Page 18 of Jacob Michaels is Not Here

Oma glared at me for a moment, then her expression softened.

“Well, if that solved the world’s problems, I’d make a call to Washington, D.C., wouldn’t I?” She snorted.

I smiled wanly.

“I thought your advice was you being bossy and trying to control me,” I said. “If I had known then what I know now—”

“I told you what you know now.”

“I know.” I sighed. “I should have listened. But…where would we be now if I listened to you ten years ago, Oma? Would we even be here? Alive, I mean? We’d all be dead because we would have fought.”

“Well…that, I don’t know.” She relented. “Things might have gone poorly either way, I suppose. But all this done did is delay the inevitable, Robbie. We was gonna end up here one way or another, wasn’t we?”

“I suppose.” I nodded. “But I’m not a sixteen-year-old kid anymore, either. I’m not scared and weak and impulsive.”

Oma cocked an eyebrow at me.

“Well…not as impulsive.”

She nodded. “We can only speak about this broadly, mind ya’, I don’t want to say nothin’ out loud about what was…”

She glanced at the floor.

“…or say a certain name. But we do need a plan, Robbie.”

“The pack will have to be dealt with obviously.”

Slowly, Oma started nodding.

“You should have dealt with that the other night.” I rolled my eyes. “You had the chance. I wish I remembered then so I could have said something at the time.”

“You wanna hide that many bodies and vehicles?” She was amused at my callousness. “And what would your boyfriend have done if he saw me murder a bunch of puppies in front of ‘im? Huh? Never mind that—what would you have done? You didn’t have your mind about you then like you do now.”

“Point taken.” I agreed. “But they’re going to expand their membership. You know that. I know that. They may not remember…things…but they obviously remember enough to know what they are, why they are, and that they were tasked with creating a gang, right?”

“I’d say so.”

“So…they’ll keep searching out members.” I shrugged. “They have ten now?”

“Dozen, I think.”

“Have they gotten the attention of anyone besides us?”

“The were-community is always keepin’ tabs.” Oma rolled her eyes. “But don’t expect The Council to do jack shit until it’s too late. Like me, they ain’t too fond of takin’ on a pack that big at one time. Too many chances to fuck it up.”

“Well, picking them off one by one is going to prove difficult, Oma.” I chuckled angrily. “That’s a dozen different chances to get caught, isn’t it?”

“Perhaps.” She leaned in. “But it’s what we gotta do. People ain’t as powerful if they don’t have their armies, Robbie. Cut the legs off your enemy.”

“I don’t know how I feel about this, Oma.” I shook my head, feeling sick. “I didn’t like it ten years ago, and I don’t like it now.”

“You got somethin’ else to suggest?” She held her hands out. “Wanna invite ‘em over for tea and reason with ‘em? You done seen how Jason acted just ‘cause you went and rightfully defended yourself.”

I sat there and thought about that. Jason and his “puppies”—as Oma liked to call them—were a pack of werewolves. They had been after Lucas to join them before because they sensed his abilities—though I would certainly never talk about those abilities out loud. They had managed to break into Oma’s house and nearly get to him the night…well, everyone in the house had lost something. Some lost more than others. Jason and his pack had forgotten that they were after Lucas—or why they were after him at all. The magic that had been summoned the first time I jumped into the well ten years prior had reached every inch of the house. Those closest to the well got the brunt of it. Others…well, that was tricky. Magic is fickle and unpredictable. I knew that Jason and his pack remembered enough about what their main goal was since they had only been six that night ten years prior.

“Do you think maybe Jason remembers everything but is playing dumb because he’s scared to really take us on before he has a bigger pack?” I suggested. “Maybe he wants to double or triple the size of his pack before he comes knocking on our door again?”

Oma waved me off. “He’s dumb as dog shit. He’d try to take us on now if he remembered everything. ‘Try’ being the operative word.”