Where the Devil Says Goodnight (Folk Lore 1)

Adam wasn’t ready to face him, not in daylight, not ever. Not when every move he made reminded him of the intense sex they’d had last night.

Mrs. Janina put down the handset, unaware of Adam’s distress. “I bet it’s those boys from Myszkowice. They come riding through Dybukowo on their motorbikes every now and then. Police won’t do anything about them, and I’ve called them about it many times.”

“Mrs. Janina? Please tell him I’m not in,” Adam said and ran before she could have finished asking who Adam was talking about.

He burst into his room and shut it before diving back under the covers. Maybe the comforter would choke him to death, and that would be the end of his misery.

Enclosed in the burning hot cocoon, he listened to his own breathing in the cave made of fabric and down. In. Out. In Out.

Maybe the devil already left his body, and he was now free? He needed to have faith and wait before he did something that couldn’t be undone.

“What the hell, Adam? I can see you,” Emil said from just a couple of paces away, and when Adam peeked out from under the covers, Emil was already climbing inside through the narrow window.

Cleaned up, in those sinfully tight jeans and a T-shirt with the words Not Today Satan, he was the last person Adam wanted to see.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Adam whispered, glancing at the closed door. “What if she hears that you’re here?”

Emil spread his arms. “What are you even talking about? You were possessed by a demon last night, and you care what Mrs. Luty would say if she saw me in your room? Are we fifteen?”

Adam’s face boiled, because when Emil stepped his way and the T-shirt tightened around his torso, all he could think about was the way Emil held him down last night. “You’re one to talk. What is that print? Are you making fun of me?”

Emil grinned, looking down at the words on his T-shirt. “I thought it was appropriate. All others in my collection are more like ‘nice to see you, Satan’.”

Adam pushed back the comforter and rose, stepping toward the door in order to put some distance between him and the object of his very-real wet dreams. “We shouldn’t be alone like this.”

Emil cocked his head. “You wanna tell Father Marek the devil sat you on my dick?”

Adam swallowed, stepping back as guilt seamlessly intertwined with arousal, both pushing him away from Emil and inviting him closer. “You’re so crude. I don’t want to discuss this ever again.”

“Listen, I’m not here to talk about your repressed sex issues, but I will not be dismissed about magic. We need to explore this, find out more. It could be ground-breaking. I couldn’t sleep last night. I was thinking that maybe what is happening to you has something to do with Mrs. Zofia’s murder. Aren’t crows associated with witches and magic, like black cats and goats?”

Adam had no right to demand anything from the man he’d rejected, but it still stung to know that while he’d been sleepless over visions of their brief time together, Emil had focused on magic and demons. But what did Adam expect? Sex was nothing out of the ordinary for someone like Emil, so why would he see last night as special in any way?

“I don’t know. There’s no magic. I feel fine now. I’m sure we had some kind of collective hallucination. Or folie à deux,” he said, pushing his fingers through his hair while circling the perimeter of his room to avoid getting too close to the beautiful beast who had invaded his safe haven. His stupid brain kept suggesting that Emil was the dragon to storm his tower, but in that scenario, he’d be a princess. He did not like that analogy much.

Emil shook his head and peeled off his T-shirt. Adam had seen him naked, and in detail at that, but right here, in the bright sunshine, he was a sight to behold. Thick, meaty pecs, pink nipples, and a powerful chest dusted with dark hair.

Emil twisted his body, which only made the muscles on his sides more pronounced, and pointed to the bits of his skin Adam had dressed yesterday. “My burns are no fucking hallucination. Last time I checked you didn’t have hot irons for hands.”

Adam’s lips went dry, and he approached, focused on two red imprints, each with five fingers. He placed his hand on one of the burns, and when it fit perfectly, the floor under his feet seemed to creak, as if there was a bottomless pit just below, ready to suck him in. He pulled away with fright burning through his body like acid.

“He really did make me do it—”

Emil shook his head, standing that inch closer than before, and looking straight into Adam’s eyes. “Yes, a demon made you do that horrible, horrible thing. Especially at the end, when you held my hands. Everyone knows Satan’s such a romantic.”