Goddess of Forgetfulness

by Mimi Jean Pamfiloff

  “After what you did last Easter, we know not to trust you and needed insurance.”

  “I got confused. I thought your home was Easter Egg Island, so I hid some eggs. Big whoop!” Besides, where was their sense of fun?

  “Those were bombs.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Pussy.”

  “What did you just call me?”

  “Nothing you weren’t already called five times before breakfast by your woman. Now give me back my Minky or I will bring a storm of destruction to your doorstep that’s so furious you’ll think your asshole is the nicest place on the planet.”

  “That makes no sense. Why would I ever think that?” he said blandly.

  Then it dawned on her that if the nearly unintelligible garble she’d heard from the dead was correct, then in seven days none of this would matter. She would forget who she was and all about Minky.

  “Fine. You win. But don’t feed her after midnight, and make sure she never gets wet.”

  “I’m fairly sure you’re speaking of a gremlin.”

  “Yeah, Minky’s dad was a badass. Gotta go!” She ended the call, thinking over her decision. In all honesty, what could she do without her powers, which allowed her to sift through the billions of voices of the dead? Without her gifts, she couldn’t extract critical details from the masses, some of whom were the dead from future—’cause, yanno. We all gotta die sometime. She’d even spoken to her dead self a few times to avoid the apocalypse. But without her powers, the dead just sounded like a room full of clowns with their red noses on fire—lots of screams and honking. No help at all.

  Wait. That was it. She needed to be helpful again and get her powers back. That’s right. Enough with this whole penance bull-cocky. She was a goddess vital to the planet’s survival.

  However, to get her powers back, she’d have to gather the gods for an emergency summit. And I know what they’ll say: Another apocalyptic event? That’s the fifth one this century, Cimil, and we’re not buying it.

  But she wasn’t helpless. No. She had a secret weapon she’d kept for such an occasion: thousands of years of blackmail material, the kind that would result in epic humiliation. For example, one of her brothers had a seven-inch penis.

  Ha! If that got out, he’d never be able to show his face again. They’d call him cheese doodle dick or Gerkinstein. Or worse…human male dick! Oh, the shame to be so small.

  Another one of her brothers still slept with a nightlight.

  Yes, there were plenty of shameful, embarrassing photos, videos, and letters she could use to blackmail them all and bend them to her will. All she needed was a majority vote of the fourteen gods. So, counting herself and Forgetty—a shoo-in—she only needed six more votes.

  “Minky! Take me to my piggy bank!” The famous piggy bank was a secret vault hidden in the jungles of the Yucatan, where she kept her most valuable items—her ThighMaster, her favorite fuzzy pink socks, her entire collection of Love Boat episodes. “And my blackmail box!”

  Cimil waited for the whoosh of wind and to be whisked away, but it didn’t come.

  Dangit! She’d forgotten Minky was with the mermen. “How am I ever going to get to Mexico and save the world? Again.”

  “I can take you, my love.” Roberto stood in his black boxers, holding his golden staff. “I can sift you there and be back before the kids are up.”

  “What would I do without you?” Cimil sighed contentedly.

  “You would go mad, move into a tree, and start wearing a diaper because you believe you’re a monkey—like my old uncle Ibi did when my aunt left him.”

  “Poor Ibi.” Cimil shook her head. “I can’t ever lose you. Let’s go.”

  “May I first inquire as to what glorious perils we face this week?” Roberto asked, scratching his manly kiwis through his underwear.

  “Oh, you know, the usual. Forgetty is about to flip, and we’re all going to experience worldwide senility and a collapse of civilization.”

  “Oooh…exciting.” His dark eyes flickered with enthusiasm.

  “Right?” She stared up at him, her chest heaving with joyful breaths. “Honestly, I love that you get me.”

  “And I love that you love that I get you. Now let us watch the world dip its toe into the waters of demise once more.”

  “You know, there’s a real chance I can’t save us this time,” Cimil pointed out happily. “Especially if I can’t convince my brethren to return my powers.”

  “Even better. I love a challenge. Now let us sift to Mexico, and remind me to bring back coconuts. Today I am going to teach our evil seeds the fine art of cracking skulls with one’s thighs.”

  Cimil clapped and bounced on the balls of her feet! “Oh! I completely forgot that skull-cracking day is next week.” She gave him a look. “Seriously, Roberto, I just want to transport you back in time so you can reshape the world into a glorious conga line of violent, offensive, and obscure holidays.”

  He sifted to her and held her fast to his manly body. “The first day of every month would belong to you, my love. I would call it Bat-shit Crazy Day. It would require all to wear bat shit and speak in pig Latin, as is required on your birthday.”

  Her heartbeat accelerated like a hummingbird on Red Bull. “Godsdammit, I love you,” she growled. “Let’s make four new babies.”

  “We’ve been trying for months.”

  She gave him a wink. “I have a good feeling about this one. My ovaries are tingly.”

  “You know just how to get me excited. My seed is yours.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  Forgetty had spent a solid ten minutes getting ready for her date with the mysterious Mr. Liath, who was nearly an hour late.

  He’d better have a damned good excuse. Sitting on the khaki couch, wearing her favorite yellow minidress and white boots, she folded her arms over her chest. She’d never been stood up. Not once.

  All right, I’ve never actually been on a real date either, since demons don’t count, but that only adds salt to the wound. Her dating journey would be forever tainted by this.

  She reached for the TV remote sitting on the glass end table and flipped to the news. Perhaps there was a major accident? Or a terrorist threat? Or maybe he got cold feet.

  She tried not to laugh at the thought. With his enormous ego, he was far too full of himself to permit any weakness in his life. She bet a man like him had never experienced so much as a cold toe. Or even a chilly nut sack on a January morn’.

  Knock. Knock!

  She swiveled on the couch and glared at the doorway. “That’d better be him.” Because if it was turndown service, the poor bed fluffer was about to meet a nasty end.

  Forgetty stood, smoothing down the front of her polyester blend dress, and marched to the door.

  She opened it and froze, finding not a man, but a sex god—no, no. Not her brother Chaam. This…this is a warrior in a tailored suit—sleek, handsome, and deadly. Okay, that last part she’d guessed, but he looked the part. Who knew that Mr. Liath cleaned up so nicely?

  Yeah, but he’s still late, and that’s just not acceptable.

  Forgetty perched a fist on her hip. “And just where the hell have you been, huh?”

  He arched one dark brow, producing a bouquet of red roses.

  “Thanks, but no. Already have some.” She crossed her arms. “And do you really think that’s going to win me over when you’re an hour late?”

  With a ramrod-straight back and a firm tug on his black tie with his free hand, he looked her in the eyes. “No. But the fact I am ten minutes early, wearing an expensive suit designed to impress you, and bearing a gift of flowers should warm you up.”

  Ten minutes early? Her eyes crawled to the clock on the wall to her right, which displayed seven fifty. Oh, jeez. Someone please icepick me in the temple and send me back to my realm. She’d apparently been so excited to find out what or who he was that she’d misread the clock.

  “Hey.” He reached for her hand. “It’s okay. You were really loo
king forward to seeing me. You’re not the first.”

  She jerked her hand away. “Slight overstatement, bud.”

  He shrugged his broad shoulders. “Deny it all you want. I won’t make fun of you when you whimper for my touch and expert lovemaking.”

  Her jaw dropped. “Wow. I have nothing to say to that. Nothing at all.”

  “To the contrary; I believe ‘wow’ says it all.” He held out his arm. “Shall we?”

  She remained motionless, contemplating what any goddess might. Save planet, humans, and tiny furry creatures or…smoosh chauvinistic pig.

  Smoosh! Smoosh!

  Sadly, they were empty words. Her purpose was to serve humans just as she always had. On the bright side, however, she had endured far worse than this man. If he turned out to be her mate, she would survive. I will pluck out my own eardrums so I don’t have to hear his bull crap, but I will survive. She would leave in her eyes, because he wasn’t bad to look at.

  She pasted on a sour smile. “Where are we going?”

  “It’s a surprise.”

  “Sounds terrifying.” She took his arm.

  Ten seconds later…

  “Ummm…you’re taking me on a date to your hotel room next door to mine?” And he’d been staying there the entire time? WTH?

  He unlocked the door and held it open for her. “It has the best view in Rio, and the five-star chef has prepared a meal that rivals anything found in Paris, New York, or Memphis.”

  Forgetty gave that last one some thought. “Memphis?”

  “I’m into barbeque, especially cooking over an open fire pit—sort of a long-standing tradition in my family. I enjoy fresh raw meat, too.”

  Yuck. “I suppose barbeque is tasty, but raw meat is for animals. Tell me, are you an animal?” Because she still had no idea what he was.

  “In bed, yes. And I like your enthusiasm.” He jerked his head, gesturing for her to enter his suite. “Shall we continue with dinner, then? I, too, am anxious to fuck you.”

  Her turquoise eyes nearly sprang from her head. “Huh?”

  “This is the reason you agreed to this date, is it not? I see no point in beating around the bush, considering what and who you are.”

  Forgetty rapidly blinked, her heartrate amping. She was unsure if she should address his lack of chivalry or the comment pertaining to who/what she was.

  Decisions, decisions.

  She shoved him inside, catching him off guard.

  He stumbled back with a grunt. “Hey!”

  “First,” she held out her index finger and slammed the door shut behind her, “you’re an insensitive bastard bordering on cruel.”

  “And you’re pointing out this obvious fact because…?”

  “Because you are so not getting in my pants.”

  “I hardly think my honesty is an adequate reason not to let me fuck you.”

  “How about you have no manners and you’ve physically assaulted me three times. I can only imagine how horrible you’d be in bed.” He’d likely pound on her until he came and then push her out of the bed with his feet and tell her to get lost.

  “I am excellent in bed. Especially if you’re a fan of angry sex, which I suspect you might be, considering your age and the fact you’re still a virgin. I would be pretty angry, too.”

  Uh! Wha! He did not go there! “Wait. How old do you think I am?”

  “Seventy thousand years, give or take,” he replied confidently.

  He knows I’m a goddess. “Who are you?”

  He gave her the strangest of looks, like she was thickheaded for even asking.

  “What?” she barked.

  He began opening his mouth just as the door flew open. In the short hallway stood a young man, likely about sixteen, with brown eyes, long brown hair, and a wild look in his eyes.

  “Louie…” Mr. Liath snarled. “Where the hell have you been?”

  Off the bat, Forgetty realized that this Louie’s energy was dark and so horrifically violent that she felt compelled to step back. She’d never seen a person with such an ominous aura.

  Well, okay. Except for the Maaskab. The Maaskab were those ancient evil Mayan priests who excelled in the dark arts and had single-handedly wiped out their own people. Manufactured plagues, human sacrifices, ritualistic experimentation—they’d systematically destroyed the most advanced civilization of the time because they were thirsty for power. And because they were just plain old assholes. Then, hundreds of years later, they would team up with evil vampires around the world and attempt to enslave mankind. If it hadn’t been for Cimil’s hubby, Roberto—the vampire king—stepping in and killing off the entire evil vampire bloodline, the world today would be a vastly different place. In the end, however, the Maaskab were all but completely wiped out. Cimil had kept a handful alive for educational purposes—those guys knew a lot about harnessing supernatural energy for things like time travel, and they were even responsible for the gods being able to mate. Black jade had originally been a Maaskab discovery.

  So why does this kid have their aura?

  Mr. Liath pointed a menacing finger in the young man’s face. “You will answer me, Louie.”

  Louie narrowed his dark eyes. “Fuck you, loser.”

  Whoa! Someone give him a time-out!

  “Loser.” Liath’s blue eyes twitched with rage. “Well, the apple doesn’t fall very far from the tree, son,” he spat.

  Gasp! Louie is Liath’s son? Why do I feel like I just walked into the middle of someone else’s telenovela? This is freakin’ juicy. I’d better catch up!

  She turned to Louie, who looked like he’d been punched in the gut and wanted to tear off Mr. Liath’s head. “But…but you said—”

  “Yeah. I know what I said,” Liath seethed, “and it was a fucking lie. So deal with it. And while you’re doing that, mind your tongue, boy, or I’ll cut it from your head.”

  “Jesus!” Forgetty cringed. “That’s a bit much. And, btw, you’re so never, ever getting laid by me after talking to him like that—not that you had a chance.”

  “My name is Távas, not Jesus. And shut that mouth of yours, woman, or I will bend you over my knee. I care not that you are a goddess.”

  Whoa-the-fuck-whoa. Someone slap my goddess cheek and feed me a get-the-fuck-out yogurt with whoa-the-fuck-whoa sprinkles.

  “Where do you get off speaking to me like that, you crusty turd, and how the hell do you know so much about me?” she asked.

  “That is no concern of yours—”

  A rush of sirens broke his train of thought. He turned his head to the empty doorway. “Where is Louie?”

  “Duh.” Forgetty huffed. “He probably ran for the hills because you’re a complete assh—”

  Faint human screams erupted off in the distance. It sounded as though they were coming from outside, down on the street.

  Mr. Liath—Távas—whatever—turned ghost white and bolted to one of the two bedroom windows. Within seconds, he could be heard belting out the WTFs and holy hells.

  Forgetty rushed to the window where Távas stood, leaning outside.

  Dear gods! The kid is on the ledge! Forgetty turned sideways and squeezed out the window, which was almost entirely taken up by Távas’s large body.

  “You fucking lied to me!” Louie yelled, his face wet with tears.

  Forgetty’s divine blood turned to icicles. This juicy telenovela just became an episode of every parent’s worst nightmare. From what she could tell, this young man really wanted to jump. And though she had absolutely no clue what she’d walked into, she knew that Távas was terrified. She could smell the fear on him.

  But why had he been so harsh with the young man if he cared so much? Perhaps no one had ever taught this man how to show kindness, because clearly he understood the concept—as proven by his awkward attempt to woo her with flowers, the suit, the limo, and nice hotel rooms.

  “Louie,” Távas yelled with that menacing voice, “if you kill yourself, I will remove your head and beat it
like a stupid piñata!”

  You prove my point. Távas was about as compassionate as a fart.

  “I don’t want to be your son,” Louie blubbered. “And you don’t want to be my father. I can’t live like this anymore.”

  “Like what?” Forgetty jumped on Louie’s words.

  “Silence!” Távas pushed her back. “This is between my son and me. Return to your room.”

  Forgetty’s right eye twitched, and her nostrils flared. Do not push Távas out that window. Do not push Távas out that window. Dear gods, I think I’m going to push him out that wind—no! She had to keep her cool. Távas was the only guy on the planet who remembered her, and like it or not, he might very well be the key to saving her from flipping.

  “Távas,” she said in a level voice, “if you know who I am, then you know I can help. And I can see that you care about your son, which is why I do not have to tell you that the best thing for you to do is step aside.”

  Facing out the window, she watched Távas’s large, muscled frame stiffen, followed by his broad shoulders rising with the weight of a burdened breath.

  “Távas?” she urged, gently squeezing his arm through his suit jacket. “Please move before it is too late.”

  Without looking at her, he turned away. “I will wait in the living room.”

  He disappeared, and Forgetty drew a soul-steadying breath before bellying up to the sill.

  Louie looked checked out, his dark eyes locked onto the street below, where squad cars lit up the night. Onlookers gathered on the sidewalk across the way.

  She didn’t have much experience with such situations, but being a DJ to the masses who sought escape, she easily recognized the look of destitution in his eyes. He had nothing to live for.

  “Louie,” she said quietly, “I’m Getty. And very few people know this about me, but I’m just like you.”

  His gaze remained fixed on the street. “Doubtful.”

  “I live every day feeling like I’m invisible, like I could disappear from the face of the planet and no one would notice. But that’s a lie. I’m here for a reason, and without me, the world just wouldn’t be the same.”