Adam was eager to change the topic before it escalated. “Speaking of bad things, someone hung a dead magpie by my window.”
Mrs. Janina scowled at the pastor. “Father! There is no need for that!”
Adam stared at the pastor, his mouth full of the delicious sandwich. “What?”
Father Marek gave a rumbly laugh that brought him to the verge of choking. “Sorry, Adam. Couldn’t help myself.”
“But… why?”
“Relax. It’s taxidermy. A harmless joke.”
“Laughing at people’s traditions is hardly funny,” Mrs. Janina said sternly, leaning back in her chair.
The pastor scratched his head through the thinning gray hair. “The people of Dybukowo are good Christians, but they’re superstitious. Some still try to ward off evil spirits from cradles, leave out food for their ancestors, and those magpies seem like the must have folklore-themed decoration nowadays. In the olden days, people used them to ward off the Chort.” When Adam just stared at him, the pastor explained, “the devil.”
Mrs. Janina remained suspiciously silent, and as the clock on the wall counted a couple more seconds, the pastor rose and clapped his hands. “Right. I need to prepare today’s sermon. We’ll talk more during lunch, Adam.”
“Looking forward to it, Father.”
Once they were alone, Adam feared Mrs. Janina’s silence would extend, but she spoke as soon as the pastor left.
“What Father Marek doesn’t understand is that Chort won’t harm those who live with him on good terms.”
Adam frowned. Was she talking about… devil worship? Hardly something he’d expect from an elderly woman who worked at the parsonage. “As in…?”
“Oh, you know, leave offerings, don’t scare him off with the magpies, and he won’t be a bother.”
Adam put his sandwich down and swallowed some tea, because the bread felt weirdly coarse in his throat all of a sudden. “Why would anyone try to appease the devil? That’s God’s work.”
Her pale, lively eyes darted to meet his. “Chort is not Satan.”
Adam decided to leave it at that and continued his breakfast while Mrs. Janina opened a book about a Catholic mission in Tanzania. At least she was no longer watching him like a hawk, but Adam’s thoughts drifted to way less pleasant things. The fresh orange juice couldn’t wash away the memory of that last dinner at his parents’ apartment. He still had to call them, but didn’t feel like speaking to Mother yet. And considering that in the past twelve hours, he’d been followed by a horse that wasn’t there, had been offered sex by another man, and lived in a parsonage where the pastor hung dead magpies from the eaves and the housekeeper believed in folklore demons, he knew he’d have to lie to her, or she’d freak out.
He shivered when his nose picked up an unexpectedly rich scent of cedarwood, smoke, and something musky, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t place where it came from. His gums itched and he salivated a little too much, even though the food had been in front of him for a while now. What the hell?
“Why are you fidgeting?” Mrs. Janina asked, but before Adam would have had to come up with an answer, someone knocked on the door, and the housekeeper padded to the main entrance to the parsonage.
Adam continued eating as he picked up another female voice. Moments later, Mrs. Janina led in a corpulent woman with black hair and a tan that had surely come from a bottle. The product made her crow’s feet more pronounced, but energetic movements added youthfulness to her appearance.
“I am so happy to meet our new shepherd! This is for you,” she said and offered him a cardboard box covered with a doily.
“Mrs. Stępień,” the housekeeper introduced her before pouring tea into a bonus cup and pushing it in front of the newcomer as she sat down.
Adam smiled when he saw that the box was full of homemade butter cookies. “That is very kind. I’m starting to understand that weight gain during my time here is inevitable.”
“Everyone is very friendly here in Dybukowo. You’ll see,” Mrs. Stępień said and helped herself to the tea.
Adam smiled, and Emil’s face emerged from the back of his mind and into the spotlight. He swallowed. “I noticed. So far I’ve only met a couple of the parishioners, but they’ve all been very kind,” with the exception of the grumpy shop owner, “One man even gave me a ride here on his horse, even though it was pouring down last night.”
Mrs. Stępień’s face froze. “A black horse? That had to be Emil Słowik, Father. That man is no good. He’s Old Słowikowa’s grandson, may God rest her soul. She’d be turning in her grave if she saw what he’s grown into.”
Mrs. Janina nodded. “True, true. Rotten boy. Didn’t accept a pastoral visit last Christmas.”
Adam exhaled with relief. So he didn’t have to worry about Emil watching him with that insistent gaze during mass. That was something.
“That’s not the worst of it,” Mrs. Stępień said. “My son’s friend said he saw him with a man. You know what I mean,” she said, lowering her voice.
Adam was going to be sick. So it hadn’t just been his own thoughts tainting an innocent invitation from a stranger. Emil had really meant what Adam had suspected. And the worst thing was that deep down it annoyed him. Emil likely propositioned many people, casting his net wide to see what got caught in it.
Mrs. Janina nodded. “Nowak should make sure he keeps an eye on his son. Emil and Radek seem far too close, if you ask me. Mrs. Golonko told me Emil gave him a lift to the bus stop this morning.”
Adam’s head spun from all the names of people involved in the gossip, but since he had no idea who the women were talking about, he chose to stay quiet and stuff his face.
Mrs. Stępień cleared her throat. “We better not speak of such depravity in front of Father Adam.”
The worst of phrases pushed at Adam’s lips. Hate the sin, love the sinner was terrible, but We all sin might be even worse, because it might make people suspicious of him. So he got up with a smile. “I think I need to familiarize myself with my new church. Please, carry on. Thank you again for the cookies, Mrs. Stępień.”
Adam needed to clear his mind of filth, but since he wasn’t dressed for jogging, he walked into the hallway and picked up a besom tucked into the corner, intent on sweeping the dust and fallen leaves from the church yard. He was at the door when he noticed a small bowl, which had previously been hidden behind the natural broom. Filled with carefully sliced radishes and pickles, it had no place on the floor, but he decided not to point it out to Mrs. Janina while she was chatting to a friend.
His mouth watered as if he were staring at a juicy steak served on a silver platter.
He shook his head at the dusty vegetables and stepped into the sunshine. Bits of mud between the cobbles were the only trace left of last night’s storm, and as he looked up at the tall poplar trees surrounding the church, their silent whisper made him close his eyes and relax.
He had nothing to fear here, other than nosy villagers and an awful lot of crows. What he needed to do was take the pastor’s advice to heart and relax. He’d considered paying for Internet access, if no one else at the parsonage had need for it, but maybe a digital detox would be beneficial. He was already low-key addicted to Facebook and gossip sites, which he relentlessly read while on public transport, hoping strangers assumed he was reading the lives of saints. He just needed to stay positive and let the countryside atmosphere take over.
The Church would take care even of a black sheep like him. All would be well.
Since the single mass that day wasn’t until evening, there was no one around, and he enjoyed the silence as he made his way to the front of the church and eyed the mess of leaves and broken branchlets scattered all over the yard.
There was that smell again. Wood thrown into a fire, cedar, addictive like nicotine supposedly was. Adam had never tried smoking, too afraid he’d get hooked in an instant.
A sharp grunt tore through the silence, followed by a whinny that expressed
such excitement Adam’s mind pushed him back in time, to that moment on the muddy road when the huge stallion emerged from the night and dashed straight at him.
His chest went rigid until he couldn’t breathe as deeply as needed, but before he could have fled back to the parsonage, avoiding a confrontation he wasn’t ready for, Emil emerged from the church. The breeze combed its fingers through the hair at the top of his head, and when his gaze met Adam’s in the bright light of the late morning, a sly smile pulled at his sinful mouth.
He stepped toward Adam, without even a trace of embarrassment over last night. Adam felt as if a big boa constrictor slithered his way instead of a man—as hypnotizing as it was deadly.
Dressed in jeans tight enough to stir Adam’s imagination, calf-high combat boots and a dark-brown pilot’s jacket with a fur trim, he looked like the embodiment of casual sex-appeal. A James Dean for the modern age.
Adam’s heart bled when he realized the long black hair was tied back and couldn’t be swept by the breeze, but when the wind blew Emil’s scent straight at Adam, the realization that it was the same aroma he’d been sensing all along made Adam step back.
Last night came upon him in a flashback, and for a split second, he was back on the huge draft horse, his hands touching Emil’s firm chest, and his knees digging into the backs of Emil’s thighs. He never much liked wearing a cassock, but maybe the iconic priest’s garment could be his armor.
He’d become a priest because he couldn’t possibly lead an honest life at a woman’s side. He’d given his life to God, aware of everything that entailed, so why was Lord tempting him so? Was this a test, like the one unleashed on Job, and Adam would have to suffer greatly to prove his commitment?
His mouth dampened, as if he were smelling butter cookies in the oven, not a man who’d propositioned him last night, but by the time Emil got close, there was nowhere left to run. A voice at the back of his head told him something was off. How could he have smelled Emil back in the kitchen? The stupid part of his brain suggested the smell of roses and Father Pio, but Emil was hardly a saint.
“Hey there, Father Adam. Why didn’t you make a peep about this yesterday? Afraid I wouldn’t bite if I knew you were a priest?”
Even his voice was sweet. And interesting. And tempting. Like smooth dark chocolate infused with orange liquor.
Adam put the besom between them, in case Emil wanted to overstep the boundaries of personal space. “It wasn’t relevant. I asked for help, and you helped me. It had nothing to do with my priesthood.”
The harsh light had to be playing tricks on Adam, because he could swear that Emil’s fangs glinted in the sun. “I know how to keep secrets, Adam, and you’ll get bored here sooner or later.”
Fire burned at the pit of Adam’s stomach, heating his blood and sending it through his body. But he wasn’t an animal. He wouldn’t just follow his whims when they went against all reason and moral codes. “I try not to judge people who don’t share my beliefs, but this is not acceptable. I advise you to follow my example. And for the record, your jeans are far too tight to be appropriate in the house of God,” he said, though his palms sweated around the wooden handle.
“You noticed. Thank you.” Emil grinned and, with all the audacity of a fox storming a henhouse, he spread his arms and made a slow turn, showcasing how good his ass looked in those pants.
Adam felt the flush creeping up his neck and then emerging on his face like a banner of embarrassment, but he wouldn’t back down, and kept his eyes on Adam’s. “What’s the point of this?”
Emil grabbed the pole of the broom so close to Adam’s hand its heat scorched his skin. And it wasn’t just because of embarrassment, anger, or even the fact that he found Emil attractive. Throughout his life he’d found plenty of men attractive in some way and successfully ignored the urges they stirred, yet everything about Emil’s presence screamed for Adam to rip off his cassock and run naked through the meadow until they both collapsed in the grass and fucked like two wild beasts. He could see it as if it were real—Emil’s naked body gaining that orange-lilac shade of the sky at dusk, his flesh so ripe and tasty Adam’s mouth watered.
A silly grin spread Emil’s handsome mouth as he slowly slid his hand up and down the broom in a gesture clearly imitating the act of masturbation. “Oh, what do I not want, Father?”
“I am trying to politely ask about your presence here? You’re obviously not religious,” Adam said, trying his best to remain stern in the face of a temptation he had never experienced on this level.
“I have many sins to confess. How about you? What got you kicked out to this dump?”
Adam’s heart skipped a beat, and the need to step closer became even more unbearable when Emil’s hand moved lower on the handle and touched his. He had no words to describe the electric jolt that exploded between their bodies, but for a moment, he forgot how to speak.
“I— I’ve only been ordained recently. They sent me here for six months, so that I can learn,” he lied.
“I can help you learn,” Emil said and placed his large hand over Adam’s, paralyzing it with his heat. They were way past suggestive flirting by now. The snake was wrapping himself around Adam and promising unspeakable sin that would become reality if Adam only said the word.
“If you don’t back off, I will not keep silent about this. I’m not gay. I’m not interested. I am a priest,” Adam said, but forgot to pull away from the warmth of Emil’s hand, which anchored him in place while the tempting scent wound itself around all of Adam’s body.
He could see himself entwined with this man, opening up his ribcage and sleeping inside its warmth. Adam frowned, disturbed by the gory fantasy, but Emil stepped away at last, and while Adam should be relieved, it felt like Emil took some of his skin, leaving the bare patch raw.
“Suit yourself.”
Emil walked off without as much as a goodbye, but the way he put his hands in the pockets of his jacket pulled it up enough to showcase his ass in jeans so tight they must have been designed by the devil himself.
What a bastard. How dare he try to tempt an unwilling man into sin for his selfish pleasure?
Adam’s hands trembled around the besom, and he fought the instinct to follow Emil. The desire stabbed his flesh with invisible needles that caused very real pain. He flinched when Jinx called out to him, speeding into a gallop, but as the smoky aroma pulled at the front of Adam’s cassock, attempting to drag him behind Emil, he pushed his sinful thoughts away and walked toward the parsonage.
Chapter 5 - Emil
Two weeks had passed since Adam’s rejection and it still stung more than it should have, but maybe it was for the better. Maybe Emil wouldn’t once again drown in the well of an attraction that ultimately couldn’t go anywhere. Maybe Radek was right and this really was the right time to leave the past behind. What kind of future did he have seducing tourists and pining after a priest? Any sensible person his age who couldn’t be a part of a family enterprise had long left. He was on his own, and he’d die alone, loveless, and friendless, if he couldn’t make a difficult decision now.
Without Radek to keep him company, Emil’s thoughts insistently returned to his two moments alone with Adam. The night after their second meeting, Emil awoke sweaty, to a whisper he could have sworn was Adam’s, but the priest returned in Emil’s dreams several times more, which always left Emil with a sense of loss by the time he opened his eyes.
He was pathetic. Almost thirty and desperately lonely, he’d latched on to the first guy who’d shown the slightest sign of interest. It was time to put an end to this. Leave Dybukowo and fuck his way through Cracow until he could convince himself that the strangers who partied with him gave a flying fuck about him or his problems.
He was going later that day, and if Radek was still single, Emil could let off some steam and quench the thirst that plagued him every time the handsome priest jogged past his house. It was a ritual by now, and despite the logical part of Emil’s brain telling him n
o, he couldn’t help but think of it as their ritual.
Every day in the past two weeks, Adam went out for a jog at precisely 8.00 a.m., and despite there being so many paths crisscrossing the meadows, fields, and woodland, he always chose the one by Emil’s house. They hadn’t spoken much since the brief yet unpleasant confrontation by the church, but Emil still found himself on the porch each day, having his morning coffee and cigarette while Adam ran by his homestead in shorts that revealed toned legs.
They would acknowledge one another with nods, with the exception of that one time when Adam had stopped to ask about the crows insistently nesting in the trees around Emil’s house and took his time applying sunscreen during the brief chat. But as desirable as the priest was, Emil was over trying to get into his pants, and acted as if nothing worth noting had transpired between them before. If Adam had chosen this route because he liked to feast his eyes on Dybukowo’s most handsome bachelor, then Emil could have the satisfaction of being the object of the repressed priest’s thirst.
But this morning felt different, because as Emil fed his animals and made his liquid breakfast before walking out into the May sun, he did so knowing this familiar routine would have to change. In just a couple of hours, he’d board the bus to Sanok and catch the cheapest—if slowest—train to Cracow. He had a gig there. It wasn’t anything earth-shattering, but Radek had somehow convinced one of his friends to hire a man with no official qualifications to renovate a newly-purchased apartment, and pay said man—Emil—a normal wage.
It would be hard work, and Emil would need to YouTube the shit out of the stuff he had little knowledge about, but since Radek had offered him a free stay in his room, the cash would stack up. If he did well, not only would he finish that job with a neat sum to kick-start something new but also get some references.
Two weeks back, he hadn’t considered a week-long trip a possibility, but for once in his life, the stars had aligned, and a chance meeting at the store led to Zofia, an elderly neighbor, offering to take care of Emil’s animals for a couple of days. He’d been apprehensive about leaving Jinx with someone else, since the horse was unruly at times, but Zofia assured him she had taken care of her own horses in the past, so Emil bit the bullet and chose to trust her.
Where the Devil Says Goodnight Page 6