Where the Devil Says Goodnight (Folk Lore 1)

Just like that, they were one word away from punches flying.

“My problem is that White Power tattoo on your bicep. You still got that? Or did you replace it with a crossed-out rainbow or something?” Emil asked, clenching his fists.

Adam sucked in air when Piotr took a step closer, stiff as a slab of concrete. His face went red within a split second, and the only thing keeping him from going for Emil’s throat could’ve been the fact that his kids might’ve seen it. His eyes briefly darted over his shoulder again, and he took a deep breath. “I can easily find out where you fags live,” he said in a low rumble, and the threat had Adam’s stomach dropping.

“Can we do a time-out here? I don’t know what this is about. I’m a priest.”

Piotr eyed him, lips twisting. “You don’t look like a priest to me.”

Emil, on the other hand, was a wall and didn’t even flinch. Adam’s guess was that he didn’t want to start a fight with a guy who had his kids looking, either. “Maybe actually come over on your own this time, without five friends to back you up against a teen,” he snarled, and it became painfully obvious to Adam that there was history between the two men.

“Let’s try to work this out like civilized people,” Adam said, attempting to stand between them, but Piotr shoved him back.

“I’m talking to your lover boy, so stay in your lane.”

Adam had never been manhandled, not since childhood, and the force behind what was only a half-assed shove made uncertainty crawl up his back. It wasn’t a good idea to confront someone so aggressive, and he pulled at the back of Emil’s jacket.

Emil wasn’t having any of it though and in turn shoved Piotr. “You touch him one more time, and kids or no kids, you’ll be scraping your fucking face off the asphalt!”

The crows around them became louder, some flying up into the air, cawing like a crowd goading on a pair of boxers, but Adam would not let any blood spill.

Everything inside Adam told him to run, but he would not desert Emil on the battlefield. “This is ridiculous. Piotr, is that the kind of message you want to send your daughters? You can’t beat people up in the street and think God will forgive you if you confess and say the Lord’s Prayer ten times!”

Piotr huffed at him, showing his teeth, as if he were a dog threatening to bite. “If you really are who you’re saying you are, then you better start using your head, Father. So you studied for five years to become a priest, and you think that gives you all the answers? It’s because of meek people like you that lefty scum took over all the institutions in this country!”

“There’s literally a cross in every single classroom and government building in this country. What are you talking about?”

Piotr put his hands up with a scowl. “We’re done here. None of that depravity would have happened if John Paul the Second was still here. He would have showed vermin like you their place. Over my dead body are you getting my cherries! I’d rather see them rot than let them fall into your filthy hands!” With those words, Piotr turned around and walked back toward his car like a bulldozer.

Adam stared at his back, his heart still beating like crazy and pumping adrenaline through his bloodstream. “Who does he think Pope John Paul was? Captain Catholic, the superhero killing enemies of the Church with a cross-shaped sword? I’m sorry for his children.”

Emil shook his head, stiff as walking tree. “Let’s go,” he said and grabbed Adam’s hand, but Adam flinched away.

He regretted the abruptness of his reaction when hurt flashed through Emil’s gaze, quickly replaced by a mask of indifference. “Maybe you’d like to do something else. We have the whole day to ourselves,” he tried, hoping that he might distract Emil from the fiasco.

“Yeah, and no cherries because I’m a ‘fag’. Let’s just go home.”

Adam’s gaze darted toward the church tower yet again, but there was no way he’d be going off to confession when Emil was so upset. “Okay. Sure. We could go for a walk once we’re home.”

“Let’s do that,” Emil grumbled and stuffed his hands into his pockets, leading the way to the car, but it was Adam who had the keys, so he ended up just standing by the passenger door as the first drops of rain fell from the sky.

Adam sat in the driver’s seat, unable to shake off the sense of failure. He should have been smarter about the way he tried to cool down the situation, though maybe Emil wouldn’t have let him. He didn’t have any words of comfort yet, so he started the car and drove off, uncomfortable in the dense silence that filled the vehicle with each passing moment.