Where the Devil Says Goodnight

by K. A. Merikan

  Adam’s heart galloped, and he was painfully close to following Emil, as if they were tied together with an invisible thread. But he stayed in place, safe in the cassock that would be his armor for the night.

  Girls, who’d been dancing in a circle around the fire, retreated, and as soon as Emil joined the crowd consisting mostly of young men, Radek sped through the empty space and leapt over the dancing flames with the grace of a young fox.

  He was the embodiment of everything Adam wasn’t. Wild, free, taking a risk where Adam stood back and watched from the sidelines. A few more men followed his example to great applause, and when it was Emil’s turn, he didn’t hesitate for a second. He pulled off the white tunic and all but flew above the dancing flames, which could’ve burned him alive if he’d made a misstep.

  He didn’t care. As soon as he was on the other side, Radek passed him a cup undoubtedly filled with mead, and they both laughed, pointing to the next man in line.

  Adam stood outside the invisible wall that separated him from what he most craved, yet could never have unless he smashed the glass to pieces and cut himself in the process.

  A warm hand tapped his shoulder, and for the briefest moment he feared to hear the hoof beats again, but it was Koterski.

  “You’re not joining the fun, Father?” the forest ranger asked, pulling closer a young woman with a wreath of wild flowers in her hair.

  Adam laughed and gestured at the long folds of his cassock, but the woman chuckled and put her arm around the ranger. “I’m wearing a long skirt too, and we’re still going to jump. You’re making excuses, Father.”

  “Maybe Father Adam doesn’t care about earning some luck for the approaching year. God’s watching over him anyway.”

  “Maybe next year,” Adam said, cringing when a couple jumped over the flames, which bloomed high enough to lick their bare feet, about to grab them by the ankles and pull their bodies into the flames for roasting. Only that next year, he’d no longer be here.

  “And now, it’s time for the single ladies!” Mr. Nowak shouted with glee.

  Adam caught a glimpse of Mrs. Janina and Mrs. Golonko arguing about something by a car. Mrs. Golonko’s daughter, Jessika, rolled her eyes and threw away the wreath she’d been holding. It was such a unique crown too, made out of orchids and other exotic plants instead of the offerings from local meadows.

  Mrs. Golonko got into her fancy SUV and drove off so fast the tires threw mud as soon as her daughter slammed the door behind her too. Adam made a note of it, because he thought the two women were friends. Oh well, maybe Mrs. Golonko had insulted Mrs. Janina’s cake. Adam would never make that mistake.

  Not that Mrs. Janina’s food deserved insults.

  Young women left the fire behind and descended on the lakeshore like a herd of frolicking does. They marked their flower crowns with colorful ribbons, and single men hurried along the shore, to where they would catch the wreaths carried by the gentle stream passing through the lake. A man who caught a particular girl’s wreath was owed a kiss, though Adam had already heard that many of the ‘singles’ were actually couples, or had flirted before. Catching the wreath would be just an excuse to make out in public. Or cause massive scenes if the man got his hands on the wrong flower crown.

  Mrs. Janina walked past him with a cup of juice. “Last year there was a terrible fight over one of them. A man almost drowned.”

  But Adam’s thoughts went somewhere else when he saw Radek and Emil laughing like two madmen. Emil was holding Jessika’s wreath and, goaded by Radek, he sneakily made his way behind the group of women.

  Adam stiffened. Emil was playing a dangerous game, considering the prize all the men were expecting. In the best case scenario, he’d cause even more rumors, and in the worst—Adam might have to diffuse a fight. But he stood still, watching the wreath with pink and violet flowers with a sense of longing. If they were alone here and Adam picked the crown out of the water, would Emil insist on honoring tradition?

  Mrs. Janina gasped when she too spotted Emil pushing his wreath onto the water along with the others. “The audacity. No respect for tradition. That man is always up to mischief. He is thirty today, he should know better by now!”

  But Adam said nothing, his gaze pinned to the one wreath that he wanted to see floating, as drowning was a bad omen, and Emil had suffered enough misfortune for a lifetime.

  The women left the water while the nearby stream pushed their offerings across the small lake, toward a group of shadows skirting the edge of the forest. The huge fire added a sheen to the ripples on the peaceful surface and transformed the folklore tradition into something greater, a declaration that the people of Dybukowo still held on to their ancient roots, not ready to forget their ancestors in the name of modernity. It was actually quite touching.

  An insistent cawing made Adam flinch, but he couldn’t take his eyes off Emil’s wreath. A swarm of crows took a nosedive above the water and descended on the flowers. Adam held his breath in disbelief. A whole murder of crows picked at the wreath, fighting over it in a cloud of cawing and feathers, until one of the biggest birds, with wings like steaks, ripped it from another’s claws and darted off into the night.

  Mrs. Janina shook her head. “Serves him right. What possessed him to take on a female role in the celebrations? I’m telling you, Father, there’s something very wrong with that young man.”

  Emil stood at the shore with his shoulders hunched as the birds disappeared carrying the flower crown he’d poached. Adam felt rather than heard the comments exchanged in voices more hushed than Mrs. Janina’s, but when Nowak cleared his throat and said that Emil might attract crows the same way poor old Zofia had, Adam was done with the conversation.

  He walked away from his place close to the pastor and passed the burning fire as the breeze blew gently from behind his back and pushed him toward the shimmering water.

  “Hey,” he said, joining Emil, who stared at the remaining wreaths as they glided languidly toward the men along the invisible stream.

  People by the bonfire were already dancing to the sound of drums and flutes, but their joy didn’t reach Emil.

  Radek appeared out of nowhere and patted Emil’s back. “I won’t be going into the forest. See you at the party? You’ll meet my friends.”

  He ran off to the group of city people in hip clothes Adam had noticed earlier.

  “He invited some people from Cracow. They’re loving it here,” Emil said to Adam, but wouldn’t look at him, gaze still stuck on the water.

  Adam watched the dark space beyond the first line of trees. “Why would you go into the woods?” he asked, and his first thought was that it might be an opportunity for sex, just like for the straight couples, but he tried to keep judgment out of his voice.

  Emil inhaled so deeply it was hard not to stare at his powerful chest. “To find a fern flower for good luck. But there’s no point in trying this year. The wreath told me all I need to know.”

  Emil had endured a tough life, battling death and misfortune, yet Adam had never heard his voice as beaten down, and the itch to hug him was hard to resist. “Why not? I’ve never done that. Could be an adventure.”

  Emil snorted, and Adam’s heart skipped a beat when their eyes met. “You want to go? Be my good luck charm?”

  “Looks like you might need one tonight,” Adam said, mesmerized by the fire reflected in Emil’s eyes. He wished to see that kind of spark in them every day.

  Emil smiled, and for a moment, Adam thought he’d grab his hand, but he just brushed his fingers over Adam’s forearm and led the way toward the fire. “Let’s not wait then and beat everyone to it.”

  Emil grabbed one of the large torches available for the search and lit it from the bonfire.

  Chapter 14 - Emil

  The forest was magical tonight. It could be the liquor Emil had earlier, but his blood buzzed, as if he might rise off the ground at any second and join the fireflies. They hadn’t left the party that far behind, but the une
ven terrain, with gentle slopes and walls of bush blocked out any signs of civilization.

  The warm glow of the torch shone through the lattice of branches all the way to the tree tops, turning the narrow path into a gothic cathedral with endless naves and a vaulted ceiling decorated with the most exquisite gold leaf. And as they walked, pretending to search for a treasure that couldn’t exist, Emil could practically hear Adam’s heartbeat.

  Tension was thick in the crisp air, but Emil didn’t dare say a word, as if the priest wasn’t made of flesh but of stained glass and might crumble at a gentle push. He wasn’t sure whether Adam was aware what searching for the fern flower together implied for straight couples, but he was glad for the company nevertheless, even if it had been brought on by pity. Throughout his adult life, moments of kindness had been too few and far between for him to question Adam’s reasons.

  The forest was dense enough that following the path seemed like the best way to traverse a large distance fast, but if they wanted to find anything, even just a peaceful spot to chat while all the straights tumbled in the moss closer to the village, they would soon need to leave the beaten track behind. Then again, for Emil this outing was just an excuse to be around Adam, even if nothing intimate would happen.

  The flames cast a soothing glow on Adam’s face and shone through his hair, turning it into gold thread. He looked innocent, sweet, like someone beyond the touch of evil. Emil was the only one who knew the truth, and despite being unable to have Adam the way he wanted to, the bond of a shared secret was real.

  “I love the scent here,” Adam broke the silence at last. “No park in Warsaw—no place I’ve been to, really—smells this way. There’s something primal in this forest.”

  Emil laughed. “It will get primal really fast if we meet a herd of European bison.”

  Adam squinted, and his cheeks dipped slightly when he smiled. “Now you’re just trying to scare me. I’ve been here for over a month and haven't seen any.”

  “Have you actually left the main footpaths in the forest?”

  “Fair point.”

  Emil shook his head. “I’m just messing with you. They’re not exactly dangerous unless you bother them. You know, unlike the wolves and brown bears. But don’t worry, I can protect you, city boy,” he said and winked at Adam, pushing back his damp hair.

  Adam took a deep breath. “I don’t think I’ve ever gone off the path in the forest. They always tell you not to do that, but I suppose you know those woods like they’re your own backyard.”

  The conversation must have relaxed him, because he now followed Emil with more confidence, his gaze piercing the darkness, like an arrow shot between the trees and reaching the most secretive of spaces that no human ever stepped into.

  There was only so much self-control Emil had. He grabbed Adam’s hand and pulled him into a gap between dense juniper bushes. “About time to go off the beaten path then.”

  The warm fingers twitched in his hand, and for a scary moment Emil feared Adam would pull away, but they squeezed back instead as the two of them stepped across a field of whortleberry plants, sinking their feet in its dark green waves.

  “This flower… does it actually exist, or is it all a legend?”

  Emil smirked and traversed the small clearing, making note of the direction, so he could guide them back later. Though, while there wasn’t a clear path in sight, some of the branches ahead had been trimmed for ease of passage, and he headed that way, curious of what they might find. Because if not the legendary flower, then maybe Koterski’s secret marijuana field. That man had to be earning money for the house he was building somewhere, because the forest ranger job definitely didn’t pay enough to cover the fancy-shmancy stonework in his driveway.

  “To be perfectly honest, I’ve never found a fern flower and no one else has ever come back with one, even though everyone knows someone who knows someone who saw it. It’s a bit of a myth, but I wanted to get away from it all, and I always loved this part of Kupala Night. There’s something magical about walking through the woods tonight.” Emil pointed at Adam’s face. “Don’t laugh at me. I’m only a sap when it’s appropriate.”

  Adam’s hand curled around Emil’s as they continued past some evergreen bushes, careful not to trample the small plants on the way, and while Emil wouldn’t allow hope into his heart anymore, he had every intention of enjoying this moment for what it was. An offering of friendship, even if the sparks that kept buzzing between their bodies were to never turn into fireworks again.

  “The celebrations are interesting. When you think about it, people are naturally afraid of fire and deep water, but on this night our ancestors were willing to break many taboos. Swim after dark, even though they believed there were monsters lurking under the surface. Jump over fire… I don’t believe anything you all did back there can bring luck, but it did feel special. Despite Nowak constantly yapping as if he were the most embarrassing master of ceremony on the planet.”

  Emil laughed out loud, walking without haste with the torch in one hand and Adam’s fingers in the other. “There are no monsters left after you blessed the water. But I wouldn’t there jump in before that. No one wants a drowner grabbing their ankle.”

  Adam smiled at him as they neared a dense thatch of evergreen trees. “If that flower is so hard to find, we should look in places that are less accessible. Everyone will be busy pushing tongues down one another’s throats, which leaves us to take the cream.”

  Emil had no idea if Adam realized how suggestive his words were, but as his balls tingled, he headed for the trees, looking for an opening.

  He found it at last—a space between two bladdernuts, which lured him in with the sweet scent of their blossom.

  “There’s something in there,” Adam said and pushed through the barrier of greenery, as if for this one night, he’d shed all his fears.

  Unease clutched at Emil’s throat though, when he realized that beyond a wall of three rows of densely-growing thuyas was a clearing that seemed to not only resemble a rough circle the size of a small church, but was also devoid of young trees, which must have been weeded out on purpose.

  His shoulders relaxed though when he faced a steep rocky wall as tall as his house and an oval-shaped boulder laid out in front of it like an altar pointing away from the cliff. Evergreen bushes grew on both sides like natural decorations, and a small path led up the side of the steep hill. “Damn. I think Grandpa brought me here a few times when I was young. I barely remember, but I think he called it Devil’s Rock or something like that,” he whispered, and when he approached the ancient stone with the torch, he couldn’t help but notice the smooth surface at the top, or the dark stains that reminded him of oxidized blood—a silly notion he quickly dismissed.

  At the narrow end of the altar, right under the rock face, stood a wicker bull. Its horns spiraled upwards, and its front carried more weight than the back, but it was standing proudly nevertheless, just above the traces of lives extinguished in its honor.

  Or so Emil’s imagination told him.

  There was a sense of calm radiating off Adam’s handsome features, but fire danced in his pale eyes as he placed his palm on the stains left behind by blood and took a whole lungful of air.

  A cold shudder danced down Emil’s back, and for a moment he feared the demon was back, but then Adam’s lips spread into a wide smile. “Wow, okay… is this what I think it is? A sacred grove?”

  Emil relaxed but could only offer him a shrug. “Seems like it. Someone must still come here from time to time,” he said, pointing at the wicker figurine.

  “Looks like the wicker hen I’ve seen in Mrs. Janina’s kitchen,” Adam said without a care, but Emil instantly imagined the pastor’s nag of a housekeeper bleeding geese out to honor the old gods every full moon.

  “The site is well kept,” Emil noted and took Adam’s wrist, leading him back. He felt calm, almost unnaturally so, which was what made his brain decide to retreat. Anyone should’ve been even t
he tiniest bit worried by a hidden pagan altar, which was still in use, but he didn’t want to think about the implications—not on a night he shared with someone important. “Who knows, maybe a group of people comes here to have orgies. And tonight’s the perfect time. We better go.”

  Adam was hesitant at first, but in the end let Emil pull him out of the clearing. They walked on, sharing comments about the nature around them and the people of Dybukowo, though mostly they enjoyed a comfortable silence. This sense of easy companionship was something very rare in Emil’s life, something he had only previously shared with Radek, and the longer he walked holding on to Adam’s warm hand, the more he longed to get lost in those woods.

  Even Adam seemed free of his God tonight, as if the dense forest protected him from judgment and took away the meaning of his thick cassock. Tonight, they were just two men, and as the woods opened up to the glow of the torch, it was easy to believe that if they chose not to leave by sunrise, the forest would accept them as its own. Forever.

  Eventually, some two hours into their walk, they reached one of the tall hills surrounding the valley and faced a steep incline. Emil’s first instinct was to lead the way back, since it was deep into the night anyway, but Adam kept walking ahead, to where the approach became sharper and shot straight into the sky. The rock wall was smothered with moss, but the pillow-like softness of it did not detract from the majesty of the cliff.

  Emil hurried, following Adam all the way to the rock wall, but as they walked between the silvery trunks of beech trees scattered over a bed of last year’s leaves, a shiver crawled up his back and tightened his throat threatening to choke him. He’d felt nothing but peace and excitement since they’d left behind the others, but unease was tearing into his insides in silent warning.

  As if the forest didn’t want them here.

  “You didn’t tell me you’re friends with Nowak’s son,” Adam said out of the blue.

  “You don’t know him, so why would I?”