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

by Chase Connor

  Do you love me?

  Yes. I love you.

  Chapter 12

  Being awoken abruptly was something I was just getting used to so it didn’t startle me as much when I sat bolt upright in bed. Had I heard something again? Had Lucas snored or talked in his sleep or was he moving around due to a nightmare or dream? Did I need to go look out the window to find some hooded figure staring up at my window like a weirdo? I wouldn’t go outside even if I saw that again. I refused.

  Glancing over at Lucas, I could tell he was in a profound sleep. The fact that I could see him well because he was cast in an eerie green light was not lost on me. It dawned on me that I could see everything in the room very well due to the illumination that the light provided. Looking over at the door, I found the source of the light, just as I expected. The green light was pouring through the cracks around and under the door, reaching into the room like slender fingers, searching me out.

  I twisted my hips to let my legs hang off of the bed and then pushed away from the bed, landing on my feet. I was naked, never having bothered to dress after Lucas and I brought each other to two of the most intense orgasms we’d ever had. I reached down to the floor and retrieved my pajama bottoms, sliding into them quickly as I kept my eyes on the green light sneaking into the room through the door cracks.

  For a few moments, I stood there, my feet cold on the floorboards, staring at the door. Somehow, like Lucas, I knew what was going to happen. I knew that the light had returned at that moment because it was time. I was ready to follow it down to the cellar again. Padding across the room quietly, though I knew Lucas would not wake up, I made my way to the bedroom door. Just as before, when I pulled the door open, the light was moving down the upstairs hallway. I glanced back at Lucas. He was peacefully and deeply sleeping. I smiled over at him and exited the room, closing the door gently behind myself.

  I’m coming back with our memories, Lucas.

  I promise.

  Nervously following the light down the hall, I tiptoed along, though I knew that Oma and the Kobolds would not awaken to come investigate either. The light moved down the hallway just a few yards ahead of me, then started down the stairway to the floor below. When I reached the top of the stairs, the light was moving into the living room below. Step by step, I followed along, making sure it never got so far ahead that I lost sight of it. The light moved along at a pace that matched mine, only moving towards the kitchen when my feet touched the foyer floor.

  Through the living room, I continued to tiptoe, as though there was any reason to be quiet. As I walked through the living room and headed towards the kitchen, through the large kitchen entryway, I could see the cellar door was wide open. The light moved across the kitchen, towards the door, then started to slip down into the cellar, illuminating the usually dark stairwell. My feet hit the cold linoleum, and I jumped slightly at how cold it was, but I continued my forward movements towards the cellar door.

  Once I reached the top of the stairs, the light was halfway down, partially illuminating the room below. Without thinking about my decision, I stepped down, my foot connecting with the top step. My other foot followed. Then I went down another step. And another. One after another, the green light moving slowly, beckoning me to follow it. I knew where we were going, so it didn’t have to wait, but it was considerate of the incorporeal light source. Finally, my feet touched down on the dirt floor of the cellar, and I was staring at the stone wall before me.

  I took a deep breath.

  Turning to see what was there was…big.

  It was significant in a way that I hadn’t fully understood before.

  I needed a moment to collect myself before I took the final step in this journey with the green light.

  Breathing deeply, I collected myself and my thoughts, then finally turned towards the center of the room.

  The well was there, and the light had collected inside of it, making it look like it was shooting a beacon into the sky, stopped only by the ceiling above. Though, if I had been outside of Oma’s house and seen a green searchlight reaching into the sky, I would not have been surprised. I swallowed hard as I looked at the well, the glowing green light within, the way it beckoned me forth, to peer into its depths.

  The dirt floor was rough beneath my feet, made the spaces between my toes feel gritty as I walked cautiously towards the well. Inside the well, the green light seemed to pulse or throb, though it did not sink into the lowest recesses of the well like it had before. It stayed near the top, illuminating the well and the cellar around it as I approached. When I was next to the well, I placed my hands on the stone side, taking in the dimensions of this illuminated entrance into the Earth beneath my feet.

  At least as wide across as I was tall, the sides coming up to my waist, the well was impressive. I probably could have climbed up onto the side, spread my arms wide and fallen forward. Falling, falling, falling, never once hitting the sides as I descended into whatever was below. Something told me that if I did that, I would never hit bottom, though that had to be impossible. Reaching out, I pushed my hand towards the light in the well. Though obviously light, it felt like something between a liquid and gas between my fingers. There was resistance, but it did not moisten my hand.

  What have you been keeping from me?

  I dipped my hand into the well’s light again.

  Did you want company up there?

  Do you love me?

  Have you been waiting on me?

  Did you see that?

  ROBBIE!

  I shuddered as the voices seemed to come from within my own head, though I knew that they emanated from the well. Without giving it another thought, I climbed up onto the edge of the wall around the well and stared down into the light. I could see nothing but bright green light shining up to me, preventing me from seeing anything below. If I leaped, the light would swallow me whole, wrap my body up.

  Then what?

  “You couldn’t wait for breakfast, could you?”

  I started and nearly fell into the well, as though being yanked out of a dream. Correcting my stance, I turned my head to look over my shoulder. Oma was standing at the bottom of the stairs. Her hands weren’t on her hips, and her arms weren’t crossed over her chest. She didn’t look angry or furious or frustrated. She looked concerned. Maybe sad?

  “Hi, Oma.” My voice sounded trance-like.

  “Robbie.” She shook her head and moved forward cautiously.

  I watched her move towards me, but she didn’t come directly to me. She rounded the well as my eyes followed her and she became illuminated by the green light as it poured out from fathoms below. I stared at her as I stood there on the well wall edge, the light still beckoning to me.

  “What are you doing?” She asked gently, so unlike herself.

  I pointed down into the well.

  “I’m going to take back what’s mine.”

  Oma stared at me. She wasn’t shocked at what I had said, but she looked even more concerned.

  “Robbie.” she said, her voice sounding like a plea. “Don’t do that.”

  “Why not, Oma?” I sounded like a robot.

  “Because what’s down there you can never forget again, Robbie,” She said. “If you do this, there will be no way to take it back.”

  “I need to remember, Oma.”

  “You think you need to remember,” She replied. “But you’re wrong. And there will be no fixing that. I won’t be able to do anything about that, Robbie.”

  “I can’t not be me anymore, Oma.” I sounded a little more like myself. Briefly. “I can’t be Jacob Michaels anymore. I don’t want to be…that…anymore.”

  “You don’t know that.” A single tear slid down her cheek. “Because you don’t know the alternative.”

  “I can find out.” I looked down into the well, green light nearly blinding me.

  “Robbie,” She said urgently, “you look at me, son.”

  It was a struggle, but I pulled my eyes away from th
e light in the well to look over at her again. Oma’s eyes were pleading with me, begging me to reconsider. To think about all of the options. To me, there was only one option. One course of action. I spread my arms slowly to my sides as I stared into Oma’s eyes.

  “Don’t.” She shook her head frantically. “Once you do, it’s done, Robbie.”

  “This is the only way.”

  “What about Lucas?” She asked quickly. “What will happen with you and Lucas if you do this? Don’t you care about him? He’s up there. In bed. You can get down from there and go right back upstairs and crawl back into bed with him. I know he is probably missing you right now, Robbie.”

  Staring at her, I considered this as best I could as my arms dropped to my sides slowly.

  “He loved me before, Oma.” I nodded. “He’ll love me after.”

  Oma’s eyes grew wide, and her hand went to her throat.

  “It’s already started, Oma.” I felt a tear slide down my cheek. “It will happen no matter what I choose. You can’t keep protecting me from it.”

  Then I spread my arms out to my sides again.

  “Robbie!” Oma shouted.

  And then I was falling down an endless hole.

  Chapter 1

  High heels with red soles were rare in places like Point Worth, Ohio. I only knew one person in the entire town who owned a pair of Louboutin heels, and that was because I had gifted them to her. The dead body laid out in the street was wearing a pair of Louboutin heels, and I knew without looking that they were on the feet of the person for whom I had purchased them. Point Worth was on fire. Well, maybe not in a ‘Sir Thomas Bloodworth was indecisive after a baker’s house went ablaze’ way, but fires were scattered throughout the town. It was the only light to illuminate Main Street as I stood there, my eyes lingering on the red soles of those shoes.

  Barkley’s Hardware’s windows were smashed out, and flames were flickering inside, smoke rolling out thick, black, and lazily towards the sky. The Sunny Side Up Café was decimated, only one wall was standing, and it was greasy with soot as smoke curled up from the foundation. The corner convenience store looked like a giant bonfire. The bank was basically a mound of bricks with more fire and smoke rising into the sky from the rubble. Lifting a hand to shield my eyes, I took in the devastation around me.

  Glinting glass shards caught the firelight and made the street and pavement sparkle around me. A dozen other bodies littered the walkways and the middle of the street, as though God had sprinkled finishing salt onto this little macabre scene of mayhem. Why weren’t there sirens or cop cars or firetrucks or the distant wail of help coming soon? I walked down the street, averting my eyes as I passed the body wearing the red-soled heels. Looking down at Carlita again was something I hoped I’d never have to do again.

  Where was Lucas?

  Oma?

  Were Ernst and Lena and all of the others okay?

  Was Oma’s house on fire? Razed?

  What had happened to Point Worth?

  “Hello?” I looked around, hoping I would find someone else alive.

  Seeing dead bodies, for some reason, had neither unnerved nor scared me—even though I had recognized the first one I had laid eyes upon. Something about the scene in downtown Point Worth felt odd. Even if I were able to remove the burning and decimated buildings, the broken glass, and the dead bodies, I still would have felt that something was off about the whole thing. Something about the air, the dark barely permeated by the flickering of nearly silent, roaring fires—all of it just seemed…off.

  Your home town on fire. That’s definitely not a normal occurrence. At least not one to be calm about.

  The scene would have felt odd, regardless of the circumstances.

  However, looking down the street laid out before me, littered with broken bodies, collapsed buildings, some on fire…it was like watching it on a 24-hour news channel. Like I had tuned into CNN for breaking news.

  “This just in! The tiny, forgettable town of Point Worth, Ohio, future potential locale for meth labs and esoteric cult compounds, is lit!”

  Something about how I was viewing the street unnerved me as I hesitantly took a step forward, intentionally making a wide berth around Carlita’s lifeless body. Shouldn’t I feel compelled to kneel down next to her, hold her broken body in my arms, and mourn her? Sure, I didn’t know her all that well, but I knew she was good people. Carlos was a great guy, and his drag persona, Carlita, was an angel. She didn’t deserve to be laid out in the middle of the street, her dead body exposed to the elements. Would anyone come to get her? Claim her?

  Putting one foot in front of the other, I pushed the thought out of my mind. Carlita was dead. There was nothing mourning could fix about that. Mourning would come later.

  A lot of mourning would come later.

  My feet automatically stopped when I stepped directly in front of Barkley’s. The front entrance to the store was unusual for me to see since Oma and I had always parked at the back of the store whenever we came to Barkley’s. My throat felt tight as I looked at the store before me, windows were blown out, fires were roaring from inside, the front door was hanging on by a single hinge. Had Lucas been at work when this happened? My whole body tensed at the thought of my boyfriend being anywhere nearby when this…mayhem…began.

  What had started all of these fires?

  Had there been an explosion?

  Had this been caused by gangs?

  Vandals?

  Terrorism?

  White nationalists and other extremist groups had absolutely no reason to want to live in Point Worth, let alone make it a target for terrorism. My mind began to replay things I’d heard in the news and read about online, trying to formulate a theory as to why Point Worth had been…attacked? Who or what would want to attack a tiny town in Ohio? What did my minuscule town have going for it that would make it a prime target for such an act? Even if a wanton act of terror was not the reason for the devastation, random violence and vandalism were rare in Point Worth, in general, to begin with. The town was too tiny to have any real gangs…wasn’t it?

  Why hadn’t I seen anything in the news about the things going on in Point Worth?

  Why did I have to discover what was happening on my own?

  Why hadn’t I known the town was on fire until I arrived on Main Street?

  This was something that seemed like word would spread about quickly.

  Then again…

  Why didn’t I know where Oma and Lucas were and if they were okay?

  Why didn’t I know if Oma’s house was affected?

  Why didn’t I know…anything?

  Putting one foot in front of the other, I entered Barkley’s, not feeling the heat of the random roaring fires still burning inside. I walked through the vacant and desolate store, stepping over toppled and spilled paint cans, piles of tools, puddles of screws and nails, fallen ceiling tiles and exposed wires, wondering how a once thriving business could suddenly look like a scene from a dystopian novel. I walked down aisles, unsure what I was looking for or how I would find it. The shelves on either side of me littered with detritus and a few lucky products that had not been damaged. The raging fires cast eerie shadows throughout the store as I made my way to the rear of the store.

  The check-out counter and register area had completely folded in on itself, a pile of useless technology and wood, charred and sending up wisps of smoke. I stood there, staring down at the piles of…nothing…wondering once again whether or not Lucas had been present when the store had been…attacked? More questions swirled through my head that I knew I would not get answers to that would satisfy my curiosity. The scene laid out before me inside of Barkley’s Hardware let me know that nothing would diffuse my confusion about the things I was seeing. As I strolled through the store, it dawned on me that I could not feel the heat of the fire or smell the smoke. The soot and ash did not settle upon my skin and make me feel dirty. It was almost as though I was removed from the situation in which I found m
yself.

  Exiting through the automatic sliding glass doors into the back area of the store that contained gardening items and lumber was easy. The doors had shattered outward, spraying glass all over the concrete beyond; I merely had to step through the frame of the door. Outside, in the dark of night once again, fires raging in the town around me, I found that the back part of the store was just as bad as the interior. Plants were strewn about, bags of mulch and soil and concrete mix had been blown open, spewing their contents like the world’s dingiest New Year’s Eve party had ended. Standing there just beyond the doorway, I surveyed the damage, still going over a list of questions in my head.

  Groaning sounds, as though being broadcast through water, emanated from a few yards away on my right. Without a second thought—though I felt that I was not being led by my own thought processes—I turned robotically on my heels and headed towards noise. In the corner, sat on the floor, his back against a pile of half-disintegrated bags of mulch, was Mr. Barkley. His face was bloodied, half of his face indistinguishable from a flat of hamburger meat as he groaned and gasped, his chest heaving and falling with each panicked breath.

  His shirt was in tatters under his overalls, and the legs of the garment were shredded and charred by the fire. Most of his hair had been burned away, and I wasn’t sure that his eye on the wounded side of his face was completely intact. Mr. Barkley looked like he had been worked over by a meat grinder. A meat grinder that had also been on fire. When I approached him, his eyes darted up to mine, stricken with fear. Our eyes locked as he gasped a final time.

  “He’s coming.”

  Then Mr. Barkley’s eyes closed, his chest heaved one last time, and he went still. Standing there, staring down at the body Mr. Barkley had once inhabited, I wondered why I was not panicking instead of planning to walk back through the store and out onto the street. But that was where I found myself suddenly, unaware of how I had arrived from the back of Barkley’s Hardware. The town was still partially and eerily illuminated by sporadic fires throughout town, but Barkley’s was no longer there. There wasn’t a pile of burning rubble or debris strewn about like after a major catastrophe. The lot to my right, where Barkley’s had been, was now just a slab of concrete on the street, as though waiting for someone to build a new store.