Where the Devil Says Goodnight (Folk Lore 1)

“But you are staying for the Forefathers’ Eve, right?”

“No reason not to. Why?” Emil asked, stuffing the cake into his mouth to get this ridiculous conversation over with while also eating the cake he was to earn by swinging the besom outside.

Mrs. Luty shook her head. “Wouldn’t be right to not visit your family’s graves. Who’d clean them otherwise? Who’d leave flowers and light candles? What would they think if you left their gravesites in the care of strangers?”

“You’re right. As always,” Emil said just to get her off his case, and put the plate down, chewing through the deliciously sweet sponge. “Thank you for the babka. I’ll get on with the sweeping.”

“I think it’s time to ring the bells,” Adam said, emerging from the office in a purple chasuble that featured a stylized cross overgrown with vines. The hand-stitched image was finished with gold thread, and was possibly worth more money than most items Emil owned.

It always gave Emil a bit of an illicit thrill to see Adam like this, all dressed up to perform his role as the village’s young, energetic priest. He’d never said he was a good boy, but Adam knew that and had been attracted to it from the start. Breaking boundaries was Emil’s catnip, and he’d finally get to prove his independence by leaving Dybukowo.

As Adam left for mass, Emil wrapped a scarf around his neck and went out into the yard to sweep the yellow leaves fallen from all the poplars. He could only hope Jinx didn’t hate the change. The horse still had as much vigor as a foal, was healthy and unnaturally resilient, but everything would be different all the way in Warsaw. He’d have to live with other horses, wouldn’t get to eat as much grass, and surely even the air would be different. Still, Emil hoped to find a solution that worked for all three of them.

The mass had already started by the time he was done sweeping the yard between the back of the church and the parsonage. He was about to move farther toward the front of the building when Mrs. Luty emerged with a wide smile on her wrinkled face.

“There’s a call for you, Emil!”

Emil frowned. “Why would someone call me here?”

“Ah, you know I’m not one to gossip, but I was just talking to Mrs. Golonko about your plight, and she wants to speak with you.”

Having nothing to lose and everything to gain if Mrs. Golonko wanted to buy some of Emil’s alcoholic infusions too, he followed an unusually animated Mrs. Luty into the parsonage.

“Do you want some tea? Coffee? The wind’s so cold tonight,” she said and handed him the headset before picking up the kettle.

Emil didn’t know how to treat her sudden enthusiasm for him and focused on the task at hand. “Hello?”

“Emil. I’m so glad I happened to call Mrs. Janina just now. How are you?” she asked, without her customary tone, which indicated how little she cared for the person she spoke to.

“Um, quite good actually. Can I help you with anything, Mrs. Golonko?”

“I think you could, Emil. My husband and Mr. Nowak had to fire one of their employees for dishonesty, so a full-time opportunity opened up at the fox fur farm. I suggested they offer it to you, because you’ve been an excellent addition to the team each time you worked for me,” she said as if she hadn’t treated him like dirt every single time he part-timed in one of her shops.

And now, for the first time—this one time—he had the leverage to politely decline her offer. “I’m so sorry, Mrs. Golonko, but I’m extremely busy with my alcohol infusions business. I work on it pretty much around the clock right now, but thank you so much for thinking of me. I’d gladly offer you a discounted rate if you or your husband wanted to purchase some as Christmas gifts for your contractors. I offer a variety of flavors, all local and organic.”

The line went so dead that for a moment he thought she simply switched off her phone. Mrs. Luty stared at him as if there was a ghost looming over him, but he didn’t get to look over his shoulder when Mrs. Golonko finally spoke. “I—I’m prepared to offer you very competitive pay. We might be interested in buying some of your products, but you must know yourself that the infusions are only a temporary solution. If you wanted to make this a permanent job, you’d have to make it official and take a lot of financial risk. Wouldn’t it be better to have the stability of a good job in the place you call home?”

Concern for anyone but herself and Jessika was so out of character for Mrs. Golonko that for all Emil knew, he might have accidentally stepped into another dimension. Mrs. Luty smiled and put another generous piece of cake in front of him—the same cake she’d claimed she no longer had. Were they trying to fatten him up for slaughter or something?