He took several inhales, staring at the bundles of dried herbs hanging from the beams. With the light off, the ceiling drowned in shadow made darker by the contrast with a narrow trim of bright wooden panels encircling the room. Grandma had painted the planks herself, and the images of wild flowers, even if faded, still reminded Emil of her.
Peace slowly sank into his bones as he took in the wooden walls decorated the old-fashioned way—with Christening and First Communion certificates that featured pastel drawings, with photos of a happy family that didn’t yet know it was about to be torn apart. He was the last Slowik left, and he would be the last of his line.
Maybe that was why he couldn’t bear to change anything. The house he lived in was over a hundred years old, and since he wouldn’t have children of his own, he didn’t feel like he had the right to claim it. It was still the house of his grandparents, where furs and hand-woven blankets were stored in wooden chests, where heat came solely from a tiled stove, and where a gas oven was a modern luxury only installed after Grandma had gone missing.
Emil exhaled and looked to the other side of the room, where a wooden mask stared back at him with empty eyes. The black and white lines painted over poppy-colored skin exaggerated the bony shape of the devil’s face. Most depictions of this kind presented Satan in a silly way, to make light of his powers. But the handmade mask, which had been in Emil’s family for decades, had canines of the kind that could rip people open, and an unnerving pattern of dots around the eyes. Its horns weren’t those of a goat or bull either—spiraling toward the sky and ribbed.
Emil didn’t think of it much, since the mask was only in use for a short time in winter, for caroling around Christmas and New Year, but as the crows croaked in alarm outside, a cool shiver trailed down Emil’s spine, causing a paranoid sense that the mask was the devil’s head, and his entire form might emerge from the wall, ready to strike Emil down as, he had Zofia.
His heart beat faster, but when he glanced at the phone on the side table next to him, reality grabbed his ankles and kept him in the seat. There were very real issues he needed to deal with.
He rubbed his forehead, focusing on the ancient rotary dial phone before finally gathering the courage to choose Radek’s number. The signal kept going for the longest time, and Emil was about to put the receiver down when Radek picked up, his cheerful voice clashing with the dull pain in Emil’s heart.
“When do I pick you up?”
“I’m not coming,” Emil said, leaning forward to contemplate the worn hardwood planks of the floor. “There’s been a—I know what you’re thinking, but… it’s Zofia. She was supposed to look after my animals. She’s dead.”
Radek went silent for a couple of seconds, and Emil cringed when he heard him swallow. “Poor woman. She always wore her heart on her sleeve. But, you know, there’s three hundred people in the village. It shouldn’t be too hard to get someone to take care of the animals for such a short time. You could still come over next week.”
“I’ll see about but, Radek… She’s been so terribly pecked on by crows. It was horrific. People think it’s my fault. I… I’m having a really hard time.” He was glad Radek wasn’t here, because pain and fear weren’t easy to admit to in person.
Radek’s breath creaked. “Why would they think it was your fault?”
“You know those damn birds always follow me. They must have… just gotten to her dead body, but everyone’s jumping to conclusions.”
“Emil… you can’t stay there. I don’t think they actually believe you’re at fault, that’s crazy, but you can’t be their scapegoat. You know neither of us fits in Dybukowo, and it’ll only get more toxic for you.”
Emil nodded despite knowing Radek couldn’t see him. “I might have told your dad I worship the devil and was going to teach you. Sorry. He attacked me, and I lost my cool.”
Radek laughed out loud. “He doesn’t really believe in this crap. Just keep me posted, okay?”
Emil sighed and met the mask’s empty gaze. “I will.”
Chapter 6 - Emil
Emil awoke to his fence broken down and most of his chickens gone, so he spent his morning chasing them, but when two were still missing at midday, he decided to give up on the search. The knowledge that someone had snuck into his yard, opened the henhouse, and damaged the fence just to spite him was a burning wound deep in his gut.
He had first understood that he was different when he’d accidentally touched another boy when skinny-dipping in the summer. It had been their secret, even though none of them had yet understood why physical affection between men was something forbidden. But that guy had moved to greener pastures and left Emil alone with his longing.