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

by Chase Connor

  Hell on Earth.

  And if Bloody Bones had its way, that’s precisely where we would be now. Instead of sitting around this campfire, safe and sound.

  For many years…generations really…the people of this land lived in fear of and in servitude to Bloody Bones. Afraid to anger the master of the magic of this land. Parents clutched their children tightly to their bosoms as they put them to bed each night, wondering if Bloody Bones would come. Food and drink, sometimes pets and livestock, were left as offerings on the doorsteps of the homes as the sun went to meet the horizon each night.

  Bloody Bones was satisfied…for a time.

  It had magic.

  Rule of this land.

  Blood. Meat. Drink.

  It was king.

  But even kings grow weary and dissatisfied with their kingdom.

  Bloody Bones wanted more.

  More children were taken. More livestock destroyed. Houses were burned with families inside. His wolves terrorized the villages. Years of famine and illness cast a dark shadow over these lands. Bloody Bones cast these lands in darkness for many years.

  But…as things usually go…where there is magic, there is hope.

  Just as Bloody Bones appeared, so did The Guardian and The Oracle.

  And, finally…The Witch.

  The Witch knew that no one but she could release her people from bondage—to free them from Bloody Bones’ reign of terror. Barely more than a child, the witch and Bloody Bones met on the field of battle. It was brutal, and it was not quick. The Guardian and The Oracle watched—as guardians and oracles often do—as Bloody Bones was sealed in the ground. Right here. Beneath us. Right where we sit at this moment.

  It was obvious, as the witch collapsed to the ground, that the child might recover. However, instead of living to fight another day, the witch gave her life, the last of her power, to seal Bloody Bones away for good. As her blood spilled upon the Earth, she cast a wide net of magic with her final breath. As long as the magic of her family was in this land undisturbed, Bloody Bones would never return. It would stay sealed beneath us…forever.

  Watching.

  Waiting.

  Plotting.

  The Oracle and The Guardian watched as the land swallowed The Witch’s body. A peculiar artifact sprouting from where she had laid.

  They knew that with her spell, the witch had balanced the fate of these lands upon a razor’s edge.

  The magic would hold Bloody Bones.

  But there are those who would seek magic.

  To claim it as their own.

  To use it.

  Even the witch’s own family.

  History becomes stories, and stories become legends, and legends become myth…and myths become nothing more than lies. Future generations of the witch’s family would not believe that the magic truly held Bloody Bones within the Earth. They would attempt to use the magic as it suited them, to bring them their hearts’ desires. Eventually, the magic that held Bloody Bones would be gone, squandered and perverted by the very people the witch had given her life to protect.

  With a blood oath, The Oracle and The Guardian swore to watch over these lands, to ensure that if Bloody Bones were ever to return, they would be ready. They would find the most powerful witch in the family’s bloodline, and—regardless the cost—get that witch to imprison Bloody Bones again.

  With each witch’s death over the eons—oh, yes, humans are weak and seek out the use of magic, and evil never rests—Bloody Bones grew stronger and stronger. The Oracle and The Guardian knew that…eventually…Bloody Bones would soon be too powerful for the same magics to keep it at bay. One day, it would rise from these lands a final time, no matter who stood against it, and Hell would come to Earth.

  But…then, another witch was born.

  And The Guardian and The Oracle recognized an opportunity to be rid of Bloody Bones forever…

  “That’s not true!” The boy doubled over with laughter, his arms slung across his tummy.

  “True as we’re sitting here!” The man’s brow furrowed as he turned to glare at the boy who had distracted him from his storytelling.

  “What a bunch of crap.” Another kid, freshly in her teens, rolled her eyes as she jumped up from the ground. “You’re crazy.”

  The man shrugged his shoulders as the children rose from the ground around the campfire. Chilly autumn air blew through their circle, making the firelight dance. Winter would come to Point Worth soon.

  “You’ll think crazy when Bloody Bones visits you tonight.” The man cautioned her, pointing his finger brusquely at each of the kids in turn.

  Mumbling about the “crazy man” and laughing amongst themselves, the children began to disperse, heading back up to the Old House, where their parents were waiting to drive them home. Every year, on the same day, the children of Point Worth came to these lands to hear the tale of Bloody Bones. At first, this was a sacred event, regarded with great solemnity by the children who were dropped off by their parents. Over the years, it became nothing more than one of the “crazy men” in town trying to scare the children with an ancient myth about their hometown, and, before that, the lands that belonged to the indigenous peoples.

  The man sighed to himself as he closed the book and placed his hands on his knees, preparing to rise from the tree stump, when a child caught his eye. One of the younger boys had stayed seated by the campfire, watching the man. This boy lived on these lands with his family. Curious that he would be the only child not to heckle the man or his story. The man settled back on the tree stump, his eyes turning to the young boy, sitting there by the fire, captivated and terrified, his wide eyes affixed to the man.

  “It’s just a story.” The man said.

  It had been for the sake of the boy’s comfort. No truth laced those words.

  “Where did you hear that story?” The boy asked.

  “Same as you.” The man winked. “From an old man around a campfire. The last man to own this book.”

  “Is…is it tuh-true?”

  “Don’t let it bother ya’ none.” The man winked at the boy. “Bloody Bones ain’t comin’ for you, Robert. And, if he does, I’ll fight him off for ya’.”

  Robert thought about this for a moment, and then a brilliant smile split his face. Leaping up, he gave the man a wave, and then he was running back towards his family home in the clearing in the woods, away from the shores of Lake Erie. The man watched as Robert ran gleefully towards home, allowing a passing smile to adorn his face. When the boy was swallowed up by the darkness and shadows of the woods, the man’s smile disappeared, and his eyes went to the fire. Shadows danced all around him as the flames licked towards the canopy of trees overhead.

  “Ya’ know,” The man started at the sound of a woman’s voice, “no one really believes that story anymore. Which is a problem.”

  “Who’s there?” The man’s head whipped around, looking for the sound of the voice.

  “The ground can be shakin’, and the wolves can be prowlin’. The moon can turn to blood, and the lake can boil…but that story is no more than a myth anymore.”

  “Who’s there?” The man repeated, clutching the book to his chest.

  His eyes landed on the spot where little Robert Wagner, Jr. had been swallowed up by the shadows. A woman, old in visage but spry in body, stepped out into the light of the campfire. The man’s eyes grew as the woman, a stranger to him, sauntered out of the shadows and towards the campfire, coming to stand on the other side of the flickering flames.

  “Where’d you come from?” The man asked, unnerved by the sudden appearance of the woman he had never seen before.

  “Here and there.” The matronly woman shrugged as she peered into the man’s sparkling eyes, not yet dulled by age. “Mostly here.”

  “Who are you?”

  The corner of the woman’s mouth turned upward slightly as her eyes lingered on the man’s a moment longer. Then her eyes were on the book.

  “That book doesn’t belo
ng to you.” She said.

  With a flick of the woman’s hand, the book flew from the man’s grasp into the waiting, outstretched hand of the woman. She smiled at the man and promptly tucked the book under her arm. Without another word, she turned and began to step away from the campfire.

  “Huh-who are you?” The man demanded, rising from the tree stump.

  “Well,” The woman turned back to the man, “I’m Esther Jean Wagner. Or I will be. After a spell.”

  She winked.

  Horrified, the man jabbed a shaky finger in her direction.

  “You aren’t Esther Jean Wagner.” He demanded. “Esther Jean Wagner died in childbirth years ago.”

  Esther Jean Wagner smiled.

  “What people don’t know won’t hurt ‘em none.” She winked again. “It’s amazin’ what people will believe with a little magic, ain’t it?”

  “What?”

  For a few moments longer, the woman stared at the man. Suddenly, the man lowered himself to the tree stump again, his eyes slowly moving to the flickering flames of the fire.

  “Esther…Jean…Wagner.”

  “That’s right.” The woman nodded. “That’s who I am. You’re good about tellin’ stories. Tell anyone you want about me if it suits you fine.”

  The man’s head nodded up and down like a balloon on a stick.

  “But you ain’t never heard this story before.” She shook the book at the mesmerized man. “That’s one story you can stop tellin’. We don't need you goin' around, spoilin' the endin’.”

  “Why?” The man asked robotically, his eyes still on the fire.

  “These kids ain’t the only folks listenin’.” Esther Jean Wagner’s brow furrowed as the ground rumbled underfoot for the briefest of moments. “Tellin’ stories is dangerous, Jackson Barkley. Some things are best left to be forgotten. For as long as they can.”

  “Why?”

  Esther Jean Wagner’s eyes moved from the ground to the canopy of skeletal tree limbs overhead. The chilly autumn breeze blew through the woods once more, ruffling her hair and threatening to extinguish the fire.

  “It might already be too late.” She said, mostly to herself, before turning her eyes to Jackson Barkley. “He’s comin’. I don’t doubt that you’ll meet him.”

  And, with that, Esther Jean Wagner disappeared back into the shadows, the book of stories tucked under her arm. Jackson Barkley sat before the fire, staring into its slowly dying flames.

  Chapter 1

  The ground was still shaking, maybe not as bad as it had been, but cracks had formed in the ground of the parking lot outside of the football stadium.

  A pack of werewolves stood in a semi-circle, their leader at the center, a smirk on his face as the woman approached. Ancient and wise, confidence announced her arrival like perfume that had been applied far too liberally. Jason and his pack sneered and smirked, attempting to look menacing as the woman walked towards their half-circle of terror. Still the ground wasn’t the only thing shaking. At least, it wasn’t the reason that more than one werewolf’s knees were wobbly. Whether something such as a werewolf would admit such a thing, every person in the pack knew that this woman was not to be trifled with, nor was she to be treated as harmless. With the snap of her fingers, she could easily incinerate any one—or all—of them.

  Jason stepped forward as the woman stepped out of the dust and shadows, approaching the pack of werewolves as though they were bunny rabbits. She had nothing to fear from the wolves that comprised the pack, whether they were in wolf or human form. If it weren’t the pack, one would think that the ground shaking underfoot would have unnerved the woman, yet it did not. She was unbothered by neither the werewolves nor the quaking underfoot. After all, this was the reason she existed. She had nothing to fear, for her destiny was tied to this moment. Just like it had been to every similar event spanning back to nearly the dawn of human existence.

  Jason did his best to swallow down the lump in his throat and continue to smirk at the woman at the same time, though he knew that his fear would be palpable to her. Nearly anyone would fear this woman almost as much as they would the man in the black hooded cloak. Of course, no one was certain why such a seemingly harmless creature could be nearly as fearsome as the cloaked man, yet the fear was there. Perhaps it was because she had nothing to lose or gain, regardless of how events unfurled. Maybe it was because she had no fear herself. Or maybe it was because she was able to walk along on the shifting ground in a pair of high heels and not miss a step.

  “Well,” Carlita popped her tongue against the roof of her mouth as she stopped a few yards in front of Jason, “I guess today is as good as any other day for an apocalypse.”

  “You can’t do anything now.” Jason attempted a snarl, but to his chagrin, it came out as a wolf-y whimper.

  Carlita looked across the expanse between them with a simple smile affixed to her face.

  “As if I would.” She said.

  Jason nodded shakily.

  “My allegiances have not changed, wolf,” Carlita said, holding a hand up to examine her nails lazily. “Yet, I am quite surprised that we are seeing each other so soon.”

  “That’s her fault.” Jason spat.

  Nearly a quarter of a million miles above them, the moon shone down, full and orange. Soon, it would be blood red, though darkness would mask it. Carlita glanced skyward and let her manicured hand fall to her side as she took in the hue of the moon, trying to mentally calculate how much longer they had. Suddenly, the ground stopped shifting. With a smile, her eyes landed upon Jason once again.

  “They’re no longer in Point Worth.” She said. “For now.”

  Jason opened his mouth to speak, but a woman’s voice came to Carlita’s ears instead.

  “They high-tailed it out of here, ya’ bitch.”

  Carlita’s smile widened as she turned her head to peer into the darkness at her right. Out of the shadows, Esther Jean Wagner stomped towards her. Clad in blue denim bib overalls, a plaid long-sleeve shirt, and gardening clogs, she looked as happy as she usually did, which was to say: not at all.

  “Vieja loca blanca.” Carlita snorted.

  “Don’t you talk that Spanish shit to me, Carlita.” Esther Jean continued her march towards the woman in the red high heels. “You got somethin’ to say, say it in a language I understand.”

  Jason took the opportunity to step back, slipping into the ranks of his pack, making himself a less likely target. At least a harder to hit target. Whether he would be a target for fire, a tongue lashing, or worse, he wasn’t sure. He just knew that he did not want to be between the two women if they decided that they wanted to fight. It was unlikely that Carlita would allow violence to erupt during one of their meetings. Still, Esther Jean Wagner was a force all her own. She wasn’t afraid of the woman in the red high heels. She had no reason to be.

  “You crazy old white bitch.” Carlita bobbed her head back and forth with a sneer as she took in the old woman who stopped merely a yard away. “That’s not exactly what I said, Esther Jean. I added the ‘bitch’ because it felt right.”

  “How dare you talk to me like that?” Esther Jean’s voice boomed.

  A pack of werewolves, though in human form, cowered and whimpered. Destruction was upon them all. Whether it would come from these two women or the force that had caused the ground to shake, they weren’t sure. But destruction was imminent.

  “I wouldn’t be talking to you at all right now if you had gotten Rob out of Point Worth sooner.” Carlita examined her nails again. “Yet again, you just couldn’t do your damn job.”

  “I did my job.” Esther Jean snapped. “I got him out of this damn town before he came of age, didn’t I?”

  “And you did such a marvelous job.”

  “You look here, you bitch—”

  Jason and his pack began to back up, thoughts of slinking away into the darkness crossing all of their minds.

  “Don’t even think about it, you sonsofbitches!” Esther Je
an turned her head to snap at them.

  The wolves froze in place. Carlita smiled, amused, though her eyes never left Esther Jean.

  “I got him raised. I got him out of Point Worth when he was sixteen.” Esther Jean jabbed a finger at Carlita’s face, though she was smart enough to stay out of her reach. “I made him think everything was his own damn idea. I gave him those memories. I did everything we agreed upon. I. Did. My. Damn. Job.”

  “You,” Carlita leaned forward, “did it poorly.”

  “Fuck you.”

  “Classy.” Carlita moved back, her arms coming to rest over her chest. “You always were such a delight, Esther Jean. Oh, how I’ve cherished our millennia together. I’m kind of sad to see our time come to an end, even though it will mean never having to look at your face ever again.”

  “I did my job, damnit!”

  “If you did your job, he wouldn’t have come back.”

  “How the fuck was I supposed to know everything I did wouldn’t be good enough to keep him away longer?” Esther Jean waggled her head at Carlita.

  “Because I told you.”

  “You’re always runnin’ your damn mouth about something.”

  “That’s what oracles do.” Carlita turned her head to the wolves, who were, once again, trying to inch away. “If you boys don’t stop being pesky, momma’s gonna get mad.”

  Jason and his wolves flinched at the toothy smile Carlita flashed.

  “Let ‘em run.” Esther Jean threw her hands in the air. “Where the hell are they gonna go anyway? I’m assuming they’re goin’ to turn tail whatever happens. Now that the arrival of their master is inevitable.”

  Carlita gave the wolves a stern look, then turned back to Esther Jean, all smiles once again.

  “He took Lucas with him,” Carlita said simply.

  “Well, who the fuck saw that comin’? That was me. Some goddamn oracle you are! I told y’all pushin’ them two together was gonna cause problems. I told y’all this whole goddamn plan was a bunch of cat turds hot-glued together, ya’ old bitch.”