Goddess of Forgetfulness

by Mimi Jean Pamfiloff

  He felt the darkness flood his veins and, with it, two millennia of power. The kind a god should fear. “Welcome back to your true self, Aurora. Now it is you who should run. And take Louie with you.”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Life was crazy. But her life was fucking chaos. How can this be possible?

  Forgetty threw her huge yellow suitcase onto her bed, thankful for the familiar comforts of her LA penthouse, after her long, exhausting trip home. Honestly, she considered this big messy planet her home, but having a tiny space—decorated entirely in happy yellow and oranges—kept her spirits up.

  Especially now. She still couldn’t make sense of everything that had happened in Rio. The time in Távas’s hotel room had been like a dream, then a nightmare, and then it was just a blur somewhere in between.

  The king of the Maaskab. Távas. My mate. She was going to kick the crap out of Cimil! All this time she knew. All this time Cimil could have said something and helped her find a way through this. But no. Instead, her sister, a sister she’d been loyal to for over seventy thousand years, hid the truth. And manipulated Távas.

  There is no excuse. Not when Cimil had used her gifts repeatedly for her own selfish agendas. Or for making others suffer. Which really was Cimil’s favorite form of entertainment. But Cimil had had a million opportunities to intervene and give her a chance at happiness. I could’ve even met Távas before he became a Maaskab. Had she known—ugh!—things could’ve turned out differently from this fucking impossible mess.

  Forgetty wrung her hands. I’m going to kill her. And then I’m going to disown her. You’ve robbed the last person of their happiness, Cimil. The fucking last!

  A loud knock on her front door startled her. “Louie! Could you get that?” she called out.

  Yes, she’d kept her promise to Távas, though she was unsure how she was going to remove the poison inside him if the gods refused to help.

  “No. I’m still throwing up!” he called out from the bathroom. “Thank you very much.”

  Teenagers. Always so dramatic. “How many times do I have to say I’m sorry?”

  “I’ll let you know once my asshole isn’t in my throat, spewing diarrhea.”

  She walked over to the guest bath and found him crouching over the porcelain god. Or goddess. “Language, son. Language.”

  “Don’t call me son.” He heaved.

  She rolled her eyes and went for the door. One look in the peephole put a smile on her face.

  “Belch!” She jerked open the door and threw her arms around him, immediately noting the lack of squishiness. She pulled away and looked him over. “Someone’s been working out.”

  “Margarita is the only cocktail I need these days, so I go by Acan. Plus, I’ve started giving classes at her gym. Abs Like a God—that’s what I call it. Seems to be a hit with all of the newly single dads.”

  Forgetty bobbed her head. “Sounds promising. Come in.” She stepped aside and allowed him to pass. “So, what brings you here, and how did you even know I was back in town?”

  Louie’s loud retch grabbed his attention.

  “Who’s that?” he asked.

  “That’s Louie, my new son. He’s still getting over the near plane crash we had this afternoon.” She pointed at Acan. “Oh. I guess that’s how you know I’m here.”

  “Yeah. Next time, don’t wait until the plane is out of fuel to call me for landing assistance.”

  She crinkled her nose. “I kind of dozed off. A long flight. So what can I do ya for?”

  Acan stared out the window, a look of emptiness in his eyes.

  Oh boy. Here we go. “Acan? Belch? Dr. Decapitation?” She snapped her fingers. “Wakie, wakie.”

  “Oh.” He jostled his head from side to side. “Sorry. I forgot why I was here.”

  Shocking.

  “Dude, where am I?” Louie stumbled from the bathroom.

  Acan looked at her. “Who’s that?”

  He’s already forgotten.

  “Louie. My adopted son. But never mind that. Why are you here, again?”

  “Ummm. Okay…” Acan scratched his head. “Oh, I know. Roberto asked me to help out at your party this weekend. A singles mixer?”

  “Oh, crap. I completely forgot about that.”

  “You? You forgot?” he asked.

  “It’s been a long week,” she explained.

  “But you never forget.”

  “How would you know?” she replied. Acan never remembered anything specific about her or her life.

  “Huh?”

  “Never mind. The speed-dating party should be cancelled.”

  “Forgetty! You’ve found a mate?” Acan asked. “Who?”

  Oh, I so don’t want to tell him. Acan would think she was mad for even attempting to help Távas. The gods outright loathed the man. They’d sooner dismember their own bodies with a pair of tweezers than help the evil king.

  “The relationship isn’t exactly like what you have with Margarita,” Forgetty explained. “My mate is…well, we can’t be together. Not yet. But I’m hopeful there’s a way.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Neither do I.” Because it turned out that she and Távas were opposite sides of the coin. If he was good, it was because he rejected her, which would make her bad. If she was good, it was because they had bonded, which would return him to his true evil self. And once this plague passed, nothing would change. She would be driven toward the light, and him away from it.

  She sighed with despair. “It’s a clusterfuck, brother. Like no other.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  She didn’t know. Especially if the gods turned down her request for help, which was ninety-nine point nine nine nine percent certain.

  “I suppose I’ll have to find someone more suitable, someone who won’t just ground me now, but who will love me for the rest of my existence.” As is, Távas was not that man. Though, at this moment, his love—from his evil-to-the-core heart—was the only thing preventing her from flipping and harming billions of people.

  It’s kind of sweet, really. In an entirely wicked-Maaskab, evil-Mayan-priest kind of way.

  “So the singles mixer is still on?” Acan asked.

  “No. I mean yes. I mean…I don’t know.” She didn’t want to open her heart to the possibilities of another man. What she wanted was Távas, the good version, anyway. Yes, he lacked sophistication in the art of seduction, but so did she. And, yes, his heart was black from two millennia of torturing the gods and murdering humans, but she couldn’t forget one key piece of information: his soul. Plague or not, it had reached out to her. It thirsted for her light. But because of his past, he refused to believe there was hope for him.

  If I could just figure out how to use my powers on him, he might forget all the things he’s done and then see the light.

  She looked up at her brother’s face. “Acan, is your mate, Margarita, immune to your powers?”

  He blinked, giving it some thought. “When we were courting, my influence was minimal, but now that we’ve bonded, my power over her is immeasurable. She’s hypersensitive to my energy and moods, and I am the same with her. Our souls are connected at the deepest level. She even gains weight when I drink alcohol. It’s actually pretty funny.”

  Forgetty scratched her cheek. “So tell me how Távas can be my mate, but completely unaffected by me? I can’t even make him forget my face.” Everyone forgot her face.

  Acan rubbed circles over his flat stomach, likely due to habit. He’d once had an enormous Buddha belly he often contemplated. “The only, and I mean only thing known that can cause a human to be completely immune to a god’s energy is black jade.”

  Black jade? But he hadn’t been wearing any.

  Wait.

  Oh no.

  Her goddess blood pressure dropped to her perfect ankles. “That’s it.” Why hadn’t she thought of it before? They’d kissed, touched, and fondled for extended periods of time, all without the aid of
black jade. Mortals could not tolerate extended contact without the material. Which meant she’d neglected one important fact: Távas’s body was riddled with black jade. As the Maaskab king, he would’ve regularly ingested the stuff to help him amp up his powers. After thousands of years, it wouldn’t surprise her if the black jade had permanently settled in his bones and flesh.

  “He’s immune to me because he’s filled with black jade.”

  “Whyyy…?” he asked suspiciously.

  “Because…he’s the Maaskab king?” She winced and then cringed on the inside as she spilled the beans. “But if I could make him forget his past, his soul would reach for the light. I know it would.”

  “You are mated to the most evil being on the planet?”

  She nodded, crinkling her nose as if smelling something putrid.

  “Wow.” He raised his caramel-colored brows. “Didn’t see that one coming. Is the Universe PMSing or something? Or perhaps she has had too much to drink. I, too, have done many, many stupid things when drunk—like the time I glued my naked body to the Empire State Building in the middle of January.”

  She remembered that. She’d had to wipe the memory of the entire island of Manhattan. Not an easy task, but far easier than unsticking Acan and his hairy nut sack from the frozen window. The things we do for family.

  “The Universe doesn’t menstruate nor partake in spirits, brother,” Forgetty said, “as I’m sure you know. But, yes, I cannot for the life of me understand why she would think to pair me with such a man.” Though, they did have sexual chemistry. “All the more reason for me to set out to find my own mate, unless…well…there is one way to save him.”

  Acan gave her a doubtful look. “Sister, I know what you’re thinking, and it will never work. Our brethren will never allow him to cross over into our realm to be filled with our light.”

  “Why not?”

  “He’s the Maaskab king.”

  “So?” She crossed her arms.

  “Uh, because he wears human teeth and thumbs as jewelry?”

  True. All the Maaskab did. “Cimil does, too.”

  “Yes, but that’s only on Halloween to ward off the evil Maaskab spirits. And let us not forget how horrible the Maaskab smell.”

  That was because they smeared their bodies with the blood of their victims and never bathed—something to do with boosting their powers.

  “We all have our shortcomings,” she argued. “You once didn’t bathe for an entire century. And you wore the same pair of tighty whities for a year until you blew yourself up and had to get a new body. Then it took another decade to get you into new underwear, so yeah. I can see how you’re perfect,” she said sarcastically.

  Acan crossed his arms over his chest. “Point taken; however, Ta’as is the most ruthless, bloodthirsty human ever to roam the earth.”

  “Ta’as?”

  He shrugged. “That’s what Cimil calls him, along with a-hole, ass banana, evil motherfucker, sadistic knob. But don’t let that discourage you from falling madly in love with the one person on this planet capable of ending your existence.”

  “All the more reason to take the risk and convert him to our team.” She took her brother’s hand. “I felt his soul, Acan. I felt it searching for the light—my light. He can be saved, and that means there could be one less evil soul on the planet.”

  Acan took his hand back and ran it through his long brown hair. “Let us say you are right, our brethren would still never, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever—”

  “Get to the point,” she spat.

  “They would never grant the Maaskab king immortality. Given his powers and knowledge, imagine what he could do if we filled him full of our light.”

  Their light did add to a person’s strength, so Acan had a point, but… “I know, in my heart of hearts, in my soul of souls, in my flower of flowers—”

  “Yes, yes. I get the point.”

  “I know Távas has good inside him,” she argued. “And I know he’s been waiting for over two thousand years to be freed from his curse.”

  Acan looked down at his bare feet.

  Wow. Bare everything. “Hey, you forgot your pants again. And your underpants.”

  “It’s Wednesday. I tend to fall back into old habits in the middle of the week. Plus, Cimil encourages us all to be evil on this day.” Acan shrugged. “As for the king, I’m sorry, sister. As much as I love you, you’re fighting a battle that cannot be won.”

  She grabbed his arm so hard that it triggered a yelp. “You of all people should know that there’s no such thing. Otherwise, why call it a battle? Why not a picnic? Or a hug fest? Battles are meant to be fought until one side loses, and we both know that fate decides the winner.”

  “That skanky, lying whore?” Acan scoffed.

  “No. I don’t mean our sister. I mean the real fate, the cosmic flow of energy that directs us all toward our higher purpose.”

  “I like that one. It’s amazing how it tells you how much mustard to put on a sandwich.”

  She shook her head. “Whatever you say. But I need your help to convince our brethren to accept Távas into our realm to heal him.”

  “What if Távas is tricking you? Because, allow me to remind you, we’ve fallen for his traps in the past.”

  He had another point. “Then I guess we have to ask ourselves which is the higher risk? Falling for his trap or failing to cure him. Because sooner or later, he will rebuild his army. He will best us again.” Távas had done it once before, trapping nearly all of the gods in a cenote—a freshwater pool they used as a portal to their world—for over seventy years. In the gods’ absence, the Maaskab grew more powerful. “I vote we cure him.”

  Acan scratched his balls.

  “Stop that!” She slapped his arm. “It’s so disgusting.”

  “Sorry. Balls itch. Especially when one is thinking about such complex issues.”

  “You’re such a weirdo.” It was then that Forgetty realized that Louie had been standing there the entire time with his mouth open and his dark eyes nearly popping from his head.

  “Don’t worry,” she said to Louie, “I’ll make sure you forget this. Especially the ball itching.” Otherwise, the poor kid would have nightmares for the rest of his life.

  “As for you,” she pointed to Acan, “send out the flare—emergency meeting over at the Immortal Matchmakers office. Tonight.”

  “Cimil has already called a meeting.”

  Good, she’ll be there. Because I have a fucking score to settle with that bitch.

  “What did she call the meeting for?” Forgetty asked.

  “Your guess is as good as mine.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Forgetty did not know what to expect when she got into the elevator, heading for the fourteenth floor of the downtown LA office building, the official home of Immortal Matchmakers, Inc., run by Cimil and Zac, which was sometimes used for emergency meetings such as this. However, the last time she’d been to this office for a summit, she’d ended up decapitated by Acan. He’d been in the process of flipping and had lost control, which became the turning point in his journey toward accepting Margarita, his lovely new wife.

  Well, let’s hope this meeting goes a bit smoother. Though, she knew for certain at least one head was going to roll.

  Forgetty poked the button. “Can’t this thing go any faster?”

  After a minute, the elevator slowed and the doors slid open. She stepped out into the giant office that had far too little furniture—a few desks, filing cabinets, and a lunch table and sofa—given the football-field-size space.

  Cimil, Roberto, and some of her other brethren and their mates stood around a big foldout table in the center of the gray carpeted room, sipping cocktails.

  Her hate-filled eyes zeroed right onto Cimil. Lying, manipulative, heartless dick! Forgetty couldn’t wait for the meeting to start and for everyone to hear her story. Cimil’s reign of terror ends tonight!

  Forgetty felt instantly relieved to se
e a few allies in the room. Acan and Margarita—a fit blonde beauty in her mid-forties—served Acan’s famous flaming mojitos from a makeshift bar created from a bookshelf. Also in the room were Antonio, a lovely Spanish incubus, and Ixy, the Goddess of Happiness—so nice to see her in a sundress. Literally, it had little yellow suns all over it. Ixy used to be the Goddess of Suicide, only wearing black lace over her face, until she discovered she had the ability to gobble up bad energy and turn it into happiness.

  And, of course, there was the human-born Goddess of Love, Ashli—a lovely part Asian, part Haitian woman—who’d married Forgetty’s brother Máax, the God of Time Travel. He used to be invisible, but now he was a devoted father who left the godly duties to Ashli since he was only permitted to use his powers for emergencies. Time Travel and Love. Mated. Who wudda thunk it?

  As for the rest of the gods in attendance, all one had to do was imagine a room full of the tallest, best-looking people in the universe, and that was a summit.

  All right. And add a handful of tablets around the table, a fairly recent addition to their meetings for those who couldn’t come in person. Votan, the God of Death and War, with his long, flowing blue-black hair, and his beautiful red-haired wife Emma, for example, lived in New York with their children. Their tablet only displayed a blank wall, which meant they were likely making out while waiting for the meeting to commence.

  Also joining remotely was the dark-haired part-angel Penelope, who now served as the Ruler of the House of Gods—basically she ran their meetings and took notes. Her hubby, the ex-Sun God, was probably lurking somewhere in the background.

  Forgetty guessed the conference-call speaker in the center of the table was for everyone else not present visually, like Akna, the Goddess of Fertility, or Bees, the Mistress of…yep! Bees!

  Speaking of bees… The room was abuzz with the latest gossip, everyone speculating as to why Cimil had called the meeting.

  Forgetty, in a pair of old jeans, a plain white T-shirt, and flip-flops—today called for casual comfort—marched over to the bar. “Hey, Acan. Hi, Margarita. Can I have a tall glass of vodka with one ice cube and a twist of lime?”