Resonance (20 page)

She was small and white-haired, but Rose was no rabbit. Instead of spooking, she gestured toward the infirmary. “We can talk more once you've rested.”

I was planning to do a hell of a lot more than talk.

CH
APTER THIRTY-FOUR

R
OSE RETURNED ME TO THE
main infirmary—­­­a generic hotel room, identical to mine, but every surface was covered with regimented rows of medical supplies. A middle-aged woman wearing a lab coat and mom jeans startled when she caught sight of me.

“Rose! I had no idea she'd left!” She opened the door connecting our rooms, like she was making sure I wasn't there. “I'm so sorry!”

“Del has a mind of her own,” Rose said, waving away the apology. To me she said, “Rest now. Pushing too hard will turn you into a liability.”

There was no room in the Free Walkers for a liability.

“Come on,” Simon said, in a voice I'd heard him use to charm everyone from the lunch lady to my mother. I couldn't tell if he was using it on Rose or me—or both. He looped his arm with mine. “I can't see you that sick again.”

Rose spoke to the medic, their voices too low to hear, and then embraced me. She felt wiry and strong, so different from Monty's hollow fragility. “I'll check on you later,” she said. “We'll catch up.”

She marched away, and my breath eased.

“Let's get you settled in,” the medic said. Simon frowned at her, and she took a step back. “You heard your grandmother.”

“I'll take care of Del,” he replied, and steered me back to my room.

She scurried after us, a fluid-filled plastic bag in hand. “You need your IV. We'll use the other arm this time.”

“No thanks.” The crook of my elbow still felt tender from where the needle had gone in, my skin reddened from the tape.

She took an alcohol wipe from the nightstand. “Your system needs more glucose.”

“I feel fine,” I protested. “Getting out of bed helped. And the pitch here is good.” Which was true—with the Key World frequency filling the room, I was stronger and steadier than I'd been in the lobby.

“I'll stay with her,” said Simon. “We'll let you know if she feels lousy.”

“Rose's orders,” she said, brightly rigid.

Everything about the base camp felt temporary, like the Free Walkers didn't want anyone getting too comfortable, like they were ready to run at a moment's notice. Unsettling as the sensation was, tethering myself to the bed felt worse.

She folded her arms. “Do I need to ask your grandmother to come back?”

I didn't want to see Rose—not until I'd had a chance to process what she'd told me, not until Simon and I could make a plan. I was as much an outsider here as I'd been back home. Giving in,
I stretched out my arm and winced when the IV found its vein. The sugar hit my system in a cool, smooth rush, and I sighed deeply.

“You okay?” Simon asked, brow furrowing.

“Maybe I overdid it,” I admitted, and leaned against the headboard. The medic tsked as she left, closing the door behind her.

Simon bent to kiss my forehead. “I thought you were feeling better.”

“Thought so too.” I reached for him, and he lay down next to me.

“What's next?” He traced my features, the gesture soothing my frayed nerves.

“Don't know. It's like Addie says—I didn't
think.
I assumed they'd want me here. They'd let me help.”

“Rose wants you here. She was worried about you.”

I shook my head, heavy and slow. “She wanted Monty, so she used us. Monty used us because he wanted her. They're the perfect match.”

“Not as perfect as us.” Simon ran his fingers through my hair, coaxing out the knots.

“You really told her you wouldn't help without me?”

“She's pretty cold, Del. She didn't want Monty—she needed him. She let him sit around for twenty years before she brought him in. I wasn't going to take any chances with you.”

“Still the guy all the girls want,” I murmured. “Even grandmas.”

He chuckled as I burrowed closer, trying to soak up his warmth, The IV chilled me from the inside, a thread of cold running through my core, impossible to dispel.

My eyelids grew heavy, images of Simon in Train World springing to life with each drowsy blink. Even knowing he had survived wasn't enough to erase my guilt. “Should've stayed.”

“At home?” I felt him draw back and tip my chin up, but I couldn't summon the energy to meet his gaze. “Why—”

“Not home. Nothing there. Train World.”

His voice was warm and worried, and very far away. “Del, you had to go. I told you to go. You would have died.”

“So would you.”

“But I didn't,” he pointed out.

“I knew he wasn't you.” The words came with an effort, thick and sludgy. “That's why I broke his nose, mostly.”

“Mostly broke?” He sounded amused.

“Mostly him. Little you.”

“You were breaking my nose a little bit too?”

It was too much trouble to answer. Ice slipped and spread through my veins, carrying me further into sleep.

“Del?” Simon's hands on my shoulders, shaking me. Simon's fingers on my pulse. A crack of brightness beneath my lids, and a pinching sensation as I drifted away.

•   •   •

Someone was shaking me. Calling my name and shaking me, and I dragged the blankets over my head, a fuzzy cocoon. Warm again, I realized, finally. The cold in my blood was dissipating.

If I ignored Addie for long enough, she usually gave up. Playing possum bought me at least ten extra minutes of sleep. Long enough for her to go downstairs and complain to my parents, who would finish their coffee and their discussion before coming upstairs.

On days she was especially annoyed, she'd smack my shoulder or punch me in the arm. Rip off the covers and tickle my bare feet. But she'd never actually slapped me. Now she did, a stinging against my cheek that faded almost as soon as it registered.

I did not like it.

Instinctively I pushed away the hand before the next blow landed, and my fist shot out.

At least I thought it did. The punch sailed through the air with all the speed and force of a wet dishcloth.

Simon chuckled, but there was more relief than humor in it. “You're okay?”

I forced my eyelids open. Not Addie. Simon. “I would be if you'd stop hitting me.”

“You passed out.” Once again, he was pressing a tissue against my arm.

“I was sleepy,” I said, sitting up in the bed.

He leaned forward until his forehead touched mine, our lips brushing for the briefest of seconds. “You were drugged.”

“What? No. Frequency poisoning,” I said, but he held up the IV he'd taken out, the needle swaying like a pendulum.

“You had that thing in for five minutes, tops, and I could barely wake you up. Your grandmother had them put something more than glucose in the line.”

“Why would she do that?”

“To keep you out of the way,” he said grimly, handing me a Band-Aid. “You don't always listen to authority so well.”

“To the Consort! But they're different.”

“Are they? From where I stand, the Free Walkers and the Consort aren't that different. They're both playing God. They use people, and they walk away, and if there's any mess left behind, they chalk it up to collateral damage.”

“They're not the same,” I said. “They're
not.
”

“
Why? Because their leader is a little old lady you're related to? Because you want to think Monty wasn't all bad?”

Because I'd sacrificed too much—family and friends and future—to believe I'd traded one evil for another. “They're outgunned. They're doing what they have to in order to survive, and protect the Echoes.”

“Consider the sources. You're taking the word of a woman who drugged you, a dementia patient, and the guy whose life I stole.”

“You think the Consort's a better choice? They killed your birth mom when they cleaved your home world. They killed your dad. They'd kill you, too, if they knew who you were.” His words—
the guy whose life I stole
—lodged under my skin like a splinter.

“I'm not saying I want to throw my hat in with the Consort. But if the Free Walkers are going to burn the world down, I'd like to make sure we don't go up in flames too.”

“Walkers believe there is a choice in any situation. Sometimes
it's a choice between acting or doing nothing. Sometimes it's a choice where you can't lose—a trip to Disney World or a new car—and sometimes the alternatives both suck. But right now, for us, it's deciding who we believe: the Consort or the Free Walkers. Not their tactics, but what they stand for.”

“And you can separate the two? What they want and how they get it?”

I met his eyes. “I cleaved a world, Simon. All those lives were lost because of me. Because I was careless and stupid, and they'll never come back.”

“You didn't know.”

“Ignorance of the law is no excuse for breaking it. One of your Echoes told me that.”

“He sounds like an asshole.”

“He had some anger issues,” I said. “But he had a point. I treated Walking like a game, and people died. Now I need to fix it.”

“Even if fixing it means being as ruthless as the Consort?”

“The Consort says we have to sacrifice anything to protect the Key World.”

“Would you? To stop them and protect the Echoes, would you sacrifice anything?”

I laced my fingers with his. “Anything but you.”

“Considering that your grandmother drugged you, I think you can consider yourself benched. You might spend the war in a hospital bed.”

“That's why she did it.” I swung my feet over the side of the
bed. “They're making a move—soon—and she doesn't want me interfering. We need to find out what it is.”

“She's not going to tell you anything,” Simon said as I grabbed his arm and hauled myself up.

“No. But Monty might.”

The medic hadn't come in to check on me, no doubt assuming the drugs were enough to keep me under control. Even so, Simon turned the lock on the door connecting our rooms, slow and silent, then fixed the chain on the hallway door.

“You're locking us in,” I pointed out. “I don't think that helps.”

He grinned and opened the curtains. Sunlight poured into the room—through a sliding glass door.

“Sneaky looks good on you,” I said.

“Learned from the best,” he replied, and pressed his mouth to mine before giving me my coat.

We slipped outside. “Is he close?”

Simon nodded. “He's in Rose's room. This way.”

My hand tucked in his, he led me toward the corner room on the ground floor. The curtains were tightly drawn, giving no indication whether Monty was alone—or even inside. “Do you think Rose is still with Ms. Powell's daughter?”

“Prescott? Probably. They looked like they had a lot to talk about.”

“And they're not telling me any of it.” I rapped on the window. “I can't believe we're asking Monty for help.”

No response from inside. I knocked again.

“Maybe he's asleep,” Simon suggested. “Maybe she knocked him out too.”

I knew better. “He wants to make me wait. Screw him.”

I turned as if to leave, and the curtain twitched. A moment later Monty was standing on the threshold, grinning from ear to ear.

“Wondered when you'd visit,” he said as he tugged the door open.

“We're not here to catch up,” I said, pushing past him into the room.

Rose had gone for the upgrade—a king-size bed instead of two twins, a loveseat instead of the lone upholstered chair. But every surface was swept clean, except for a small pile of buttons on the dresser.

Monty shuffled toward the loveseat, lowering himself to the cushion with a grunt. He'd swapped the gray scrubs of the oubliette for a pair of khaki pants and a wool cardigan, same as ever. “Feeling better? You had me worried.”

“I doubt that,” I replied.

Simon pulled out the desk chair and nudged me into it.

“Good to see you, Simon.” Monty squinted. “You
are
the Echo, aren't you?”

“How did you know?”

“If your Original had pulled that stunt with the chair, my granddaughter would have broken it over his head,” he chuckled. “How'd they fix you, boy? Last I knew, the Key World was falling like the walls of Jericho, thanks to you.”

Simon flashed the rubber bracelet. “Tuner.”

Monty's eyes narrowed. “A little gadget fixed your frequency?”

“That's what they tell me,” he replied. “Not my area of expertise.”

“Clever,” Monty muttered. “Altering an Original's strings isn't done, you know.”

Simon's jaw flexed. “I'm not an Original.”

“Exactly,” Monty said, slow and thoughtful. “You're a loophole. May I see?”

Simon stuck out his wrist, and Monty peered at the device, twisting Simon's hand to study it from every angle.

“Dangerous,” he said. “You could kill someone, interfering with their strings.”

“Or save them,” I said pointedly.

“Indeed,” said Monty, and for the first time since his escape, his eyes took on their old familiar gleam.

I tugged at his sleeve. “What are the Free Walkers planning? Why does Rose want me out of the way?”

“Rose always has her reasons,” he replied.

“She drugged Del to make sure she didn't interfere,” Simon said.

Monty sputtered in protest, but Simon stared him down, like he was a member of the opposing team, and he thought better of it.

“You're a loose canon,” he said to me, tilting his head to look past Simon. “They've got a plan and they want to execute it, and
keeping you well away is best for everyone. Including you.”

“What's the plan?” I asked. “Chicago is only one Consort—there are twenty-three more.”

“It only takes one domino to fall. CCM is leading the Tacet, so they're the ones we'll take over.”