The small country inn wasn’t crowded, which was fine with Logan, as he did not care to spend too much time with people, and other things. He rubbed his temples and stared into the mug of fresh coffee the serving girl had just poured. A quick survey of the dining area told him no one was looking, while he deftly poured the contents of a small glass bottle he was palming. He stirred the coffee and admired it.

“Perfect.” He thought to himself.

He listened to two men at a corner table arguing over local politics when he felt the hair stand up on the back of his neck. He’s here, he thought. Just then the door opened, ringing the small bell attached to it. Logan didn’t turn around, but he was fairly certain who it was. His suspicions were confirmed when he peaked at the window next to him and saw the elf’s reflection.

“Oh, hello there,” the elf said with a slight hint of a Sembian accent, “Logan, of all places.”

“Hasdrubal,” was all Logan said in reply, as the elf took a seat at the small table.

“Oh, are we on a first name basis now?”

“I should think so,” Logan said.

“Excuse me if I keep it formal with the man who killed my little brother,” he said.

“Your little brother was killing people across The Dalelands. I had to stop him.”

“You didn’t have to kill him. He’s gone on sprees before. He’s always stopped.”

“That’s not how it works.”

Hasdrubal leaned closer, though mostly for dramatic effect, he could easily hear what Logan was saying two blocks away if he wished, “You should have alerted me Logan. I would have dealt with it.”

“If he would have stuck to livestock nothing would have happened to him. Instead, your brother developed a taste for farmer’s daughters.”

The tall elf leaned back in his chair. He listened to the music and tapped his fingers on the table, his ancient eyes glaring at Logan.

“I like this song. Waylon?”

“Sturgill.”

“Ahh yes, the bard has good taste in music.”

“I thought it’d be a little modern for you,” Logan said to the centuries old creature.

“Funny.”

“I thought so.”

They sat for another long pause.

“I can’t forget this,” Hasdrubal said finally.

“I don’t believe your kind forgets much.”

“No, we don’t. And our long lives let grudges fester.“ Hasdrubal paused, eyeing Logan’s coffee. Elves don’t eat really, but some have developed tastes for certain things, mostly wine. Logan knew Hasdrubal was a coffee drinker.

“Would you like some?”

The elf took the mug and put it to his lips, “That’s not bad for some backwoods inn.”

“I can’t believe you tracked me here. It took a lot to roust you.”

“My brother’s death couldn’t wait. I needed to take matters into my own hands.”

“So, you’re here for revenge?”

“Why else would I come to this godsforsaken town? You can’t have thought you would get out of this conversation alive.”

“I have my ways.”

“I know.”

“Your brother definitely knew.”

“That’s enough lapdog. Speak of my little brother again and I will eat your heart in front of you.”

“You mean you don’t want to hear how he died crying out for his brother? Assuring me his big brother would save him.”

Hasdrubal’s eyes narrowed and the room began to grow colder as he glared at Logan.

“Oh, don’t look at me like that. I was only doing my job. Your brother brought this on himself.”

“Enough Logan. You will answer for this.”

“I really don’t think I will.”

“And why is that?”

“Because I laced the coffee you’re drinking with a holy elixir, and I expect it to take effect any second now,” Logan said as he casually drew his scimitar from its scabbard.

Hasdrubal felt his body becoming rigid as the holy elixir coursed through his veins. Just then he realized one of them would be going back to the Shelves of Despond, but it wasn’t going to be Logan.

“You…You…Dos dalharuk d’natha!” he cursed.

From across the table Logan plunged the green-flecked steel blade into his chest. He watched Hasdrubal’s eyes widen as his face locked in a silent scream. The veins of hellfire steel that ran the length of the blade pulsed with a dim infernal light as the man’s soul was ripped from his being. Logan gripped the table’s edge with his free hand and grit his teeth fighting the agonizing pain as another tattoo burned away. More than pleased that Logan had rid the village of the monster that was Hasdrubal’s brother and now Hasdrubal himself; the villagers all but ignored the exchange between Hasdrubal and Logan.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The faint smell of brimstone awoke him from his slumber.

“Wake up Logan…”

Logan had gotten used to sleeping in discomfort. He had gotten used to not sleeping at all. One thing he never did get used to was the devil whispering in his ear for him to get out of bed and back to work. He hated that. And the devil knew it.

Logan turned to him with an expression of loathing and aggravation.

The devil returned his look with his constant sly smile exposing gleaming, pointed canine teeth.

Wordlessly Logan grunted and rolled out of bed.

“Chipper this morning I see.” The devil commented with a smirk. “That’s good. Means you’re up and ready to go. Ready to get a few more of my wayward souls?”

“Yeah sure.” Logan said unenthusiastically as he rubbed the residual discomfort from his shoulder.

“I surmise by the way you are rubbing your shoulder that you are no longer wearing a name. Dare I ask? Have you returned Hasdrubal to my loving embrace?”

“Yeah. A real peach.”

“Ah, but now you are one step closer to redemption. To gain your second chance at life. Surely you must feel some sense of satisfaction in a job well done. Although the job isn’t done yet, is it? There are still lots more souls out there just waiting for you to send them back to me. And you haven’t even discovered some of the more challenging ones yet.”

“Logan groaned to himself as he ran his hands over his face. It was too early for banter. 

“What’s my next job?”

“Don’t think of it as a job…think of it as the opportunity that it really is! How many souls do you think get this chance?”

“Who’s my next target?” Logan said somewhat agitated.

“This is what I love to see,” he said in a velvety smooth voice. Abject misery in the midst of a seemingly perfect day. It does my heart good. Makes me glad that I picked you.”

“Thanks.” Logan replied sarcastically.

“Time to move on.”

“Move on to what?”

“To what indeed Logan.”