Where the Devil Says Goodnight (Folk Lore 1)

For the first time since they’d found this place, Adam was hesitant and looked to Emil for guidance. Their eyes met for a moment that left a sugary aftertaste on Emil’s tongue. Emil’s heart beat faster, but he didn’t follow up on the impulse that pushed him closer to Adam and took the first step out of the tunnel instead.

“Just be careful.”

Ferns and moss covered every bit of ground in sight, and the trees—thick and ancient—were scattered throughout the narrow space, with crooked roots spreading above ground like wooden snakes. The flora here was familiar, but the bushes were bigger, the raspberries growing in a fragrant thatch nearby—made the branches sink under their weight. It was God’s own garden, and every single plant—a perfect specimen of its kind.

They followed a narrow path of moss and flat stones, which serpentined through the lush plant life that carried a scent so much more intense than the cleanest mountain air. But it was only when they pushed through dense bushes and the space opened into a clearing speckled with wild flowers that Emil lost his voice.

An endless sea of fireflies moved from plant to plant in waves, illuminating the whole area with a faint jade and amber glow. Some stragglers were like sparks flying from a fire, other groups of insects crawled up and down trees like rivers and streams. The faint murmur of a creek somewhere beyond the miniature meadow was the perfect soundtrack for the ballet of the lightning bugs.

“I’ve never seen anything like it,” Emil whispered to Adam, his throat tight from the magnificence of it all. “And I’ve lived here all my life.”

Adam looked back, his mouth stretched into a smile so perfectly relaxed and innocent none Emil had seen before could compare to it. He popped open the top buttons of his cassock and loosened the collar as he took in this chunk of a primeval forest stuck in a hideout since ancient times.

“And it’s so hot. Do you think this place has its own microclimate?” he asked, gradually unfastening the buttons at the front of his outfit.

Emil didn’t think it was that hot, but he wouldn’t object to Adam getting out of the somber garment. He entered the clearing in slow, careful steps, wondering if any animals lived there as well. “Or it’s a magical place. If demons are real, why not this?” he whispered, beckoned closer by a flicker of bright yellow light farther on.

The trees and bushes grew so densely back there he wasn’t sure how they all managed to get enough sunlight during the day, but he pushed through a curtain of huge leaves and followed the stream of fireflies into a small space occupied by a thick carpet of ferns. The constant buzz ringing in his ears, along with birds of the night singing high above, created a hypnotic concoction.

“I think we might be the first to step in here in a very long time,” Adam mused, but the rustle of leaves under his feet became background noise when Emil spotted the source of the light he’d seen earlier.

A flower, reminiscent of an orchid, was the beacon he’d followed. Its petals made of flame that produced neither ash nor smoke, and they pulsed as soon as Emil took a step toward it in breathless admiration. This couldn’t be real.

“Do you see this, or am I drunk?” Emil asked, shivering when Adam’s fingers slotted between his.

“You are not drunk. Maybe it’s… St. Elmo’s fire, or something? An illusion,” Adam whispered, staring at the strange plant as if he expected it to send a fireball his way. He’d completely unbuttoned the cassock and now wore it like a trench coat over a white tank top, which revealed how fast he was breathing.

“Only one way to find out.”

Emil pushed the spiky handle of the torch into the ground between ferns and scooted down in front of the flower, unable to resist its pull despite his better judgment. Anticipating pain, he moved his fingers to the warm flames, but instead of burning him, they licked the digits, as if they were smoke.

A sense of peace filled Emil’s chest along with the intoxicating scent of the forest. He felt small, unimportant in the grand scheme of things, but tonight, he’d been chosen, and even if he woke up tomorrow to find out it had only been a dream, he wanted to hold on to this moment and cherish it forever.

“It doesn’t burn me. There’s no other way, Adam. It’s the fern flower.”

Adam gave a soft laugh, “Shut up. That’s not possible,” he said but wouldn’t stop watching the flames quivering around Emil’s fingers without causing harm. Their eyes met, and Emil felt a tentative touch on his forearm, but before the fog around Emil’s mind could have dispersed, something moved between the trees, and he stiffened, ready to fight off the animal with the torch.