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

by Chase Connor

  Eventually, as the night wore on, I imagined Point Worth would look like The Void in Stranger Things. Nothing but inky blackness surrounding us, leaving us able to only see houses and people—no detail or light to the world. Just stuff. Stuff that the man in the black hooded cloak would eventually wipe away, just like he had done in my dreams. Nothing could prepare a person for what I knew he had in mind for Point Worth—and probably, eventually, the world—but I knew what those plans were. My mind couldn’t even hold such an idea or wrap itself around an idea like that. Nothing but eternal dark and nothingness, with only him left. He would devour everything with his power, growing more and more hungry for power until he left the Earth nothing more than a black hole that no light escaped.

  “What are we waiting on?” Lucas asked softly, his hand reaching for and squeezing my thigh once again. “Sitting here is just making this worse, babe.”

  “I know,” I said, though my foot stayed on the brake pedal. “I’m just working myself up to doing this, ya’ know.”

  “Rip the bandage off, Rob.” He patted my thigh. “It’ll be easier.”

  I looked over at him. He smiled.

  “Promise.” He reassured me. “And I’m here with you.”

  “No matter what?”

  “No matter what.” He leaned over and gave me a lingering kiss that never could have lasted long enough.

  As Lucas pulled away, a smile on his face, I allowed myself a happy sigh, then I eased off of the brake and moved my foot to the gas. Inch by inch, we eased down the driveway, on our way to Oma’s house. As we drove along, Lucas kept his hand on my thigh for reassurance, squeezing the flesh there to remind me that I wasn’t alone. No matter what we found at Oma’s house, we would find it together. Even though Oma’s house was settled quite a way off of the road that led to the lake, we would have seen any flames if it had been on fire. A house as big as hers doesn’t burn without letting the whole county know, so I knew that the wolves had not come and played pyromaniacs. However, the fact that the house was not on fire concerned me. Had they shown up but hadn’t done anything to give it away? Were they lying in wait for us on Oma’s property somewhere?

  The thought made me nearly slam on the brake and throw the car into reverse, but my mind told me that there was nowhere to hide. If they were at Oma’s, we might as well face the wolves, too. We’d eventually run into them somewhere. We couldn’t leave Point Worth—not as a pair—and I wouldn’t leave alone—and the darkness was closing in around us. There was no way we could luck out and not run into them before morning came. As we got to the far end of the driveway, Oma’s house came into view in the clearing. It was funny to me that not even a month before, I had been elated to see the old house. Now, it made my stomach flip-flop in my gut.

  Oma was on the porch, sitting there, drinking a glass of tea like the world wasn’t burning down around her. That did nothing to make my gut feel better. Lucas gave my thigh another squeeze as I continued pulling up to the house, only stopping when I was within ten feet of it. I looked through the windshield at Oma, and she raised the glass in a salute and then took another sip, calm as you please. Of course, she had been waiting for us. Why should I have expected anything different?

  Chapter 7

  He was so strange, the boy with dark hair and eyes. Unlike the other boys in the Point Worth Regional Middle School, he didn’t try to prove himself with bravado, bullying, or bragging behaviors. Carrying himself with confidence, or what could have been complete obliviousness in other’s opinions, he was hard not to notice. He didn’t pay attention to rude comments, nor did he seem to puff up when complimented. Like a self-sustaining organism found in the furthest reaches of the world, he needed no one and required nothing from anyone. He was an island. It made the other boys both angry and envious, emotions they were not mature enough to handle at such an age. It made the girls equally enamored and annoyed. The boy never took notice of either.

  Lucas found himself staring at the boy during every class that they shared at the middle school. He’d watch the way the boy sat up, paying attention to the teachers, not caring if this made him look like a nerd. Lucas watched the way the boy sat back in his chair with ease and stared off at nothing when he was bored, unconcerned with teachers catching him. It wasn’t rebellious behavior on the boy’s part, the drifting off into daydreams—just starry-eyed childhood daydreaming to which all boys that age are prone. At lunch, the boy moved through the line with his tray, easily making conversation with other kids, even the ones he wasn’t friends with, able to sit down and eat with any group he wished. Even if he sat down with a group of kids who didn’t like him, by the end of their shared meal, the kids seemed to have changed their minds about him.

  Robbie.

  His name was Robbie. But he preferred “Rob.”

  Quick to make a joke that anyone could enjoy. Generous with compliments and positive words for all. Rob was one of Lucas’ favorite people. But Rob had no idea. Just the sight of Rob passing in the hall and flashing his pearly whites made Lucas’ tummy flip-flop, though he had no idea what that meant at such a young age.

  Lucas could remember the first time he saw Rob walk into the first class they shared that year. He had already been in his seat, looking for someone he kind of knew in the class to become quick friends with, so he wouldn’t feel like a nerd, when Rob entered, backpack slung over his shoulder in a Devil-may-care sort of way. When Lucas looked up, Rob’s head slowly turned, as if from some slow-motion scene in a teen movie, and their eyes met.

  Lightning.

  Electricity shot through Lucas’ body, and he had to avert his eyes from Rob’s. Something had traveled through his body, shook him to his core, grabbed ahold of the innermost part of him that he didn’t even have a name for, and turned his world upside down. When Lucas looked up again, Rob was looking away, seemingly unaware of what had just transpired in Lucas’ soul. Finally, Rob made his way to a seat across the room from Lucas. However, before he sat down at his desk, his eyes flashed over to Lucas once more.

  He looked…shaken.

  Rob looked shaken. Someone like Rob could be unnerved.

  It was then that Lucas knew something had been set in motion. He just didn’t know what that thing was.

  “Well,” Oma swiped her hand over the arm of her chair, brushing away imaginary dust as we stood at the base of the steps up to the porch, “you boys took your time gettin’ over here, didn’t ya’?”

  “Hi, Oma,” I replied blandly.

  She considered me for a moment as Lucas’ head turned from mine to hers, then back again, watching our transaction with rapt attention.

  “Couldn’t get out, could ya’?”

  “We’re standing here, aren’t we?” I snapped.

  “Well,” Oma sniffed haughtily, “maybe you just had a change of heart, smart ass. How the fuck would I know?”

  “Because no one’s been fucking with your brain.” I tapped my temple with an index finger violently as I snarled up at her. “That’s how, old woman.”

  “Wuh-hell. Someone’s pissy.” Oma waggled her head down at me before bringing the tea to her lips and taking a sip. “Someone tell ya’ that even the gays don’t look good in body glitter?”

  Before I could snarl back some equally hateful retort, Lucas’ fingers wrapped around my wrist, stopping me.

  “Mrs. Wagner.” Lucas piped up. “I’ve never been disrespectful to you.”

  “Ya’ haven’t.” She nodded.

  “But, we’re here to tell you to stop messing with our memories,” Lucas said. “Whatever you’ve done, we need you to undo it. Now. And we need answers.”

  “Ask wise ass over here.” Oma gestured at me rudely. “He knows fuckin’ everything, doesn’t he? Speaking of which—you’re so damn smart all of the damn sudden, why the hell did you not just stay gone, Robbie? Why didn’t you leave as soon as Andrew tried attacking you? You’re so damn smart, but every damn thing that’s gone wrong has made you make one bad decisio
n after another. Instead of runnin’ tail and getting’ away from danger, you just dive in headfirst like a grade-A village idiot. Point Worth’s collective I.Q. went down a few digits since you came back. And it wasn’t that high to begin with.”

  “You miserable old—” I began.

  “Ya’ just couldn’t stay gone, could ya’?” She interjected. “You got out of town, and things was fine. Things would-a stayed fine a lot longer if you had just done as you was supposed to. But, like always, you had to do things your way. Here we are, Robbie. Good job!”

  Lucas was squeezing my wrist tightly, so I kept my mouth shut.

  “Why was he supposed to stay gone?” Lucas asked evenly, though I could hear in his voice, and feel in his grip, how tense he was.

  “You boys may not got your memories,” Oma crossed her arms over her chest as she turned her head to look at him, “but it doesn’t take memories to figure out what’s going on here, does it? This town is about to be swallowed up. He’s comin’ for ya’. And he shouldn’t’ve been comin’ for another few decades. That was the damn plan anyway—if wiseass over there had just stuck to the plan. I suppose it just is what it is. He’s comin’. Bloody Bones is comin’ for ya’.”

  As she said the last sentence, her eyes turned to me. A shiver ran up my spine as Oma said the name of the man in the black hooded cloak. A name we had sworn we would never say out loud again…unless it wouldn’t matter either way. Her saying his name out loud confirmed my theory that he really was returning; otherwise she never would have said his name like that, out in the open, with not a care in the world. Lucas’ hand fell away from my wrist immediately, and he gasped, obviously recognizing the name. In the deepest recesses of his mind, that name had been hidden away. Hearing it out loud had startled him.

  “He’s comin’ for you, Robbie.” Oma jabbed a finger at me. “Just like you’ve always known—when your head wasn’t all clusterfucked. And he’s going to pull Point Worth down to Hell in the process.”

  “There’s access to Hell in Point Worth, Ohio,” I stated blandly. “I’d like to say I’m shocked, but—"

  “You can keep being a smartass all you want.” Oma snapped. “But this is your damn fault.”

  “How?” I snapped back. “How is any of this my damn fault? I don’t even remember everything except who he is and that he’s trouble. Or the things you want me to think I remember. Well, that, and you’re not my grandmother, you crazy old bitch!”

  Oma’s fists went to her hips, and her face turned up in a sneer as she leaned forward to launch in on me once more.

  “Wait.” Lucas jumped in before she could say another word. “You’re not his grandmother. Buh-loody Bones is coming. We don’t have our memories. You’re blaming Rob for everything. Mrs. Wagner…you have explaining to do. None of this makes any sense whatsoever.”

  “Took the words out of my mouth,” I mumbled.

  “Shut up, wise-ass!” Oma snapped.

  “Are you going to help us or what?” I snapped back.

  “Of course, I am, ya’ damn fool!” Oma threw her hands up in the air. “That’s what I’m here to do. I was just expecting to do it twenty years from now. When you wasn’t such a damn pup and completely unprepared for what’s to come. In all my years—”

  “You’d think you’d have learned some patience and decorum?” I quipped.

  “Rob,” Lucas mumbled.

  “Well, if you’re going to keep bein’ sassy with me, then I won’t give a damn if—”

  Before Oma could finish her sentence, the ground began to rumble beneath us. A low roar met our ears as the three of us did our best to not be knocked over. The rumbling and shaking turned into what I could only compare to all of the earthquakes I’d witnessed while in California. The only problem was, we weren’t in California. We were smackdab in the middle of the buttcrack of Ohio. Earthquakes that can be felt like what we were experiencing was not common in Ohio. Lucas and I grabbed onto each other as the shaking under our feet intensified and off in the distance, a boom that was probably deafening if a person was nearby, sounded.

  Just as quickly as the shaking started, it stopped. Glancing up at the porch as I held onto Lucas, just in case the ground started shaking once more, I saw that Oma had her hand braced against the porch railing, but she had remained on her feet. She looked drained. Not physically—something else. After a second, I realized that Bloody Bones siphoning off magic was doing a number on her as well. I couldn’t help but wonder if that meant that she was losing her powers or if she was just experiencing side effects of such a perversion of nature. Slowly, Lucas and I slid our arms from around each other and stood tall, looking up at Oma as she let go of the railing and faced us.

  “Well, shit.” Oma spat. “I guess we gotta stop chewing each other new assholes and get down to business, don’t we?”

  “I’d say so,” Lucas answered for us.

  Chapter 8

  Carlita was sprawled on the asphalt, legs splayed, and only her hands behind her holding her up into a half-seated position. Blood trickled from the corner of her mouth and from both nostrils, the result of the large pieces of shrapnel from the explosion. Bloody Bones had broken free. Smoke, almost like a dense, soup-like fog, hung lazily along the crack dividing Main Street, obscuring Carlita’s view of what had risen. Smiling bitterly, Carlita turned her head to the side and spat, a rivulet of red splattering against the black road. She held herself up with one arm while she used the back of her other arm to wipe her mouth partially clean. Whether she liked it or not—and she hated admitting defeat—her end had come. She turned her eyes to look out at where the explosion had come from the crack in the street.

  Bit by bit, the smoke laying like a haze on Main Street began to dissipate. At first, he was nothing more than a shadow in the haze, but as more of the smoke cleared away, Carlita could see him more clearly. The black of his cloak intensified, the outline of his hood became sharper. Bloody Bones stood next to the large hole in the center of Main Street, the large crack running in either direction away from it. Carlita didn’t bother to rise to her feet since one only rises to greet someone they respect. She stayed there on the ground, watching as Bloody Bones raised his head and bright red eyes, and gleaming teeth peered out at her.

  Carlita sighed, shaking her head at the sight.

  She didn’t want to be resigned to the fact that he had risen—yet again—but looking into the depths of his hood, her eyes meeting his, there was no denying the fact. He was back.

  Bloody Bones walked casually towards her, the bottom of his cloak rustling in the breeze, sweeping away lingering smoke in wisps as he approached.

  “We meet again, Oracle.” Bloody Bones chuckled deeply, warmly, as if greeting an old friend. Of course, Carlita and Bloody Bones had known each other for a long time—but they were not friends. “You haven’t aged a day.”

  He stopped before her, barely the length of a dining table between them.

  “Well, you look like shit.” Carlita shrugged, then coughed.

  More blood.

  Bloody Bones cackled.

  At the far end of the street, Andrew stood on all fours next to a fallen, headless werewolf, the other werewolf’s neck clasped tightly between his teeth.

  “You did your very best for a very long time, old friend.” Bloody Bones spoke. “But, inevitably, you failed.”

  “Friend?” Carlita snorted, blood dribbling from her nose as she ignored the pain in her side. “Honey, I give my friends rides to the airport. I wouldn’t take you to the corner store.”

  Bloody Bones raised his arm.

  A flash of light.

  And Carlita fell back against the street, her skull making a sickening crunching noise against the asphalt.

  Her eyes were open, but she saw nothing.

  Andrew, in his wolf form, stared in horror as the werewolf in his grasp thrashed, trying to get away. With a quick jerk, Andrew tore the throat of the other werewolf, then let him drop to the street. He stare
d at the scene at the other end of Main Street, horrified at the death of Carlita. If she was dead…

  There was only one thing to do.

  He turned on all four legs and ran as quickly as he could, one of his legs hurt and refusing to work right.

  There was only one place that was safe now.

  If only he could get there on his hurt leg.

  Bloody Bones smiled wickedly down at his first real kill since freeing himself from his prison, his red eyes and white fangs gleaming down at the oracle who was no more. Sharply, he tilted his head back and howled, summoning his wolves. He howled until he heard the answer of howls in the distance. Soon, they would come. And he could continue his quest. In the meantime…

  Bloody Bones turned, his cloak dancing around him as he turned towards Barkley’s Hardware. He had one more score to settle. Swiftly, without a second thought, he glided across the street and through the door of the old man’s shop.

  Moments later, Jackson Barkley’s screams pealed through the air.

  Then Main Street was silent.

  Except for the howls of approaching wolves.

  Ibiza was one of my favorite party destinations when I was in the middle of my (possibly—depending upon whom you ask) illustrious career as an international movie and rock star. Off the east coast of Spain, before one gets to Mallorca, Ibiza is a great place to get away from everything that a celebrity would want to get away from at times. There was the good food, the nightlife, other celebrities who understood my pain and troubles, the relaxation—though I did little of that—and the ability to just escape from what my life had become. It was on Ibiza, at a night club, off my head on Ecstasy, that I ran into Shepard Bachman. Horrible name, but also horribly famous.