Quantum Entanglement: Interchron, #2

By Liesel K. Hill

Watching the gradual enslavement of humanity in fast motion isn't Maggie's idea of an adventure.

 

Five months after events on a Pacific island, Maggie waits for Marcus and the team to return. The people who finally show up to collect her aren't who she expected. Maggie yearns to return to Marcus and help the team bring down the collectives.

 

A snake-woman who can somehow cancel Maggie's powers, an injured Traveler, and the complications of leap-frogging through decades of civil unrest, conspire to stop her.

 

In other times and places, the collectives coalesce, power shifts, and the one called B puts sinister plans into action. Maggie must outsmart him long enough to return to Interchron, or her individuality—perhaps her very identity—will be ripped away. Again.

 

Stand out or fade away...

 

A dystopian saga where the romance, the action, and the stakes are pushed exponentially higher.

 

"The action grabs you right from the beginning and refuses to let you go."--The Cozy Dragon

• Language: English
• Publisher: Liesel Hill
• Release date: Sep 17, 2013
• ISBN: 9781536576368

Book preview

Chapter 1: Snake Eyes

YOU’RE TICKED OFF AT me, aren’t you Maggs?

Maggie pulled her gaze briefly from the dark streets rushing by her window to glance at her brother.  She tried not to sigh.

No, I’m not mad.  I just kinda wish it was over.

Wishing it was over defeats the point of going out to have fun.

I know.  I’m sorry, Jonah.  I’ll try to be more enthusiastic.

Jonah gave her an irritated look, but went back to staring out over the steering wheel.

Maggie’s gaze went back to the street.  Her fingers came up to her mouth and she forced them back into her lap.  Biting her nails was a nervous habit, and she’d bitten them down to bloody stumps more than once in the past five months.

Jonah’s intentions were chivalrous.  A few months ago, she’d have jumped at the chance to hang out with him.  Since returning from her little adventure at Interchron, though, she had a hard time working up excitement over anything.  She’d hoped Marcus would be back for her within a month, two at most.  Five months later, she’d heard nothing from the team.

Worry grated against her nerves.  

Not that she didn’t trust him, or the team; they could take care of themselves.  She knew that now better than before—she remembered it—but couldn’t keep her imagination from running wild.  What if something terrible happened?  What if they never came back for her because Interchron had been discovered and the rebellion annihilated?  Or worse, assimilated?  

Maggie told herself to be patient, but each week that passed with no word made her more irritable.  The irritability was just the manifestation of the true emotion: paralyzing fear.  Even she recognized her true feelings for what they were.  She avoided them like the plague.

So when Jonah showed up on a Friday afternoon to say she needed to get out of the house and they were going to a piano bar to cut loose, have some fun, and meet his new girlfriend—she noted he announced, rather than asking—she simply couldn’t muster the umph her brother deserved.

And another new girlfriend?  Jonah had seen a steady stream of women over the last year.  Maggie suspected their time loss incident in Vegas affected him on a deeper emotional level than he would admit, even to himself.  Before Vegas, his relationships were solid. Most lasted months, some years.  Vicki turned out to be a dud.  As soon as things got complicated in Vegas, she bailed.  

Since then, none of Jonah’s relationships had lasted more than a few weeks.  This woman—Justine, apparently—was the latest in a long line.  Maggie wasn’t looking forward to a night of polite small talk over a half-drunk crowd.  She hoped the entertainment proved distracting enough to make the evening pass quickly.

As they arrived, Maggie pulled down the passenger-side visor to check her make-up in the mirror. She ran a finger under each of her dark blue eyes to rub away excess eyeliner, then pushed her fingers through her auburn, shoulder-length hair. She’d used a curling iron to give it some body, but it turned out more wavy than anything else. Wondering why she bothered to look nice for Jonah’s flavor of the week, she slapped the visor up as he came around to open her door for her. 

Thanks.

Of course.

He paid for them to get in, their hands were stamped, and they headed into the main area.  It was a large room, littered with wooden tables, each with either four or six chairs. The stage consisted of a raised platform in the middle of the room on which sat four adjacent grand pianos. Only one was occupied at the moment. The man played softly, trying out different keys and scales. Probably tuning the piano in preparation for the show. 

Jonah scanned the room.  A slender, dark haired woman saw them and raised a hand.  Jonah moved toward her, pulling Maggie behind him.

Hey Beautiful.  Jonah bent and kissed Justine lightly on the mouth.  I’d like you to meet the other woman in my life: my sister, Maggie.

Hello Maggie, Justine extended her hand, "I’ve heard so much about you.  Glad to finally meet you."

Maggie smiled back, and found it easier than she would have thought.  All good things, I hope.

Justine gave a throaty laugh.  All kinds of things, but truly Jonah raves about you.  I hear you’re a caterer.

Yes.  Maggie launched into an explanation about her business while Jonah pulled out a chair for her.  Justine was neither loud and bubbly, nor overly shy.  Rather she seemed friendly and confident.  Maggie liked her more than any of Jonah’s recent girlfriends.  

Justine did have interesting eyes, though.  They were captivating.  If Maggie had to put a name to their shade of blue, she’d have said cerulean. They were so bright, they looked electric.  Maggie decided it must be the lighting in the bar that made them so distinctive.  

She and Justine talked non-stop for nearly thirty minutes.  Jonah nodded his head to the music and threw grateful looks at Maggie from time to time.  She could tell he was glad they were getting along.  

So you can repair watches? Maggie asked.  She remembered Jonah saying something about Justine working for her father.

Oh, you bet.  I think I know more about Rolexes than the makers do.

Maggie laughed.

My father calls me a time-meddler.

Maggie had to work to keep the smile on her face.  After everything she’d been through in the last year, it was a disturbing thing to hear.  She smiled politely, though, and pretended the thoughts making her heart race weren’t present in her head.  She did that a lot lately: pretended she wasn’t thinking about exactly what she was.  It made her feel isolated, like an imposter in her own life.

The conversation waned. Justine didn’t seem to notice.  They all listened to the music being played, and Maggie found herself relaxing.  Not thinking about the team or Marcus’s absence for the first time in months was...actually kind of a relief.

The entertainment included four pianists, each on their own piano, who could play every song known to man.  The audience could pay to have favorite songs played.  Soon, as the crowd grew more raucous, bidding wars began.  The pianists encouraged the competition.  Whoever paid more got their song played.  For enough money, you could even interrupt someone else’s song with your own.

Maggie didn’t participate much, but had fun watching.  Jonah got in on it, whooping and cheering with the crowd.  It was good to see him enjoying himself.  Justine cheered when he did, and the two of them seemed surprisingly good together.

After an hour and a half, the pianists took a break, promising to be back in fifteen minutes.  

Justine turned to Maggie.  Will you come to the bathroom with me?

Sure.

Jonah turned his best puppy dog eyes on them.  I’m not invited?

Justine got up and swatted Jonah playfully on the head as she passed him.  Yeah, Maggie definitely liked her. 

Jonah rubbed his head in a mock-disdainful way, winking at Maggie when he saw her watching.

Maggie chuckled and shook her head.  Be right back.

As soon as they got to the restroom, Maggie knew the ‘right back’ part had been an inadvertent lie.  The line for the ladies room was a mile and a half long.

Maybe it’ll move quickly, Justine offered.

Maggie glanced at Justine, but said nothing.  She didn’t know the other woman well enough to unleash sarcasm on her, but she didn’t think Justine’s optimism particularly justified here.

Justine seemed to read the thought.  Oh, I suppose that’s wishful thinking.  I have an idea.  Come on.

She led Maggie to the back of the bar where they found a rear entrance.  It led out into a dark, deserted alley—the kind that in the movies house thirsty vampires, waiting for unsuspecting women who hadn’t told their brothers where they were going, to strike.  The alley ran along the side of the building, ending in the busy road at the front of the club.

Where’re we going, Justine?

I noticed we’re next to a tattoo parlor.  My sister works in one.  They’re usually pretty cool about stuff.  If they have a bathroom we can use, we’ll get back to the table in time for the show to start again.

Maggie frowned.  She didn’t relish walking into a tattoo parlor this late at night, especially in this part of town, but Justine seemed set on it. If it meant avoiding the anaconda bathroom line, she supposed she could deal.

They walked into a shoebox of a place.  The tattoo artist, a middle-aged man with long, blustery white hair, was clean shaven and wore a black biker vest.  He worked on the forearm of a man in his mid-thirties. Bald, covered in tattoos Maggie didn’t look too closely at, the customer’s nose appeared to have gone twelve rounds with a brick wall.

They both glanced up when Maggie and Justine walked in.

Can I help you ladies?  The artist’s tone said he wasn’t truly expecting business from them; neither of them looked like the tattoo type.

Sorry to burst in, Justine said, we’re from the bar next door.  Could we use your bathroom?

The tattoo artist sighed.  I generally only let paying customers use it.  Don’t suppose I can perform a service for you?

Justine shook her head.  Sorry.  I really gotta pee.

Maggie ducked her head to hide a smile.

The artist pressed his lips together.  Go ahead. 

Justine turned to Maggie.  Do you have to go?

No.  I’m good.

Kay.  Be right back.

Justine scurried into the back.  

Maggie wondered vaguely how she knew where the bathroom was.  Maybe all tattoo parlors had similar setups. 

Maggie had sipped soda all night.  Ever since Vegas, she’d been spooked about alcohol, but that wasn’t the real reason she didn’t drink it.  She’d been practicing her neurochemical abilities since Marcus and Karl dropped her off.  She’d discovered that alcohol acted as a natural inhibitor to those abilities.  She could still use them, but as with everything else, alcohol made her abilities vague and imprecise, so she didn’t indulge much.

Maggie became aware of the man in the chair staring at her.  The tattoo artist went back to working on the man’s forearm, but the customer ran his eyes up and down Maggie’s body.  She sighed and turned away, pretending to study the pictures on the walls.  Her irritation from earlier resurfaced.  The bar proved surprisingly fun. She suddenly wasn’t a huge fan of the tattoo parlor.  She willed Justine to hurry.

A few minutes later, the artist finished, and the guy in the chair got up, paid, and left.  He cast one more leer over his shoulder at Maggie as he walked out the door.  Images of Arachimen and Trepids flashed in her mind, and she shuddered.

What was taking so long?  Surely the piano show had started again by now.  Justine had to be doing more in there than just peeing!

The tattoo artist watched her, eyes hopeful.  How about you, honey?  I could make that pretty skin of yours real colorful.

Maggie forced a smile.  No thanks. Maybe next time.

He shrugged and moved to a table against the opposite wall. Maggie thought it might be a cleaning station.

Finally Justine emerged.

Let’s go.  Thanks!  The last was called over her shoulder to the tattoo artist.  He didn’t answer.

"Sorry it took so long.  It wasn’t very clean in there.  I laid down several layers of toilet paper before I was satisfied."

Maggie chuckled.  I completely understand. Let’s hurry.  I’m sure Jonah’s wondering where we are.

They’d covered roughly half the distance to the door of the bar when a hulking figure stepped from a perpendicular alley.  Maggie recognized the bald man from the tattoo parlor.  He stood like a granite statue, barring their way.  Alarm bells went off in her head.

Going somewhere, Ladies? Baldy hissed.

Six men stepped out from the alley behind him.  One and all, they leered at Maggie and Justine, some of them chuckling appreciatively when they caught sight of the two women.

This was not good.  She glanced at Justine. The woman wore an expression of unbridled terror.  Maggie would have to take the lead.

Yes.  We’re expected back, so if you’ll excuse us.

Maggie made as if to walk around him. Two of the men behind him stepped into her path.  They’d formed a solid wall between Maggie and the bar’s back door.  Standing right next to him, Maggie realized how much bigger Baldy was than her.  She barely came up to his shoulder, and he must have weighed three times what she did.

Maggie!

Behind the gang, Jonah emerged from the club.  He muscled his way through the line of men, planting himself firmly between them and Maggie.

What’s going on here?

Baldy looked Jonah up and down arrogantly.  He overtopped Jonah by several inches. The difference wasn’t much but six hoodlums stood at Baldy’s back.

This your boyfriend? Baldy asked.

Maggie didn’t answer. 

No wonder you’re wandering around in dark allies, looking for more excitement.

In front of her, Jonah tensed.  Maggie put a hand on his arm.  Jonah, let’s get out of here.  He glanced over his shoulder at her and she nodded toward the front of the alley.

After a moment, he nodded.  He walked backward, pushing Maggie and Justine behind him.  The sound of crunching dirt came from behind them and Justine inhaled sharply, grabbing Maggie’s arm.  Three more goons stood across the alley behind them.  They were surrounded.  

Maggie’s blood pounded in her ears.  She could save them, if worse came to worst, but it would mean using her abilities in front of Jonah.  Even if he understood—a long shot; Maggie knew her brother well—there was also Justine to think of.  What would she say?

Images of running from needles trying to jab her arm and dispense thorazine ran through her head and she shuddered. Worst was coming at them fast.  

Then it arrived.

One of the men behind them grabbed Justine and she screamed.  Jonah moved to help her, but Baldy punched him in the stomach.  Jonah doubled over and the guy kicked him in the ribs.

Before Maggie could react, one of the gangsters grabbed her by the wrist and yanked her toward him.  He shoved her up against the wall.  Hey Darlin’. You’re a pretty one, ain’t ya?

He cupped a hand around her throat and used it to hold her against the wall, so he could run his other hand down her body.  

Maggie flashed back to the day the Arachniman invaded her home.  He’d held her against the wall by her throat as well. Then he’d crushed her trachea, nearly killing her.

Maggie snapped.

She reached out and sought the power she needed to eliminate the malevolent energy around her.  Pulling it toward her, she expected an onslaught.  To her shock, she hit a wall.  The energy came to her—she felt it moving at her command—but when it arrived, she couldn’t direct it.  A barrier of some kind sat between her and it.  

Reaching out for it again, she willed it to come to her, believing it would.  This time it did, but only in a tiny amount.  She could only wield a fraction of the power she usually handled.  It felt like dying of thirst and trying to sip water through a mini-straw.  It simply wasn’t enough.

Still, a fraction of power for Maggie meant more than anyone at Interchron could wield unaided.  Maggie would simply have to deal with one ruffian at a time, rather than taking them all out at once.

Fashioning the small tendril of energy into a granite-hard force, Maggie slammed it into her attacker’s neck, soundly crushing his airway.  He gasped, dropped her, then staggered backward, clutching his throat.

The other gangsters peered at him in confusion.  They couldn’t see or feel the energy she held. They didn’t understand his behavior. Meanwhile, Baldy held a brick in hand.  He raised it over his head, making as though to beat Jonah with it.  Maggie side-stepped her attacker, who struggled to draw breath through a closed windpipe, and thrust the energy into Baldy’s forehead.  He stopped, mid-swing, expression blank and eyes crossed, then crumpled to the ground.

The three hoodlums behind the leader muttered, cursed, stepped back from where he’d fallen.  They stared at Maggie, utterly flabbergasted.  They had no idea what she’d done, or if she’d even been the one to do it.  If she had, they certainly couldn’t tell how.  Maggie took a step forward, staring them down menacingly.

All of them stepped back.  A few disappeared into the darkness of transecting alleys.

Satisfied they were too afraid to attack her for a few seconds, Maggie turned to the man that held Justine by the wrist.  He eyed her cautiously. Justine frowned at her, as well. Strange. Not confused, or fearful, but wary.

What’d you do to him? the man holding Justine asked.

Let go of her. The waves of energy hovered just beyond her reach.  Frustration at only being able to siphon a tiny bit at a time made her want to scream.  She kept pulling at the energy.  Surely the barrier would burst if she kept at it, like a water balloon filled too full. 

The gangster licked his lips, eyes shifting between Maggie and the two goons she’d already dispatched.  Finally, he tossed Justine’s wrist away from him.  She fell against the wall, trembling.  Beside her, Jonah tried to get to his feet, holding his ribs.

"If you wanted our attention, slut, all you had to do was ask for it."  The man who’d been holding Justine lunged toward Maggie.

Enough time had passed that the ones behind her had recovered as well, and were converging.  Knowing she had to take them all out now, she sucked the energy toward her with all her might.

It happened, exactly as she’d thought it would: the barrier keeping the energy from her snapped like elastic.  An audible pop echoed through the alley. Maggie wouldn’t have thought anyone else would be able to hear it, but Justine screeched like a harpy and all the men shuddered, as though they’d been hit with the recoil.

The power flooded to Maggie’s fingertips.  The man in front of her pulled a short, thick-handled knife from his pants.  Maggie targeted each of the men still standing—except Jonah of course—and lashed out.  The man with the knife lunged toward her. Her wave of energy hit him and he flew backward, knocked off his feet, as were all his comrades, as if they’d been hit with battering rams.

They thudded to the ground. None of them got up.

Marcus taught her how to do that.  He’d taught her the first time she’d been with the team.  Not everyone who could manipulate Offensive energy could selectively target that way. It was one of Marcus’s talents.  He’d taught her because he wanted her to be able to defend herself, even if he wasn’t around.  He’d taught her because she’d asked him to, and he’d never denied her anything she’d asked that he could give.

Marcus put his arms around her from behind and adjusted her wrist positions. She’d only known him a few weeks, but his proximity and the feel of his breath on her neck sent tingles down her spine.

There, he said in her ear, dropping his head down toward the crevice of her neck.  Now concentrate...

Maggie shook her head to dispel the memory. There wasn’t time for it now. It was the first time she’d seen that memory—they still came back in patches—but Maggie suddenly understood the sadness in his eyes the day he’d killed the Trepids at the mouth of Interchron. He’d taught her to do that, once. It had been one of their first lessons. And on that day, she hadn’t remembered it, or him. Not at all.

Now, with blood pounding in her ears, the thick silence filling up the chaos from moments before, Maggie registered vague sadness in thinking of Marcus.  She wasn’t given long to dwell on it, though.  Something else moved toward her, creeping along.  

She’d meant to neutralize all the malevolent energy in the alley, but this somehow survived.  She turned toward it, ready to lash out again. There was nothing.  Justine leaned against the wall, using it to help her stand.  Maggie could feel Jonah getting to his feet behind her. They were the only conscious beings left in the alley.  Yet, a dark, angry energy brooded right in front of her.  She could feel it concentrating, waiting for the right moment to strike.  So where was it?  Who was it?  It felt intelligent. Could its owner be Concealed?

Jonah felt wary, though she wasn’t looking at him.  He’d been on the ground when she annihilated the gang, and she wondered how much he’d seen.  Justine’s bright eyes watched Maggie.  Strangely, though her arms trembled, her face remained utterly calm.  

Justine straightened and walked toward Maggie on unsteady feet.  Maggie turned toward Jonah, but snapped back.  The energy moved toward her as Justine did.

Surely Justine wasn’t the one she sensed.  It felt...separated from Justine somehow.  And anyway, why would Justine be so angry with her?  Perhaps it was shock?

Maggie stared at Justine advancing toward her, trying to decipher what was happening.  The air in front of Justine’s face shimmered, melted, morphed.  When it coalesced again, Justine’s face no longer looked like Justine’s face.  Her eyes remained the same electric cerulean color, except a yellow dot now resided at each of the four corners of her irises.  Her beautiful face was covered in something black—a tattoo perhaps? Strange, shimmery lines Maggie couldn’t define overlaid the black.

As soon as her face changed, the dark energy solidified into Justine the person, and Maggie knew she was in trouble.  Even aside from her physical appearance, something about this woman felt menacing and deeply dangerous.  Justine bounded across the alley toward Maggie, snarling.  A serpentine hiss came from her mouth, and when she stuck her tongue out, it was forked.

"It is you," she rasped.

Maggie drew as much energy as she could toward her and threw it at Justine.  It hit the other woman and forced her backward...but that was all.  Maggie gaped.  Energy of that magnitude should have obliterated Justine, but she matched it, pushing back against Maggie’s wall.  This woman’s strength equaled Maggie’s, if not surpassed it.  She tried to undercut Maggie’s Offensive energy. Maggie blocked her, pulling Defensive energy to her.  Maggie attacked Justine around her shield. Justine parried.

After ten minutes, exhaustion began to creep in.  Without help, Maggie wouldn’t best this woman.  An idea sparked, and Maggie walked toward Justine. When they stood inches apart, Maggie balled her hand into a fist and punched the other woman.

Realization filled Justine’s eyes at the last minute and they flew open wide.  Then her head rebounded from the pavement, and she was out.  She’d been too focused on Maggie’s neurological abilities to expect a physical attack.  Maggie made a mental note.

A sudden sense of euphoria made Maggie’s heart pound. She felt like she could run a marathon. She didn’t know where the energy came from or why, and didn’t care. 

Justine was unconscious, but she wouldn’t be out for long. Maggie needed to be far away when she woke up.

Maggie whirled to find Jonah staring.  Foreboding shone out from his eyes, and Maggie cringed.  Jonah’s dread, like his disappointment, stung more than his anger ever could.  He thought her a monster after seeing that.  And a freak.

Jonah, we have to go.  Now.

He stared at her. His eyes shifted to Justine, to the gang, then back to her.

Maggie, what have you done?

Chapter 2: Cabin Safe House

MAGGIE GRABBED JONAH’S hand and ran.  They headed toward the street, passing the glassy-eyed gangsters and Justine, who already stirred.  Jonah allowed Maggie to pull him along, jogging easily behind her.

When they got to the car, she turned to him.  His face alternated between being blank and being troubled, and he still held his ribs. She realized he must be in shock.  

Give me the keys, Jonah.

He did, without complaint, and they both got into the car.  Maggie revved the engine and sped out of the lot.  She glanced in her mirrors every two seconds, expecting to see Justine chasing them. Only the dim street and the glowing lamp posts streaking by stared back at her.

When they reached the freeway onramp, Maggie stopped.  It had to be close to midnight. No traffic disturbed on the inner city road.  Her head swiveled between the dual ramps. One went north. The other, south.  

Jonah glanced over at her.  Maggie, you aren’t supposed to stop in the middle of intersection.  If a cop sees us, he’ll think we’re drunk.

Well, we’re not.  She didn’t mean to snap at him. Her nerves were frazzled.  She made a decision.

"Where are you going?  Both our houses are that way."

"We can’t go home, Jonah.  Or at least I can’t.  They’ll know to look for me there."

When he spoke again, his voice was a whisper.  Who will?

How long have you been seeing Justine, Jonah? She eased her foot down on the accelerator.

He sighed, but didn’t press her to answer his question.  A couple of weeks.

Does she ask questions about me?

Sure, but only when I bring you up.  Nothing out of the ordinary.

Maggie frowned at the highway stretching out in front of her.  She supposed Justine could have manipulated the conversation; made Jonah believe giving her information about Maggie was all his idea.  She hated the thought that Justine, or whoever she was, had spent a great deal of time alone with Jonah over the past two weeks.  She could have done something to his mind. He probably wouldn’t realize it.

Who is she, Maggie?  Jonah’s voice was stronger. He was coming out of his stupor.

I don’t know.  I’ve never seen her before today.

But, then why...?

I don’t know, Jonah.  I didn’t know women could be Arachnimen, or Trepids, or whatever she was!

Arachni-what?

Maggie glanced over at Jonah.  He wore the same shocked, worried look he’d shown her in the alley.  Maggie sighed.  I’m sorry, Jonah.  I know that must have looked...crazy.  I can’t even begin to explain.

Well you’re gonna.

Maggie nodded.  She would have to tell him everything, now.  What if he didn’t believe her?  On the other hand, what if he did?  Then what?

When we get there.

Where’s there?

Kaden’s cabin.

He blinked. Why there?  You hate that cabin.

Exactly.  I don’t have any ties to it.  I haven’t been there since I was a kid.  They won’t know to look for me there.

"I have ties to it.  If these people are as good at detective work as you seem to think, they’ll figure it out eventually."

Okay.  Maybe.  At least we’ll have a few hours of respite first.

Jonah didn’t speak for the rest of the trip.

THEY ARRIVED AT THE isolated cabin two hours later, the smell of mountain dirt and pine trees tickled Maggie’s nose.  It was exactly as she remembered it, and a chill ran up her spine.

She didn’t know why she’d never liked it here.  As a child, she’d been afraid of the woods.  She always got the impression something evil would jump out and snatch her.  Strangely, only these woods, this cabin made her feel that way.  She loved other woodsy places, and hiking especially, but something about this locale spooked her.

You all right, Maggs?  Jonah studied her from the passenger seat.

Peachy.  Do you know where the spare key is?

Jonah retrieved it from under a cracked flower pot.  Kaden wouldn’t mind.  He and Jonah had been friends since middle school.  They used to spend summers here.  They’d invited Maggie to come, and she remembered being excited to tag along the first time, but after that she’d been too spooked to come again.  

Kaden only came in the summer, and it was still early spring, so the cabin would be empty.  Though Maggie doubted the fridge would be stocked, canned goods were generally stock-piled in the pantry, so there would be food, and running water of course.

She and Jonah made their way to the living room and Maggie collapsed onto the over-stuffed couch while Jonah lit a fire in the rock-encrusted hearth.

When small flames licked contentedly at the logs Jonah had situated atop the kindling, spreading the heady scent of cedar through the room, he took the love seat to her right.  Maggie couldn’t meet his gaze.  She stared into the flames instead, wondering what would happen, now.  And where was Marcus? She could only assume Justine worked for the collective, which meant they’d acquired time travel capabilities again. Had they found another Traveler? Did they have Karl? The thought made her shudder so she pushed it away. Surely Marcus would come soon.

Jonah got up and came to sit next to her.  He sat too close to be ignored, and she knew he wanted answers.  She turned her head away.

C’mon, Maggs.  You can’t clam up on me after what just happened.

What did you see? Her voice sounded mousy, even to her.

Justine’s face...it wasn’t hers.  And you did something to her...to all of them, without touching them.  I don’t pretend to know what... His voice firmed. Start talking.

Maggie tried to begin.  She really did, but one look at Jonah’s anxious face and she chickened out.  She got up, running her hands through her hair and pacing toward the fireplace.  Nothing brilliant came to her.

It’s going to sound completely absurd to you, Jonah.  You’ll think I’m crazy.

What I saw back there was crazy, Maggie.  If I hadn’t seen it...if I couldn’t believe my own eyes...I’d never trust it.

Maggie turned to study her brother.  That was an odd way to put it.  "But you do...believe your own eyes?"

His gaze on hers remained steady, and he nodded.  Yes.

So you’ll believe me?

He frowned.  Maggie, why wouldn’t I believe you?  I’m asking in earnest, here.

Taking a deep breath, Maggie sat down on the couch. A few months ago, when that guy broke into my house and his rival gang took me and I was gone for three days?

Yeah.

That wasn’t...really what happened.

It wasn’t?

Not exactly.

Maggie talked for nearly two hours.  Jonah listened patiently, only breaking in every so often to clarify details, though as time went by, his brow furrowed more and more deeply.  She told him everything she remembered, start to finish, from the time the Arachniman attacked her in her living room, until Marcus and Karl brought her back.

She hesitated, unsure how to describe the last part.

He took her hesitation as the end of the narrative. So that’s it?  You’re just waiting for them to contact you again?

Well, there’s one more thing.

What?

Do you remember, a few weeks after I came back, when you came over and I was in bed, sick?  You said you thought it was psychological, rather than physical?

Yeah, I remember.  You were fine in the morning. When I came back, I almost took you to the hospital.  You looked terrible, had a fever...couldn’t stop shaking.

That day, my memories came back.

Jonah frowned, studying her face.  "Wait, what?  They came back, like this...Remembrancer chick said?  All of them?"

"No, but most of them.  They flooded back.  It felt like drowning—literally, physically—and there was nothing I could do.  I think it nearly did kill me."

Then why wouldn’t you let me take you to the ER?

And tell them what?  My memories were trying to drown me?

Jonah sighed, throwing grudging glances at her.  Yeah, okay. You said not all of them came back.  What does that mean?

"I remember the first time I met the team, stayed with them, got to know them.  I remember all of them, and Colin, and the missions we went on.  But memories are still returning. I don’t realize I don’t have them until they actually resurface. And what happened on the ship...it’s