Where the Devil Says Goodnight (Folk Lore 1)

Emil didn’t belong in Dybukowo, and he most certainly didn’t belong with Adam. Radek was right. He needed to get out of here, but with no money for the move, with nowhere to stable Jinx, he was powerless against a life that kept tossing stones at him.

A hollow, metallic thud made him look up, and his gaze settled on the tabernacle, the memory of the expensive monstrance inside resurfacing in Emil’s mind. A slithering sound made Emil flinch, but when he glanced at the wooden snake, nothing had changed about its position.

The padlock on the tabernacle, however, was open, even though he could have sworn it had been locked before. His body thudded with the sound of a hurried heartbeat as he climbed the stairs, passed the altar table and opened the box without thinking. A church that preached about the value of austerity didn’t need a silver chalice. He did. After all the shit he’d been through, he could for once prove to everyone they’d been right about him all along.

He grabbed the thick stand of the solar-shaped monstrance and took it from the tabernacle.

There. He was rotten.

“Emil? What are you doing?” Adam asked, appearing from behind the figure of Eve as if he’d never left in the first place.

Emil stared at him with his lips parted and the monstrance halfway down the front of his hoodie. “I…” What? What did he think he was doing? He didn’t have eight starving children to feed. He was getting by. How the fuck was he supposed to explain this moment of madness? He’d been poor all his life but never stolen from anyone. What he’d just done was an impulse he couldn’t explain.

Adam swallowed hard, still flushed, but his face expressed concern rather than fury. “It’s me you’re angry at. Put that back.”

Emil reluctantly revealed the monstrance in all its glitzy glory. “I’m not angry. Why are you back?” he asked, desperate to change the subject and pretend this never happened.

Adam swallowed, watching Emil place all the liturgical treasures back into the tabernacle. He swiftly joined him at the back of the altar and closed the padlock, as if he wanted to remove the temptation altogether. “I didn’t leave. I thought you would.”

Emil was so embarrassed he didn’t know where to look. Only moments ago, he’d been so happy with himself over embarrassing Adam in the confessional, but that artificial confidence was fizzling out fast to reveal what he really was. A loser.

“I will. Don’t… tell anyone about this?”

Adam exhaled, studying Emil in silence. “If you’re not angry, do you… need money, and the opened tabernacle was too much of a temptation?”

“It’s not a big deal. I’m managing just fine. Sorry.” Emil couldn’t have felt like more of an idiot and took a step back. Adam followed him, as if pathetic men were his catnip.

“I have savings. If you need money for something important, you can tell me.”

Anger buzzed deep in Emil’s chest at the pity in Adam’s eyes. “I don’t need your money, okay? I can handle my own shit!” He turned on his heel, rushing for the way out. This time, he was the mouse, and Adam—the cat wanting to play, and Emil did not enjoy being on the receiving end of this game.

He needed a new way to earn money, and fast, because Dybukowo was encroaching on him, trying to suffocate him each day. Until he found someone to mind his animals, he would intensify his attempts. And then he’d go to Cracow and Grindr the hell out of any handsome alternative guy in sight.

Chapter 7 - Adam

Over a week on, the words Emil had said to Adam in the confessional kept coming back at the most inconvenient times. Emil had told him about having sex with another person, but the way he entrusted his secret to Adam had been so filthy that each time he thought back to the muscle-melting seconds in the confessional, his ears tingled, as if he could sense Emil’s breath again.

“Adam? Hello, Adam.” Father Marek waved his hand in front of Adam’s face, startling him back to the reality of the lunch they’d finished moments ago. The disapproving gaze Mrs. Janina sent his way was yet another indication that everyone noticed he’d drifted off.

“I’m sorry. I thought about my parents, that’s all.”

The pastor’s face softened, and he exhaled, looking out of the window. “You’ve never been away from them for so long, have you? What has it been? Almost a month.”

Adam leaned back in the chair and took in the peaceful dining room that already felt a bit like home. The four weeks had passed like a breeze, and he already knew the area quite well. He did miss his parents, friends, and the easy access to culture, but the simple life in Dybukowo made him oddly peaceful. He’d become less nervous and more patient, which meant that maybe, just maybe, Archbishop Boron had been right to assign him to this parish, no matter how much it had initially angered and worried Adam. Even the sleepwalking had ceased as he settled into the new rhythm.