But he couldn’t. Not when he had animals to take care of. The chickens could be sold, and the goat too, but getting rid of Jinx wasn’t an option he wanted to consider. The horse was the one special thing in his life, a personal gift from his grandad, and an exquisite animal—strong and agile despite the many scars he’d collected over the years. The one creature who wouldn’t desert Emil, and fantastic tourist bait all in one. Emil couldn’t even count how many guys he’d seduced by hooking them with a ride on Jinx. That kind of partnership deserved loyalty.
Emil’s thoughts drifted to the shy stranger he’d met the previous night. Adam. Their time together had been brief, dampened by darkness, mud, and rain that had felt like icy needles biting into skin, but he still sensed the heat left behind by the sparks flying between their bodies as they rode on Jinx’s back.
Emil wouldn’t have called his gaydar amazing, but unless Adam was a psycho who literally wanted to feast on Emil’s meat, there was something to score there.
Only time would tell whether Adam was visiting Dybukowo in passing or if he’d stay at the parsonage for a few more days. Mrs. Janina Luty, the pastor’s housekeeper wasn’t fond of people, especially strangers, which made Emil wonder whether Adam wasn’t a relative of hers. If that were the case, he could kill two birds with one stone by seducing the old nag’s precious nephew.
But he was getting ahead of himself. There was a beautiful boy sitting on the back of his bike, and their time together was almost over.
“It’s no fun living alone,” he yelled over the noise made by his bike, referring to his friend’s comment about sharing an apartment with strangers.
Radek remained silent for a couple of seconds, but as Emil slowed down, approaching the bus stop across from the general store, the velvety voice teased his ears. “Maybe you could visit some time once I’m established there?”
He parked in front of the graffiti-covered bus stop, which really was just a glorified shed that stank of piss and puke, but since there was no bench, both of them stood by the motorbike and watched crows congregate on the nearby tree like the creepiest of Christmas ornaments.
Emil sighed and shook his head at the birds. They had followed him everywhere since he could remember, to a point where other children used to be afraid of spending time with him. Yet another reason to be ostracized.
The witch’s grandson. The boy with no parents. Guarded by jealous crows. And whether they saw the evil in his heart, as one girl put it, or were in love with him, as Granddad used to joke when he was still at Emil’s side, the consequences were all the same.
He lit himself a cigarette and leaned half an inch closer to Radek’s slender form. The staff of the general store would watch them at a time so quiet, so any and all displays of affection were out of the question, but with no one else waiting for the bus, they could talk frankly at least.
“Cracow is six hours away, if you’re lucky. There’s no one who could take care of the animals overnight.”
Radek groaned, for a moment looking much younger than his twenty years. Emil would miss him—the way his freckled nose wrinkled when he smiled, and the fiery red hair scattered over Emil’s old monogrammed pillows. “Oh, come ooon! Can’t you get a pet-sitter for a week, or something? I bet someone out there is dying to spend a few days in a thatch-covered house in Bieszczady, petting a beautiful horse. I could take some photos of the place next time I’m here.”
Emil took a long inhale of smoke, struggling not to raise his voice at Radek in those few precious minutes together. Everything seemed so easy for him. Maybe that was what happened when your family had money to spare for ‘pet-sitters’. Emil, on the other hand, was a flytrap for bad luck. If he asked someone to take care of his home, he’d surely come back to find his most precious things gone.
“Nah, the house is old and it’s got all these quirks, you know. It’s hard to handle for someone who doesn’t know it.”
“Airbnb it?”
Emil groaned. “What did I just say?”
Radek’s shoulders slumped. “Right. No Internet. This really sucks,” he said, and his hand discreetly rubbed its way down Emil’s spine. No one could see it, even through the large windows of the store. “But it would be great if you came over. There’s no other gay guy around here, right? I feel bad leaving you behind,” he said, exhaling as he looked across the empty road, at the store owner, Mrs. Golonko, who stepped out, still talking to someone inside.
Emil shrugged and put on a smile for Radek’s benefit. “I’m fine. You know I’ve got an eye for spotting thirsty tourists.”
Radek laughed and shoved at Emil’s arm. “You’re so nasty.”
“And you love it,” Emil whispered with a grin but lowered his voice when Mrs. Golonko adjusted her velvety jacket and stepped across a hole in the asphalt, approaching the bus stop in heels so high they might bend her ankle backwards if she made a wrong move. It seemed play time with Radek was over.
“Good morning. You going somewhere, Emil?” she asked, attempting a frown, but her smooth forehead only twitched.
“Why? You keeping tabs on me, Mrs. Golonko? I’m flattered, but what about your husband?”
“I was just surprised you have enough money for a ticket. Or gas.”
Ah, the joys of being unworthy of the unofficial queen of the village.
Radek cleared his throat. “Why would you be interested in the contents of Emil’s bank account?”
She snorted and pushed her permed hair back. “He doesn’t have one. I know. I employ him sometimes. Isn’t that right?” she asked, stabbing her gaze into Emil’s chest.
Emil put out his cigarette against the wall of the bus stop. “That is correct, Mrs. Golonko. I’d be nothing without you.” He knew Radek would enjoy the sarcasm, but the fact that she wasn’t lying made his insides twist in shame. Emil had no prospects for full-time employment and lived day-to-day, so doing odd jobs for the Golonkos often kept him afloat. If he antagonized her too much, he’d be left with one option—to seek employment at the fox fur farm belonging to Radek’s dad and her—something he’d promised himself he’d never stoop to.
Mrs. Golonko raised her chin, as if she wasn’t sure how to take his answer, but Jessika, Mrs. Golonko’s daughter chose that moment to call her mother back into the store. “Don’t bite the hand that feeds you,” she grumbled before hopping back across the road in the fancy red-soled shoes she clearly wasn’t comfortable in.
Emil smiled at Radek, eager to savor the short time they had left, but his ears were already picking up the tired groans of the old bus.
“I’m really glad you could give me a lift. Next time, I’ll take you for a ride in that new car Dad promised to get me,” Radek said, oblivious to the nail he was hammering into Emil’s pride.
“You’ll miss the chance to inconspicuously grind against my ass in public once Daddy gets you a Porsche” Emil said nevertheless, determined to keep his chin high.
Radek laughed, and his fingers briefly slipped under the back of Adam’s T-shirt, caressing his skin. “I’m sure I’ll generally miss your ass, Mr. Mentor,” he said, and for a shocking moment that had the hairs on Emil’s back rising, it seemed like Radek might break the unspoken code of secrecy and lean in for a kiss. But he wouldn’t. Not in Dybukowo. Not in front of Mrs. Golonko’s store. Even if Radek were willing to come out, Emil’s unlucky run-in with a bunch of skinheads years ago had taught him a lesson painful enough he would never forget it.
He pulled away. “Take care of yourself.”
But as the bus emerged from behind a hill, Radek pushed a rolled-up bank note into Emil’s hand. “For the gas.”
The need to reject the cash was like the worst heartburn, but Emil was in too much of a bind to be prideful. “Thanks. But I’ll get you some boar sausage next time you come over, deal?”
“Always up for your sausage.” Radek grinned but had already picked up his large backpack and stepped toward the bus, which came to a halt, trembling from the efforts of it
s journey so far. The sun shone through Radek’s red locks, turning them into a halo that beckoned Emil in a helpless need to keep one of his few friends close. But he wouldn’t be an obstruction in Radek’s life and waved at him with a sparse smile.
He watched his friend take a seat by the window, and they looked at one another until the bus disappeared between the trees.
Emil’s heart thrashed in protest, tempting him to get on the bike and follow the bus all the way to Cracow, but he knew that as long as Jinx was alive, his place was here. And he couldn’t leave Jinx. No matter how much he loved the beast, his horse was one of the things that kept him in Dybukowo. At twenty-one, he was still fit as a buck, and sometimes Emil wondered how his life could change if one day Jinx peacefully passed away. He doubted he’d be able to sell his grandparents’ house even if he wanted to, but maybe he could rent it out for parts of the year and travel, no longer a prisoner to circumstance and obligation.
But he’d have to save up for that anyway, and his pockets were like sieves.
When Mrs. Golonko called out from her store, he pretended not to hear her and darted back toward his home, making the motorcycle roar as it left behind a cloud of dust and fumes. This day had already started on a bad note, and he could always listen to her insults some other time.
He drove past the tiny wooden building that used to house an elementary school before the advent of school busses, the notice board, homes of neighbors who knew all about his failures yet rarely did anything to help him out, and sped out of the main body of the village, so that nobody could see the twist on his face.
He could only breathe normally again once he dashed between two fields, nearing the crossroads between the church and his own home.
Maybe the stallion could find another owner, but he wasn’t the picture-pretty horse most people wanted for entertainment or sports, and the thought of Jinx ending up at a slaughterhouse somewhere in Italy or France made everything inside him ache. And who was he even kidding? He might be telling himself it was just a horse, but he’d promised Granddad he’d never get rid of it, that he’d always keep Jinx close, and he couldn’t break that promise, no matter how badly he yearned to leave Dybukowo behind.
But the worst thing was that he didn’t even know if he truly wanted to move to a big city anyway. Accustomed to having nature on his doorstep and plenty of space he didn’t have to pay in blood for, he might never get used to the noise and pace of life in a place like Cracow.
So maybe he was dirt-poor, lonely, and his future didn’t hold any promise, but at least he could go skinny-dipping in the nearby lake, or take long horse rides in the dense forests that smelled of moss, pine, and rain. Because when he was on his own or with people who treated him well, he didn’t feel stuck at all. The sun greeted him each morning and kissed his cheek goodnight, and when grass tickled him between the toes, he knew that his soul was bound to these mountains, and he would never find happiness anywhere else.
Without Radek to keep him occupied, Emil’s thoughts drifted to the handsome tourist Jinx had scared last night, and he glanced toward the church. He could inquire about Adam—just a bit of small-town courtesy extended to a lost stranger, but his mood was still grim, and he chose the safety of his home, with its thatch, small windows framed with blue paint, and his animals.
But all hopes for a quiet morning of moping dispersed when he spotted a dark green pickup truck parked in the narrow passage between his backyard and the woods.
He left the bike by the dirt road and pushed the low wooden gate open with his foot, entering the property. His chickens walked about undisturbed, but the moment he approached the coop, the door of his meat shed opened, and Filip Koterski emerged in his green forest ranger outfit.
“Hey. You looking for something?” Emil asked, but his blood was running cold already.
“I didn’t know you had a smokehouse,” Filip said, stuffing his hands down his pockets. He was handsome, in an average kind of way, with thick black hair, and a tan he’d gotten from constantly being outdoors. The triangular birthmark on his left cheek was the size of a small coin and an asset rather than a flaw, since it made him stand out from other averagely-handsome men around.
And despite the unease creeping under Emil’s skin, he couldn’t help but notice the things that had attracted him to Filip in the first place. “I would have showed it to you if you asked,” he said, unhappy about someone—even a hook-up—snooping around his homestead. He could have sworn he’d locked the smokehouse with a padlock. Had he forgotten?
“Would you though? Where’d you get the boar?”
Emil frowned. “Oh, come on, you know where I got the boar,” he said, gesturing at the forest
Filip clicked his tongue and shook his head. “Poaching is illegal.”
Were they seriously having this conversation? On the day of Radek’s departure from Emil’s life? “You know I stick to the rules. I never let animals suffer, never endanger the young or hunt out of season.”
Filip gave a theatrical sigh. “Still, no licence. You aren’t a member of the Hunters’ Association.”
“I can’t afford it right now,” Emil said, struggling to keep his cool in the face of such rudeness. Filip knew very well such things weren’t uncommon in the area, so why would he target him of all people, when they actually knew one another quite well?
“Then you can’t hunt,” Filip said, stepping back into the smokehouse, only to emerge with a whole string of homemade sausages hanging off his forearm. Blood left Emil’s head and added weight to his fists.
“Really? You’d rather see me starve than look the other way a couple times?”
Filip dropped the sausages Emil had worked so hard on into an open plastic box he must had placed in the middle of the yard earlier. In that moment, Emil wished he had a dog, so he could sic it on this treacherous bastard.
Filip looked up. “The law’s the law. Consider it a warning. I won’t notify anyone, and make this my wedding gift.”
Emil’s brain hollowed despite the anger still simmering in his blood. “What wedding?”
“Next month. My bride, Judyta, isn’t originally from here, but you’ll meet her soon enough. Gotta have a good relationship with the forest ranger’s wife.”
Emil shook his head. “What are you talking about? I sucked your dick, like, three weeks ago.”
Filip rolled his eyes. “So? I was experimenting.”
Emil couldn’t comprehend what was happening around him anymore. Filip had gotten weird toward him last year, after his father died, but this really took the cake.
“What, for the past three years? But… it’s none of my business. I don’t need to know. But can’t you just lay off on the sausage? For old times’ sake.”
Filip smirked. “Maybe I could turn a blind eye if you invited me in?” he asked, taking a wider stance, as if he wanted to draw Emil’s attention to his crotch.
Son of a bitch.
“I don’t fuck cheaters. And for your information, I also don’t fuck thieves, so you might as well take that sausage and never show your face here again.”
Filip rolled his eyes, but grabbed the box of Emil’s blood, sweat, and tears. “Fine. Suit yourself. And for the record, you’re not invited to the wedding.”
Emil clenched his fists because his hand was far too close to an axe as he watched Filip load the meats and sausage into the back of his pickup. “Congratulate the bride from me then. Hope you two are very happy as you munch on someone else’s sausage.”
Filip snorted and got into the driver’s seat. “I could have reported this, you know? I’m basically doing you a favor.”
Emil bit his tongue this time, unwilling to waste his breath on the piece of shit. Once Filip was gone, he did grab the axe and started chopping wood, because he needed to channel his fury somewhere, but every log he split seemed to make his anger worse.
He was a rabid bear trapped in a cage called Dybukowo, and on some days, his belly was full, his play needs s
ated, and the sun shone at his fur through the metal bars, but right now, he could’ve rammed his skull against them time and time again in a desperate attempt to escape.
If he had money, getting that meat taken wouldn’t have been such a huge deal, just a waste of his time and effort, but as it stood, the sausages had already been spoken for and he’d need to tell Mrs. Sarnowicz that he wouldn’t be able to deliver. Which landed him back in square one when it came to paying off his debt for her husband repairing his thatched roof last winter.
The village was a web of sticky, unpleasant connections, and he was the fly helplessly trying to wriggle its way out. But he wasn’t willing to give up yet.
“Shoo!” he yelled at the crows gathering on the roof of his house and mocking him with their screeching. He was so used to their presence by now he wouldn’t have minded them following him everywhere if they didn’t shit all over. Most often—in his homestead.
Maybe Radek was right, and Emil could leave this place. Filip had been so triumphant over his discovery that he hadn’t noticed the trapdoor leading to a small cellar under the meat shed. And since the local pastor loved the liquor infusions Emil made following his granddad’s recipe, maybe there was a chance to secure some cash and sweeten this shitty day.
Pastor Marek wasn’t a bad guy, but he often criticized Emil for his looks, so Emil tied his mane into a braid, and changed into a plain black top that covered his tattoos, so his taste in heavy metal didn’t offend priestly sensibilities. He was about to leave his home when it hit him that there was a sliver of chance that he’d bump into Adam at the parsonage, so he ended up staying a bit longer to shave and splash on some cologne for good measure. He would not give up on this day so easily.
He took a bottle of the cherry-infused liquor he’d produced last year, and another of home-made advocaat for good measure, saddled up his horse to avoid wasting gas, and took a shortcut through the vast meadows.
Where the Devil Says Goodnight Page 4