Where the Devil Says Goodnight (Folk Lore #1) - K.A. Merikan Page 0,4

shoulder. “I hate that you’ll be so far away, but… maybe this break from the hustle and bustle of the city will be good for you? A time to soul-search a little. See for yourself if this is the life you want.”

“What else would I want?” Adam asked, shocked that his closest family still questioned his calling.

Father must have sensed the accusation in his tone, because he wouldn’t look into Adam’s eyes. “We always felt you were… different. Not because you were born with a tail, but because you’re a very sensitive young man, and I worry that… the path you chose might be a way to stay in your comfort zone. Sometimes, embracing who we are instead of fighting it is the only way to happiness.”

A cold shiver ran down Adam’s spine. Was Father using euphemisms to suggest he thought Adam was homosexual? Was that also why Mother had encouraged him to pick up priesthood since Adam had entered his teens? The possibilities made his head thud, and he backed away, grabbing the jar.

“I… thank you. Can I take this with me? I don’t think Mom’s up for dessert anymore,” he said, itching for a change of topic. Dybukowo now felt like the perfect place to escape this conversation. And maybe the archbishop had been right? Maybe a simple life away from the possibility of temptation would finally heal Adam’s sinful obsession?

If there was one thing Adam was sure of, it was that there would be no gay men in Dybukowo.

Chapter 2 - Adam

It was so dark Adam could barely see anything beyond the streaks of water drizzling down the windows of the old bus. The trip from Warsaw, which had been supposed to take seven hours, had extended into eleven already, and the serpentine mountain roads made no promises of cutting Adam’s misery short. At one point Adam and a few other men, had to push the bus through a deep mud puddle in the punishing downpour, and now he was stuck behind an elderly lady eating an egg sandwich, his teeth clattering from the icy touch of his clothing.

None of this would have happened if the pastor, or someone else from the village, had come to collect him up from the train station in Sanok. But since nobody was picking up the phone at the Dybukowo parish, getting on the last bus of the day had been his only option.

It was almost eleven p.m. when the vehicle came to a halt, and the driver looked down the aisle running through the middle of the bus. “Anyone getting off at Dybukowo?”

Adam swallowed a curse and shot to his feet. He swiftly put on his light black jacket, hauled the backpack over his shoulder and picked up the heavy duffel bag that contained most of his belongings.

“Come on, other passengers have places to be,” the driver urged, shaking his head as Adam walked past him.

Adam chose to ignore the man’s rudeness but scowled when the first droplets of water fell on his exposed head. While rain was bad, the wind that blew icy needles under Adam’s open jacket was so much worse. The rapid gusts tried to rip the bag from his hand, so he ran straight into the small roofed shelter, relieved to feel cold instead of freezing. The unmistakable smell of urine stabbed his nose, but beggars couldn’t be choosers.

Adam faced away from some obscene graffiti and love declarations just as the bus rolled forward, revealing a small blocky building with windows full of food-related posters.

His heart couldn’t have been warmer the moment he realized it was a store, and that the lights inside were still on.

He pulled the hood of his jacket over his head, took a deep breath for courage, and ran across the empty road. Water burst into his shoes when he stepped into a deep puddle, but he reached the sheet metal roofing over the front of the store by the time a woman stepped out of the building.

She spun to face Adam, holding a large bundle of keys like a weapon as she scrutinized him in perfect silence. Shame sank into Adam’s muscles when he realized he must have scared her. His first day in Dybukowo, and he’d already managed to make a bad impression.

He dropped the bag and raised his hands before pushing back the hood, because he knew his face was the picture of innocence and often got him brownie points from the get-go. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t want