Page 21 of Jacob Michaels is Not Here

“My choice wasn’t based on the love of one person, you old hag,” I growled at her. “I didn’t just make my choice for me. Or my love for Lucas. I made it for this place and everything that involves. Even you. Though, now I truly know I made the wrong choice.”

Oma smiled.

“Fuck you.” I snapped.

Oma was cackling to herself as I stomped through the living room to the bookcase. I fell to my knees in front of it, angry, but my eyes threatening to leak. I did my best to ignore my feelings as I reached down and pulled away the panel at the bottom of the bookcase, revealing a small slot underneath. When I shoved my hand into the hole, my fingertips touched the smooth leather of an ancient book. I closed my eyes, giving myself a moment before I pulled it out. Lowering myself to my ass, I pulled my legs in “lotus style” and laid the book in my lap. The book, thick as an encyclopedia written by a writer with mental diarrhea, bound in darkish brown leather, the cover mottled in dark spots, looked up at me. It took a moment, a long sigh to steel my nerves before I tried to open the book. The cover didn’t budge.

Shaking my head and smiling to myself at my ignorance—a memory that had been lost naturally, unlike the others, coming back to me. It took a few seconds, but I found the corner of the book that had the sharp sewing needle sticking out less than a fourth of an inch, and pushed the tip of my index finger firmly against it. I winced as the needle pierced my skin. When I pulled my finger away and turned it over to inspect, a single drop of blood, barely more significant than the head of a sewing needle, sparkled up at me. Without another thought, I pressed my fingertip against the book cover. The book vibrated ever so slightly in my lap. When I pulled at the cover again, it opened with ease.

The book was blank.

I wasn’t all that surprised, but I was utterly disappointed. Maybe a little bit worried as well if I was being completely honest with myself. Now that I had my memories back, knew the things that I knew, and what was to come, it would have been nice to have the book. I could have picked up my magical education and learned a lot more before the shit really hit the fan. But the blank parchment-like paper in the book just stared back at me, offering nothing. Sighing, I closed the book gently. When I tried to open it again, it stayed shut.

Why did it still want blood if the pages were empty?

“Oma!” I hollered from my spot on the floor. “Book’s being an asshole!”

“Well,” she hollered back, “what did you expect?”

Then I heard the water running and the sounds of our morning meal being cleaned up. Signing to myself, I gently returned the book to its place under the bookcase, though I wasn’t sure there was any point in hiding it away now that it was blank. Something inside of me told me that the book still needed to be kept from prying eyes, though, so I returned it to its spot. When I slid the panel back into place, pounding against it with the side of my fist to make sure it was secure, I stared off at nothing.

What could be done now?

Spring was announcing its arrival outside, gusts of wind whistling against the house as Oma clanged around in the kitchen, and I rose from the living room floor. Doing my best to not think about things I wasn’t supposed to think about or people I wasn’t supposed to think about, I tried to go through the details of the night before. In the cellar.

Going through what I’d seen, vision by vision, a few people came to mind. One of them I could never go talk to—unless, maybe, someone’s life depended on it. The other…I wasn’t so sure. Instead of standing in the living room, wracking my brain for an answer that wouldn’t come easily, I walked over to the kitchen and stood in the doorway, leaning against the doorjamb. Oma was standing at the kitchen counter, her hip against it, resting while Lena stood on the step stool, elbows-deep in dishwater. Another Kobold was sweeping the floor with a dainty broom.

“Hi, Oskar,” I said automatically.

Oskar started and looked up, the “swish-swish” of the broom going silent as he turned to look at me. His ears were slightly more elongated than the other Kobolds, drooping at their tips. Small fleshy bags of skin hung under his eyes, and his skin was somewhat mottled, as though he had liver spots. He was the oldest of the Kobolds—and I had forgotten him for a decade. He looked older than he had ever before. His little brown cloth bib-style overalls hung limply fro his shoulders, and the Kobold-sized t-shirt underneath looked baggy as well. His tiny slippers, always clean, clung lightly to his feet, the heels popping away from his foot with each small step he took. It was sad and precious at the same time. If I had to bet which Kobold would be most affected in the future by what I’d done…

“Master Robert.” Oskar’s eyes were slow to light up as a smile crept up his face. “It’s so good to see you.”

“Good to see you again, Oskar.” I smiled back.

“This house always needs tidying up.” Oskar shook his head, the broom restarting its dance across the floor once more. “Seems there’s always something that needs tending to around here.”

Oskar spoke more eloquently than the other Kobolds, but he had more years to practice, I supposed. Returning his smile for a moment as he worked, I didn’t bother to respond verbally to him. He had basically been chastising Oma and me for having so much space for the Kobolds to clean and essentially being slobs. It wasn’t true—but that’s what some Kobolds did. They accused their human counterparts of living like animals simply because a crumb was found on the floor. It was their way, and there was no reason to argue with it.

“Oma.” I turned my head to her. “Do you know anybody else…like us…around here?”

“Wouldn’t you know if I did?” She waggled her head. “I’d-a done told ya’, wouldn’t I have?”

“Maybe.”

“Well, I don’t.” She snipped.

“Then I’m going out,” I said simply and started to turn.

“And do what?”

“I’m gonna go hunting.” I shrugged.

“Jason?” Oma hissed, her eyes wide.

“Don’t be ridiculous.” I rolled my eyes. “It’s daylight anyway.”

Vaguely, I gestured at the kitchen window. Oma glanced at the window as though she had forgotten this fact. Lena continued to wash the dishes, her head down and eyes averted, obviously ignoring the two humans in the room in an effort to not be noticed. Though, I wasn’t sure why she thought being noticed would get her involved in the minor argument. Oskar started humming a slow, yet happy tune as he continued to sweep. When it became clear that Oma was going to stare out the window and get lost in her thoughts, I made my exit. The longer I waited the chances of becoming distracted increased.