Where the Devil Says Goodnight (Folk Lore 1)

The blade seemed deceptively sharp despite its matte surface. Made of honed bone, it sat in a wooden handle that had a face with sharp features carved into it, and horns making up the cross guard.

A long lock of hair similar to the one on the figurine he’d burned was tied around the inner sides of the horns, like a decorative strap.

He shuddered, unable to explain the sudden tightness around his heart. He wasn’t scared. And of what? Of an old knife Grandma must have hidden in the beam years ago? There were some real issues he needed to deal with before he left Dybukowo, so what was the point of worrying about superstition?

Then again, how could he dismiss the existence of the supernatural when he’d witnessed Adam’s possession, its consequences, and saw things he couldn’t explain? Jinx had run out of the barn unscathed when poor Leia had burned alive. A bison had brought Adam Emil’s wreath, and as romantic as that had been, it was also fucking weird. His grandmother used to dabble in some kind of village sorcery, and now all this was happening to him?

Maybe if Grandma’s things hadn’t burned, he could find answers to any questions he might have had about the dagger, but it was too late for that.

Jinx whinnied by a nearby tree, and Emil glanced toward him, only to spot a familiar figure approaching from the direction of the church. Still dressed in the cassock, Adam was taking long, energetic strides, as if he was about to be late to an appointment if he didn’t hurry.

And despite the smell of char and lost dreams hanging around the ruins like a fog, smiling at Adam was as easy as breathing. Despite all Emil had been through, Adam was the one ray of sunshine still present even as the sun set behind the mountains.

“You managed to get away after all?” he asked from afar and scrambled out of the rubble.

Adam’s blond hair was tousled by the wind, his cheeks flushed after the brisk walk, but when Emil was about to close him in his arms for a short, socially-acceptable hug, he evaded the embrace with a quick step back.

“What are you doing? Just tell me now,” Adam growled, watching Emil while his shoulders remained hunched, as if he were preparing to charge.

Emil groaned. “Is there a problem? You said you couldn’t come with me, so I walked here myself. There’s no point in avoiding the inevitable.”

Adam’s lips thinned, and he pressed them together so hard they lost their color, while his face became darker at a rapid pace. “Why was this under my bed? You told me you burned it,” he started out saying, but his voice rose in volume by the time he pulled something out of his pocket and presented it to Emil.

The red painted eyes of the devil figurine mocked him.

“Because I did,” Emil said with a frown, only now realizing he was still holding the dagger. “Look what I found in the rubble.”

Adam’s features became tense, his skin paling as if it might tear from the strain. His nostrils flared when he let out a choked noise. “What the fuck? Why are you doing this?”

Emil swallowed and took a step back. “Doing what?”

Adam’s eyes were wild, as if he was desperate to look in every single direction at once. They shone even more brightly when his chest rose and fell in a rapid rhythm. “Do you think I’m an idiot? Be honest for once! You’re gaslighting me even now. The weird noises I heard since I came here, the possession, the fact that you brought me to the Devil’s Rock in the first place—were as fucking accidental as me jogging past your house!”

“W-what are you trying to say?” Emil dropped the dagger. He tried to touch Adam’s shoulder. He flinched away, making dread settle in Emil’s stomach.

Adam took another step back and tossed the figurine into the muddy ashes at Emil’s feet.

“I trusted you. And you… you just chewed through me. And for what? Was it only for the sex? Why would you do this to me? Were there no other men to pick?” Adam asked in a broken voice before grabbing the lower half of his face with one hand and massaging it, as if the tension in his jaw muscles caused an ache he couldn’t deal with otherwise.

Emil didn’t understand what he was dealing with here, but he needed to put a stop to it before it was too late. “I didn’t. I love you. We’ve been over this. The figurine wasn’t mine. And this one isn’t either.”

“They have a weird habit appearing in places you have easy access to, don’t you think?” Adam asked in a tight voice.

This couldn’t be happening. Was Emil to have a lick of what happiness meant, only to have it torn from him? That would have been the story of his life. Yet Adam’s mistrust hurt more than the sight of his home in ruins ever could.