Where the Devil Says Goodnight (Folk Lore #1) - K.A. Merikan Page 0,55

came here. It’s all his doing,” Adam said and stepped off the bed so erratically he fell over on the other side.

Emil circled the bed, ignoring the searing heat in the burns for now, because Adam wasn’t himself, and Emil didn’t want to leave him. “What demon?” he asked, but his stomach clenched, heavy as if he’d swallowed a dozen lead balls. “Did you take… drugs? Ate wild mushrooms or berries?”

Minutes ago, Adam had been excited and pliant, he’d even come here and made the first move yet now he blamed it all on demons. Emil was dying to dismiss it as a religious breakdown, but the stinging burns wouldn’t let him forget that the logical explanation didn’t resolve the issue of Adam’s palms searing his skin.

Blue eyes watched him from the floor, but Adam backed away as soon as he saw Emil. His breath seemed erratic as he pulled on the comforter and hid behind it.

“He brought me here. You have to believe me. And I can still feel him. He’s watching us!”

“Are you really saying the devil made you do it?” Emil wanted to laugh it off, even if bitterly, but couldn’t, because things were getting far too freaky for his liking.

The electricity was out, and a storm—the storm had stopped. Rain had beaten against the window before, but now the world outside was dead silent.

Emil took in the room with goosebumps prickling his skin, and he slowly grabbed the thick broom he’d left by the wardrobe.

At his feet, Adam hid his head between his knees, toes digging into the wood as he rocked back and forth, mumbling something Emil couldn’t understand.

The crows screamed outside, all of them at once, like a morbid choir, and the harsh, triumphant sound made Emil’s muscles calcify.

“It wasn’t me. It wasn’t me who came here. It was him,” Adam whispered before looking up, his face stricken with sweat, gaze darting to all the darkest corners of the room as if he saw something Emil couldn’t.

Emil hated what Adam was suggesting, but chose to focus on the here and now. “Listen, I don’t believe in God per se, but I do believe there are… things in the world that we don’t understand. Spirits. Maybe. You need to tell me what happened.”

A tear rolled down Adam’s cheek, and he dove deeper into the thick comforter, as if it could protect him from whatever infernal presence he was talking about. If this were just about the sudden change in Adam’s behavior, Emil would have assumed it to be a mental breakdown, but no sane explanation could account for his burns. So he listened.

“I was distraught. I blessed the parsonage and went to the church. To pray. And that’s when it came. You’ll think I’m crazy—”

Emil scooted down, painfully aware of just how insane all this was. “No, you can tell me. Was he the one who hurt your back?”

Adam’s mouth shut, and the vulnerable expression passing through his face had Emil’s stomach in cramps. “No, he… he spoke to me. I thought I heard God’s voice, but he entered my body, right there, in the church. Where I should have been safe. Where everyone should be safe from demons. And then he took me to you.”

Emil exhaled, but since he couldn’t see anything sinister creeping at the edges of his bedroom, the ache in his flesh came to the forefront, insistent in its punishing bite. “Okay, Adam, we’ll deal with this, but it really fucking burns right now.”

It was as if something clicked in Adam’s head and he got to his knees, touching Emil’s shoulder. “I’m sorry. Did I… was it me?” he asked and got closer to peek over Emil’s arm. Despite the pain radiating off the scalded flesh, Emil’s gaze briefly passed over the handsome line of Adam’s chest, but when Adam flinched, Emil followed his gaze to the shadowy corner of the room.

“You see something there?” he asked, pulling Adam closer, weirdly protective of him after the sex. Adam had opened himself up to touch, to affection, and Emil wouldn’t give him the cold shoulder. Whatever this was, they would deal with it together.

Adam’s breath caught, and he met Emil’s gaze. “Yes. Let’s go to the kitchen,” he whispered, tracing the edge of the burn with his fingertip. He was still tense, but Emil’s vulnerability seemed to have given him purpose beyond fearing for his life and sanity.

Emil hated having to admit he was in pain, but he’d do anything to keep