Page 11 of The Beginning (Covert Moon, #1)

If I was being totally honest, it felt like a kick in the gut. I thought Calyx and I were close. Our necklaces had been a constant reminder of that, despite the fact that I'd moved out and she'd pulled away recently.

The more I thought about it, the more grateful I was she'd insisted we hang out here, at my parents' house instead of my place.

That showed she cared a little bit, even as she'd taken off with no thought of the consequences.

Whatever her plans, it would have been worse had this happened anywhere else.

I couldn't imagine what Mother would have done if Calyx had disappeared while she was staying at my apartment.

So, I guess a part of me should thank my sister.

No wonder she pushed so hard to have me come to her.

I shuddered as I imagined the scene had this happened at my place.

The horror of it made me break out in a cold sweat.

When I was her age I was petrified of breaking the rules and facing Mother's anger.

While all my friends were sneaking out at night, going to parties when they shouldn't be and getting wild with boys, I stayed home, trying to be a good girl, doing what was expected.

I wish I had known then that it was hopeless.

Nothing I could have done would ever be enough to get Mother's approval.

But even if I had done all of those forbidden things, I would always have come back to Calyx.

I knew that she was there for me, and when nobody else did, she cared.

Trouble was, now that she was out doing all the wrong things, instead of touching base and coming back to me, she'd turned away and grown secretive.

So when I woke up this morning and my necklace had fallen off—something it could have never done before—my mind went instantly to that boyfriend she'd been seeing.

He was just bad news. It was almost laughable.

He was such a cliché with his black leather jacket, jeans, and tight T-shirts, slicked back hair. God... poor Calyx was in over her head.

Mother thought Calyx was above reproach and better than all the rest when in fact she was just like every other seventeen-year-old girl on the planet, whether human or witch.

A teenage girl was drawn to the bad boy like a moth to the flame.

But screw it. If Calyx thought she could just walk away, fine.

That was her choice. But there was no way I was going to sit back and let them think she was just abducted.

Let Mother milk this for all the airtime she could get.

Right now, everyone was focused on poor Calyx, stolen away by a horrible kidnapper. Someone looking for a quick payday, looking for ransom from the Blaine family, who would do anything to get their precious baby back.

But my parents wouldn't be getting a ransom call. They wouldn't be getting anything. And they wouldn't be getting Calyx back because there was no way she could return now. Not after this press conference. She'd be mortified.

What would happen then? Whatever I thought of her running away, Calyx deserved to be able to come home. I knew how it felt to not feel you had a home to come back to. I didn't wish that on anyone, especially my little sister.

The only thing to do was to find her. Whatever happened after that, I couldn't control.

The police inspector had stepped aside, motioning for my mother to take the podium. I watched from the back of the room, where I'd been told to wait for my turn to be interviewed—for the fifth time today—by the police.

Mother so clearly loved the attention, it was sickening.

Anything was an opportunity for publicity, and what better kind of publicity was there than the pity and concern after your daughter had been kidnapped?

Mother's gaze swept across the crowded room, stopping on me momentarily.

Nothing in her face shifted as we made eye contact.

The complete lack of anything in her expression, the cold, detached, emptiness–it made the hairs on the back of my neck rise.

It was like I didn't register with my mother at all.

And that was probably exactly the case. Where Calyx was like a pebble, tossed into the lake of Mother's attention, causing ripples that wafted in waves as they moved through her, I was the pebble that struck the frozen ice, lacking the ability to make any impact.

Because of that, or maybe because the only pebble that counted was Calyx, I was ignored.

Mother's gaze moved on as though I hadn't taken even a moment of her attention.

Ignoring the tightness in my chest and the lump in my throat, I slid off the wall and edged around the corner.

It annoyed me beyond measure that her disinterest still got to me.

As I left the room, I bumped into an old man who'd been standing in the doorway behind me.

He jumped when I made eye contact, almost dropping a small wooden box he carried. He stepped toward me.

I backed away. I didn't want to talk to anyone. The tears were barely held back as it was. I made my way to the stairs, planning to make my escape.

“Excuse me. Miss Marigold?” The elderly man's voice was soft but firm.

I paused and turned, but stayed on the stairs, unwilling to be totally rude to the old man. “Yes?”

“You are Marigold Margareta Blaine?” he asked, rolling the 'R' in my middle name in a way nobody ever got right.

He smiled briefly and his face warmed up.

“I wonder if I may have a word with you?” He glanced into the living room as if making sure we weren't being watched.

Mother was still in full press conference mode.

“I don't have a lot of time.” I waved at the press conference and the police, as though all of it were being managed by me personally and I wasn't attempting an escape up the stairs.

He nodded. “I will be brief. I only need a moment. My name is Alexander Claudell. I am an attorney working for your late Aunt Beatrice's estate.” He handed me a business card with his contact information.

“Aunt Beatrice?” The mention of her name brought a smile to my face. I stepped down from the stairs and stood next to the old man, taking the card he offered. It was thick cardstock, creamy, with raised black classic lettering. “I was just thinking about her. How odd.”

He shrugged. “I don't believe in coincidence. But that's just my own personal experience talking.” He shifted the box to one hand and reached into his suit coat pocket with the other. He pulled out an envelope. “I understand today is your birthday. Your twenty-first?”

If he were working for Aunt Beatrice, she'd have given him that information, so I didn't see the harm in confirming the fact. “Yes. My twenty-first.”

“Good. Happy Birthday, Marigold. This is for you.” He handed me the box as he opened the envelope.

Then he lifted his chin and peered through the bottom of his glasses, reading from the paper he unfolded.

“This box, and the contents therein are to be given to one Marigold Margareta Blaine upon her twenty-first birthday, as ordered by Beatrice Eliza Royce, the decedent.”

I stared at the box, stunned. “Aunt Beatrice left me a birthday present?” I clutched the box to my chest as though he might take it back.

It was the size of a cigar box. It was the only present I'd received for my birthday, unless you counted Chinese food, cake, and a night of reruns. “What's in it?” I asked.

He shook his head. “I don't know. It can only be opened by you.” He folded the paper, slid it back into the envelope, and handed it to me.

“Everything you need will be in here.” He tapped the envelope and glanced again at the living room and Mother at the podium.

She was answering questions now. “If I may be so bold as to offer a bit of advice?” He arched an eyebrow at me.

“Of course,” I said, more curious than anything else.

“Don't open the box while you're here. Take it with you and open it when you're alone.” He winked at me and tapped the side of his glasses in an odd salute. “Good day, Miss Marigold. And happy birthday.”

I couldn't help but laugh. Well then. There was no mistaking what Mr. Claudell meant by that little piece of advice. Clearly, Aunt Beatrice had warned him about Mother. Unless he'd seen enough of her in the time he was here today to understand she would not be happy to know about the box.

I watched as the old man walked toward the front door.

Once he was gone, I took the stairs two at a time and hurried down the hall.

I pushed open the door to my sister's room and took in the scene.

I guess if you were totally delusional, the disarray might look like a struggle had happened here.

But to my eye, the only struggle was the one Calyx had had with her closet, trying to decide which pieces of her wardrobe to toss around the room and which to shove into the bag she had obviously packed with haste.

I sat on the edge of her bed and slid the box against the wall next to me.

The sounds from downstairs grew muffled and faraway up here, with the thick carpeting, fluffy bedding, heavy fabric curtains, and all the clothing strewn about.

It was like I was in a world apart. I lay on my sister's bed, looking up at the ceiling, smiling at the posters of hot movie stars pinned above me.

“Where are you, Calyx?” I lifted my necklace, rubbing the gold between my fingers, trying to get to the bottom of my feelings. I wasn't worried for her as much as I was… what? Annoyed? Feeling used? And yes... okay... worried.

My sister's new perfume hung in the room.

She called it 'her scent.' Overpowering and tart, I thought it smelled cheap when she wore it. It definitely didn’t suit her.

There was something else in here as well, something musty.

I pressed my face into her pillow and sniffed again, unable to tell where it was coming from.

It wasn't here when we hung out last night, but when I woke up this morning, I'd noticed it.

Now, back in here, in Calyx's room, everything reeked of it, even me.

I didn't know what to make of that since the rooms were cleaned regularly and we didn't have any pets. Yet another thing Mother would never allow.

None of this made any sense. None of it.

Calyx hadn't been kidnapped, but someone–something–had been here, something that was wet and musty smelling.

She'd chosen what to take from her closet, and had done it fast. The mess was for effect.

She hadn't been alone. Plus it made it look like there had been a fight.

Convenient.

I sat back, tucking the box next to me. I knew better than to tell the police much, because whatever my mother had decided was the narrative would be all that people heard.

No one would be looking for Calyx out on her own.

Except me.

I closed my eyes, my hand reaching over to touch the birthday box. Suddenly, it felt as though the weight of the world was on me.

I let the tension wash over me as I laid back on my sister’s bed. I’d just close my eyes for a moment.