Jacob Michaels Is... The Omnibus Edition: A Point Worth LGBTQ Paranormal Romance Books 1 - 6

by Chase Connor

  Remembering life with Oma before I ran off to chase fame and fortune was difficult as well. I knew I had gone to school; I had found Oma’s house odd when I lived there, I had not had too many friends, I had loved school plays and choir and playing guitar, and…everything was vague. I honestly couldn’t put a finger on a single complete memory while I was awake. But when I slept and dreamed or had nightmares, or sometimes when I touched other people, full and complete memories came back to me. But they became hazy as time went on. I was already forgetting the memories I had seen in my mind’s eye when I touched Ernst and Lucas.

  I stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and pulled out my phone. Pulling up the notepad app, I made myself notes about the memories still in my head. Just in case I forgot them again.

  Chapter 6

  “What the hell are you doing now?” Oma grumbled when she entered the kitchen through the back door.

  Glancing over my shoulder at her, I took in the dirty bib overalls, the rubber gardening shoes, the too big gloves, the big sun hat, and the spade in her hand as she stood there. She looked like any grandmother from anywhere across the country getting ready to plant her garden for spring. The fact that I knew she was anything but the innocent old lady planting her garden made the ensemble look ridiculous. Lena was standing at her side, arms crossed over her tiny chest, glaring at me, helped me remember that Oma was not the little old farmer lady she appeared to be.

  “I told ya’, sir,” Ernst whispered up from my side, where he had been standing for the last few minutes. “This was a bad idea.”

  “It’s okay, Ernst,” I replied and turned away from the cellar door I had been attempting to open.

  The door in the kitchen that led down to the cellar was tightly shut, though I couldn’t see anything that kept it sealed so tightly closed. A good lock would have kept me out, but the door didn’t even budge a fraction of a centimeter when I pulled on the knob. Most doors will give at least a little, rattle in the frame, when yanked on forcefully. The cellar door did nothing but stay tightly in place, keeping me from gaining access to the room below.

  “Where’s the key?” I turned to Oma, crossing my arms over my chest as I stared her down.

  “Why?”

  “So I can open the door.” I glowered. “Obviously.”

  “Why would you want to do that?” She said. “I done told you to stay out of there. There ain’t nothin’ down there for you.”

  “Let me be the judge of that. Where’s the key?”

  “You ain’t goin’ down there.”

  “It’s either the key…or an ax.” I shrugged. “Maybe I can figure out that fire throwing trick again…but I’m not entirely sure how that works so who knows what I’ll end up doing. Up to you.”

  Oma glowered at me.

  Lena’s eyes had grown wide, and her arms had dropped to her sides.

  Ernst was shifting from foot to foot by my side.

  “Ernst.” Oma barked. “How could you let this happen?”

  “Ernst isn’t my keeper.” I snapped. “And you leave him alone. He hasn’t done anything wrong.”

  I placed a hand gently on the top of Ernst’s head, luckily without memories flashing through my mind. Like the green lasers and the fire, the memories came whenever they felt it was appropriate.

  “So, I see he’s your little pet again.” Oma rolled her eyes.

  “I’m sorry?”

  Oma looked startled for a minute then was back to glowering at Ernst and me.

  “Nothin’, ya’ shithead!” She snapped. “There’s no key to the damn cellar and ya’ ain’t goin’ down there. End of discussion.”

  “Fine.” I nodded.

  Calmly, I motioned for Ernst to move away. He gave me a pleading look but shuffled a few feet away. I gave Oma one last look, then turned around, took a step back, then attempted to put my foot through the door. All I managed to do was send pain up through the heel of my foot that settled in my calf. I didn’t let it stop me. I kicked again. And again. And again. The door was rattling, finally, but I knew after the fifth kick that this was not going to provide the results that I wanted.

  I spun around to glare at Oma, my foot aching.

  “I’m going to get an ax.”

  “Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Oma grumbled before I could make a move for the back door. “You want in there so fuckin’ bad, fine.”

  The fact that Oma hadn’t screamed at me for trying to kick in one of her doors was not lost on me. Maybe she knew that I could pay to replace anything I broke? Or perhaps she knew I’d never be able to kick it in and one of her household helpers would fix any damage?

  Lena and Ernst were both looking uncomfortable as Oma stomped across the kitchen to the sink and opened her “catch-all” drawer. I waited, trying not to wince at the pain in my foot as she rustled around in the drawer. Oma muttered to herself like a crazy person—naturally—and Ernst and Lena shifted nervously from foot to foot as I waited for the key to be found. With all of her mumbling and cursing under her breath, I couldn’t help but feel that maybe Oma was stalling for time until she could figure out a way to distract me.

  Kicking at the door had been a dick move. I knew that. However, with everything that had happened since I got into Point Worth—Kobolds, werewolves, magic fingers (not the sexy-time kind), naked burned up women, Teenage Ghost Rob—everything was making me desperate to figure out what was going on. If I had to kick in a door, or, try to kick in a door, then I was going to do that. Having more and more unfamiliar memories flashing through my head when I touched someone, ghostly apparitions of my teenage self, or more attacks from local werewolves, were things I could do without for the rest of my life.

  Maybe I’d find something in the cellar that would put all of the pieces together. Or maybe there would be nothing. Maybe I’d go down in the cellar and have a revelation that would eventually drive me over the edge for good. After several dreams of the cellar and the ghostly green light, I knew that the cellar wasn’t a terrible place to look for answers. No matter what I found in the cellar, once I gained entrance, at least it would settle my mind. If I found something that explained what was going on, that would be ideal. If the cellar held nothing of import, then at least I’d know to focus my attention somewhere else. At least I’d be moving in the right direction and taking action, not just standing around with my thumb in my ass.

  “You and this damn cellar.” Oma huffed as she yanked the key out of the drawer. “I don’t know why the hell you got to go down there.”

  I held my hand out. “Just give me the key, Oma.”

  Oma slapped the key into my hand as if slapping me the angriest high-five ever. Ignoring her anger, I looked down at the common key and turned to the door. Ernst tugged at my pant leg with one little fist.

  “Sir.” He squeaked. “Maybe we ought-not go down there?”

  “It’ll be okay, Ernst.” I looked at Oma over my shoulder. “Right, Oma? We’re not going to find anything too crazy down there are we?”

  I smirked at her.

  “Not unless old Christmas decorations and mouse shit are scandalous to ya’.” She snapped. “Or if cobwebs are too much for your heart.”

  “There ya’ go, Ernst.” I winked down at him. “There’s nothing to worry about. Even Oma says so.”

  He glanced over at Oma and from the way he twitched, I could only imagine the face she was giving him. The fact that Ernst had taken a liking to me so quickly…or so quickly again would eventually be checked off of my To-Do List of things I needed to try and remember. However, the Kobolds in the house were not my biggest concern. They lived and moved in the shadows and kept the house clean. Maybe pulled a few harmless pranks. Otherwise, they were not the reason why I felt the way I did. Not having access to my full Rolodex of memories was the problem. Oma wasn’t going to explain it to me directly—even if she fully understood it or knew about it—so I was taking things into my own hands. I was going down into the cellar no matter how anyone felt about it.
/>
  The lock didn’t do much once I had crammed the key into it. From the feeling of resistance, my first thought was that Oma had given me the wrong key. Either that was intentional or, she hadn’t opened the door in so long that she didn’t remember which key opened it. However, after a little steady twisting and turning, the lock started to move. Oma grumbled behind me, obviously not pleased with anything that was going on. I ignored her and twisted the key gently until the lock was disengaged.

  Instincts took over, and I didn’t stand there, looking at the unlocked door, breathing in my victory at getting access to the cellar. Instead, I turned the knob and pulled the door outwards. A cold blast of air shot up the stairs, chilling me to the bone, but only darkness greeted my eyes. Ernst shivered and moved to stand behind my legs as I peered down the dark stairwell. Looking into the darkness, all I could think about was what I would do if all of my answers were in the room beneath us. What if I went downstairs and had the biggest revelation of my life? What if I left the cellar a changed man?

  “Spooky.” Oma snorted. “Ain’t it?”

  “You got a flashlight?” I looked over at her.

  “Turn the damn light on, ya’ idiot.” She snapped. “It’s right there on the wall at eye level. You ain’t just dumb, you’re also blind.”

  “Thanks,” I stated blandly before turning to look for the switch she had referenced.

  Locating the light switch was easy enough. It was just inside the door, mounted to one of the wooden studs to the right. I gave it a quick slap and lights—well, probably one light—came on below. The cellar was still dark, but there was enough light for me to see that the floor was dirt. The stairs were wooden but solid looking, and shadows loomed everywhere. The walls of the stairwell were unfinished, as was to be expected, and there was a fair amount of dust with a scattering of cobwebs along the stairwell. Ernst was quiet, but his fingers were trying to dig into the backs of my legs. I reached down and patted the top of his head, feeling a surge of something again, but no memories flashed through my head. I laid my hand on top of his head for a moment, but nothing else happened.

  Oma was still frowning when I looked over at her with my hand atop of Ernst’s head.

  “What?” She spat.

  “Just wondering if I’m going to find any bodies down here,” I said. “I mean, you are the resident witch around here, right? Are there bones of children down there?”

  Oma squinted angrily at me.

  “Double, double, toil and trouble.” I waggled my head. “Fire burn and cauldron bubble.”

  “What?” She snarled.

  “Read a book, Oma.” I rolled my eyes. “For God’s sake, pick up a damn book. Fuck, watch a play or a movie that doesn’t star me.”

  She flipped me off with a snarl.

  “Charming.”

  Oma ignored me.

  “You goin’ down there or what, smartass?” She shoved her fists against her hips. “Or are you just proving a point?”

  Instead of responding, I stepped down and began my descent into the cellar as Ernst tried to keep ahold of my pant legs. Gently, I pulled his hands away from my legs and smiled at him. Wordlessly, I let him know that he did not have to come with me, then patted him on the head again. I didn’t know if pats on the head were appropriate for Kobolds, as though treating them like a family pet, but he didn’t seem to mind. Ernst seemed to find the gentle touches reassuring, so I ignored my desire to examine it.

  Slowly but surely, I took one step at a time, descending further into the cellar, my fingers trailing the walls along the stairwell as I moved. After a few moments, I heard Oma stomp to the cellar door and start following me down. Whether or not that was a good thing, I wasn’t sure. If she came into the cellar with me, would she try to distract me in my examination of the room, or would she just stand there and watch. Seeing as there was no option but to let her go into the cellar—it was attached to her house after all—I walked down the last few steps. My feet touched the dirt floor, and I moved away from the steps to survey the room around me.

  Stone walls, lots of cobwebs, the kitchen floor overhead, a stack of boxes in the corner, a bare bulb mounted to one of the studs overhead. It was dank and dark and musty but otherwise looked like a fairly organized cellar. Save the dust and cobwebs, it was reasonably clean as well. Oma stepped down onto the dirt floor as well and looked at me, waving her hands around dramatically. Her grand gesture of “what did I tell you” made me want to flip her off. I controlled my instincts and just looked around the cellar at the absolute lack of anything.

  In one of my dreams, there had been a well that had been waist high with green light beaming up from wherever the bottom of it was. Reality was a different story—just a solid dirt floor from wall to wall with very few things of interest scattered around. Oma appeared impressively organized in her storage skills. Someone easily could have converted the basement into a den, a family room, or even an apartment. It wasn’t huge—but it was bigger than most apartments you’d get in New York City on a budget. Probably got more natural light, too.

  “Find what you was lookin’ for?” She snorted.

  “You’re a real peach, Oma,” I stated blandly as I turned, looking around at…nothing.

  “I can go get you a shovel if you want to dig up the floor.” She added. “Just in case you ain’t yet satisfied.”

  “If there’s nothing down here…why were you so against me coming down here?” I turned to her, lacing my arms over my chest.

  “All this damn nonsense you’ve gotten into your head—I don’t want you to keep feeding it!”

  “I’m sorry?” I laughed bitterly. “I think the Ernst, Lena and…the others whose names I can’t remember right now—”

  “Hans, Felix, and Oskar.”

  “Yeah.” I waved her off. “Them. They prove that not everything my brain comes up with is just nonsense. You lied to me about them. You said I was crazy. Well, lady, I think we proved that I was not crazy. So it’s gonna take a shit more than an empty cellar for me to believe everything is peachy keen in Fuckville, Ohio.”

  “Fuckville?” She turned her nose up.

  “I don’t know!” I threw my hands up. “I’m not really on top of my game today, all right?”

  “Obviously.” She mimicked my hands-over-chest pose and stared impassively back at me.

  “I’ve had dreams about this cellar.” I jabbed my finger down at the floor in a childish display of stubbornness.

  Should’ve stomped my foot as well.

  “There is something about this cellar.”

  “Well,” Oma clucked, “since I have no idea what you’re talking about, I guess you’re just going to have to find it. Dig your way to China for all I fuckin’ care. But everything better be back the way I had it before you brought your arrogant ass down here!”

  Oma waggled her head and turned towards the stairs. She laid her hand upon the handrail, and her foot landed on the first step.

  “Where’s the well, Oma?”

  Anyone who didn’t know my grandmother wouldn’t have caught it, but I saw the slight pause she took, the uncertain look on her face before she turned to me with a scowl.

  “Who has a well in their goddamn basement?”

  “There was one here in a dream I had.”

  “Then it must be true.” She rolled her eyes. “Just like the other night when I dreamed that Sam Elliott had come to make sweet love to me years back.”

  “Gross.” I turned my nose up.

  “He’s a fine lookin’ man.” She whispered conspiratorially. “And that voice. Oh, my.”

  “Well the voice is one thing, but he’s too old for me and—stop changing the goddamn subject, Oma.”

  “I ain’t changin’ the subject! You’re the one getting all hot and bothered!” She reached up to lay a hand at the front of her neck. “I’m just makin’ a point that dreams ain’t real!”

  “Oh, you’re not real!” I snapped back.

  “What?”

/>   “I don’t know!”

  “Well,” She rolled her eyes, “I’m glad to see your mental health is in a grand state. Why don’t you go lay down? Obviously, you need some rest.”

  “Blow it out your ass, Oma.” I snarled.

  Oma rolled her eyes as I stormed across the cellar, rounded her, and stomped up the steps. I didn’t even wait to see if she followed. Once I was out of the cellar, I made my way through the house and upstairs to my room. Making sure my door was shut and locked, I threw myself on the bed. Moments later, Ernst appeared from the corner behind the dresser and tiptoed towards the bed. My eyes landed on him, and he looked up at me with a disconcerted frown. Sighing, I patted the other side of the bed. Ernst crawled up and sat down in the Lotus position, his hands in his lap. Together, we both used the bed as our place to go over our concerns and worries.

  Chapter 7

  Are you scared?

  No. I’m just lost.

  I’d be scared.

  I have no reason to be scared. I just don’t know what to do. Things are changing. She’s worried.

  What do you think we should do?

  I don’t know. I don’t know anything right now.

  I wish I could help you.

  We could…run away.

  Together?

  Would you run away with me?

  Of course, I…did you see that?

  What?

  Rob! Run!

  Why? What did you see?

  Rob!

  “Rob?”

  Knocking.

  Lucas’ voice.

  When I sat up in bed, shaking off the afternoon nap sleep, Ernst was standing on the bed like a meerkat at attention. The visual made me want to laugh, but I chose to rub my eyes instead, wondering when I had drifted off. The way Ernst had been standing, the feeling that we had both drifted off for a nap gradually hit me. Everything going on around us was sure to tucker a fellow out, so climbing into bed led to the inevitable.