Resonance - Erica O'Rourke Page 0,22

answered, like I wasn’t standing three feet away. “The licensing exam is a few months away, and then she’s off to her apprenticeship. This will boost her chance at a good assignment.”

“Is interrogating Monty the best way to do that? She should be focused on her training.”

“She needs closure,” my mom said, and turned to include me in the conversation. “We’ll be able to put this whole episode behind us and start fresh. It’ll be good for all of us. What’s more, it proves your loyalty to the Consort.”

“Does it need proving?” I asked.

“People talk, Del. The rest of us have our reputations to fall back on, but you . . .”

My reputation wasn’t great to begin with. Trust my mom to always keep an eye on the bigger picture.

“I thought this was about letting Monty make amends,” I said, and she had the grace to look ashamed.

“Forget about Monty,” Dad said. He wrapped an arm around my shoulder. “Do it for yourself. For your future. You can make a difference, kiddo.”

Amelia had thought so too, and it had cost her everything. Would I pay a similar price if I allied myself with the Free Walkers?

My father opened the door, and Crane and Bolton returned. Lattimer was nowhere in sight.

“I assume you’ve come to a decision,” Bolton said. She tipped her head to the side and waited for my response.

For the first time I felt a shift in power. The Consort needed me in a way they hadn’t before, and the knowledge gave me confidence. I straightened my shoulders and met her gaze.

“When do I start?”

Crane sniffed. “Now, naturally.”

CHAPTER TEN

NOW?” MY MOM’S VOICE JUMPED an octave. “She needs time to prepare.”

“Delancey’s made her decision. Nothing will be gained by waiting,” Crane said.

“What are we supposed to say to him?” Mom asked.

Crane’s wrinkles deepened in confusion. “You and Foster won’t be accompanying us. Montrose’s demands are quite clear—he’ll speak with Delancey, and only Delancey.”

“You can’t seriously expect us to let her deal with him alone,” my dad said.

Crane drew herself up. One of the benefits of absolute power is that nobody questions your decisions. The downside is that nobody points out when you’re being an idiot, and it was clear the councilwoman didn’t like the sensation.

“You have my personal guarantee no harm will come to her. I trust that’s enough to satisfy your concerns,” Bolton said smoothly, leaving no room for disagreement.

“Of course,” my mother said, but she clutched her pendant and edged closer to my father.

I bit back the urge to remind all of them I was standing right there, perfectly capable of speech and forming my own, very definite opinions about my safety. In my experience, however, adults only ask your opinion if they think it matches their own.

“Delancey.” Crane’s inflection was perfectly neutral. No hint of a question, only a prompt.

What would Ms. Powell want me to do? Assuming the Free Walkers had a weapon, they didn’t need details about their own weapons—they needed to know what the Consort was planning. But what people don’t know reveals as much as what they do. The Consort’s questions were as important as Monty’s answers. I could pass along both.

“I’m ready,” I said.

My mom hugged me. “Remember, he can’t hurt you.”

No, Monty couldn’t hurt me. Not any more than he had already.

“Later,” I said, and waved halfheartedly.

A pair of guards stood at attention next to the elevator. One of them—a woman with long, blunt-cut black hair and a thick fringe of bangs—looked familiar. At first I couldn’t place her, and then the memory clicked. She’d escorted me to my disciplinary hearing. She probably thought I was being taken into custody. They followed us inside and positioned themselves on either side of me.

Crane withdrew her ID and slid it through the reader, then pressed an unlabeled black button.

The light changed from red to green, and the elevator sank smoothly. “Where are we going?”

“Sublevels,” Crane said crisply.

“I thought those floors were parking.” The Consort Building had assigned parking spaces in an underground garage—using public parking, where people had to choose their spaces every day, raised too many opportunities for change—but not many Walkers used them. Our kind traditionally lived near train lines, so most people didn’t bother driving into the city.

“The first level is,” Crane said. “The rest are restricted.”

“Guess I’m special,” I said. The display above the doors had stopped at B, for basement, but we were still sinking. My chest tightened, and the elevator car felt increasingly small.

When we stopped, the