Page 38 of Jacob Michaels is Dead

Oma was standing in the living room, hands on her hips, and though the lights were all out, I could see enough to know that she was alone. There was no one waiting with her, ready to jump out and attack Lucas and me as we entered the house. My first thought was to be a smart mouth and tell her to turn on a damn light so I could see all of her liver spots, but then I realized the lights might have been off for other reasons. With Point Worth on fire, Bloody Bones returning—and what was probably turning out to be the first stage of an apocalypse, lines were probably down all over town. Even if Oma wanted, the house might not have any power. For curiosity’s sake, I reached over and flipped the switch on the wall. The darkness remained.

“I ain’t standin’ in the dark for my health,” Oma said simply.

“Just checking,” I replied.

“The power’s out, genius.”

“Got it.”

“Rob.” Lucas squeezed my hand. “Mrs. Wagner. Let’s just stop fighting and being hateful. We’re here so you can help us in any way that you can. But most of all, we need you to fix whatever you did to our memories. All of the fighting and insults are getting us nowhere.”

“Fine.” Oma threw her hands up in the air. “I guess I can keep from insulting smart mouth over here for a few minutes.”

“Stop,” I said.

Oma seemed to deflate, obviously unsure of what to do if she wasn’t allowed to use her arsenal of hatred and insults.

“Well,” Oma said, “I guess the best thing I can do is start with telling you about Bloody Bones. Well, reminding you, I guess.”

“Why’s that?” Lucas answered for us, causing me to glance over at him.

“Because that’s where this all starts and ends.” Oma waved him off. “Do the two of you remember the legend of Bloody Bones…or is that something your tiny little brains squeezed out when the genius over here made his wishes?”

“His wishes?” Lucas shook his head. “I don’t really remember that.”

“I don’t either.” I shrugged. “Not really. I mean…I remember that I made wishes…for some reason. But whatever you’ve done has made it hazy. I don’t think I remember it for real.”

“Well,” Oma sighed, “old as I am, I don’t know everything, but—”

“Imagine that,” I mumbled.

Oma shot me a look, and Lucas gave me a disapproving, though amused look, but neither of them said anything.

“But,” Oma glowered at me, “I know enough. Wish I had the book so I could tell it properly, but someone took it.”

“The book?” Lucas perked up. “The book Rob had? It’s in the car!”

Lucas started to move, as if to run for the car to retrieve the book, but Oma held a hand up.

“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—”