by Liesel Hill
https://www.authorlkhill.com/storysquad
Persistence of Vision
Book 1 of Interchron
By Liesel K. Hill
Discover more titles by Author Liesel K. Hill on her Author Website or her blog, Musings on Fantasia.
Copyright 2013 Liesel K. Hill
Discover other titles by Liesel K. Hill:
Quantum Entanglement
Dark Remnants
Desolate Mantle
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Table of Contents
1. A Void in the Crowd
2. Flash From the Past
3. Breaking Away
4. Hypnotic Eyes
5. The Good Doctor
6. Explanations
7. History
8. More Forgotten Events
9. The Team
10. Creature Comforts
11.Trepidation
12. Trap
13. Brain Power
14. The Deceiver
15. Bad-Guy Hierarchy
16. Karl’s Theories
17. Reunions
18. Explanations
19. A Lonely Way of Speaking
20. Courage to Stand
21. The Question of Memories
22. Wind and Water and Scars
23. Neural Pathways to Light
24. A Light on the Beach
25. The Lighthouse
26. The Strangeness of Roses
27. Hope for Happiness
28. Onto the Island
29. The Problem with a Neurological Sedative
30. The Taste of Blood
31. The Eyes of a Drone
32. The Canyons of Time
33. Meetings and Plans
34. Attractive Forces
35. “The Roses Are in Bloom”
36. Far from Vegas
Chapter 1: A Void in the Crowd
When she first saw him, she thought he must be stoned. Why else would he be staring at a brick wall?
Cursing because she was already late meeting Jonah and the trek was taking so long—she could swear she’d been passing Caesar’s Palace for half an hour—Maggie tried to swallow, but it was like trying to push a golf ball through a pinhole lined with sandpaper. She longed for water—even hot and fetid would do—but the size of the crowds, packed curb to casino and bursting, prevented her from going any faster. Then, up ahead, she caught sight of a man standing perfectly still.
She was headed for him, and a strange, prickling sensation in her stomach had crept up right before she saw him. Maggie told herself that the heat and lack of nourishment was making her hallucinate, but she tried to study the man as she inched along the crowded sidewalk.
August in Vegas meant ungodly temperatures, but somehow this was the peak of the tourist season. Then again, she was here too. Her shoulder-length auburn hair was secured at the nape of her neck, but did little to cool her.
As she moved forward, packed cheek by jowl with hundreds of strangers and praying she didn’t trip—it could mean death by an army of gum-covered shoes—she reminded herself that she was not, in fact, suffocating. Focusing on the motionless man kept her mind off her parched throat. And her looming luncheon.
As she neared where he stood, Maggie saw that a triangular void had opened up around him. The walking tourists made up the sides of the chasm, giving it a bizarre, transitory look. The man stood at the far apex of it. He was tall and dark haired, but that was all she could tell with two hundred tourists in her way.
The sight struck her as odd. The sea of people around her was an ocean unto itself—rolling and pulsating such that trying to stop a single part of it would be like trying to immobilize a single swell of the Pacific; it couldn’t be done. But then there was this man, standing statue-still at the tip of the gap. If Maggie tried to stop like that, she’d be trampled, and that was not overstating the matter. She wondered how he’d managed it.
Suddenly Maggie was in the gap with him. It shouldn’t have surprised her, as she’d been heading right for it, but she was startled to find herself in the space. A moment before, she’d been shoulder to shoulder with twenty strangers. In the natural momentum of the throng, the space should have become occupied. Yet when Maggie reached it, she found herself alone in the vast, triangular void—just her and the stoned guy.
It was as if there was police tape around this particular space—tape she couldn’t see but everyone else could. They walked around it, paying the gap no heed while she pioneered into an alien land, alone and confused.
She’d have thought that a few inches of personal space would help her breathe easier, but it didn’t. She felt more hot and oppressed than ever. And now, she felt…exposed. A moment ago she’d wanted nothing more than to get away from the Vegas throng; now she just wanted to lose herself in the anonymity of the crowd.
Maggie forced herself to move forward. The man was standing marble still, and she was anxious about practically brushing against him as she passed, but she had to in order to leave the gap and rejoin the throng. Finally she came level with the man and put her foot forward to step into the crowd.
Something gripped her arm, anchoring her to the spot. She became aware of breath on her neck—a presence near her. She turned her head slowly, afraid of what she’d find. Her heart pounded in her ears. She couldn’t catch her breath, but she didn’t know why. Trying not to tremble in the thick humidity, she raised her eyes.
He was staring at her, his face inches from hers. It was not at all what she expected. Whatever this man was, he was not stoned. His eyes were a strange color. Hazel, she supposed, but so hazel that they looked almost…amber. His pupils were golden with large flecks of green, brown, and blue. A scar shaped like an upside-down question mark covered the left side of his face, the round part making a semi-circle over his cheek, the straight part reaching from half an inch below his eyelashes to above his eyebrow.
From the side he looked lean, but being beside him, she was surprised to see how broad his shoulders were—how deeply muscled his arms. His hand gripped her so firmly that she knew she would be unable to get away unless he released her. He was not hurting her, though.
He stood there, looking into her eyes for long seconds, his expression a mixture of intensity and sadness. She felt like he was seeing into the depths of her soul. Her heart pounded, and then, for some reason, her eyes watered.
Suddenly Maggie thought she recognized him. Where a moment ago she had been sure he was a stranger, she was now certain she’d seen him before. She ran through reams of memories. A high school classmate? An ex-boyfriend? No, she would remember that. She couldn’t think of when they’d met and then was confident again that they never had. Perhaps it was déjà vu or just a mistake. But she felt a stirring deep in the pit of her stomach. Chills vibrated up and down her spine, but she had no idea why or what the source was.
As she gazed up at him, his brow furrowed; then his face crumpled completely.
His mouth opened, and his lips moved, but no sound came out. He was mouthing her name, silently screaming it.
“Maggie!”
Maggie’s breath caught. How did he know her name?
He winced, shutting his eyes, and the act of reopening them released a single tear down his cheek.
Shaking herself, Maggie got her bearings enough to jerk her arm away. When she did, she nearly fell, for he immediately let go, and her own momentum nearly knocked her over.
She tore her gaze from his and took a purposeful stride out of the unnatural aperture and into the crowd. Suddenly, she felt forlorn.
She was being idiotic; this was just a bizarre encounter with a man she’d never met. Maybe he was stoned after all. She had just imagined the rest. That was it. Yes, perhaps she was lucky to have escaped with her life. The street was so busy he might have kidnapped her, mugged her, or done any number of other things, and no one would have noticed. Taking a deep breath, she tried to clear her head as she once again forced her feet to match the momentum of the throng.
Then something occurred to her. The strange man had grabbed her arm, kept her there, and looked at her in an intimate manner, but she had not thought to call out for help. But then, she had not felt fear. She’d felt almost…protected. She shrugged uncomfortably at the thought.
The entire interaction had been surreal. It had only taken sixty seconds, but when she’d entered the gap, everything slowed down. It felt like longer than a minute.
Holding tight to her purse and her phone, she used the natural momentum of her stride to swing around and walk backward.
The amber-eyed stranger was still staring at her in a most…familiar way. By now there were hundreds of people between them. From this far away, his hooded eyes looked red, and she thought she saw…no, she must be mistaken. Were those more tears sliding down his cheeks? Perhaps it was just sweat, or the heat was making her imagine things.
A moment later with the sweep of the crowd, he was gone.
