Another Soul Saved
By John Anthony Miller
By John Anthony Miller
Publication Date: April 1, 2026
Publisher: Independent
Pages: 415
Genre: Historical Fiction
Vienna, 1941
Monika Graf, the wife of a wealthy Austrian military commander, steals two Jewish girls from the Nazis—a crime often punishable by death. With soldiers in rapid pursuit, a homeless Jew named Janik, a mysterious man who lurks in the shadows, helps her escape.
Unable to have children of her own, she finds a new purpose in life—rescuing Jewish children from the horrendous Nazi regime. She asks the Swiss for help, trading military secrets she gleans from her husband for the lives of Jewish children. With Janik’s continued support, she also enlists Father Christoff, a priest at St. Stephen's Cathedral coping with unexpected emotions and doubting his commitment to God. Monika quickly forms bonds that can’t be broken, feelings exposed she never knew existed.
Relentlessly pursued by Gestapo Captain Gustav Kramer, Monika combats continuing risk to her clandestine operation. When her husband, a rabid Nazi, returns from the battlefield severely wounded, she gets caught in a cage that she can’t crawl out of.
Wrought with danger, riddled with romance, Another Soul Saved shows humanity at both its best and worst in a classic struggle of good versus evil.
Monika eyed the man in the doorway, mid-thirties with dark hair and eyes. He must be a Jew. He would be in the military if he weren’t.
“Hurry,” he urged. “Before they see you.”
She didn’t hesitate. “Inside, girls.”
“This way,” the man said as he closed the door.
Monika was wary. No one could be trusted—not in Vienna. But she had little choice. “Thank you,” she said, wondering how he knew they were running from the soldiers.
“Don’t be afraid,” he said.
He seemed like a good man, and her instincts rarely failed her. “Why did you help us?”
“We must help each other,” he said. “Or we’ll never survive.”
Broad stairs sprawled across most of the vestibule, leading to a second-floor apartment. He brought them through a skinny passage along the wall that led to an alcove under the steps. A narrow mattress lay on the floor, two threadbare blankets and a small pillow resting on it.
“We’ll hide here,” he said.
Monika eyed the cramped space. “Is this where you live?”
He nodded, put a finger to his lips, and motioned her under the stairs with the children. “Be quiet so no one hears,” he said. “The soldiers may come to the door.”
Monika sat beside the girls and wrapped her arms around them. “Please be quiet,” she whispered.
“We will,” Hedy promised as Ruth nodded.
The man sat beside them, and they huddled together.
Monika felt the girls trembling, their lives lived in fear. She would protect them, take care of them, do whatever was needed. Seconds passed, ticking by slowly, their hearts racing. They could hear faint voices from the street, but couldn’t tell what words were said.
The door opened abruptly, squeaking on its hinges. A set of footsteps stomped on the vestibule tiled floor, followed by another. Then it was quiet.
Monika’s heart thumped against her chest. Whoever came in hadn’t climbed the stairs. The man who helped her cringed and then nodded, acknowledging what she suspected. It had to be the soldiers. It could be no one else. They stood meters away, neither speaking, waiting for a noise or word that was carelessly uttered.
She pulled the girls close, sweat dotting the back of her neck. She could hear quick breaths, their little hearts pounding.
Seconds passed, seeming an eternity. It was eerily quiet. Two adults and two children separated from two Nazis by only a set of stairs.
“No one is here,” a soldier said.
They left, the door closing behind them.
The man nudged Monika, his finger to his lips. They waited, making no sounds, her arms around the children, so young and vulnerable. After several minutes passed, and they saw or heard no sign of the soldiers, he quietly rose. “I will check,” he whispered.
“Be careful,” she hissed.
He tiptoed to the door, cracked it open, and peeked out. A moment later, he returned.
“Did you see them?” she asked, her heart still racing.
“I did,” he said. “They’re down the street in front of the butcher shop, questioning those who pass. They don’t know where you went. We’ll wait a few more minutes, and then I’ll check again.”
Monika breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you so much.”
He shrugged. “You would do the same for me.”
She paused, surprised by what he said. How could he have sensed that she would have helped him? “Who are you?” she asked.
“Janik Stern,” he replied.
“I’m Monika Graf,” she said. “And the children are Hedy and Ruth.”
“Hello, Hedy and Ruth.”
They smiled. “We’re cold,” Hedy said.
“Take this blanket,” he said, wrapping it around them. “It’ll keep you warm until it’s time to leave.”
Monika studied Janik, goodness oozing from every pore. “How did you know to help us?”
“I was in the line at the emigration center,” he said. “I fled when the man was shot. You weren’t far behind me, stealing the little girls away.”
She knew then that she could trust him. He was a Jew running from demons just as she was.
“Why not wait for your visa?” she asked. “You weren’t in any danger. The girls were.”
“The man the Nazis killed knew secrets the soldiers don’t tell,” he said.
“But he told you?”
He nodded. “And the others. A soldier tried to stop him. He ran away, and they killed him.”
“Whatever he said must have been bad if you ran away, too,” she said, not sure she wanted to know.
“It was bad,” he said. “Worse than most can imagine.”
She studied him closely, searching his soul. He had a kind face with sad eyes that failed to hide a muted pain. She wondered where it came from.
“You may not believe me,” he continued. “No one else would either.”
“I might,” she said, wavering.
He smiled once he knew she trusted him. “I will tell you everything,” he said. He nodded to the children. “But not now.”
She understood. He didn’t want to frighten them more than they already were. “When will you tell me?”
“Whenever you like,” he said. He waved his arm around the vestibule, again flashing a smile. “You know where to find me. This is where I live.”
She eyed the cramped space, wondering what drove him there. Maybe the story lived in his eyes—the sadness he couldn’t shake. She noticed a wooden toolbox against the wall. “Are you a carpenter?”
He shrugged. “I can be.”
She wasn’t sure what he meant, but she didn’t pry. She suspected they would be friends, but wondered if it was wise. It was risky in a world that hated Jews. But she wasn’t afraid. She never had been. “I live only a block or two away.”
“I’ll tell you more when the little ones aren’t here,” he said. “If you’re sure you want to know.”
“I do,” she said.
“It isn’t easy,” he said.
“It hasn’t been for years,” she said, wondering what his life had been like.
“No, not for me,” he said softly. “Not for many. It’s hell with no chance of heaven. Most just don’t know.”
She wanted to hear his story, to know the source of his pain. But it wasn’t the time. Not now.
He got up and went to the door. He cracked it open slowly and peeked out. After a moment had passed, the door closed and he came back.
“The soldiers are gone.”
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John Anthony Miller
John Anthony Miller writes all things historical—thrillers, mysteries, and romance. He sets his novels in exotic locations spanning all eras of space and time, with complex characters forced to face inner conflicts—fighting demons both real and imagined. He’s published twenty novels and ghostwritten several others, including Another Soul Saved. He lives in southern New Jersey.
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