The Chaser, first page-revised

For anyone who has been participating in Nathan Bransford's First Page Contest, here is a revised version of my entry. Constructive criticism is welcome, trashing is not. :) Thank you, Chris


Simmatra, Estonia-Present Day

The smell of humans swirled over the village of Simmatra, teasing Rane’s nose with anticipation. The streets below were vacant, as if the villagers knew someone was going to die. The soul chaser needed a human spirit and this evening Rane wanted the perfect soul.

He flew through the doorway of a warmly lit house and found a witch’s brew simmering on the stove. A faint, yet lovely scent was lurking beneath the stink of the witch; the scent of his perfect soul. Rane’s hunger grew as he closed in on his prey. With wild eyes, the witch slid out from under the bed and scrambled to her feet.

The haggard woman held a small inverted cross out toward him and sneered, “You are not welcome here, soul chaser!”

Rane couldn’t help but grin. “I am no vampire, you senile old woman. Do what you like with that cross; it’s as useless as one of your spells.” He folded his arms casually across his trim chest.

“Get out, you hateful beast!” she spat, drawing her wand.

“I see you replaced your last twig,” Rane said.

Drahmia began chanting and swirling her new wand in the cool air.

“Honestly Drahmia, I don’t understand why you always want to challenge me. It would make much more sense for us to work together.”

“Work together! I am a healer and you are a spirit thief. You stole my mother’s soul, Stuart Rane. There’s no way in hell I will ever help you.”

“Right,” Rane said, “you always forget that she ran at me with a hacksaw. I had no choice but to fight back.”

“We had an agreement, a mutual respect,” she said through clenched teeth. “You ruined that when you took my mother. I will not rest until I find a way to stop you.”