Page 17 of Jacob Michaels is Dead

She waved her hand at the crack, even wider than before, almost as wide as a man’s foot is long.

“…this.” Carlita finished. “Rob would forgive you if he understood.”

“He would.” Mr. Barkley gave a firm nod.

“I wish I’d been scarier.” Andrew sighed. “Maybe he would have left the next day. Maybe I should have told him it wasn’t primal instincts. I could have said that I would do it again if he was ever around when I was a wolf the next time.”

“Could-a, should-a, would-a.” Jackson chirped.

“He’s a thick-headed one.” Carlita grinned over at Andrew, though her smile was tight, fearful. “You did an excellent job, baby.”

“Thank you,” Andrew said softly.

“Him leaving would’ve just bought us more time.” Carlita reached down and took Andrew’s hand in hers. “That’s all. Don’t lose hope.”

Andrew smiled down at his hand as Carlita’s fingers laced through his.

“I never have.” He said firmly.

“Good.” Carlita sighed. “It’s all we got.”

The three of them stood and watched as the crack grew wider by another inch, and the ground rumbled once more. Carlita’s other hand went to Jackson’s, and she laced her fingers through his. Together, they all stood and watched. Waited. There was nothing they could really do but wait. They’d all played their parts—some with bigger roles than others—but now there was nothing left for them to do until he arrived. And there was only one way that would play out. Carlita knew what was to come, but she didn’t dare tell her friends. Why scare them any more than was necessary?

Lucas sat rigidly upright in the passenger seat as I drove through the dark, the headlights off. We didn’t want to draw any attention to ourselves unless it was necessary. Of course, it could be argued that driving down a country road in the middle of the night with your lights off will garner attention. However, in the little country town of Point Worth, Ohio, in bum-fuck-nowhere, there would be no one watching for cars with no headlights on driving down old country roads. From the city limits of Point Worth, I had driven twenty-miles-and-hour lower than the speed limit, not wanting to drive too fast so that I could react quickly if anything happened. I didn’t know what we’d find as we entered back into Point Worth, but I wanted to be alert for it if something actually happened.

My mind raced with thoughts about what was going on in my hometown and what was going on with my life. When I had left Point Worth, I thought Oma was my…well, Oma. I thought I was rushing away to become a movie star because I was a wild teen who did what he wanted. I was chasing fame and glory and riches. As the years rolled by, it was apparent that the Hollywood lifestyle—being an international superstar—was not what I wanted. It did nothing to suit me or make me happy. Little by little, my life became a walking Hell where I didn’t know what was real and what was fake. Fame can do that to a person. Having your memories fucked with makes it worse.

Memories.

What exactly from my past was real, and what was fake?

Why did my memories keep changing and shifting?

Why couldn’t I stick a pin in them, tack them down so that I could tell what was really going on in my life? What had gone on in my past?

As I drove us further, I decided that I was going to assume everything I knew about myself and my past was a lie.

Then again, what good would that do? The only thing I could be certain of was that I had no way of knowing if the memories I had were true or not. Everything I thought I knew was up for debate, as far as I was concerned. Was anything I remembered from my childhood true—or was it all the things I was supposed to believe? Of course, I knew one thing for certain—Lucas wasn’t wrong in saying that Oma had everything to do with our fucked-up memories. I didn’t know how and I didn’t know why—but she had done…something…to our memories. But, obviously, she had fucked with the memory of what it was she had done to our memories, too. If we had ever known what that was in the first place.

Because of that, there was no reason to not believe that everything I thought I knew was false. When Lucas slid his hand across the car and laced his fingers through mine, I realized something else. Not everything was a lie. Not every memory was false. I didn’t have whatever gift my boyfriend had, but some things I knew for certain, too, because something deep inside me told me that they were true. Lucas and I did love each other. There was nothing inside of me that doubted that fact. Of course, I had no idea if our memories of falling in love were true, but we stilled loved each other. That was all that mattered. If we had really fallen in love as kids, that was fine. If we had only fallen in love once I moved to Point Worth and we had false memories about everything else, that was fine.

I loved Lucas.

Period.

And I knew he loved me.

Like Lucas, some things I just knew.

“Babe,” Lucas exhaled heavily, “what are we going to do?”

“I don’t know,” I admitted, my fingers clenching his tightly for a moment. “But we’ll figure it out, right?”

“Right.”

“We can’t go to Oma’s.” I shook my head. “That would…that’s just a bad idea. I mean…I don’t know what she’s up to or why she’s up to whatever she’s doing, but without the Kobolds there—”

“Ernst and the other creatures?”