Page 42 of The Godhead Complex
She recited the digits in her mind. She’d been able to keep the women at the Villa from destroying everything, but only temporarily.
“Goddess?” Flint opened the door without a knock. Maybe he’d knocked and she just hadn’t heard it over her mind’s buzzing. Regardless, the man made it far too easy for her to take out any small frustration on him.
“What is it, Flint?” She enunciated every word so he knew to be quick about it.
The man stood in the doorway, tapping the handle of the door. “The speech is set for Sunday. After Mass.”
Alexandra watched him as he nervously tapped the door. “What is it? What else?”
“Nothing, Goddess Romanov.” He paused. “Nothing that requires your attention right now.” He backed from the doorway.
Alexandra pushed her tea away. “But you’ll bother me with whatever’s making you nervous later? What is it?”
Flint nodded and stepped one foot back in. “The Pilgrims are . . . they’re just starting rumors about Nicholas’ death.” He sighed. “You know how the people get when they don’t see activity.”
Alexandra had given the peopleactivityin the biggest way possible. She’d had Nicholas killed so that the Evolution could culminate. But they’d never thank her for that because they’d never know. Even if they knew, they would not understand. “What actions do you suggest?” She walked toward Flint in the doorway.
His hand shook. “I think sharing the details of the investigation into Nicholas’ death would quiet their fears.”
She tried hard to control her face to not roll her eyes. Before Nicholas’ death, the Pilgrims had been afraid of the Northern Lights. There was no fear out of reach for their feeble minds. “You understand I’ve been grieving. The people will—” She was stopped by shouts outside, but more than that was Flint’s expression—his reaction to the voice. Complete terror. His eyes grew wide and he held his breath. She knew the servant well enough to know that he didn’t want her hearing whatever that woman was shouting.
She walked to the window and flung it open.
“It’s nothing, Goddess, the Pilgrims will—”
“Shhh!” Alexandra waved him off. Below her on the street, a Pilgrim in a mustard-yellow cloak flailed her arms in madness. Alexandra squinted. This Pilgrim looked familiar. She was one of the women—without horns—who’d met with them when Alexandra revealed her plan to Mannus. One of the devout followers that she’d taken down to the Maze.
With whom she’d shared sacred ground.
With whom she’d shared the title of murderer.
The woman ran through the streets, screaming words that Alexandra did not quite understand because it was something that never should have been spoken aloud. Like the sacredness of the Maze, this was to stay a secret. But the woman below her window shouted of Nicholas’ death and shouted of the murder. Alexandra went through the digits as her ears buzzed. Her vision went red.
“One of the Godhead murdered their own!” the Pilgrim yelled, her voice screeching and raw.
Alexandra turned to Flint as calmly as she could after softly closing her window. “It’s a shame when they reach for rumors like this.” She shook her head as if the Pilgrim were nothing more than a sad case of madness. “Take that woman off the streets for her own good.” She walked back over to her tea, surely cold by now. “I’d hate to see anything happen to her.”
Despite leaving her mom, her best friend, and her favorite late night fire companion behind, Sadina didn’t feel alone. Trish made up for their absence. She’d try to get Sadina to hydrate and eat more—like a mother. She’d let Sadina poke fun at her—like a best friend, and she tried to listen and offer wisdom like only Old Man Frypan could. Still, it wasn’t the same. It would never be the same again. And despite all of Trish’s best efforts, Sadina needed time with her thoughts to process everything that had just happened. She needed time alone.
She walked up to the ship’s deck and sat against the trunk that held the anchor. Minho nodded to her from the captain’s wheel and she waved back. Sadina wanted to feel okay, and to be okay for Trish, but it wouldn’t happen overnight.
She pulled outThe Book of Newtand ran her hand over the wear marks from the journal living in Frypan’s pocket for who knew how many years. She didn’t know why, but she sniffed it, half-expecting the stench of sweat and armpits, but it smelled like leather and his famous stew. That made Sadina miss him even more.
She flipped through the book and let her finger land on a single passage.
I feel the peace of a certain knowledge. I have had friends, and they have had me.
And that is the thing.
That is the only thing.
She shut the book to keep from crying. She would read the entireBook of Newt, because she’d promised Old Man Frypan, but she wouldn’t read it today. The loss of Lacey and Carson still stung, and never knowing if she’d see Isaac again, or her mom, or Frypan. All of these things sent Newt’s words even deeper into her heart.
“Hey, you okay?” Trish walked across the deck with a frantic look on her face.
“Hey. Yeah.” Sadina took a deep breath. She knew she needed to talk to Trish about how she felt,she needed to. But she was so emotionally exhausted that it seemed an impossible task. At the same time, she knew nothing would change unless she communicated her feelings. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”
Trish’s eyes moved back and forth, quicker than Dominic playing ping-pong with himself across the makeshift net he’d made below deck.Nervous. “I don’t like the sound of that.”
