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

by Chase Connor

  “Why did you take the book?” She asked me. “I wanted to ask last night, but you was out of here like your ass was on fire.”

  “I thought it might help us get our memories back?” I shrugged as Lucas watched the two of us. “Maybe there was a spell or—”

  “A spell!” Oma cackled. “That ain’t no damn spellbook, you dumbass. That’s the history of this damn land. It has the story of how Bloody Bones came to be. It’s been passed down from villager to town folk, on and on, keeping the history of how this town came to be from generation to generation. For centuries—maybe longer—the elders would pass the story down to younger generations, reminding them of Bloody Bones and why we’re here. They’d tell the story of The Oracle, The Guardian, and The Witch. Remind the younger generation that evil may sleep, but not for long. We must always be vigilant…in case he returns. And that asshole has popped up far too many damn times.”

  “What?” Lucas frowned.

  “Yeah.” Oma waved him off. “It’s a storybook, really. But the story is real.”

  “I want to say that’s all bullshit, but with what goes on in this town—this house—that just seems to be accurate. A storybook you kept hidden away under a damn bookcase for years. That checks out.”

  Oma just shrugged, agreeing with my assessment.

  “Well,” She continued, “once upon a time, as these stories always go, this land was filled with magic. People had barely even arrived, but they were thriving—best as people could in them days.”

  I glanced over at Lucas, and he just shrugged.

  “No one knows why. No one knows how. No one even really remembers what might have caused it…but Bloody Bones used that magic to make himself corporeal. To give himself life. A body. What was he before? Hell if I know. Maybe he was a manifestation of people’s bad thoughts, feelings, and intentions, but—”

  “Big word for you,” I mumbled.

  Oma shot me a look.

  “—BUT, he simply…came into being. Oh, at first, it was pretty harmless stuff. Grabbin’ at the legs of people swimmin’ in the lake. Mostly children. People started tellin’ the story about ‘Bloody Bones who lives in the lake and comes for bad children,’ thus, givin’ this creature a name. Namin’ somethin’, givin’ it recognition, gives it more power. Usin’ his existence, givin’ him a name, givin’ him power over the minds of children, instillin’ fear in someone with the knowledge of him—well, it just helped him become more powerful. He used the magic of this land to his advantage, makin’ himself stronger. And, one day, he broke free from the power that held him to the land. A crack appeared one day. And it grew. And grew. From that crack, straight down to the pits of Hell, Bloody Bones rose.”

  “Again,” I shrugged, “Ohio—portal to Hell—seems right.”

  Lucas hushed me, and Oma rolled her eyes.

  “He began with simple mischief at first. Stealin’ crops, saltin’ fields so nothin’ grew, fellin’ trees, settin’ fire to huts. Then he grew greedy. As time went on and the people who lived here got more and more advanced, he began feastin’ on chickens and stealin’ food, snatchin’ the occasional child. And like idiots, those people told greater stories about Bloody Bones and disobedient children, addin’ to his legend, makin’ him more powerful.”

  Lucas was suddenly holding my hand tightly.

  “Things probably would have went on like that for a much longer time…but suddenly, The Oracle and The Guardian appeared. The Guardian was born from this land, like Bloody Bones, with one mission, to seek out The Witch. The Oracle was the same—though her mission was to watch over this town, these lands, to sense whenever Bloody Bones was coming. So…The Oracle and The Guardian worked together…and they found The Witch. The first of her kind. Not much more than a child, The Guardian and The Oracle found that she possessed control over the magic of her people, a magic that was separate from Bloody Bones. A power he had not been able to pervert to his whims and wishes. For many months, they worked with The Witch, hidin’ her away, instructing her on what needed doin’…and then, The Oracle and The Guardian watched as The Witch met Bloody Bones in battle.

  “In the end…The Witch cast Bloody Bones down, trapping him in the lands once more. She was worse for the wear, but The Guardian and The Oracle knew they could nurse her back to health. But The Witch knew somethin’ that they didn’t. She knew that if she let them heal her, she would only be livin’ to face Bloody Bones in battle again one day. So, she used the rest of the power that resided in herself to strengthen the seal that held Bloody Bones in the ground, protectin’ her people for as long as possible.”

  “What happened to her?” I asked.

  “Well, she died, ‘course.” Oma shrugged, though her eyes looked dewy. “She sacrificed herself to give her people even longer to be free of ole Red Eyes. But, as they watched The Witch die and sink into the ground, The Oracle and The Guardian knew they hadn’t seen the last of Bloody Bones. Maybe it would take a hundred or more years for him to find his way out to fight again, but he wasn’t gone for good. Just as that thought occurred to them, where The Witch had once laid, something peculiar sprouted from the ground.”

  “What was it?” Lucas whispered in rapt attention.

  “A well.” Oma turned her eyes to me.

  “Well, well, well,” I stated blandly.

  “It would contain all of the magic of her family. There in case it was ever needed to defeat Bloody Bones again. Just in case the next witch needed some help. She not only sacrificed herself for her family—and the people of this land—The Witch cast them a lifeline should they ever need it.”

  “I see,” I replied evenly, and I could feel Lucas’ eyes on the side of my head.

  “But your damn family,” Oma pointed a finger in my face, “down through the centuries have been reckless and ignorant with that power. They’ve used it on whims and wishes. And here we are with Bloody Bones back—at his strongest—and you done fucked everything up.”

  “Yeah.” I shrugged. “It’s easy to blame the last person who made the same mistake dozens of people made before, Oma.”

  “Well,” Oma waved me off, “they’re all dead, so you have to take the cussin’ for all of ‘em, ya’ damn idiot.”

  “Fair enough.” I relented. “But how the fuck was I supposed to know?”

  “Because I’ve told you this damn story at least a hundred goddamn times, that’s how!”

  “Well, in my defense, I don’t remember.”

  Lucas was shifting from one foot to the other.

  “And I told you!” She jabbed a finger at him next, making him jump. “But you two thought you was smarter than me—than The Witch who knew what she was doing when she left that well of magic for this family. She knew that one day Bloody Bones would come back so powerful that y’all would need that little extra somethin’. And everyone just squanders it. Fuckin’ humans. You’re all worthless half the damn time—and the other half of the time you’re diggin’ in your own asses about one thing or another that don’t matter.”

  “That’s all well and good, Oma.” I snapped. “But where does that leave us? That didn’t make me remember anything—well, maybe I have a few flashes of the past working around in my head right now, but nothing concrete. What good does any of this do us?”

  “Now,” Oma glared at me, “we’re goin’ down to the cellar.”

  “I’m not going into any goddamn cellar with you.”

  “Rob.” Lucas squeezed my hand.

  “Damn-fuckin-right you are,” Oma growled. “We need somewhere safe so I can lift the damn veil from you two. So you can remember everything.”

  “The…the veil?” Lucas peeped.

  Oma fluttered her fingers in the air.

  “Yeah,” She grumbled, “the damn spell I did to make you both dumber than usual. I’ll reverse what I done did; you’ll remember everything…then wise ass over here can decide what he’s going to do!”

  “What I’m going to do?” I frowned.

  “
About Bloody Bones, of course!”

  “Why do I have to do anything? Why is that my job?”

  “Because you’re the last damn ancestor of The Witch.” Oma barked. “This is your job. Like it or not, that’s what you was born to do, Rob.”

  I started to say something hateful back but stopped myself.

  “Ya’ know what?” I snapped at her. “If I could sink into the ground and get away from you, I’d do it, you old bitch.”

  “Good!” She snapped back.

  Lucas just held my hand.

  “Now, let’s get down in the damn cellar where we got some protection if anyone comes nosin’ around here, and we’ll do this damn thing.”

  Lucas and I looked at each other, our fingers twining together as we considered the request—well, demand—from Oma. My instincts told me that we should follow Oma into the cellar, let her do whatever magic she felt she had to do, and then face Bloody Bones when he showed up. However, something kept pinging around in my head, some little voice telling me there was a question that needed to be asked. Just as I was about to take a step towards Oma, pulling Lucas with me, I realized what the voice was saying.

  “Wait,” I said, causing Oma to halt in her tracks and turn to look at me. “You said everyone talking about Bloody Bones, telling his legend, adding to his myth, gave him more power?”

  “Yeah?” Oma shrugged.

  “People stopped talking about him.” I shook my head. “I do remember that people in this town stopped talking about him. In fact, people stopped believing altogether. So…how is he more powerful now.”

  “Because he stopped relying on the whims of humans and found a new way to get magic.” Oma waggled her head. “Every time he’s come back—up until the last time—he was using the magic humans give all their Gods, and—”

  “All their Gods?” Lucas asked.

  “What’s any deity but the creation of humans brought to life by myth?” Oma said simply. “Humans have a very peculiar magic of their own. They tell stories. Those stories spread from mouth to mouth until the story is the truth. Stories have power, Lucas Barkley. Just as humans give God power, they give Bloody Bones power.”

  “Oddly,” I turned to Lucas, “that’s pretty logical.”

  Lucas shrugged. When I turned back to Oma, she was smiling, happy with herself.

  “Still don’t like you any.” I shrugged at her.

  She frowned. “Well, when you idiots—humans—stopped talkin’, stopped givin’ him power…he started takin’ it from the land. I suppose he didn’t know he could do that before. But desperate times call for desperate measures. And he didn’t just take it. He used it. Not just to rise up and try to come back, but to gain allies. This town’s full of ‘em, too.”

  “He’s been giving families around here power?” I nodded slowly.

  “Damn right, he has.” Oma nodded firmly. “Nearly every damn family in this town is connected to the power he stole from the land. Whatcha think’s gonna happen when he takes it back?”

  “Shit.” I sighed.

  “Grandpa!” Lucas gasped.

  “Ole Jackson’s probably already met his maker.” Oma waved him off casually.

  “Oma!” I growled.

  Lucas gasped again.

  “Well,” She said, “it’s just the truth. Carlita, too. Maybe even Andrew.”

  Lucas was looking at me desperately, his eyes welling with tears.

  “Well, I don’t really care about Andrew, but—”

  “Ya’ should.” Oma snorted. “He’s been tryin’ to help me make you leave this town again to make it safer. S’why he was a douchebag to ya’. Why he attacked you. He could control his damn wolf—don’t be ridiculous. He did that because I asked it of him.”

  “Then why’d he ask me out on a second date?” I growled.

  “Because he probably figured you’d put out?” Oma threw her hands up. “That’s none my damn concern! And, right now, it shouldn’t be yours, either. Are we goin’ down in this damn cellar so I can give you two idiots back your memories, or are we gonna stand up here in the world’s most boring circle jerk until he shows up to kill us all?”

  Lucas was holding my one hand with both of his, tears silently trailing down his cheeks as he thought of his grandfather, Jackson Barkley, possibly being dead. I gave him the most understanding, warmest look I could muster, and he just nodded at me. I turned to face Oma once more.

  “Lead the way you insensitive old hag.”

  “Fine.” She snapped, turned on her heels, and stomped towards the kitchen.

  Turning to Lucas, he just shook his head, letting me know that it was not the right time to try to comfort him. Nothing I could say would have made him feel better about what Oma had just said anyway. Instead of saying anything, or trying to hug or kiss him, I stepped towards the kitchen, dragging Lucas behind me. As we made our way into the kitchen, Lucas shuffling his feet, Oma was swinging the cellar door wide and heading down the steps. I stopped for a moment as I looked at the dark opening that led down below and swallowed hard. The best I could hope was that we got into the cellar, and Oma removed…the veil…she had placed on Lucas and me. Then I could fight Bloody Bones.

  What the actual fuck?

  That was the best hope I could imagine? Some crazy scheme that seemed like a fever dream?

  As Lucas and I descended the stairs cautiously, ours heads whipping around, trying to watch our backs, fronts, and sides at all times, I knew that the best-case scenario in this situation was still a shitstorm. No matter how the pie was sliced, it was still going to be bad. Oma was standing in the middle of the cellar, where the well had once stood, her arms crossed over her chest, waiting on us when we stepped down onto the dirt floor of the cellar.

  “You look like the Cowardly Lion and The Scarecrow off to see the Great and Powerful Oz. Where’s Dorothy, ya’ assholes?”

  I ignored her.

  “Carlita was The Oracle.” It wasn’t a question. “Like The Oracle—from your little story.”

  “Wasn’t a little story.” She barked, her hands lowering to her sides.

  “Whatever.” I waved her off. “So…you’re not my grandmother.”

  “I’m not.” She said finally, her voice bland, as though she had to force herself to be emotionless.

  “You’re…The Guardian, I assume?”

  She nodded. “Found the first witch, and I’ve been comin’ back and dealin’ with your dumbass family every time Carlita—The Oracle—sensed he was going to return.”

  Oma sighed, her eyes flashing to Lucas.

  “Maybe,” She stated wistfully, “if this night had any chance of turning out any other way than I know how it’s gonna turn out, you could-a taken her spot, God rest her soul.”

  Lucas frowned as he chewed at his lip.

  “Ya’ got the gift.” Oma shrugged. “Your foresight and all. I can kinda see her magics already trying to attach themselves to ya’ now that their original vessel is gone.”

  “What?” Lucas whispered.

  “If they had enough time, and I thought we’d make it through this night, I’d imagine I’d be helping a new oracle learn his craft. To help prepare us for the next battle.”

  “What does that mean?” I asked for Lucas.

  “Your boyfriend has the gift.” Oma waved a hand at him. “Came from the same magics that made me and Carlita. Now that Carlita’s gone—I know she’s gone, I can’t sense her anymore—her magics will probably try to find a new oracle to inhabit. I imagine it would be Lucas. Ain’t nobody else in this town got that kind of gift—or the wherewithal to use it as intended.”

  “So…Lucas would be your other half when this is all said and done?” I laughed bitterly. “And I’d just be the witch that gave his life so you could keep on watching Bloody Bones rise, and witches fall?”

  “’Bout sums it up, yeah.” Oma shrugged. “It’s the way it’s always been.”

  “I’m glad to see it pains you.” I rolled my eyes.

&nb
sp; Oma glared at me, though something in her eyes told me she wasn’t mad. She was bitter.

  “Just,” Lucas interrupted before one of us could say something snarky to the other, “give us back our memories. Lift the veil…or whatever.”

  “Gladly.” Oma nodded and stood up straight, squaring her shoulders.

  Lucas and I kept our hands locked as Oma squared herself and planted her feet, her arms reaching out towards us, one hand pointed at Lucas, one at me. Then she smiled.

  “This might sting a little.” She chuckled.

  Then there was a flash.

  And a sting.

  Oma didn’t always lie about everything.

  Chapter 10

  “You will join us, goddamnit.” Jason, barely decently covered in a pair of jeans, shoved a towel-clad Lucas into the locker. “It’s your fate, you little asshole. I’m sick and tired of you giving me shit about it. This is who you’re supposed to be.”

  Jason’s forearm dug into Lucas’ windpipe as Lucas’ wet feet slipped and slid on the slick concrete floor of the locker room. The only thing keeping Lucas from falling and slipping all the way across the room and back into the shower—which he had just left—was Jason’s forearm pinning him against the locker. If Jason pulled away suddenly, Lucas wasn’t sure he could catch himself quickly enough to keep from busting his ass painfully on the floor. Or, maybe he would slide all the way across the room. Of course, the towel wrapped around his waist might have been enough to keep him from sliding too far.

  Lucas had been so careful. Jason had been harassing him for months to join his pack, but Lucas had always been clever in avoiding Jason when he was alone. There was no way that Jason could fulfill his threats to turn Lucas into…one of them…if there were always witnesses to their exchanges. Even this night, only his third football game with the team, he had made sure he took an extra long shower. He waited until he was sure that all of the other guys had gotten showered, dressed, and left the locker room. The water in the showers had turned cold by the time Lucas finally twisted the knobs on the wall, and the water stopped cascading over his body. Shaking with cold, his fingers resembling prunes, Lucas had grabbed his towel, wrapped it around his waist, secured it, and headed to his locker to dress.