“They’ve told us plenty,” I said. “They’re tracking something, because Mom wanted Eliot’s map software, and it’s local, because Dad’s teams are meeting here. They’re using the Consort computers, which means they’re either dealing with one really big problem, or a bunch of small ones.”
“Or both,” she said, motioning me into the living room and lowering her voice. “I’ll tell you what else: They’re not having any luck. They’ve got teams from all over the world running around headquarters. It’s been weeks now, and nobody’s acting like they’re heading home soon. Security is crazy strict. Closed-door meetings, reassignments. Every door’s got a key reader now, even the areas that used to be open access. I don’t know why it’s classified. Everyone knows something’s up.”
“But they don’t know how bad,” I said. “The Consort’s keeping it classified so people don’t freak out.”
“Well, that’s comforting.”
“Ironic, isn’t it?” In the kitchen, Monty’s chair scraped and the freezer door whooshed. He was hunting for ice cream again. “You know what the weirdest thing is?”
Addie straightened the sheet music scattered across the piano. “You and I are getting along?”
“Aside from that. If the Consort’s dealing with a huge, complicated, potentially disastrous problem, why the hell is Lattimer personally monitoring my suspension? Why is he accelerating my training?”
“And why does he care what Monty’s doing?” she asked. “Lattimer shouldn’t be interested in either one of you.”
“Maybe he thinks Monty can help them?”
“I don’t see how. Besides, Monty would never agree to help the Consort.” She paused. “Lattimer must think he’ll confide in you.”
“And you’ll report back.” She looked pensive, and I added, “Which you won’t, because it would be totally crappy to spy on our grandfather.”
She didn’t say anything.
“Addie?”
She wrapped a lock of reddish-gold hair around her finger, unwound it again. “Whatever they’re working on, it’s serious. If Monty knows something, we have an obligation to help find it.”
“You’d sell him out to Lattimer?”
“I would do what I’m sworn to do: protect the Key World. And if you really want to be a Walker, you will too.” She shook her head, pale and determined. “I’m going to get ready for tomorrow’s Walk.” The one Lattimer had assigned.
“I have plans tomorrow. For school.” No way was I blowing off Simon a second time.
“We’ll be back by lunch. You can study then.” She went upstairs, and I headed back to the kitchen. Monty was sitting at the table, working his way through a bowl of ice cream the size of a softball, doused with chocolate syrup and caramel sauce.
“Well? What did he want?”
“He’s checking in on my training. And buttering up Addie.” He’s spying on you, I wanted to say, but Addie’s warning was fresh in my mind.
He poked the spoon at me. “He’s after something. Thinks you’re the key to it.”
“Then he’s an idiot,” I said hotly. “I can handle Lattimer.”
“Smart girl.” He patted my hand, his fingers sticky. “But even fools are dangerous if they want something.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Inversions occur when a vibrato fractum replaces the corresponding area of a nearby branch. They must be stabilized before a cleaving occurs, or else the exchange between branches becomes permanent, allowing the damage to spread.
—Chapter Five, “Physics,”
Principles and Practices of Cleaving, Year Five
WE HEADED OUT early the next morning. Mom had fixed a real breakfast—French toast, eggs, and bacon—given me a hug, and retreated to her office, as if a dose of proper nutrition erased yesterday’s fight. My dad had already left.
The sky was the pale blue of a glacier, the sun giving the illusion of warmth. We crossed through a pivot near the football stadium and wove our way through the residential neighborhood. Between houses I caught a glimpse of the graveyard, and wondered if Simon’s mom was alive in this Echo.
“The terminal Echo from yesterday,” I said. “Does he exist in other worlds?”
“Some, but they’ll unravel eventually. They’re not real.”
The Simon I’d met yesterday seemed real enough. So did his suffering and his sympathy. “Echoes can die before their Originals, right?”
“Sure. It happens all the time.”
Maybe Original Simon’s mom was healthy, and I’d worried for nothing.
Monty trailed us by a half block, and I lowered my voice. “What about Grandma? Would the branches she’d Walked through react if she died?”
“No. She doesn’t have Echoes, so her impressions would fade away.”
I shuddered. If I died, the Simons I’d met wouldn’t care. Or would they? Doughnut World Simon remembered me. If I died, he’d wonder why I never came back.
Monty caught up to us. “What are you two looking so serious about?”
“Going over notations,” Addie said smoothly. I was impressed—usually she was a terrible liar. Now she eyed him. “Do you know what Mom and Dad are working on, Grandpa?”
“Consort business,” he said with a nonchalant wave. “Hush-hush.”
“You don’t have any idea?” she pressed.
“Plenty of ideas. Mostly about lunch.” He stuck out his chin. “Not my fight anymore.”
Addie sighed, then turned to me. “Fine. We’re here, Del. Are you ready?”
“For what?” I expected to catch the hum of a pivot, but heard nothing unusual. We’d stopped in front of a tiny white cottage with black shutters and a red door, window boxes filled with gourds. Clusters of hydrangeas and mums pressed against the picket fence, a stone frog guarding the gate.
“Watch,” she said, and tilted her head at the polished brass mailbox hanging from the fence.
“Very quaint. What’s wrong with it?”
“You tell me.”
The frequency pulsed in a strange cycle, and I peeked inside, spotting a few slim letters and a magazine. As I reached in, they disappeared. I craned my head for a closer look and they came back. I went for them again, and they vanished.
“What the hell?”
Addie was trying not to snicker. “It’s an inversion.”
“You’re kidding.” Another reality, swapping places with this one. Exactly the sort of thing Walkers were supposed to prevent. “Why isn’t there a team here to take care of it?”
“There is. Us.”
The mailbox shifted from polished brass to rusting white metal and back again. “I can’t hear a pivot.”
“Pivots come from choices. An inversion is a really bad break. But we can use it like a pivot. If a frequency can make it through, so can we. Right, Grandpa? You’re an expert at inversions.”
“I’ve dealt with my fair share.” He ambled over and poked at the mailbox. “This is apprentice-level work.”
She forced a smile. “The Consort felt Del was ready.”
His expression darkened. “You mean Lattimer. I won’t be a part of whatever scheme he’s cooked up.” He picked up a newspaper lying on the driveway and settled himself on the curb. “I’ll be here when you get back.”
“Grandpa, we can’t leave you behind. Mom would kill us.”
He rattled the paper. “Then you’ve got a choice. Disobey your mother or disobey Lattimer. But I’m not crossing that inversion.”
We were silent for a moment, Addie struggling to keep her temper, Monty scowling at the op-ed page. “We’ll be back soon. Don’t move from this spot.”