Where the Devil Says Goodnight (Folk Lore 1)

Adam exhaled. “Maybe he wanted to comfort you after she disappeared?” he asked, gently rubbing Emil’s back in a way that felt so right only Emil’s brain held him back from pressing a kiss to the blond head.

“But how did she know about the horse? Did they somehow arrange her death? What the hell?” He was rattled, but Adam’s closeness brought such unexpected comfort he itched to just lean into it.

“I don’t know,” Adam said after a moment, and rested his head on Emil’s shoulder.

“The Kupala Night is also my birthday. My gran always said that I was a lucky child to be born on that date. A celebration of both water and fire, of fertility and love. But I never met a person more unlucky than me. I broke my nose falling off a step ladder. I’m turning thirty this year, and I’ve gotten nowhere in life.” He turned his head, and when Adam’s scent overpowered his senses, there was just one thing he could say. “Would you come to the festivities with me? You know, not with me-with me, but just… would you?”

Their noses were only a fraction of an inch apart, yet Adam didn’t pull away. The sun shone through his lashes, casting a dark shadow on the cheek, and Emil couldn’t look away from the pale iris, because it felt like despite the rejection, Adam really saw him for who he was.

“I suppose we could find some clues there. Since it’s a pagan festival originally, right?”

“Yes. If anyone asks, just call it St. John’s night, and you’re good,” Emil said and suppressed the instinct to kiss Adam. That wouldn’t be happening ever again.

Chapter 13 - Adam

Adam had thought he’d have to work on persuading Father Marek that it would be fine for him to attend the traditional Kupala Night festivities, but the pastor told him to go before Adam could have broached the topic. As the sun descended, about to hide between the twin slopes beyond the lake on the edge of the woods, Adam stood on the shore and blessed the water in a bid to make it safe for bathing throughout the summer. Perfect excuse to mesh pagan tradition with Catholic rites, with a side dish of religion treated as a stand-in for magic.

A group of folk musicians dressed in white tunics and pants played fifes, drums, and lutes, adding to the sense of being in a different time and place. Their music wasn’t something Adam usually listened to, but he couldn’t help tapping his foot to the tune.

Adam hadn’t put the holy water away yet when Mr. Nowak, the village head and main organizer of the whole thing, stepped closer to the water and uncovered his barrel-like belly by taking off his T-shirt. “Bathing season’s open!”

Adam averted his eyes, but that didn’t help him much, because behind his back a whole crowd of mostly undressed party goers ran toward the water with screams of joy. Adam intended to glance in yet another direction when he realized not everyone wore bathing suits, but he froze when he spotted a body he knew most intimately.

Emil’s mane was on fire in the red glow of the setting sun. His body, a magnificent artwork of flesh, bone, and ink as he ran down the grassy shore and into the water,. Adam remembered just how good his weight felt on top of him a week ago, how strong his arms were—

“Harmless fun,” Father Marek said with a wide smile, face already flushed from the mead he’d enjoyed since they’d arrived an hour earlier. He wasn’t even pretending to look away from the nakedness on show.

“Yes.” Though Adam wasn’t so sure of this assessment, considering that the night would end with young people—most of them devout Catholics—going off into the night in pairs. And hadn’t Emil told him this holiday was the Slavic celebration of love? Fornication would be rife.

Which made Adam’s cheeks grow hotter, because he wondered if this was what his parents had done all those years ago. Had they conceived him this very night? Either way, he would not enter the dark forest when his cell phone had no reception.

Most of the young villagers he knew were here, as well as some unfamiliar faces, which amounted to a sizeable gathering that would have no issues stripping the meat off the pig Mr. Koterski, the forest ranger, had been roasting throughout the day. Adam was salivating already at the scent of crispy skin.

“You think they have a vegetarian option, or will he have to settle for bread?” asked someone from a group of people whose fashionable outfits suggested they weren’t local. But Adam didn’t listen to them any longer, entranced by the sight of bodies dancing in shallow water as if the perspective of getting into the lake at dusk had given the attendees a high. In the dying sun, the gentle waves glistened like rubies and cast that same glow on the bare flesh on show.