Where the Devil Says Goodnight (Folk Lore 1)

“The investigation into the fire at your property hasn’t concluded, and as a head of this village, I can’t just let you leave while it’s still ongoing. Do yourself a favor and turn back.”

Emil held his head high despite the mud stains on his clothes and urged the horse forward. He wouldn’t be pulled back into Nowak’s problems. He didn’t care. He could live in the woods somewhere, become a ghost, and never have to interact with anyone again.

“I’m talking to you!” Nowak yelled, and Emil couldn’t help the inkling of satisfaction when he heard a car door slam shut because it meant Nowak would get wet too.

What he didn’t expect though was a pull on his leg so strong it almost yanked him out of the saddle.

“Fuck off!” Emil yelled at Nowak, struggling to shed the hold of meaty hands. The bald top of Nowak’s head was a prime target, but Emil couldn’t make himself punch it, so he kicked Nowak’s arm instead.

Jinx whinnied and strutted sideways, attempting to evade the man, who stubbornly followed with his face twisted into a scowl. “Emil, don’t be stupid!”

“Or what? You gonna call the police on me?”

Nowak charged at Emil, and this time, he grabbed the back of Emil’s jacket, tugging so hard Emil lost balance. He scrambled to grab the saddle, but his wet fingers slipped, and he slid off the horse, only barely missing another dunk in the mud when Nowak stepped back.

That was it. Any man had limits to his patience, and Emil had just reached his. He charged at Nowak and punched the bastard straight in the face.

The round head bounced back, and Nowak’s stocky body went down, splashing dirty water as he landed in a puddle. Emil was so shocked by the ease with which he managed to knock down his opponent he took his time staring as Nowak scrambled to his feet in the ill-fitting brown suit that now clung to his body.

“You’re going to regret this, you punk!”

Emil laughed out loud and spread his arms. “What can you possibly do to me? Kill me? I really don’t have much left to lose, you cunt. I’m not gonna be stuck in Dybukowo all my life because you, for some reason, care about a fire investigation. It’s none of your business. You’re not the police, and you’re not the fire service!”

Nowak stilled, standing in a hunched position with both hands resting at the tops of his thighs. His form kept expanding and shrinking as he tried to catch his breath, but at least he wasn’t speaking anymore. Emil shook his head and, expecting no more resistance, approached his horse. He was about to mount when Nowak spoke.

“Wait. There’s something else.”

Emil chased off a crow that tried to land on his arm. “What? What else could possibly be a problem?”

Nowak wiped his face, leaving behind a smear of mud. “Are you sure you don’t want to be around Father Adam tonight?” he asked, lowering his shoulders.

Emil’s body took root when he heard Adam’s name. “Are you trying to fucking blackmail me here, or something? Because I don’t follow.”

Nowak looked to his car, but once he rubbed the front of his suit jacket, he must have understood there was no point in trying to hide from the rain anymore. “Look, I know why you don’t trust me, but there are reasons for everything that’s happened to you. And the things that will happen to Father Adam tonight.”

Emil took a step toward Nowak, his body hair bristling. “What will happen to Adam? What are you talking about? Speak! For fuck’s sake, speak!”

Nowak hung his head before glancing at Emil again. The rain was slowly getting sparser, and the thunder—more distant, as if the sky didn’t want Emil to miss a single detail. “Chort has left us twenty-six years ago in the body of a tourist. Her child has carried him since. But Chort grew in power since he came back to his domain, and tonight, he’ll claim his new body for good. He won’t be content sharing with a human priest any longer.”

Emil couldn’t believe what he’d just heard. And from Nowak at that. A man who never expressed interest in the supernatural, too engrossed in his businesses. Your typical dad, with a pot belly, and who occasionally grew a moustache. “You know something about the things that have been happening to him? How? And… where’s Adam? Are you saying he’s in danger?” His head throbbed with sudden heat. No matter how disappointed, how furious Emil was with Adam, he would still jump through fire for him.

Nowak wiped his face clean once the rain became only a drizzle. He cleared his throat. “It’s a goddamn long story, but I’ll keep it short,” he said with his eyebrows lowered, as if he were offended by having to report any of this to the likes of Emil. “You might know Chort as a demon, or even think it’s just another name for the devil, but he’s always been fair to his own people. The people of Dybukowo and the whole valley. But the people have forgotten him, so he deserted us.