Where the Devil Says Goodnight (Folk Lore #1) - K.A. Merikan Page 0,33
kneeled.
“How are you feeling?” Adam asked.
Emil took a deep breath. The last time he’d been to confession was at sixteen, right before his confirmation. At that time, he was in the process of leaving religion behind, but Grandpa had insisted it was the thing to do, so Emil went with it to keep him happy.
He hated talking about his feelings. All it had ever brought him was heartache, so he kept that wall high when he answered. “I’m fine. I was bored and decided to see my favorite priest.”
So it was a whole load of horseshit. It didn’t matter what he said as long as Adam was there to listen.
Adam took a deep breath that echoed through the hollow piece of furniture that provided them with an excuse to talk. “Did the police bother you yesterday? They told me it looked like an accident, but sometimes they don’t want to reveal what they found out.”
At least they weren’t talking about feelings. “They did come over, but it wasn’t like they had much to do other than take my statement, since a kid had seen Zofia attacked by the crows.” He stalled, staring at Adam’s face behind the wooden grate. They were separated yet close enough for it to feel intimate. “As a… man of faith, do you think it’s possible for the devil to interfere with people? Cause them bad luck?”
Adam’s lips stretched into a smile. “Are you asking me for my personal opinion or that of exorcists?”
Was that… flirting?
“You know the opinions of exorcists, Father?” Emil teased and rested his temple against the wood, comforted as if Adam’s gaze was sunshine at the cusp of the summer.
Adam shrugged, seeming more relaxed now that there was a physical barrier between to keep them from jumping each other’s bones. “I’ve met one or two. Don’t tell anyone, but I think some of them are nuts. That is my personal opinion. Satan doesn’t just spoil cow’s milk like demons in old wives’ tales. His actions are more subtle. He courts us with promises of something pleasing, only to push us off the cliff when we least expect it. Metaphorically speaking, of course.”
“Is that something you encountered back in Warsaw?”
Adam rested his head against the lattice, and some of his pale hair snuck through it, as if it was reaching out to Emil. “Everyone has to deal with temptation. There are no true saints. Just look at how hard they tried to find witnesses to miracles for some of the recent beatifications. It’s easy enough to believe someone who lived two thousand years ago could have been this perfect human being who spoke to animals or made someone’s leg grow back, but even the best people sin, and the good they do is extraordinary in a mundane way.”
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.”