Page 19 of The Beginning (Covert Moon, #1)

In fact, I knew exactly what I was going to do.

I was going to find Calyx myself and bring her home before she could get herself into whatever trouble my vision had hinted at.

I would show this family the flaws in their perfect narrative, the cracks in their carefully maintained veneer, the imperfections in their beautiful, supposedly perfect child.

Part of me knew this wasn't entirely fair, this motivation that was driving me.

I knew that Calyx wasn't responsible for our parents' favoritism, that she'd never asked to be the golden child any more than I'd asked to be the disappointment.

I was using her disappearance to score points against Mother, to prove something about the family dynamics that probably didn't need proving.

The worst part? I didn't care. Not anymore.

It was time for things to change, and Calyx leaving had shown me that change was actually possible.

I'd stayed in this toxic orbit for years, telling myself it was for her sake, that I was protecting her somehow by remaining close.

She'd left the moment she'd been given the chance, had chosen her freedom over our relationship without a second thought.

I loved her—I'd always love her—so I couldn't just ignore the signs that she might be walking into genuine danger.

If nothing else, I needed to be sure she was safe, needed to warn her about whatever that vision had been trying to tell me.

But I wasn't going to be the whipping girl for this family any longer, wasn't going to sacrifice my own wellbeing for people who barely acknowledged my existence.

I stood up and caught sight of myself in Calyx's vanity mirror, realizing with stark clarity how out of place I was in this room.

Everything about this space was quintessentially Calyx—the soft colors, the carefully arranged photographs, the expensive cosmetics lined up like soldiers on the dresser.

She had warm brown hair, not unlike Mother's, that she wore in long flowing curls that caught the light and moved like silk when she walked. My hair was blonde-dyed bright pink, and aggressively straight, and while it was thick, it had no order or flow to speak of.

Calyx was every bit their princess, with her delicate build and porcelain skin that never seemed to break out or burn or betray her in any way.

She moved through the world with an unconscious grace that made people stop and stare, made them want to please her just for the privilege of being noticed.

My face had sharper lines, more defined angles that could look harsh in the wrong light.

I had what people politely called a "strong" face, which I'd learned was code for "not conventionally pretty.

" Where Calyx's features held a sweet innocence that made people want to protect her, I looked like someone who could take care of herself—whether that was true or not.

I slid Calyx's window open, noting that I didn't have to remove the screen since she'd done that herself the night before.

It lay on the floor by her closet, another piece of evidence for anyone who cared about the truth rather than the convenient fiction.

Further proof that this had been planned, that she'd climbed out this window of her own accord.

I stepped carefully onto the roof, testing my footing on the old shingles. I glanced back inside one more time, my eyes going automatically to the bed where I'd hidden Aunt Beatrice's mysterious box.

I climbed back inside quickly and retrieved the wooden box, clutching it against my chest. "I almost forgot you," I whispered to it, wondering what secrets it contained that had been deemed important enough to wait twenty-one years to share.

I stepped out the window again, more carefully this time, mindful of the branches of the old apple tree that reached over this side of the house.

The tree had been here longer than I'd been alive, its gnarled branches providing the perfect ladder for clandestine escapes—something Calyx had apparently figured out long before I had.

Closing my eyes and drawing on the magic that had been growing stronger in recent months, I whispered a floating spell under my breath.

The familiar tingle of power rushed through me as I jumped from the roof, my descent slowing until I drifted down to the ground like a feather.

I was careful to keep my trajectory away from the windows on the side of the house—it wouldn't do for me to be seen floating past a window during a live press conference.

The thought of how Mother would explain that made me snicker.

I ducked around the massive lilac bush that had been my favorite hiding spot as a child, then moved quickly through the cluster of oak trees on the corner of the property. From there, I slipped into the garage through the side door, my heart pounding with a mixture of fear and exhilaration.

I disconnected the automatic opener and waved my hand at the main garage door, using magic to make it lift silently. The last thing I needed was the mechanical noise drawing attention from the media circus in the front yard.

I wouldn't be taking my own car. Not this time.

It was better that my car remained parked on the street where it could be seen, where it would look like I was still here playing the dutiful daughter.

Let Mother assume I was still upstairs, still available to provide whatever statements or tears the situation required.

I scoffed as I wondered if my own disappearance would eventually be touted as another kidnapping. Probably not—I wasn't valuable enough to bother with that kind of elaborate fiction.

Who was I kidding? If I vanished too, Mother would probably just be relieved that both of her problematic daughters were finally out of her hair, despite whatever she said publicly about Calyx…

Dad's 1953 Corvette Roadster sat in the garage like a sleeping beast, its red paint gleaming even in the dim light.

I slid into the driver's seat, inhaling the scent of leather and motor oil and the faint cologne Dad used to wear back when he still cared about such things.

The engine started with a rumble that seemed to vibrate through my entire body—it was a well-cared-for machine, lovingly maintained and probably worth more than most people's houses.

Yet another reminder of where I stood in this family's pecking order.

This car had received more attention, more genuine affection, more careful tending over its lifespan than I ever had.

Dad might not notice me most of the time, but he could tell you every detail about this car's maintenance history going back decades.

It was time to make changes, to stop accepting scraps of attention and affection from people who saw me as an obligation rather than a daughter. Time to move on from this toxic dynamic and build something better for myself.

First things first: Find Calyx and make sure she wasn't walking into whatever danger my vision had warned about.

I pressed the clutch and eased the car into first gear, letting it roll silently down the long driveway. I was grateful for the news vans and media cars that had parked along the circular drive—they provided perfect camouflage for a low-profile sports car slipping away unnoticed.

I let the car coast to the end of the driveway and over the curb before starting to accelerate, turning onto the street that led away from the Blaine family compound.

In my rearview mirror, I could see the house growing smaller, could see the crowd of reporters and police officers still milling around the front lawn.

I waved cheerfully at the police officer stationed at the street corner as I drove past, as if I were just a neighbor out for an afternoon drive. He barely glanced at me—just another car on just another day.

As I passed directly in front of the house one final time, I actually did flip the bird at the imposing facade, at the windows behind which Mother was probably still holding court with her audience of law enforcement and media.

The gesture felt juvenile even as I did it, but I allowed myself that moment of defiant pleasure, however fleeting it might be.

The afternoon stretched ahead of me, full of possibilities and dangers I couldn't yet imagine. But for the first time in years, I was choosing my own path rather than following the one that had been laid out for me.

It was time to find my sister and discover what kind of trouble she'd gotten herself into.