Goddess of Forgetfulness

  “Whoa. Whoa. You can’t take my kids.” Cimil looked around the faces in the room, but found no sympathy. “I have an explanation for everything I’ve done, and besides, whatever happened to due-god-process, huh? Also, you can’t afford to lose me. A war is coming. A big ugly war. Without me and my powers, you’re all toast!”

  “There is no threat from us.” Távas spoke up, running his large hands through his sticky short hair with an uncomfortable wince. Real Maaskab didn’t feel discomfort, only hunger. “It is as Aurora said, we cannot create an army at this time. Anyone Cimil forced me to convert just wants to knit scarves for wayward kittens and volunteer for charities.”

  “Who is Aurora?” asked Acan.

  “Me. It’s my name.” Forgetty spoke up.

  “It’s quite lovely,” said Roen.

  “Thank you,” she replied and then turned to the horrific monster who owned her heart.

  He stared with sincerity from behind his bloody eyes. “I am sorry, Aurora. Cimil promised if I helped her get her powers back, she would make me a demigod so I would change.”

  “To good?” Forgetty placed her hand over her heart.

  He nodded. “Do not get me wrong; I really enjoy spreading darkness and despair around the world. I’m very good at it. And nobody can rip out a heart like me. But,” he drew a breath, “I would give it all up just to be with you, to see you happy. And to be a good father to Louie.”

  “Who’s Louie?” whispered Ashli.

  “His son. He lives with me now,” Aurora replied.

  “It’s just another lie,” argued Cimil. “And who are you going to believe, a Scab or me?”

  “Scab,” everyone replied in unison.

  “Hey! Will someone please put my tablet back on the table?” Penelope yelled. “I can’t see shit, and this all sounds like a delicious soap opera that comes along only once in a lifetime.”

  Máax grabbed her tablet and held it up. “Sorry. Table is totaled.” He turned the tablet to face out so the room could see Penelope.

  “Thank you, Máax,” Penelope said. “So, in light of this new information, I move that Cimil be taken into custody and put on trial. Again.”

  Everyone groaned. They’d all been to this rodeo.

  “No.” Roen stepped forward. “She committed a crime on our soil, on our island, where I rule. She murdered my men in cold blood. These were good men with mates and children.”

  Cimil pointed at Zac. “He killed five of them.”

  Zac snarled. “Backstabbing, traitorous—”

  “But it was you, Cimil, who initiated the chain of events.” Roen shook his head. “Zac was merely your puppet.”

  “Oh, whatever. So I killed a few fishies. The gods don’t care,” Cimil spouted.

  “Yes, they do.” Aurora stepped forward. “What are you proposing?” she asked Roen.

  “For her crimes, she is to be placed inside a steel drum that will be filled with cement and dropped to the bottom of the ocean in an undisclosed location.”

  “Nobody is touching my pregnant wife,” Roberto snarled, reaching for something beneath his robe. “Not unless you want a war with the vampires, who, might I remind you, serve as the strongest part of your army.”

  “Pregnant?” a small voice came out of the speaker on the floor. “She can’t be pregnant.”

  Aurora reached for the device and held it up. “What did you say, Akna?” Akna was the Goddess of Fertility. She was likely off in some cave where she wouldn’t cause major damage. Two seconds in a room with her was said to inflict quadruplets, even in the elderly and inanimate objects. It’s like she’s the opposite of me. Everyone remembered Akna—then tried to stay the hell away.

  “Cimil can’t be pregnant,” Akna said. “I mean, at least I don’t think so. She couldn’t get pregnant on her own last time, so I had to help her. And I haven’t seen Cimil for months.”

  “I’ve been taking my vitamins!” Cimil argued.

  “Is this true, Cimil?” Roberto’s nostrils flared. “You lied to me about being pregnant?”

  “No. I didn’t. I really am,” Cimil argued.

  “You wanted me to help you get your powers back.” Roberto stepped back from Cimil. “That’s what this was all about.”

  “No. No, honey. I would never lie to you.” She paused. “Okay. That’s another lie because we both know I totally would, but I’m not lying about this.” She threw up her arms. “I mean, what reason would I have to deceive you? You knew I wanted my powers back.”

  “Yes, and I agreed; however, that was to save our unborn children—who, by the way, do not exist. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have agreed. I know you make everything worse when you meddle. But now I see, Cimil, it was all a ruse.” Roberto looked at Roen. “Take her.”

  “Roberto?” Cimil’s face contorted with shock.

  Roberto held out his large hand. “Lying to a man about his babies is crossing the line. From this day forward, you are dead to me, Cimil. I disavow you as my mate, as the mother of my children, and as my tango partner.”

  Cimil stood speechless, as did the rest of the room.

  “Take her,” Roen said to his men.

  “Wait,” said Aurora. “I think we’re all forgetting something. If those two aren’t mated, won’t they flip?”

  Grumbles and side conversations erupted.

  “Lock me away if you must,” said Roberto. “The children and I will be better off in one of your prisons than with my ex-mate.”

  Cimil looked positively devastated, her mouth flapping. “But…I’m not lying. I am pregnant. Why won’t anyone believe me?”

  “Not even your vicious, sneaky, bloodthirsty, disco-loving, invisible unicorn believes you, Cimil.” Roberto gave the nod, and Roen’s men dragged Cimil into the stairwell.

  The room fell into a cold, bitter silence, resembling a funeral. Even Aurora felt the pangs of mourning. Had they made the right decision?

  Somehow, it didn’t feel like it.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  After Cimil’s departure, everyone helped to get the room back together. The LA platoon of the gods’ mortal army, known as Uchben, had been called in to take Távas. To everyone’s surprise, he did not resist. And Roberto, who was far too powerful to let flip and roam free, would go with them. Both men would be transported to Sedona, Arizona, where the Uchben had an underground prison for immortals. There was also a lovely spa, gym, underground shopping mall, and bocce ball. Okay, really it was like a resort, but with maximum security. Acan, before finding his mate, had spent a considerable amount of time there for repeated violations of just about every law imaginable, so he’d made it a point to liven up the place, being the party god and all.

  “Be sure to feed my children before you attempt to transport them,” Roberto said as he got into the elevator with the soldiers and Távas. “Otherwise, they might chew a few heads.”

  “Head chewing.” Távas chuckled, standing next to Roberto. “Haven’t seen that one for a while. Is it a thing again?”

  “Ha!” Who knew Maaskab could make jokes? Aurora laughed and then flashed a smile at Távas. She wanted him to see that she felt confident in what came next: Convincing the gods to let him become a demigod. After all, he’d come clean and confessed to Cimil’s plot. He’d shown them all that he was capable of doing right.

  Now the only question was if they believed his past could be just that. His past. Obviously, she had a direct line to his soul. She knew the truth of him. The danger was that they might see her connection as one that blinded her judgment versus illuminated reality.

  “Wait!” She stood from her chair and bolted to the elevator, shoving her hand between the doors.

  “Goddess, what are you doing?” snarled one of the soldiers dressed in black cargos and a black tee—the standard Uchben uniform.

  “Just give me five minutes.” She held up her fingers to the soldiers. “Five. I’m going to question him.” If she used their bond to push the right buttons, she’d get to the bottom
of Távas’s story and, therefore, his true nature.

  “Aurora, don’t. You’ll only end up disappointed,” Távas said.

  She pointed at Távas’s face. “There, you see, everyone. The fact that he cares about my well-being is proof: He’s not all bad.”

  Hesitant looks exchanged between the faces in the room.

  “Fine. Okay.” She threw up her hands. “I know that Távas, aka Ta’as, aka Satan’s tutor, Mr. Motherfucking Bastard, King Scab, Jerktoes—”

  “Woman…” growled Távas, now standing off to the side of the room with the soldiers next to him, “get on with it.”

  “Yes, yes. Okay.” She drew a fortifying breath and went to stand at the head of the table to more easily see everyone. She raised her arm and pointed at Távas. “The truth is, this man has tormented us for over two millennia. He has murdered countless humans. He is the embodiment of evil—”

  “Have you ever considered law school?” asked Ashli, the Goddess of Love, seated directly next to her.

  “No,” replied Aurora. “Why?”

  “Just making sure. Please keep it that way.”

  Aurora gave her a sharp look. “Okay, I know what you’re all thinking, but consider the bigger picture. If we can take someone as powerful as Távas and get him to play for Team Good, think about the implications. He’s a wealth of knowledge, the first astrophysicist ever. He’s the first quantum physicist, too. He invented the means for time travel, he discovered black jade, and he can possess thousands of people. The wealth of knowledge inside this man could be the only defense we have against an age of humans we do not understand. I mean…come on? Memes. What’s that all about? Snapchat. So you want to see your friends with goofy noses? We used to call that Halloween. Instagram? Pictures of your life—a thing no one used to need because humans actually hung out together.” Forgetty pointed to the faces around the room. “We are no longer equipped to serve humanity because the internet has allowed humans to praise, spit, judge, love, like, and kick with the stroke of a finger. Távas is a strategic genius. His devious mind could help us think of devious ways to help keep humanity on track.”

  Aurora looked around the room, spotting one hand raised. Her brother with the giant man bun.

  “Acan, what’s your question?” she asked.

  “I just want to know one thing. How did he become evil? And why, if he truly has a good heart, he stayed that way? All right, those are two questions. But so be it. I’m a rebel and have accepted my lot.”

  Aurora puckered her lips and placed one hand on her hip before turning her gaze to the giant sooty monster watching her with hungry eyes.

  Her stomach flipped. Even in his roadkill ensemble, he actually sort of did it for her. “Well, Távas? It’s now or never. Time to come clean.”

  Távas stared for a long moment, his blood-red eyes swirling with black like an ominous lava lamp.

  Finally, he stepped forward, eliciting multiple yelps.

  “Well,” he said, his deep, deep voice sounding like James Earl Jones with a throat cold, “I was born a slave. No, not even that. I was the son of a slave of a slave, as was customary in the Mayan culture. A servant of a prominent family could buy his own servants to help with the farm and household chores. My mother and father served the master slave. And when I was old enough, I served him, too.”

  Forgetty knew this was true. Though the Mayans were a culture close to the gods’ hearts, because of their thirst for science and knowledge in general, they were also a violent people who had no qualms about oppressing others. The Maaskab were the offspring of this barbaric, bloodthirsty culture.

  Távas went on. “It was when I turned sixteen that a plague of locusts wiped out our crops and the priests in the village demanded sacrifices to appease the gods.” His eyes flickered to solid coal-mine black. “They wanted young males, who they believed would feed the God of Corn and produce hearty crops.”

  “Which one of us is the God of Corn?” asked Acan. “I hope it’s not me.”

  “No. Shush!” Aurora said. The Mayans were notorious for making shit up. “What did you do?” she asked Távas, urging him to continue.

  “I went with the priests, but they did not kill me. Their leader saw potential, likely because of my unusually large size and strength. He said I glowed with life. So he began to train me—making me sacrifice animals and eat their organs for sustenance, then forcing me to fast for weeks and locking me in their dark prayer room.”

  “Why would he do that?” Aurora asked.

  “He believed that when one was on death’s doorstep, deprived of anything connected to this world, they could speak to the gods.”

  “Obviously bullshit,” she said.

  “Yes, but when I was finally let out, delirious with hunger, he beat me until I said what he wanted to hear: That the gods told me more sacrifices were required to save our people from starvation. So I said it. And then I regretted it. Because they didn’t come for me, as I’d hoped. They came for my family, including my baby brother.”

  The room filled with tension, everyone sitting at the edges of their seats.

  He went on, “When it came time for my mother’s heart to be torn out over the altar at Chichen Itza—”

  “You ate it?” piped Ixy.

  “No.” Távas frowned. “What sort of monster do you think I am? I lunged for the head priest and pushed him down the stairs. Then I claimed the gods had granted me the power to kill him. They all believed me, and the rest is history.”

  “So…” Penelope spoke up over her tablet. “From there, you just…got all wicked and bloodthirsty for no reason?”

  “I was young. The other priests resented me, and for survival, and the survival of my family, I had to maintain power. I had to become the monster I am today. But that required effort and sacrifices. Yes, the bloody kind. When I eventually discovered black jade, completely by accident, I saw it as a means to demonstrate my authority. One of the priests had ingested it, believing it was charcoal—a common remedy in those days for an upset stomach. I noticed he was unusually susceptible to my commands, so I made a few more priests ingest black jade. From there, it spiraled. People saw my power and demanded I give them prosperity. ‘Make it rain, bring the crops, sacrifice more slaves,’ they demanded. We even went to war with other tribes to take what we did not have. My army and people became more and more bloodthirsty and power hungry, as did I. That was when I began my research on dark energy and discovered how to harness it. But this thirst would be our downfall. The people began turning on each other. Those who could escape did. The families who remained killed each other off. One day, I woke and there was nothing left but me.” He looked down at his large hands. “The unspeakable things I did to save my family were necessary. But once they were gone, I had only myself to blame. Like my people, I too became addicted to power.”

  Aurora sank into her chair at the head of the table. That had been one hell of a story, but something didn’t make sense. He’d started on his journey for his family; however, once they were saved, he could’ve taken them and run instead of continuing with the charade. He hadn’t become evil or addicted to power yet, so he must’ve had some reason to stay.

  “Why didn’t you walk away?” Aurora asked. “Initially, I mean. Right after you saved your family?”

  “I couldn’t,” he replied.

  “But why?” she demanded, sensing the tender light in his heart fighting to expose itself.

  “I cannot say.”

  He could say. He simply didn’t want to.

  She drew a slow breath and exhaled. “Then you will die, Távas. And my heart along with you.”

  He looked away, and she could see the turmoil stirring inside him, swirls of white mixing with dark blues.

  What’s he hiding?

  “Távas, you’ve been a powerful king for thousands of years. Yet you don’t have the courage to face your demons?”

  He didn’t respond.

  “Távas? I’m begging. Down on my k
nees if I must.”

  His gaze whipped in her direction. “To save your precious humans, no doubt.”

  “No.” She spoke softly. “To save you.”

  His eyes flickered to a crisp blue.

  “Tell us why,” she pleaded, “you didn’t run after your family was safe?”

  He swallowed, the room cocooned in absolute stillness. “Because the rave tour wasn’t the first time we’ve met, Aurora.”

  “It wasn’t?” she asked.

  “No. I met you over two thousand years ago, before I became what I am. I saw you come through the cenote, and it was like…” He released a slow breath. “Magic.”

  “That’s called a boner, dude,” said Acan.

  “Shush!” Ashli, the Goddess of Love, barked.

  Távas continued. “Coming face-to-face with a god was nothing shy of awe inspiring. But the way you looked at me, Aurora, like I wasn’t there, it had quite an impact on me.”

  Aurora inhaled sharply. That’s where I’ve seen his tattoos before. She thought she’d seen the geometric shapes on a building or painting. But she’d seen them on a young man thousands of years ago.

  Now I remember. “I was coming through the cenote, and there was this split second, right as my body was completed, that I glanced toward the edge of the pool and saw a tall young man with the bluest eyes. When I climbed out of the water, he was gone, and I saw no evidence that he’d ever been there. Not a fleck of mud out of place.” She’d never given it another thought. “I was sure you’d been a dream,” she said.

  “No,” he said. “But you have always been mine.”

  The ladies in the room swooned, as did Aurora.

  “So I’m the reason you stayed with your people?” If yes, she just wouldn’t know what to think of it. How horribly ironic, I suppose. Because it would mean that she’d created him, in a backwards kind of way.

  Távas nodded. “I knew a simple, uneducated slave could never have a woman like you—a goddess—so, yes, it is true: I wanted the power so I could be your equal. So that someday we might meet again and you would see me.”