Where the Devil Says Goodnight (Folk Lore 1)

“Yes. I’m feeling very well here. What did you want to ask me?”

“There’s cake. Do you want some?” Mrs. Janina asked in a low tone that betrayed barely held back annoyance.

“Oh. Yes. Thank you.” He wouldn’t say no to Mrs. Janina’s cake. Her baked goods were as sweet as her face was sour.

“It’s leftover from the wake,” she said. “I suppose people didn’t have much appetite after hearing the accounts of what happened to poor Zofia.”

“May she rest in peace,” Father Marek said, and cut himself a generous helping of the cocoa sponge.

“Are people still blaming Emil?” Adam asked, trying to sound casual because of Mrs. Janina’s negative attitude toward Emil. He’d been appalled at the gossip about him. Sure, Emil was definitely a self-professed sinner, but not in the ways rumors portrayed.

“Bad luck is not a sin, but bad luck always clings to a sinner,” Mrs. Janina said, about to sit down with her own dessert when someone knocked. “Who comes to visit at lunchtime? So rude,” she added and padded out of the dining room.

The pastor shook his head and filled his mouth with a huge piece of the cake, which left crumbs on his damp lips. “People always look for a scapegoat, but poor Emil isn’t doing himself any favors. It all went downhill for him after his grandfather died.”

The sweet sponge got stuck in Adam’s throat, and he had to wash it down with water. “What do you mean?” he asked, already on edge.

Father Marek shrugged. “He looks different. He doesn’t do things like he’s expected to. His granddad, Zenon Slowik, he used to be a sort of… buffer. But when he died and Emil was left on his own, he stopped connecting with people.”

“And that should excuse their hostility toward him?”

The pastor scowled. “Some of them might have their reasons,” he said, and it struck Adam that if Pastor Marek had listened to Emil’s confessions, he likely knew of his sexual transgressions. The wooden chair felt as if it was on fire.

“But still, shouldn’t you take a stand? As the pastor, I mean.”

“I’ve invited him to church many times. He refuses to worship with everyone. In a close-knit community like this one, everyone needs to know their place. People get nervous when others act out of line. I would have intervened if there was any violence, but I can hardly make people enjoy his company, can I?”

When Adam couldn’t find an answer to that other than desperately wanting for Emil to be treated better, the pastor went on.

“And those crows attacking Mrs. Zofia? Terrible business. I’m not saying it’s his doing, but do you not think it’s a strange thing to happen?”

Adam stared. “Are you suggesting Emil wields supernatural powers over crows, Father?”

Pastor Marek spread his arms. “People say that the mountains here are so tall God can’t always see everywhere, and that leaves room for Chort to roam.”

Adam just sat there, surprised to hear jokes like this from a senior clergyman, but Mrs. Janina entered with Mrs. Golonko, the shop owner who’d denied Adam help on his first night in Dybukowo. Dressed in a fine dress accessorized with a patterned silk scarf around her neck, Mrs. Golonko sat by the table without waiting for an invitation, and Mrs. Janina offered her a dessert plate.

“Pastor, you need to do something about Emil Slowik,” she said in a harsh voice and shook her manicured finger at Father Marek, who chewed the chocolate cake, unfazed by her rudeness.

“What is it this time?” tore from Adam’s lips before he could have stopped himself, and the woman’s eyes settled on him in silence that told Adam she considered him barely competent to breathe, let alone lead God’s flock.

In the end, she granted him an answer. “He is once again up to ungodly work.”

Mrs. Janina nodded. She must have been filled in on this back in the corridor.

Adam felt dizzy. “Prostitution?” he whispered, and the table went silent.

“What?” Mrs. Golonko stared back at him. “No! He’s fortune telling!”

Adam stuffed his lips full of the cake so that no one would even consider asking him what train of thought made him associate Emil with selling sex, but Father Marek was as laid back as usual.

“Is that all? I thought he’s out there skinning cats alive.”

Mrs. Golonko’s lungs filled so fast it left her chest comically pushed out. “How can you be so dismissive of this, Father? What he’s doing is not only sinful. It’s also fraud! I only found out because two of my friends asked if I could introduce them to the Oracle of Dybukowo, since I’m his neighbor! Can you imagine what kind of infamy this might bring on our village?”

Apparently, in the world of divination, personal connections were as crucial as in the search for the right plastic surgeon, but Adam didn’t voice those thoughts, because their guest would have taken offense. And denied ever getting any ‘work’ done.