrating – yes, it will be illustrated – So, it should be out sometime in the early new year.  That said, however, I’ll probably publish sneak peeks on my blog.

Great!  We certainly look forward to it.  Thank you for taking the time to talk with us, Hanan.  Now get back to work.

     Thanks. lol  Will do.

Hael's Bells - Part 5

     Turning away from the yowling man, Hanan mindfully wrapped his hand around his dagger, and pulled it from the desktop.  With a quick end-over-end flip into the air, he caught the handle and began to twirl the sharp blade through his long, agile fingers.  Knife play always helped him to concentrate, a skill he developed in his younger days, and then later honed as a member of the fearsome Haellador. 

     Freezing the dagger suddenly, Hanan tightened his jaw and narrowed his eyes at Paetar.  “Now that would do nicely as a first instalment,” he insisted under a sly grin, as he tapped the ring on the man’s broken finger with the tip of his blade.  Then turning his back on Paetar once again, he began to tap his chin instead, absorbed in deep thought.  Yaartara… where sky meets the sea, he chuckled silently, remembering the stories Grandpa Klem used to tell him by the fireside.  No one believed it was real, but there it sat on Paetar Kraevalen’s finger.  He knew it.

     Family legend had it that many generations ago an ancestor had stolen it from the king’s treasury.  The ring itself was of little importance, but the stone crowning it was the Yaartara, a dazzling large blue gem of unimaginable beauty and inestimable value.  Through various misdeeds and adventures, all recounted with great zeal by his grandfather, the Yaartara stone disappeared, leaving only a small corner left on the ring after the bulk of the gem had been prised off.  …but big enough to be worth— Hanan cut his own thoughts short as he remembered his poor waiting captive, and the prize within his reach.  “It won’t be much,” he lied, giving his knife a spin on his fingertips.  “But I can’t leave here empty-handed.”

     “I told you,” Paetar coughed and sputtered.  “You’ll have your fifty thousand by sundown tomorrow.  You have my word.”

     “Fifty?!” Hanan, snapped his gaze back to his victim.  “Is that what he told you?   Try counting those zeros again, my friend.”  Deftly passing the spinning blade to his other hand, before adding small bounding flips to his knife play, he continued.  “The kind of information your boss wanted doesn’t come cheap.  I supplied it, at great risk to myself I might add, and so now he must pay, as agreed…” he paused balancing the tip of his dagger on the end of his finger, and then added with a small smirk, “…with interest.”

     “Interest?  On five hundred grand??” Paetar spat in exasperation.  “Hanan, be reasonable… how can we—?”

     “I am being reasonable, Paetar.  I’m being more than reasonable.”  Tossing the dagger high, and then firmly clutching the handle, he pointed it at the bound man.  “Your boss quite willingly agreed to these terms, and those numbers.  Time for payment has come and gone three times now without even one copper to show for my hard work.  So now…” licking his lips, he enunciated each word sharply, “I expect redress with accumulated interest for each day that passes without the fee he promised.  Tell me,” he shrugged with a fake sweet smile, looking ever the angel over his hard, black interior, “how is that being unreasonable?”

     Paetar sat quietly, listening and shaking his head as it hung forward.  He then slowly moved his eyes to look up at Hanan.  “How are we going to get that kind of money?” he rasped flatly.

     “Not my problem.  You’re the treasurer, Consul Kraevalen, you figure it out.”  With a sudden quick turn, Hanan threw his dagger.  Flying a short distance, it landed, the point stuck into the wooden chair between Paetar’s open legs.

     The man flinched with a terrified start, as Hanan laughed, approaching him.  “Don’t worry, Paetar, that’s not the appendage you’re going to lose.”  He assured him, reaching down to retrieve his dagger, a devious grin spreading across his lips.

     “In the meantime, I’ll simply take this…” Grabbing hold of the disjointed finger, Hanan swiped his blade with a forceful flick of his wrist, slicing the finger clean off.   Then with a vicious snarl, he leaned in close to the man’s burned and bubbling face, his voice low and threatening.  “Maybe now you’ll remember not to fuck with me.”  Giving the city treasurer a long cold stare, Hanan then disappeared through the doorway, his footsteps fading under the clanging machinery.

     After he had gone, Paetar Kraevalen let his breath go and blinked at the dingy, empty room, then down at his bloodied hand.  The fine sharp edge of Hanan’s dagger had caused its damage without any pain.  So the treasurer sat, dazed and motionless… until he realized he was a finger short… and missing the seal of the city.

     As Hanan made his way back through the mill, Paetar began to scream – a vengeful cry rising up with the chime of the nearby church bells, announcing the end of morning worship.

**Please click play on the video, and then continue to read.**

     Stopping on the platform to light a cigarette, Hanan inhaled deeply before blowing the smoke out of the corner of his mouth with a self-satisfied smile on his face.  The morning hadn’t gone quite as planned, he thought.  It had turned out even better.  And Hanan knew exactly what his next move would be.  Although he was up one priceless treasure, the Chief Magistrate still had to pay…

     Popping the cigarette between his lips, Hanan smirked, and then pulled the ring from the bloodied digit.  Graegar Tinvellek… he spoke in mind as he gave it a toss before enclosing it in his fist… you will pay, old fellow.  You will pay from where it really hurts… again.  Time to pay your new bride a visit, he chuckled.  Amused with his new plan of attack, he tucked the ring safely into his pants’ pocket, and then stepped down from the mill’s entrance platform, carelessly throwing the severed finger over his shoulder and into the snow.

     Meanwhile, Paetar Kraevalen writhed in frustrated anger, left forgotten in the little room…  “Listen!” his crazed ravings rattled up from his heaving chest.  “The bells… The bells they toll…  Hael’s Bells, Hanan!  They toll for you!!”

     As the happy sinners filed out of the church, their souls cleansed for yet another week, Hanan strolled out into the square, smirking and nodding politely to the passers-by.  Sucking back another deep drag, he blew out the puff with a huge knowing smile. 

     …He knew he had further condemned his own soul to Hael… and that suited him just fine.

**All work copyrighted