Resonance by Erica O’Rourke Page B

stopped by my desk today. He wants you back in training.”
    I mashed a thumb into my graham cracker, scattering crumbs. “Soon.”
    â€œThe Consort’s taking apprenticeship applications,” she said. “You need to get moving on yours.”
    â€œHave you decided where you’re applying?” Laurel asked.
    â€œNot yet.”
    Addie swung into big-sister mode. “Del, you can’t put this off. If you don’t start showing up to class, the Consort is going to slot you in wherever they need warm bodies. And right now, they need Cleavers.”
    â€œI’m not cleaving.”
    â€œIf your ranking’s high enough, you can transfer to anotherConsort. That’s what I did,” Laurel said, dimpling. “It’s worked out pretty well.”
    I scowled. “Maybe I’ll apply for an Enforcement position.”
    Laurel’s smile fell away. “I’m not sure you’re cut out for Enforcement. They’re pretty . . . hard-core.”
    â€œRelax,” I said. “The Consort wouldn’t let me within three Echoes of an Enforcement position. Can you imagine me trying to make other people follow the rules? I’ll figure out something.”
    Laurel wound a curl around her finger. “My advice is, don’t rush it. Take your time.”
    â€œShe needs to choose.” Addie turned to her. “It’s a big deal.”
    â€œExactly,” Laurel said. “It’s her whole life. Why should she settle for something other than what she really wants? I didn’t.”
    Addie’s expression softened, and she leaned her forehead against Laurel’s shoulder.
    â€œIt’s your future, Del,” she said. “Don’t let someone else choose it for you. Not after everything Simon did to make sure you’d have one.”

CHAPTER EIGHT
    Days until Tacet: 24
    M Y SUSPENSION FROM THE CONSORT was meant to make me a better Walker. Instead, I’d become an imposter. Judging from the looks Eliot gave me on our way into training the next day, I wasn’t a very good one.
    Even before our train pulled into Union Station, I could hear the cacophony of pivots, each with their own distinct pitch. Some squeaked; some boomed; some were so low-pitched I felt their vibrations in the soles of my feet. Almost a century of choices, layered on top of one another until the air felt cobwebbed with them.
    Once we were outside, the sensation eased slightly. We made our way to the Consort’s headquarters, a discreetly expensive-­looking building in the Loop. The glassed-in lobby, the guards behind the desk, and the Impressionist paintings on the walls indicated to passersby that Consort Change Management was a staid, reputable firm catering exclusively to its clients, so move along please.
    Its clients were Walkers. The CCM building housed our school, our archives, our laboratories, our government . . . it wasessentially a Walker embassy, a foreign land hidden in the middle of Chicago, fluent in secrecy.
    â€œYou’re nervous,” he said as we approached the building.
    â€œTired. Laurel and Addie were on my case last night.”
    â€œAbout what?”
    I shrugged. “What else? My future. Or lack of one.”
    We slid our ID cards through the scanner at the front desk, and the guard waved us through. Somewhere in this building my grandfather was locked away. I’d expected to sense some hint of his presence, as if the atmosphere would turn charged simply because we were under the same roof. My skin prickled, ice and nerves, but it wasn’t Monty. It was the effort of stepping back into my old life. Too much loss, too many truths.
    Across the lobby, a tall girl with a line of piercings in both ears and her black hair in a pixie cut lounged on one of the leather couches. She spotted us and sprang up, crossing the room in long, lithe strides.
    â€œHey, sexy!” Callie enveloped me in a hug. A beat