Where the Devil Says Goodnight (Folk Lore #1) - K.A. Merikan Page 0,119

afternoon sun, the dark, dense expanse of the woods covering mountains that stretched all the way to the horizon, and he tried to fight the sense of loss deep in his heart.

But if he was to choose between the home that never wanted him and a man who made Emil feel like he finally belonged somewhere, the choice was clear. He and Adam would have to make a new home in a place that treated both of them right.

Turning around, he took in the charred remains of his home. It wasn’t all cinders, and he hoped to scavenge some mementos before leaving forever. Many of the thick beams that used to support the roof appeared solid enough where they emerged from ash, but he was startled to notice a strangely regular shape cut into one of the thick wooden pillars. Stepping over the battered metal box that used to be his cooker, he reached the fallen beam and had a close look at the deep grooves cut into the wood to form a rectangle.

Without thinking much, he opened his pocket knife and dug the small blade into one of the cuts, applying pressure until the tightly-fitting block budged and fell out, revealing a secret compartment. Emil felt and thought nothing as he saw an elongated shape wrapped in linen tucked inside. The item survived the blaze without even a hint of char. When he reached for it, the weight and form hidden by cloth revealed what it was, but once he removed the covering and held the dagger in both hands, he couldn’t get his head around it having been hidden in the beam all this time. For what purpose? And who put it there in the first place?

The blade seemed deceptively sharp despite its matte surface. Made of honed bone, it sat in a wooden handle that had a face with sharp features carved into it, and horns making up the cross guard.

A long lock of hair similar to the one on the figurine he’d burned was tied around the inner sides of the horns, like a decorative strap.

He shuddered, unable to explain the sudden tightness around his heart. He wasn’t scared. And of what? Of an old knife Grandma must have hidden in the beam years ago? There were some real issues he needed to deal with before he left Dybukowo, so what was the point of worrying about superstition?

Then again, how could he dismiss the existence of the supernatural when he’d witnessed Adam’s possession, its consequences, and saw things he couldn’t explain? Jinx had run out of the barn unscathed when poor Leia had burned alive. A bison had brought Adam Emil’s wreath, and as romantic as that had been, it was also fucking weird. His grandmother used to dabble in some kind of village sorcery, and now all this was happening to him?

Maybe if Grandma’s things hadn’t burned, he could find answers to any questions he might have had about the dagger, but it was too late for that.

Jinx whinnied by a nearby tree, and Emil glanced toward him, only to spot a familiar figure approaching from the direction of the church. Still dressed in the cassock, Adam was taking long, energetic strides, as if he was about to be late to an appointment if he didn’t hurry.

And despite the smell of char and lost dreams hanging around the ruins like a fog, smiling at Adam was as easy as breathing. Despite all Emil had been through, Adam was the one ray of sunshine still present even as the sun set behind the mountains.

“You managed to get away after all?” he asked from afar and scrambled out of the rubble.

Adam’s blond hair was tousled by the wind, his cheeks flushed after the brisk walk, but when Emil was about to close him in his arms for a short, socially-acceptable hug, he evaded the embrace with a quick step back.

“What are you doing? Just tell me now,” Adam growled, watching Emil while his shoulders remained hunched, as if he were preparing to charge.

Emil groaned. “Is there a problem? You said you couldn’t come with me, so I walked here myself. There’s no point in avoiding the inevitable.”

Adam’s lips thinned, and he pressed them together so hard they lost their color, while his face became darker at a rapid pace. “Why was this under my bed? You told me you burned it,” he started out saying, but his voice rose in volume by the time he pulled something