Page 13 of The Godhead Complex
“I felt Sadina gone and I freaked a little, till I saw shadows by the fire.” Trish tried to downplay her reaction, but even in the dark, with only fire and moon lighting her face, Sadina could see Trish’s heart racing. Her tenseness stressed Sadina out.
“Everything’s fine. I just couldn’t sleep is all,” Sadina reassured her.
Frypan pulled out his pocket-sized copy ofThe Book of Newt.“Reading always helps me sleep.”
“You must’ve read that a million times,” Trish said. “I’m surprised you don’t have it memorized.”
“I do. Mostly.”
Sadina said, “I feel kinda guilty admitting this, but despite Newt being my great uncle, I only read it in primary school with the assignments they gave us.”
Frypan shrugged, tapping his copy. “You know, it’s not like Newt was a god, that’s not what the book’s about. Newt was human. But he was also brave and the kind of soul that a person could count on. He had a responsibility to his group, just like you two have a responsibility to this group. You and your great uncle are more alike than different.”
Sadina’s life was so drastically different from her great uncle’s that the words seemed outrageous.
Frypan continued. “I read this to calm the parts of my mind that are stuck somewhere I don’t want them to be. I hear Newt’s voice when I read it, and it’s a hell of a comfort.”
Sadina had always thought of Newt as somewhat of a myth or legend. She was thankful for these talks with Old Man Frypan to help her see that he was just a kid like her once. “You really think I’m like him, or you’re just saying that to make me feel better?”
He shook his head. “You’ve got his kindness and you’ve got his instincts. Everything will be alright. Don’t look at this blood in you as a burden, look at it as your opportunity to rise in your own way. Let the way you live your life be your legacy, just like those before you.”
“Thank you,” Sadina said as Trish leaned into her and kissed her cheek. “Although I bet you weren’t that cheesy back then.”
“I’m gonna go back,” Trish said. “I can’t take these all-day hikes and then stay up all night partying like you two.” She kissed Sadina again and whispered, “I just wanted to check on you.”
Sadina nodded. “I’m right behind you. Dominic’ll be singing his good morning song like a rooster at first light.” She walked over to the fire and stacked a few twigs like the roof of a yurt. “You gonna get some sleep tonight?” she asked Frypan.
“I may or I may not.” He sat up tall and looked her deep in the eyes. “Hang in there, kid. You’re gonna be okay.”
And on hearing that Sadina couldn’t help but wrap her arms around Old Man Frypan in a hug because all she needed in the world was to hear someone tell her that she was going to be okay. Here he was, a Glader of old who had seen more unsurvivable things in his life than most, telling her thatshe would be okaywith an amount of sincerity that only the purest of souls could muster up. She squeezed the wonderful man. “You too. We’re all here for you, and we’ll get through Alaska together.” His hug back felt like it held all the support of those from the Glade long ago. Her great uncle Newt, Thomas, Minho, Teresa. . . . As if they were standing right behind them.
“Alaska . . .” Frypan laughed as he pulled away. “Don’t go telling on me, but I ain’t goin’ to Alaska.”
Sadina pulled back to make sure she heard him right. “You’re not going . . . ?”
“Not in this lifetime.” His eyes widened as he shook his head.
“But . . .” She couldn’t think of the words to protest, wanting to wake every single person in camp just then and do what Old Man Frypan asked her not to—tell them he wasn’t going to Alaska. She knew that going just might kill him inside, but going without him felt like it might just kill her. “Please. You . . . I can’t go without you.”
“I’m sorry, child. I’m sorry.” He turned his attention back to the fire and the conversation was over.
She stared at the glass case that held Nicholas’ head and traced the corners of the box with her fingertips. She wanted the hideous, severed thing that housed Nicholas’ bulging eyes gone from her living space for good. She could summon Mannus to come take the head back, give it an ocean funeral. He did murder Nicholas after all, and part of the pact of any murder had to include disposing of the body. Right? Or she could pawn the head off on Flint and demand he feed it to the wild pigs at the outskirts of town, but she knew the man couldn’t keep a secret and the sight of even the slightest death might weaken his knees enough to crumble. No, she could think of only one proper burial place for Nicholas’ head—the ruins of the Maze, underground.
She’d go in the middle of the night under the light of the Aurora Borealis. She didn’t plan on burying it so much as setting the head there as a warning, a rotting-flesh-reminder to Mikhail whenever he had the itch to go visit. Whenever Mikhail went missing for days at a time, Alexandra pictured him in the Maze wandering around like an imbecile lost to his own devices. She wasn’t positive that’s where he went, but it’s where she always pictured him, lost in the Maze. Or maybe he was just lost in the Maze of his mind. Despite her clear-knowing, there were times when that man’s madness created black patches within her. Gaping holes of no awareness.
“Goddess!” Flint burst through the door without knocking. She quickly covered the glass case with cloth. Flint was easily sparked and it didn’t take much to send him into flames. But as annoying as his traits of overreacting were, she could manipulate him to start the fires thatshewanted stirred about and spread.
“For Flare’s sake, what is it now?” She gazed at him with stern eyes. “You entered without knocking again.” She reprimanded him the way a mother might a child.
“It’s Nicholas!” His face flushed with obvious fear.
Alexandra froze. Ice filled her nerves. “He . . .” She expected him to point at the glass box but he just paced wildly within the same four corners of her rug.
“He was found dead in his study. His body, well, part of it, was found.” Flint’s face now drained of color, as if he were the one to find their former God.
Alexandra quickly recovered. “Yes, I knew he was missing.” She showed the requisite amount of shock and horror one might when their closest associate turned up dead and headless. “The news frightens me. Who could have possible murdered one of the Godhead?” She demanded Flint share any rumors he may have heard.
“There are no leads, Goddess Romanov.” He stood still with a waiting, submissive look. Was he waiting for her to console him, or was he finding it hard to console her? “What would you like me to do?” he finally asked quietly.
