Resonance by Erica O’Rourke Page A

she’d been happier—and easier to be around, since Happy Addie and Nitpicky Addie couldn’t coexist.
    And I couldn’t have picked a better girlfriend for her than Laurel, an apprentice Archivist. In some ways she reminded meof Eliot—supersmart, a little spacey—but she was much more easygoing than he was, comfortable in her skin and in speaking her mind. Most importantly, she was crazy about Addie.
    But watching the two of them together made the ache of losing Simon sharpen until it felt like a knife between my ribs.
    I grabbed a box of graham crackers and a tub of Nutella, careful not to listen too closely to their murmured conversation. People in new relationships want everyone to be as happy as they are, and I was too exhausted to play along.
    When I emerged from the pantry, Addie was sitting at the kitchen island and Laurel was standing next to her, their fingers intertwined.
    â€œAre you sure you’re okay?” Addie asked, brow furrowed in concern.
    â€œFine,” I said shortly, finally noticing her clothes. Black pants and a loose-fitting black sweater, red-gold hair pulled back in a neat bun. Ballet flats instead of her usual heels. Polished and lovely, as always, but it was an outfit you could move in. Could run in, should things go wrong. “You were cleaving today.”
    My voice wobbled alarmingly. How many people had died, how many worlds unraveled in the hours since Ms. Powell had told me the truth? I bit my lip until I tasted copper, the secret threatening to burst free. Addie would never cleave again, once she knew the effects.
    And then what would we do? Addie was too well-regarded around the Consort to simply quit. Lattimer had singled her out for a special project, the one that had brought her and Laureltogether, but she’d barely spoken about it. If she were to stop cleaving, or disappear altogether, the Consort would investigate. Walkers worry about change, not consistency, Amelia had warned. I couldn’t afford more scrutiny now.
    â€œI know the idea of cleaving is hard for you, Del, but it’s my job. It’s more than a job, actually. It’s a—”
    â€œI know. A calling. Mom read the same scriptures to both of us.” I pushed away from the table, took in the empty room. “Where are they, anyway?”
    â€œMom and Dad? Working late.”
    â€œAs usual.” For once, I was relieved their Consort duties took precedence.
    â€œNot usual,” Laurel said. She wandered over to the stove and poked at whatever was steaming on the back burner. “A Tacet.”
    â€œA what?”
    â€œA Tacet,” Addie said. “I just got back to regular duty, so I don’t know all the details, but the Consort’s planning a major cleaving.”
    â€œTacet means ‘silence,’” Laurel added. “They’re silencing the Echoes.”
    â€œWhich branch?” I choked out.
    â€œA whole bunch. We’re getting double or triple the usual requests.” As an apprentice Archivist, Laurel maintained all the records of Consort activity in the Echoes: cleavings, exploratory walks, branch maps. “Coordinating that many cleavings takes a lot of prep work.”
    â€œWhy would they do it?” I asked.
    They exchanged glances, and Addie said, “The official story is that they’re trying to contain damage from the anomaly. A Tacet transfers a lot of energy to the Key World. Reinforces the weak spots.”
    â€œAnd unofficially?”
    â€œThe Free Walkers live in the Echoes,” Laurel said flatly. “Nobody knows where, but if you cleave enough branches . . . you’ll hit something.”
    Addie frowned at her.
    â€œUnofficially,” Laurel amended. “And theoretically.”
    â€œWhen?” I asked, wondering if I had enough time to warn Ms. Powell.
    â€œThree weeks, at least. It’s a complicated operation,” Addie said. “On another note, Shaw