Where the Devil Says Goodnight
Folk Lore #1
K.A. Merikan
—Forgive me, Father, for I will sin.—
Adam. Catholic priest. Celibate. Does not yield to temptation.
Emil. Sinner. Seducer. Snake. Hot as hell itself.
After a sheltered childhood ruled by religion, all Adam wants is to be a good priest and make his parents proud. But it’s hard to stay virtuous in a big city like Warsaw, and when he makes one slip up, his life spirals into ruin. He is sent to a tiny mountain village where he hopes to live down his shame and work on restraint.
But staying celibate becomes far from easy when he meets Emil, a local man with long dark hair, a mysterious past, and as little morality as he has luck. Emil has no qualms about flirting with a priest. Worse still, he seems hell-bent on tasting forbidden fruit and unearthing the desires Adam has always kept hidden.
The odd village hides secrets far more sinister than Adam’s insatiable lust for Emil. Old Slavic magic looms everywhere. Superstition mixes with reality. Someone is watching his every move. Someone follows him in the dark, lurking in the shadows of the ancient forest. Adam is plagued by disturbing events, and Emil could be his only salvation even if he is the devil himself.
Can a priest shepherd the black sheep to safety or has he been the wolf all along?
POSSIBLE SPOILERS:
Genre: Dark, paranormal M/M romance
Erotic content: Scorching hot, emotional, explicit scenes
Themes: Occult, witchcraft, Slavic superstition and myth, folklore, priest, forbidden love, hurt/comfort, metalhead, little town, temptation, religion, paganism, cult, old gods, possession, demons, magic, homophobia, bigotry, prejudice, coming out, fish out of water, soul mates, mysterious man, tease and denial
Length: ~ 120,000 words (standalone)
WARNING: This story contains scenes of violence, offensive language, self-harm, and morally ambiguous characters.
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living, dead, or undead, events, places or names is purely coincidental.
No part of this book may be reproduced or transferred in any form or by any means, without the written permission of the publisher. Uploading and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without a permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law.
Text copyright © 2020 K.A. Merikan
All Rights Reserved
http://kamerikan.com
Cover design by
Tiferet Design
https://www.tiferetdesign.com/
Editing by No Stone Unturned
https://www.facebook.com/NoStoneUnturnedEditingServices/
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Author’s note
Chapter 1 - Adam
Chapter 2 - Adam
Chapter 3 - Emil
Chapter 4 - Adam
Chapter 5 - Emil
Chapter 6 - Emil
Chapter 7 - Adam
Chapter 8 - Adam
Chapter 9 - Adam
Chapter 10 - Emil
Chapter 11 - Adam
Chapter 12 - Emil
Chapter 13 - Adam
Chapter 14 - Emil
Chapter 15 - Adam
Chapter 16 - Adam
Chapter 17 - Emil
Chapter 18 - Emil
Chapter 19 - Adam
Chapter 20 - Adam
Chapter 21 - Emil
Chapter 22 - Adam
Chapter 23 - Emil
Chapter 24 - Adam
Chapter 25 - Emil
Chapter 26 - Emil
Epilogue – Adam
AUTHOR’S NEWSLETTER
PATREON
About the author
Author’s note
As you read, you might be confused by the way some of the characters address one another. This is because in Poland the level of formality is important in everyday communication and is sometimes used to express certain attitudes. Using it incorrectly is generally seen as insulting, and even though the novel is written in English, we wanted to honor the setting through small differences. The level of formality used to recognize authority (use of titles like doctor, reverend etc.) is used frequently in English, but below are three other forms of address that are in everyday use:
- Informal (you/using someone’s first name) - this is how people address friends, acquaintances, and family. Younger people will also address people their own age or younger informally in non-business interactions.
- Semi-formal (Mr./Mrs. First name) - this form of address allows people to express a degree of familiarity while also maintaining social distance. Traditionally used by coworkers (though nowadays the informal form is used frequently too), neighbors who aren’t close enough to be friends etc.
- Formal (Mr./Mrs. Last Name) - used to address people you don’t know well or those you only know in a formal capacity, but it can also be a sign of respect.
Have fun reading ;)
Kat&Agnes Merikan
Chapter 1 - Adam
The gay porn mag flopped through the air as Archbishop Boron rose and waved it in front of Adam’s face, as if he were about to slap his cheek with the erect cock shown on the cover.
“Can you tell me how this found its way under your bed?” he asked, his eyes pale dots on the flushed face.
Adam sank deep into the uncomfortable chair, and the wood-panelled walls of the office seemed to close in on him, no longer just intimidating but oppressive. “I—I don’t know, Your Excellency. I—”
The bushy eyebrows of the prelate lowered, and he tossed the magazine to the desktop, making Adam face his own obscene tastes. He hadn’t even bought the damn thing. He’d found it in the local recycling by accident and took it on impulse. It had been a moment of madness rather than a conscious decision. As if the devil himself had moved his hand.
“You don’t know?” Boron leaned back in his leather chair, his round face red like the lobster in the still life painting on the wall behind him.
Sweat soaked into the back of Adam’s cassock, but his head remained full of improbable lies. “Maybe it’s a prank? You know how young people get sometimes…”
“‘Young people’? You’re twenty five, Kwiatkowski. Are you saying you brought ‘young people’ to your private room, and they might have planted homosexual pornography under your bed? The Church is under enough pressure right now!” The archbishop stood up and slammed his palms against the desk, baring his teeth like a monster about to bite off Adam’s head.
Adam’s entire body slumped in the chair, so small and insignificant in the face of the archbishop’s wrath. In his vain attempts to evade responsibility of one crime, he’d suggested one much, much worse. Boron’s words sounded like an accusation of not only pornography addiction, but also inappropriate leanings toward the young and vulnerable.
“N-no. I have never invited anyone into my room. But a prank is not impossible,” Adam said, adamant on repeating the white lie until it became true. He would never again look at other people’s recycling or let his gaze stray to that ugly corner at every newsagent, where the dirtiest of magazines were stashed.
Archbishop Boron watched him for the longest time, his wide nostrils flaring to reveal long gray hairs Adam found distracting. “This is extremely disappointing. You were only ordained three months ago.”
Adam’s chest imploded, and he hunched forward, his mind playing out the worst of scenarios. Times were changing, and the church dignitaries might not be so keen on putting up with priests who could endanger the reputation of the Church. His transgression wasn’t serious enough to warrant dismissal from the clerical state, but if he didn’t conform w
ith what was expected of him, it was in Boron’s power to make Adam’s life miserable.
The Church had been a stable presence in Adam’s life from the day of his baptism. His calling had arrived early and had helped him through the youthful desires that had scared and confused him. He’d met most of his friends in church organizations, and when he’d revealed his future plans to his parents, they’d both supported him without question. Priesthood meant safety and peace, a freedom from the daily problems that plagued lay people. As long as Adam obeyed and served, he would never have to worry about his future, because men wiser and more experienced would show him the way at each crossroad.
He could not allow himself to lose that.
His poor mother would have died of shame if she found out about the dark desires Adam had kept hidden behind a handsome face and blue eyes. He didn’t want to tell her when those unwanted feelings had first appeared, and he never would. No one could ever find out what happened to Adam when he liked a man too much.
No. One.
He’d had enough time since puberty to realize he had no interest in women, so in that sense, the enforced celibacy was a blessing for him. No one would ever ask why he didn’t have a girlfriend or why he didn’t get married. The status quo would never be shaken, and Adam could devote his entire life to God and his flock. There was nothing sinful about being born gay, only acting on those desires was, and when Adam had first realized what his nature was, he’d accepted it as a test of his fate. And like any other blessing in disguise, it ultimately brought him closer to God, because if the Lord made him unable to start a family, then his intent for Adam was obvious.
He’d followed this calling all his life, and he would not let this moment of weakness define him!
Adam looked up, ready to protect himself at all cost. He needed to turn this around, or Boron and everyone else who knew about the magazine would always regard him with suspicion. “The magazine isn’t mine,” he insisted, “but I will do whatever is necessary to make amends.
The magazine had led Adam to sin at night a total of three times, and the archbishop tossed it where it belonged, into the trash can. “I’m happy we’re on the same page. Hopefully, this will be a lesson for you. The Church should always come first.”
Adam’s muscles relaxed when he realized he was about to be let off the hook, and he rose, bowing his head in an expression of gratitude, already hungry for the cream slices sold just around the corner from the Archbishop’s Palace. He deserved some sweetness after this bitter meeting.
“Sit,” Boron said, and Adam dropped back into the chair as if the low voice had shoved him down.
“Of course,” Adam said, grateful there was no one to witness this moment of humiliation.
Boron opened a drawer in his desk and pulled out a folder depicting the Black Madonna of Czestochowa. He remained silent, torturing Adam with the wait before eventually offering him a stack of documents.
“I fear staying in this city isn’t good for someone like you. Someone… struggling with sin. I believe you will feel better somewhere where temptation isn’t as readily available.”
Ants crawled under Adam’s skin at the notion of having to stay in a monastery for an extended time. Yes, he did want to avoid temptation, but only as long as it didn’t come at the cost of disconnecting from reality whatsoever. Or worse yet, what if Boron suspected Adam was gay, and wanted to send him to a monastery for that exact reason, thinking he’d be doing Adam a favor by placing him among men, and behind closed doors?
Out of sight. Out of mind.
No. That couldn’t be right. Not in this day and age.
Boron rubbed his wrinkled forehead. “Have you ever heard of Dybukowo? It’s a village in the Bieszczady Mountains.”
Adam’s mouth dried. He had not heard of Dybukowo, but it sounded like a place so tiny it might not have its own convenience store. He waited, even though suspicion as to what this was about already crawled into his gut and made his insides screech.
Adam loved Warsaw. It was where he had been born and raised, and where he’d started working as a priest just three months ago. He loved getting himself a rose jam donut from Blikle’s, loved jogging in the beautiful gardens of the Lazienki Palace in the morning, he loved sitting in a packed tram and watching people go about their lives. He loved the liveliness of restaurants and cafés, and the obscurity of old tenement buildings on the Eastern side of the river. He did not want to leave. Not yet at least. One day, maybe, but not when he was twenty-five and at the beginning of his priesthood.
Boron met Adam’s gaze. “I want you to stay there for the next six months. I already spoke about this with Archbishop Zalewski, and he’s informed the local parish priest. They’ll be expecting you on Friday. All the details are in those papers. It’s a peaceful place, surrounded by beautiful nature. I believe it will offer you the peace you need to reflect on your actions. And your place in the Church.”
Adam’s sentence, while not as horrid as he’d feared on the way here, made him feel like a complete failure. He was considered immature, unfit to respect his body and thoughts without guidance. He knew he shouldn’t think of it that way, because the higher-ups could move a priest wherever they chose, but it still felt unfair, considering he’d caught a glimpse of two priests holding hands in the seminary gardens last week.
And what would Mother say about all this?
***
“I don’t understand. You told us the archbishop assured you you’d stay here for the first year of your service.”
Adam poked the meat on his plate before looking up at his mother. “The second priest at that parish has fallen ill, and they need a replacement. Someone young, who can relate to the under-thirty population,” he lied, trying not to ignore the huge figure of Jesus on the cross. It had been above the dining table since he could remember, and as a priest, he shouldn’t have been bothered by its presence, but the bulging veins and streaks of red on pasty skin made the depiction so realistic it still gave him the creeps.
Father groaned and wiped sauce off his moustache. “What kind of ‘under thirty’ population can there be in… what was the name again? Dybukowo? Where is that, even?”
Mother dropped her glass, spilling water all over the table. She grabbed a napkin and tried to soak it up, but her hands were so shaky Father took over from her.
This day was only getting worse.
“Of course you know Dybukowo. We camped close to that village during our last vacation before Adam was born,” Mother said, rubbing her arms as if the memory of sleeping in a tent gave her a chill.
A small smile tugged on Adam’s lips. “Was it nice?”
“It’s a lovely little village,” Father said before Mother cut him off.
“It’s not,” she insisted, going pale in the light coming through old wooden windows Adam feared she might faint at any moment.
Father sighed, placing the damp napkin in an empty dish. “What your mother means is that it’s very remote and that the locals still cultivate many pagan traditions. You will have your work cut out for you, but the people wear their hearts on their sleeves.”
Mother grabbed Father’s hand and offered him a smile so fake it made Adam’s teeth ache in sympathy. “Honey. Could you bring us some cherry compote? I’m sure Adam will appreciate homemade preserves for dessert.”
It was obviously a way for her to have a couple of minutes alone with Adam, but all three of them pretended the short trip to their cellar was really about cherries.
Shadows seemed darker than usual on Mother’s angular face, her lips pursed, her brows low under her fringe, but she didn’t even look up at Adam and only spoke once the apartment door shut behind Father. “You cannot go there.”
Adam cleared his throat and stuffed a piece of cutlet into his mouth. He hated to disappoint his mother, but he had no say in where he worked, and she knew that. When he’d come for dinner earlier, he’d worried she’d be devastated over parting for six months, but her reaction
was far more dramatic than he’d expected.
“It’s just a six months. Maybe you could visit me there?”
Mother massaged her temples, and her blonde locks wiggled when she shook her head before staring back at Adam with eyes almost as blue as his own. “You don’t understand. There’s evil in that place. I know it might sound strange, but I swear it’s true.”
Adam yearned for Father to come back. What was it this time? He’d been weirded out when Mother claimed to have smelled roses in the room after finishing a biography of Father Pio, but this was already taking the cake. Even her claims about Adam’s sleepwalking being induced by demonic possession were negligible in comparison.
“Mom, Satan doesn’t work in such ways. I am a priest. I’ll be fine.”
She grabbed his hand, and he couldn’t help but notice the rosary ring on her finger—with a small cross in place of some kind of stone and ten little bumps along its circumference. “Just stay quiet and listen to me. That place is where you were conceived, after we tried for four years with no success whatsoever!”
Adam cleared his throat. “And that’s… bad?”
The crow’s feet by her eyes deepened when she scowled. “We were there to spend some time in nature. Hike, and that sort of thing. The villagers seemed normal but continued some old pagan traditions. You know, like hanging red ribbons above a baby’s crib to keep it safe from mamunas, or jumping over a bonfire on St. John’s Night. It all seemed so innocent, and we both got caught up in it.”
Adam remained still out of respect, but worry spread through his mind when he realized that if religious devotion wasn’t within the social norm, people might have considered his mother a bit mad. But he listened when she continued, entwining her trembling fingers.
“We set up our tent in the wild, and one morning I got up really early. The weather was so beautiful that I decided to gather some raspberries from bushes we’d seen nearby. Something startled me, and I saw a nun, right there, in the middle of the forest. But that’s not the strangest thing. She was pregnant.”
Where the Devil Says Goodnight Page 1
