Where the Devil Says Goodnight

by K. A. Merikan

  He remained motionless, in case something about his behavior would trigger yet more aggression in the animal, but when the horse leaned closer, inhaling Adam’s smell, tension slowly left his body and soaked into the moss.

  “Uh… hi there,” he said, unsure how to proceed, but when the baby-soft skin of the horse’s muzzle rubbed his cheek, Adam touched the firm neck. “Good boy.”

  “Jinx! Jinx, you bastard, come back here!” a man yelled somewhere from beyond the fog, hammering heavy boots on the asphalt at a frantic pace.

  Adam was so thoroughly drenched that any chances of making a good first impression on the pastor lay in the chocolates, but at least there was someone he could ask whether he hadn’t taken the wrong turn somewhere after all.

  A flashlight shone into his face the moment he stepped from behind the animal, forcing him to shut his eyes. “Um… Is this horse yours?” he asked, peeling his lids apart when the bright ray pointed at his ruined shoes instead.

  The stranger shook his head, his silhouette still a blur when he approached in fast strides. “The fuck you doing here at night? Sitting in ditches to scare people like some drowner? Damn…”

  Adam lost his voice at the onslaught of swearing, but when he saw the stranger’s face, it became impossible to say anything even when he tried.

  Eyes framed by long lashes pinned him in place so firmly, it felt as if the ferns had curled around his feet like tentacles and kept him in place. If this man said the word, Adam would have been ready to make love to him here and now. In the rain, in a ditch, with wind howling above them and lightning striking each time either of them thrust their hips seeking illicit pleasure. And for no reason at all, he was sure their kisses would taste of raspberries and blood.

  The man’s combat boots were tied halfway up, and he wore an all-black outfit of sweatpants and a T-shirt, which featured the word BEHEMOTH and an upside-down cross. And while Adam at first assumed he had long sleeves, he quickly realized the black and white patterns covering his entire arms were in fact tattoos. His hair was as long as the horse’s mane, and the wind tossed it back and forth, slapping it against the man’s face like black tentacles, only to peel the damp locks back and uncover the devastating beauty of his features. It was difficult to tell how old he was, but thirty was Adam’s wild guess.

  “I slipped,” Adam said in a small voice, briefly hunching over when another lightning bolt cut through the dark sky, reflecting in the stranger’s green eyes.

  The man placed the flashlight between his thighs and swiftly put a halter on the horse’s large head before pulling on the attached reins, so they faced one another. “What the hell were you thinking, Jinx? You’re all wet,” he said but patted the beast’s neck and took hold of the flashlight again before glancing Adam’s way.

  The cool glow revealed a scar that ran through the man’s left eyebrow, parting the hair, and a small bump in the middle of his nose, as if it had been broken in the past. But as Adam’s gaze slid lower, he noticed a silver ring piercing the stranger’s septum, with a small ball hanging in the tempting dip above the lips. He was as magnificent as his animal. Tall. Broad in the shoulders, his eyes equally wild, and moves—just as graceful. And as man and beast stood side by side, Adam had no doubt those two were brothers in spirit too.

  “Are you okay? The fucker burst out of the barn as if it was on fire.”

  The question startled Adam out of his trance, and he crossed his arms over his chest, no longer even attempting to protect himself from the rain. “I think so,” he said, unsure how to deal with the insistent pull in his muscles. It was as if every fibre in his body longed to wrap around the stranger, and panic was already settling in. “Could you show me the way to the church?”

  “It’ll be twenty minutes in this crazy weather. I can take you there. Least I can do to apologize for this monster scaring the shit out of you. I’m Emil.” He held out his hand, a roguish smile pulling on his handsome face, and Adam stalled, mortified that he’d be inviting the devil into his heart if he squeezed it.

  But rejecting the offered hand would have been a slight that might forever damage his relationship with the locals, so he took a step forward and squeezed it, staring back for a bit too long when he sensed fresh meat in the air. The hand was supple yet firm, and so hot under that cold skin it might just be what was cooking for his pleasure. His mouth watered, and when Emil took away his fingers at last, Adam stood still like Lot’s wife once she got turned into salt and stared at him in disbelief.

  “A-Adam.”

  Emil smiled and entwined his fingers, creating a basket. Adam didn’t understand what that was about until Emil leaned down and urged him, “hop on.”

  Jinx huffed, shook his head, and pressed his muzzle against the side of Adam’s head.

  “What… on the horse?” But before Adam could have made a decision, Emil grabbed his foot and provided him with a stepping stool of hands. Adam went with it, and despite the awkwardness of it all, managed to drag one of his legs across Jinx’s hindquarters and straddle the animal. He didn’t think Emil needed to touch his ass when helping him up, but… maybe there had been a reason? Adam didn’t know anything about horses.

  It was dark, but the moment he straightened on the saddleless back, height fright hit him like a baseball bat. “I—maybe this isn’t such a good idea.”

  Emil pushed his sopping wet hair back and passed Adam his duffel bag. “Where’s your sense of adventure?” When he clicked his tongue, the horse leaned forward, making Adam fear for his life, but he managed to keep his balance until Emil hopped on in front of him.

  After seconds of silence, Emil cleared his throat. “There’s no saddle, Adam. You have to hold on to me.”

  Adam struggled to breathe. Arousal was no longer just an afterthought. It crawled up his thighs and tugged at his balls, as unwelcome as an itchy rash, but he stuffed his duffel bag in front of his crotch to reduce the potential for social death in the village of Dybukowo to a minimum. He hovered his hands close to Emil’s shoulders, because he wanted to touch them a bit too much, but when the man looked back and met his gaze with a roguish smile, Adam had no choice but to feel his firm muscle.

  As soon as the horse picked up pace, Adam put his hands under Emil’s arms and around his waist. The man’s skin was a layer of wet cotton away, and only the decency buffer of the bag between them saved Adam from the hellfire already licking his skin.

  He’d never thought much about what his ‘type’ was, since he shouldn’t have had one. It was better to avoid thinking about such things, but if he were to ponder it long and hard, he doubted he’d ever consider a long-haired metalhead with a bump on his nose the go-to fantasy. But sitting behind Emil, touching him, Adam couldn’t imagine having a type other than him.

  There wasn’t even a type in Adam’s mind anymore. Only Emil.

  Which was insane, since he’d just met the man, and they’d barely exchanged a few words.

  Adam’s thoughts caught up with reality when he realized Emil slowed at a crossroads in the fields, but the sight before him pushed indecent thoughts back to the darkest corners of his mind.

  Virgin Mary’s face remained in the shadows of the tiny countryside shrine, but for a brief moment, he feared that she might step out of the safety of her home and scold him for the images that passed through his mind since he first saw Emil.

  “So…” Emil’s voice startled Adam out of his petrified state. “Church is that way.” He pointed to the right. “My house is that way.” He pointed to the left.

  Adam’s mind went blank. Why was Emil telling him this?

  “Good to know,” he said, confused until the reality of Emil’s statement sank in. Was this guy inviting him over?

  “You could dry your clothes and stay the night. The church will be closed until morning anyway.” Emil looked over his shoulder, searching Adam’s face, but the glint of canines in his smile was the wakeup call Adam needed. He hadn’t been saved but hunted down by a wolf in human
skin.

  And Adam’s body wanted to offer his flesh for chewing so very much.

  His breath hitched as he struggled against a pull he’d never experienced before. Like hunger, it turned his stomach into a bottomless pit of greed, and made him focus on the place where damp hair clung to Emil’s bare neck, tempting him to sink in his teeth. Emil smelled like the rain, like the damp ground, and leaves in the summer. Irresistible. It was as if he had taken a pheromone bath, and the aroma it left on his skin rendered Adam powerless.

  But he still had his brain. He was not an animal to just do as his hormones urged him in any given moment.

  “Thank you, but the pastor is waiting for me.”

  Emil gave a deep sigh but nudged the horse to the right. “Shame.”

  Adam didn’t even know how to answer that, so he kept his mouth shut as Emil directed Jinx away from the shrine and toward the imposing form of the church, which Emil noticed when lightning illuminated the night again.

  Perched on top of a mild slope, its single tower loomed above a thatch of trees, but it was a small building at the back where Adam was actually heading. He couldn’t wait to get away from the handsome stranger who offered him things no man ever should to another.

  Adam didn’t wait for Emil’s help, and threw his bag down as soon as they reached the gate to the church yard. “Thank you for the ride,” he said and slid off the horse, his toes curling when Emil grabbed his arm to guide him off the huge animal.

  At least going by the upside down cross on Emil’s T-shirt, Adam wouldn’t be seeing the man in church.

  Emil watched him from the back of his enormous mount, majestic like a prince watching a lowly servant toil the fields. A cocky smile crooked his mouth, as if he somehow knew Adam’s thoughts. Damn him.

  Adam went straight into the yard in front of the church.

  Wind blew into his face the moment he passed under the cast iron arch above the gate, pushing him back toward Emil, as if God knew his thoughts too and didn’t want him to shepherd the flock of Dybukowo. But Adam clenched his teeth and braved the ugly weather until he passed the church and reached the steps leading to the front door of the white building behind it. It wasn’t as large as the parsonage he’d lived at until yesterday and was definitely much older, but it looked welcoming, with flowers in the windows, even if all its lights were off.

  Painfully aware that nobody expected him tonight, he hung his head and knocked.

  He did it two more times before the wooden door opened. An elderly woman showed up, frowning at him, as if she weren’t sure she recognized him or not without the glasses she surely wore at her age.

  “Who’s dying?” she barked, touching the helmet of gray hair and blue rollers, as if she feared she wasn’t presentable enough to accept callers. Her eyes were set so deeply shadow hid them from Adam’s view, and the bottom half of her face appeared sunken in suggestion she’d already removed her artificial teeth for the night. In the faint light of the moon, her features appeared almost too angular, too much like a skull straight from a label on a bottle of rat poison, and Adam braced himself for a flood of acid.

  “No one.”

  “Only the devil walks out there at this ungodly hour,” she said, stepping outside in leather slippers, as if she were the guard dog of this parsonage. “Who are you?”

  Adam was way too tired for witty remarks. “I’m Adam Kwiatkowski. The new priest. I know I’m here a bit early—”

  “A bit? You were supposed to arrive tomorrow. Oh well, I guess you’re here now, so that’s that,” she huffed and stepped aside to let him in. “I’m Janina Luty, the housekeeper. The pastor should have come down here himself, but he’d slept through the racket, as he always does,” she grumbled, and Adam made a note of her attitude. If he wanted to fit in, he’d need to learn what made the most important people in the village tick, and in his case, the housekeeper might be of even more importance than the pastor.

  “I’m very sorry,” he said, wiping the soles of his shoes on the doormat] before taking them off. The tiled floor was like ice against his damp feet, but at least he was out of the rain. The woman looked at the wet imprints he made and shook her head with a low exhale. It only occurred to Adam then that she hadn’t offered him food, clearly not amused by the insolence of someone disturbing her sleep.

  “The room’s ready for you,” she said and led the way down a neat yet old-fashioned hallway with religious pictures hung on white walls and wooden beams on the ceiling. Adam was glad to discover his new quarters were close to the bathroom, but the room itself greeted him with a blow of frosty air.

  “We will speak about this in the morning,” Mrs. Janina said and handed him a towel. “This parsonage has rules.”

  Adam had no doubt ‘don’t wake up Mrs. Janina, ever’ was at the top of the list, but he thanked the housekeeper profusely, apologized once more, and sat in a wooden chair with a deep sigh as soon as she left him.

  So this would be his new home. Two single beds on either side of the small space. A chair and a desk. A framed picture of Pope John Paul II, yellowed from sun exposure. And, of course, an old-fashioned tiled stove, which looked as if it had been borrowed from the set of a historical movie, but so far, hadn’t offered him a warm welcome.

  He opened his backpack to remove the laptop, only to see that the box of chocolates had been squashed.

  Helplessness sank its bony fingers into Adam’s flesh, and he rubbed his face, not even ready to take off his clothes yet. Warmth might have been too much of a temptation after… after being so close to another man while Jinx had carried them to the parsonage.

  He faced the door, still in his wet clothes, but his nape tingled, as if touched by a warm hand, and he spun around, placing his palms on either side of the small window. The lone horse rider, who stopped on the way back to the woods couldn’t have watched him from afar, but Adam still sensed his green gaze cutting through clothes and rubbing cool flesh until it was hot.

  He could not let those thoughts overcome him.

  Adam stepped back, his lungs working like bellows until the flicker of desire spread throughout his entire body, and he stuffed his hands into the open luggage, frantically searching for his most prized possession. The wooden handle felt like an extension of his hand, and when he pulled out the scourge, the sight of three tails finished with wooden beads swung in greeting and promised relief.

  Adam’s most trusted friend.

  Chapter 3 - Emil

  Emil didn’t often ride his old Yamaha motorbike. It had been Grandfather’s pride and joy, a mean 1970s machine the color of a ladybird, but since gas prices had sharply risen, it had gathered dust in Emil’s shed. It might have been most practical to sell it off to a collector of classic vehicles—and it would have been a much-needed cash injection to Emil’s permanently ailing budget too—but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Not just because it used to be Grandpa’s, but also because Radek enjoyed riding in the bitch seat so much.

  Today though, there was no joy in having Radek’s lean body against his. Emil tried not to think about it too much, but once Radek got onto the bus, they might not see one another for ages. He’d surely be back for Kupala Night in June, and then for Christmas, but between university and the part-time job Radek had already lined up in Cracow, the visits wouldn’t last more than a couple of days at a time.

  He wasn’t in love with Radek, but there was a genuine spark to their friendship, the kind Emil had only experienced with a handful of people. Despite the nine-year age gap they were on the same wavelength, enjoyed the same music, and had too many inside jokes to count.

  To Emil, Radek was more of a friend with benefits than a hook-up, which was something rare in this remote village, where their sexuality was hush-hush. If the cell phone signal were good enough to support Grindr, the app would surely show him the few people he’d already hooked up with a million times, for lack of better options.

  There had been a time two years ago when Emil had toyed w
ith the idea of Radek becoming a more stable presence in his life. He’d wondered if they could take things to a different level, defy the conservative attitude of the locals, and live together, but he hadn’t gotten to voice those thoughts before Radek gleefully announced he planned to enroll to university in Cracow. Maybe it was for the better that he hadn’t said anything, because Radek was twenty and not ready to settle down.

  And the fact that he told Emil in detail of all his sexual exploits was yet another indicator of how he viewed their relationship. Emil didn’t have the right to jealousy and was way past any inklings of it at this point, but he would miss Radek as a friend. He’d miss their sex, doing DIY together, and watching Radek add notches to his bedpost right under the nose of his homophobic dad.

  Elusive like a young fox, Radek hooked up with strangers during family vacations, right under everyone’s nose, but the village head was too enamored with his only son to notice his transgressions. He even rationalized Radek’s long hair and tight jeans as a part of Radek being an ‘artistic soul’ whenever someone as much as dared to look at him the wrong way. No one wanted to be at odds with the wealthiest man in the village and one of the major employers in the area, which gave Radek the privilege of untouchability.

  But such was life. Radek had been lucky to be born into a family of means while Emil had learnt not to expect much and be happy when reality was bearable. So he didn’t have many prospects in Dybukowo, but he wouldn’t starve as long as he could hunt, forage, and do odd jobs around the village. That counted for something.

  “I’ve thought about renting a studio apartment, but it’ll be more fun to share. You know, have instant friends in a new place,” Radek said, tightening his arms around Emil’s chest as they drove between the farms scattered throughout the valley tucked between forested mountain slopes. The sun was still low. Like Emil’s mood.

  He sometimes toyed with the idea of leaving. He could gather the few valuables he had, lock the door, and leave the homestead to rot. He could take a long-distance bus to Cracow, get a job there, and start fresh. Find someone to love. Meet people like him, who wouldn’t be just passing through. Not have to hide who he was all the fucking time.