Emil snorted and moved his head so that it was aligned with Adam’s. “Blasphemy. Are you suggesting John Paul the second, the one and only pope who ever mattered, doesn’t deserve sainthood? You think that miraculous healing he supposedly performed didn’t actually happen?”
“I’m not suggesting anything,” Adam said, although he absolutely did.
This was fun.
“Why even become a priest if you can’t be a saint?”
Adam met his gaze, and for once kept it, pushing his hooks into Emil and anchoring him in the confessional. “I’ve always wanted to be a priest. My mom’s very religious, so I spent a lot of time in our local church. There was this particular priest, who was really good with children. Everyone liked him. He’d organize trips, and games, and he played the guitar so well. I suppose I idolized him a little bit. My Dad freaked out when he found me pretending I was celebrating mass in my room, but years later, I’m doing it for real.”
“So your parents supported your decision?”
Adam nodded. “Mom was always very worried for my soul, so I suppose she believes I’m safer this way,” he said, and for a moment, thick silence hung between them as Adam stared at his hands. Was he contemplating his very obvious interest in Emil and how his cassock offered zero protection from lust?
“Why would she worry? Were you not a good boy growing up?”
“I think she’s just very sensitive.” Adam gave a short laugh. “She doesn’t want me to be here, because she and dad had some poisonous mushrooms while on vacation in these mountains, and now she believes the devil resides here.”
Emil bit back a grin. “Maybe she just met me.”
Adam kept his laughter low. “You think she’d be afraid of a cute little boy?”
“You think I’m cute?”
“All children are cute,” Adam said but didn’t chastise Emil or try to change the topic.
“Is that really something a priest should say in today’s political climate?” Emil snorted when Adam’s eyes widened in panic.
“That’s not what I meant. Obviously,” Adam said, making the most adorably flustered expression.
Emil didn’t even care that he’d leave the church with an imprint of the criss-crossed lattice on the cheek. The shadows and silence created a sense of intimacy he wasn’t willing to let go of. “You never know what sins people have committed, Father. Me for example,” he sighed theatrically, “stone cold sinner.”
“Do you think this comes as a surprise?” Adam asked with a snort and rolled his face over the wood, their skin so close Emil could sense Adam’s citrusy aftershave.
“I haven’t yet said what sins I’ve committed, and you already judge me?”
“If this is to be a confession, let’s do it right. When’s the last time you’ve done this?” Adam asked softly.
Emil swallowed, both taken aback and drawn in by the lasso Adam had tightened around his heart. “At my confirmation. With Father Marek actually. I was so embarrassed.”
“It’s been a while, then. What sins do you remember committing since? Start with the most pressing ones,” Adam said, resting his ear against the grate, as if he wanted to drink up each of Emil’s words.
Emil smirked to himself at all the delicious sins he remembered. There should be no devil in a church, yet one was definitely whispering into his ear and enticing him into mischief. He craved to get under Adam’s skin just to see what could happen and the confessional setting was the perfect opportunity.
“Last month, I had a man over at my house. The things we did, Father… Endless sins. His fault really, he was such juicy temptation that after we showered, I just had to eat his freckled ass.”
“So you’ve had sex with a man,” Adam said, glancing at Emil with innocent eyes. He had no idea what kind of activity Emil just described, did he?
“I left kisses all over his naked body first, and when he was ready, I pulled his buttocks apart and kissed him there too. You would have had to see him, Father. He squirmed and moaned as I drilled my tongue into him. He spread his legs wide and asked for my cock inside his tight ass.”
Adam’s breath got louder and faster, but he remained silent, ear and cheek pressed to the divider and so ripe Emil wanted to push his tongue through the small openings in the wood and lick the sweaty flesh.
“I wouldn’t give it to him, though.” Emil smiled at the memory he’d embellished for Adam’s pleasure. “I made him suck my dick first. Had him take it all the way into his throat, and he loved it. But when I wanted more, I pushed his damp face into the pillow and went balls-deep into his ass. He squealed, and writhed, and loved it even more when I rode him.”
Adam gave a raspy exhale. “There’s no need for such details. Anything else?”
“But how will you know what penance to give me if I don’t confess what precisely happened?” Emil asked innocently, hoping that the cassock was tenting already, but he couldn’t see Adam’s body in the dark. If he were sure he didn’t end up rejected, he would have entered Adam’s side of the confessional, crawled under the lush folds of black fabric, and given him the greatest head. “Another sin is that I didn’t come inside him, but drizzled my spunk all over his buttocks. I know that’s a sin for a married couple, but what about us gays?”
Adam pulled back, facing Emil through the lattice, and while shadows made his face hard to read, there was no denying the tension in his body. “This is a sacrament. You need to honestly regret the sins you’re confessing—”
Emil cocked his head. “Is it even a sin if I don’t regret it?”
Adam shook his head. “Unbelievable. I offer you my friendship, and you mock me like this? I don’t think you want to change your behavior at all.”
“No, wait. Please, I can do better,” Emil said quickly when Adam started getting up.
Despite Adam being a few years younger, he still shot Emil a stern look. “One last chance.”
This time, Emil couldn’t help himself. When Adam leaned in, he pressed his lips to the wood. “I loved every last second of it,” he whispered and slipped his tongue through the grate to lick along the tip of Adam’s ear.
A broken whimper left Adam’s lips and echoed through the confessional. Adam flinched before bursting out of his chair and away from Emil. “Get out.”
Emil laughed and got up, feeling as if the giant weight he’d been carrying since yesterday finally dropped. He much preferred to be despised than pitied. He could still sense the sparks of electricity on his tongue. “Don’t worry, Adam. It’s not a sin if you didn’t agree to the touch.” He followed the priest out into the open space of the empty church, but Adam only briefly looked back, already halfway to the altar.
His face was the color of raspberry cream, so sweet and delicious Emil already wanted another taste. “This is over. Go to your house and rot in sin, for all I care!”
Emil spread his arms. “You have to admit my storytelling skills are excellent, though?”
Adam stormed behind the altar, and for a brief moment Emil wasn’t sure what he saw.
The shadow Adam cast had horns.
It had to be an ironic trick of light, because no other answer made sense. Emil didn’t get to mention it, because Adam shut the hidden door behind him so loudly its bang echoed throughout the single nave. Emil was alone again.
The statues of Adam and Eve judged him in silence. He was rotten. Just like everyone said. If he couldn’t prove anyone wrong, what was the point in trying? People suspected him of sicking crows on an old lady, of devil worship, and Mrs. Golonko once even accused him of stealing from her store when she’d hired him to repair the pavement in front of it.
He exhaled, standing on the steps to the altar, both glad and regretful over chasing Adam away. If Adam hated him, he wouldn’t be tempted into Emil’s clutches. But… if Adam hated him, he wouldn’t be tempted into Emil’s clutches. Whatever plans he might have had, they were all ruined now.
Emil didn’t belong in Dybukowo, and he most certain
ly didn’t belong with Adam. Radek was right. He needed to get out of here, but with no money for the move, with nowhere to stable Jinx, he was powerless against a life that kept tossing stones at him.
A hollow, metallic thud made him look up, and his gaze settled on the tabernacle, the memory of the expensive monstrance inside resurfacing in Emil’s mind. A slithering sound made Emil flinch, but when he glanced at the wooden snake, nothing had changed about its position.
The padlock on the tabernacle, however, was open, even though he could have sworn it had been locked before. His body thudded with the sound of a hurried heartbeat as he climbed the stairs, passed the altar table and opened the box without thinking. A church that preached about the value of austerity didn’t need a silver chalice. He did. After all the shit he’d been through, he could for once prove to everyone they’d been right about him all along.
He grabbed the thick stand of the solar-shaped monstrance and took it from the tabernacle.
There. He was rotten.
“Emil? What are you doing?” Adam asked, appearing from behind the figure of Eve as if he’d never left in the first place.
Emil stared at him with his lips parted and the monstrance halfway down the front of his hoodie. “I…” What? What did he think he was doing? He didn’t have eight starving children to feed. He was getting by. How the fuck was he supposed to explain this moment of madness? He’d been poor all his life but never stolen from anyone. What he’d just done was an impulse he couldn’t explain.
Adam swallowed hard, still flushed, but his face expressed concern rather than fury. “It’s me you’re angry at. Put that back.”
Emil reluctantly revealed the monstrance in all its glitzy glory. “I’m not angry. Why are you back?” he asked, desperate to change the subject and pretend this never happened.
Adam swallowed, watching Emil place all the liturgical treasures back into the tabernacle. He swiftly joined him at the back of the altar and closed the padlock, as if he wanted to remove the temptation altogether. “I didn’t leave. I thought you would.”
Emil was so embarrassed he didn’t know where to look. Only moments ago, he’d been so happy with himself over embarrassing Adam in the confessional, but that artificial confidence was fizzling out fast to reveal what he really was. A loser.
“I will. Don’t… tell anyone about this?”
Adam exhaled, studying Emil in silence. “If you’re not angry, do you… need money, and the opened tabernacle was too much of a temptation?”
“It’s not a big deal. I’m managing just fine. Sorry.” Emil couldn’t have felt like more of an idiot and took a step back. Adam followed him, as if pathetic men were his catnip.
“I have savings. If you need money for something important, you can tell me.”
Anger buzzed deep in Emil’s chest at the pity in Adam’s eyes. “I don’t need your money, okay? I can handle my own shit!” He turned on his heel, rushing for the way out. This time, he was the mouse, and Adam—the cat wanting to play, and Emil did not enjoy being on the receiving end of this game.
He needed a new way to earn money, and fast, because Dybukowo was encroaching on him, trying to suffocate him each day. Until he found someone to mind his animals, he would intensify his attempts. And then he’d go to Cracow and Grindr the hell out of any handsome alternative guy in sight.
Chapter 7 - Adam
Over a week on, the words Emil had said to Adam in the confessional kept coming back at the most inconvenient times. Emil had told him about having sex with another person, but the way he entrusted his secret to Adam had been so filthy that each time he thought back to the muscle-melting seconds in the confessional, his ears tingled, as if he could sense Emil’s breath again.
“Adam? Hello, Adam.” Father Marek waved his hand in front of Adam’s face, startling him back to the reality of the lunch they’d finished moments ago. The disapproving gaze Mrs. Janina sent his way was yet another indication that everyone noticed he’d drifted off.
“I’m sorry. I thought about my parents, that’s all.”
The pastor’s face softened, and he exhaled, looking out of the window. “You’ve never been away from them for so long, have you? What has it been? Almost a month.”
Adam leaned back in the chair and took in the peaceful dining room that already felt a bit like home. The four weeks had passed like a breeze, and he already knew the area quite well. He did miss his parents, friends, and the easy access to culture, but the simple life in Dybukowo made him oddly peaceful. He’d become less nervous and more patient, which meant that maybe, just maybe, Archbishop Boron had been right to assign him to this parish, no matter how much it had initially angered and worried Adam. Even the sleepwalking had ceased as he settled into the new rhythm.
“Yes. I’m feeling very well here. What did you want to ask me?”
“There’s cake. Do you want some?” Mrs. Janina asked in a low tone that betrayed barely held back annoyance.
“Oh. Yes. Thank you.” He wouldn’t say no to Mrs. Janina’s cake. Her baked goods were as sweet as her face was sour.
“It’s leftover from the wake,” she said. “I suppose people didn’t have much appetite after hearing the accounts of what happened to poor Zofia.”
“May she rest in peace,” Father Marek said, and cut himself a generous helping of the cocoa sponge.
“Are people still blaming Emil?” Adam asked, trying to sound casual because of Mrs. Janina’s negative attitude toward Emil. He’d been appalled at the gossip about him. Sure, Emil was definitely a self-professed sinner, but not in the ways rumors portrayed.
“Bad luck is not a sin, but bad luck always clings to a sinner,” Mrs. Janina said, about to sit down with her own dessert when someone knocked. “Who comes to visit at lunchtime? So rude,” she added and padded out of the dining room.
The pastor shook his head and filled his mouth with a huge piece of the cake, which left crumbs on his damp lips. “People always look for a scapegoat, but poor Emil isn’t doing himself any favors. It all went downhill for him after his grandfather died.”
The sweet sponge got stuck in Adam’s throat, and he had to wash it down with water. “What do you mean?” he asked, already on edge.
Father Marek shrugged. “He looks different. He doesn’t do things like he’s expected to. His granddad, Zenon Słowik, he used to be a sort of… buffer. But when he died and Emil was left on his own, he stopped connecting with people.”
“And that should excuse their hostility toward him?”
The pastor scowled. “Some of them might have their reasons,” he said, and it struck Adam that if Pastor Marek had listened to Emil’s confessions, he likely knew of his sexual transgressions. The wooden chair felt as if it was on fire.
“But still, shouldn’t you take a stand? As the pastor, I mean.”
“I’ve invited him to church many times. He refuses to worship with everyone. In a close-knit community like this one, everyone needs to know their place. People get nervous when others act out of line. I would have intervened if there was any violence, but I can hardly make people enjoy his company, can I?”
When Adam couldn’t find an answer to that other than desperately wanting for Emil to be treated better, the pastor went on.
“And those crows attacking Mrs. Zofia? Terrible business. I’m not saying it’s his doing, but do you not think it’s a strange thing to happen?”
Adam stared. “Are you suggesting Emil wields supernatural powers over crows, Father?”
Pastor Marek spread his arms. “People say that the mountains here are so tall God can’t always see everywhere, and that leaves room for Chort to roam.”
Adam just sat there, surprised to hear jokes like this from a senior clergyman, but Mrs. Janina entered with Mrs. Golonko, the shop owner who’d denied Adam help on his first night in Dybukowo. Dressed in a fine dress accessorized with a patterned silk scarf around her neck, Mrs. Golonko sat by the table without waiting for an invitation, and Mr
s. Janina offered her a dessert plate.
“Pastor, you need to do something about Emil Słowik,” she said in a harsh voice and shook her manicured finger at Father Marek, who chewed the chocolate cake, unfazed by her rudeness.
“What is it this time?” tore from Adam’s lips before he could have stopped himself, and the woman’s eyes settled on him in silence that told Adam she considered him barely competent to breathe, let alone lead God’s flock.
In the end, she granted him an answer. “He is once again up to ungodly work.”
Mrs. Janina nodded. She must have been filled in on this back in the corridor.
Adam felt dizzy. “Prostitution?” he whispered, and the table went silent.
“What?” Mrs. Golonko stared back at him. “No! He’s fortune telling!”
Adam stuffed his lips full of the cake so that no one would even consider asking him what train of thought made him associate Emil with selling sex, but Father Marek was as laid back as usual.
“Is that all? I thought he’s out there skinning cats alive.”
Mrs. Golonko’s lungs filled so fast it left her chest comically pushed out. “How can you be so dismissive of this, Father? What he’s doing is not only sinful. It’s also fraud! I only found out because two of my friends asked if I could introduce them to the Oracle of Dybukowo, since I’m his neighbor! Can you imagine what kind of infamy this might bring on our village?”
Apparently, in the world of divination, personal connections were as crucial as in the search for the right plastic surgeon, but Adam didn’t voice those thoughts, because their guest would have taken offense. And denied ever getting any ‘work’ done.
Mrs. Janina nodded, pacing around in her floral house dress, with a stern expression. “I agree. This issue must be addressed,” she said, as if Emil’s life choices were up to her or anyone else in the room.
“Ladies, I’m a priest, not an inquisitor,” Father Marek said as he took a second slice of the cake. “The only thing I could do is advise him against doing such things, but none of us can stop him, whether we like it or not.”
Where the Devil Says Goodnight Page 9
