Goddess of Forgetfulness

  Wait. Five? His entire body stiffened. No. It can’t be. He looked again, opening his senses. Oh fuck. Yes, there were five distinct lights fighting for their lives.

  “Wait!” he screamed, rushing to Roen, who was speaking with his men. “Bring her back.”

  Roen gave him an unsympathetic look. “I advised you not to watch.”

  “No!” Zac grabbed Roen by the shoulders. “You don’t understand. She wasn’t lying. She really is pregnant.”

  At first Roen looked shocked, but his expression quickly turned to anger. “Away with you, Zac, God of Temptation. We will not fall for your tricks.”

  “This isn’t a trick. There are five souls inside that drum. Five. I felt them all.”

  Roen shook his head. “One of Cimil’s many scams, no doubt. You heard the Goddess of Fertility with your own ears—there are no babies.”

  “Well, I don’t know how it’s possible, but they are there. And they’re half human—or whatever the hell Roberto is. They will die if you don’t—”

  Roen gave a nod, and his men descended upon Zac. “Take him to his cabin and sedate him. He can be freed once we return to port.”

  “That’s in a month!” Zac kicked and screamed, but in his weakened state, he was no match for Roen’s men. A broken heart meant a broken soul and broken everything. “Please,” Zac begged as they hauled him off, “do not do this.”

  “It is already done. There is no way to retrieve your sister, so I suggest you accept her death, just as the eight widows have accepted the deaths of their husbands. Consider yourself lucky, Zac. Not only have we allowed you to live, but you will no longer be plagued by Cimil’s evil.”

  They stuck him in the neck with something that instantly burned through his veins. His vision quickly blurred. “What was that?” he mumbled.

  “Something to keep you quiet.” The men tossed him in a small room with a steel door.

  He lay there on the floor, holding up his hand, deliriously reaching for the four little lights on board that drum with Cimil. “No. Godsdammit no,” he muttered. “It will be too late in a month.”

  Suddenly he saw two pairs of big blue eyes hovering over him. They were filled with so much love.

  “Tula?” He strained, trying to focus his blurry vision. The eyes faded into nothing.

  A dream. He began to sob. I miss her so much.

  “Mr. Zac?” Something warm and wet slid over his cheek. He tried to open his eyes, but the drugs were powerful, beckoning him into a dream state. Hell, perhaps he was already asleep, because when he opened his eyes for a split second, he could’ve sworn he saw a fanged unicorn hovering inches from his face.

  With Tula’s eyes and voice? His immortal heartbeat skipped a beat, recalling that Minky had taken Tula’s body and refused to give it back. Oh no.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  “You ready for this?” Acan grabbed Forgetty’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze.

  No, she wasn’t. Not in the least. But over the past thirty days, her hardwiring had compelled her to accept the painful truth: Távas was not coming back. Thus, she was at risk. At any moment he could cut the cord and sever their mate bond, therefore rejecting her and leaving her in the exact same position she’d sought to avoid at all costs: Flipped.

  She gave her brother’s hand a squeeze. “I’ll survive.”

  “I suppose you will. After all, what choice is there when one lives forever?” He snorted.

  She shrugged off his attempt to lighten the moment.

  “But, sister,” he warned, “you must let go. You must open yourself to the possibility of love. Otherwise, tonight is all for naught.”

  “I know. I do. But what if I don’t meet someone else? What if Távas was it, and I’m left with nothing and flip?”

  “It’s a valid question, but if you flip, then you do. We will figure it out. Together.”

  “You say that, but you’ll forget—me, you, everything. It’ll be a giant mess.”

  He chuckled softly. “If you think for one moment that I could ever forget Margarita or her daughter, Jessica—or even you—then you do not know the first thing about love. The soul never forgets.”

  Forgetty blinked back the tears threatening to flood her eyes, knowing in her heart it was true. Her followers never truly forgot her. Once a connection was made, time might dull it, but it never really went away. A person could smell something as simple as baby powder and be brought back to the loving embrace of their mother. An old song on the radio could propel that same person back to the exact moment in their lives they first heard it. For her, it was 1877 and the sound of a needle touching down on a tin sheet wrapped around a cylinder in her old living room.

  Sound. Recorded for all time. “It is truly amazing,” she’d said, poking at the thing Cimil had stolen from that Edison man. “To think that one can record their own voice to be heard a million years from now. Think of all the wisdom we can pass forward.” Humans, for the first time ever, could use each generation as a stepping-stone. Not that the written word would not serve, but it did not convey emotion as easily or the truth in one’s voice. As for learning to read books, that took time, education, and a thirst for enlightenment.

  Ah, but listening to a voice—an elder, a grandparent…or even a goddess. This was truly magical.

  This memory gave her comfort as she contemplated letting go of Távas and opening herself to another. She would never truly lose him because his music, his sound, would forever remain in her heart.

  “All right,” she jerked her head, “bring on the men.”

  Acan smiled. “He’ll be here. I promise.”

  “Who?”

  “A man worthy of you.”

  Inspirational words, no doubt, but…“How do you know for sure?”

  Acan shrugged. “Because I believe in gods, in us. And you, my dear sister, have the most generous heart I’ve ever known. The Universe will not turn her back on you, just as she didn’t turn hers on me—a god who was lost inside a bottle since the invention of bottles. If there’s hope for me, certainly there is for you.” Acan walked toward the front doors of the Randy Unicorn, their flagship LA nightclub.

  “Fuck.” She pushed her hands through her long hair straightened to silky perfection for tonight’s speed-dating event.

  Forgetty groaned out a breath as the men lined up. She sat precariously in the center of the room at a small black table, one lonely glass of ice water in front of her—okay, okay. It was vodka. But who could blame her? Five hundred men were in wait, preparing to spend one minute convincing her that they might be worth her love. And for the next eight-plus hours, she would attempt the unthinkable: to find a male who could fill the void left by Távas.

  If this didn’t work, she didn’t know what she’d do.

  Acan walked up with the first man, Marcos—tall, dark, and handsome. And a vampire. Who likes to complain about the stringent rules limiting which people he was allowed to eat. She did not have time for this, she thought, as the guy went on and on for what felt like forever.

  The buzzer finally sounded. Thank gods. “Next!”

  A man with a rainbow wig, bright red nose, and sad face-paint sat down and honked his horn. Squeak! Squeak!

  “Next!” she yelled over her shoulder, eliciting a whimper from her rejected date.

  You’ve got to be kidding me. No man worthy of her love would dare to whimper.

  She turned around and looked at the long line flowing outside the club.

  Oh, dear gods. S&M bondage harnesses, more rainbow wigs, jugglers, a guy with a tiger and whip. Cimil had not been joking about using Vampirefreaks.com, clowndating, and fetlife.

  Fucking Cimil. She laughed. Even at the bottom of the ocean she was up to her pranks. Though, I have to admit, this is pretty funny.

  At least there were a few normal-looking guys; although, they appeared to be scared out of their minds due to the unusual crowd.

  Hours and hours went by without so much as a tingle, let alone a spark. R
ehearsed speeches, corny pickup lines, bad vampire jokes, and lots of clown honking. Some men were attractive; some were not. Some were nice, and some…well, they put Távas’s jerk routine to shame, though they weren’t acting. She sat motionless through the parade of suitors who didn’t hold a match to the evil king who embodied something she found genuinely attractive: his strength. Távas represented the fight within us all. Because life could be downright ugly.

  Some of us fought to live another day.

  Some of us lived to fight another day.

  Either way it was a fight.

  And while she could never condone Távas’s actions, or the way he’d chosen to fight, she understood why he’d done it. He’d wanted to save his family. Then, hoping to be worthy of her love, he fought to be more. More powerful, in control, worthy of admiration.

  It hadn’t worked out.

  Or had it? She admired his strength, didn’t she? On the down side, Ixy couldn’t cure him. Just why was that, exactly?

  Perhaps he really was too powerful. But now that she thought about it, the likelier answer was that the Universe had her own plan. She did, after all, demand that every beauty have a flaw, every life have a death, and every day have a night.

  Jesus, that’s it. It had never occurred to her until now that the Universe had chosen Távas, too. To be evil. It was the reason that Ixy, Antonio, and three incubi could not cure him. He couldn’t be cured because he wasn’t meant to be. He was no different than any of the gods chosen to play a role.

  So then what? If she was right, then where did that leave her and Távas? If his purpose was to be darkness, where the hell did that leave her broken heart?

  It was an impossible puzzle.

  She sighed.

  “Forgetty? Your final date is here,” said Acan. “Do you want to see him?”

  It was now six in the morning.

  “Why not?” She gave a shallow nod.

  She heard Acan’s heavy footsteps fade off to the door. “Come in.”

  “How is she?” said a deep, familiar voice.

  “See for yourself, king,” said Acan.

  King? Forgetty pivoted in her seat. Across the room stood the most gorgeous man she’d ever seen. He was seven feet of wicked male in a suit that contoured his deadly strength and muscles. His short, dirty blond hair was a fucking mess, and his dark beard looked like something the devil himself might wear.

  Gods fucking dammit, he’s sexy. Lucifer had nothing on him.

  “Aurora,” Távas said, without emotion.

  She rose on her shaking knees, unable to breathe right. “Távas, what are you doing here? And where is your Maaskab outfit?” She could see ribbons of black swirling through his aura, meaning he was still as wicked as ever.

  “It is a very long story, one I will explain after I’ve said what I’ve come to say.”

  “And Louie? Is he all right?”

  “He is fine, actually. Better than fine.”

  “That’s good.” Unexpected, but good.

  “Aurora,” he took her hand, clasping it between his own, “I’ve spent the last month searching for answers, wondering how to make sense of you, of me, of any of this, only to come up with very few answers—none of which have changed the fundamentals of our perplexing situation. So I’m here to ask you one question.”

  “Y-yes?”

  “Can you love a wicked man who’s completely unredeemable?”

  Her soul swelled. “Is he part of the Universe’s master plan, and anything he does is ultimately for the greater good of humanity?”

  He shook his head. “I have no fucking clue.”

  In all honesty, neither did she. All she knew was that they were opposite sides of the coin and they both had a purpose.

  He continued, “But if you will forever be a goddess and I cannot see my life without you, nor can I be changed, then that only leaves us with one option: to be together as we are. For better or worse. Okay, lots of worse, in my case, but you get the picture.”

  As she stared into his blue eyes flecked with lavender, he undid her in the most soul-felt, carnal, wicked of ways, reducing her to the most primitive form possible.

  I need him. I do. But how can we make this work? Then it hit her smack-dab in the middle of the forehead.

  The Universe had chosen her for a role very few could endure. Her suffering came with the job, but she had figured out how to get on.

  I can figure this out, too. Though, it meant accepting what was, not what she hoped or thought it should be. In her mind, she saw herself with Távas only if he was cured. But perhaps there was another way?

  Hell, if someone could love Cimil—okay, horrible example since that didn’t end well because she messed it up. Still, Roberto never cared that Cimil had an evil streak. In fact, he sort of dug it. And I have to admit, there is a certain attraction to being mated to a bad boy. Bad boys were sexy.

  Aurora gave Távas a coy smile. “What are gods without monsters, and monsters without gods?”

  Távas grinned. “Bored. They would be utterly bored.”

  “Exactly.” She smiled back at him.

  Music exploded over the nightclub’s speakers, and the dance floor lit up in a hundred multicolored lights.

  She knew the song. “You’re in Love with a Psycho” by Kasabian. She’d spun it at the last three tours in her closing mash-up.

  “Are you in love with a psycho?” Távas asked.

  “No. You are. Because I’m absolutely crazy about you.”

  They kissed and fireworks exploded.

  Acan wrapped his arm around Margarita. He knew tonight was a risk, but his dear, sweet Forgetty had given him so much over the years—friendship, unconditional love, bail money—how could he not go the extra mile for her and ensure the evil king came to present his case? One thing Acan had learned from his long existence, filled with countless mistakes, was that sometimes you just had to have faith. When one embarks on a long journey, one does not see the entire road. You simply take one step at a time, trusting it will eventually lead to your destination. He hoped it would be the same for Aurora and Távas because clearly the two loved each other, even if they did not know how it would work out.

  “They look really happy.” Margarita smiled at the couple making out in the middle of the dance floor.

  Acan sighed. “They do.”

  “I just wonder if the indoor fireworks were a good choice.”

  He too noted the walls on fire. “Just give them another minute before dialing 911. She deserves it.”

  Margarita nodded. “Not the first nightclub you’ve burnt to the ground.”

  “Won’t be the last.”

  “It’s part of your charm,” she offered.

  Acan hugged her. “Gods, I love that you get me, woman.”

  “And I love that you love that I get you.”

  They faced each other and began making out.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  “All right, keep your eyes closed.” Távas held his hands over Aurora’s eyes as he unlocked the door to some mysterious building in downtown LA.

  “They’re closed, but you’re sure I’m not going to open my eyes to some horrible scene of human sacrifice.”

  “No.” He chuckled. “My days of sacrificing humans have long past. Along with warring with the gods and your army.”

  They continued walking, she with her hands extended. In all honesty, she was enjoying this. Távas was all clean and smelled really nice. What wasn’t to love?

  “Okay. So no more human sacrifices, no more war with us—what does that leave a monster like you to do with his time?” she asked.

  He dropped his hands. “Open your eyes.”

  Slowly, she cracked one lid. It was a large restaurant with bright yellow walls and cartoon paintings of happy chickens flying old single-prop planes.

  “I’ve gone into the chicken-murdering business!” he said proudly.

  “Huh?”

  “Wings. It’s a chicken wings restaurant. I??
?ve purchased ten of them across the country. Louie is going to help me expand to fifty more sites.”

  Her mouth fell open. “I, uh…I, uh…but wait? So…I…” She scratched the side of her head. “You’re the Maaskab king and now you own chicken wings restaurants?”

  “We serve one hundred varieties of beer, too.”

  “But why? How?” This was beyond bizarre.

  “After I left your apartment, Louie and I went to my home in Malibu.”

  “You have a house in Malibu?”

  “Built it last year. Right on the water. And it blocks the view of ten other houses.” He grinned proudly. “It’s quite evil, if I do say so myself.”

  She cocked a brow.

  “Anyway, Louie and I had a long talk about our place in the world and what to do next if we were unchangeable. Neither of us had answers, but we did get hungry, so I ordered wings—they still taste good even if I can’t fully enjoy their sinfulness due to my evilness. But as he and I sat there licking our fingers and enjoying deep-fried, unhealthy food, Louie said something that clicked with me.”

  “What?”

  “He said, ‘It’s a shame that you have to be a Maaskab, Dad. I mean, think of all the interesting ways there are to be evil in this day and age.”

  Aurora blinked. “And that led you to buying this place?”

  “Better. I realized that while my powers and history are certainly ancient, Louie was right. There are plenty of evil, horrible, successful people out in the world today. I don’t need to run around all sticky and with thumb jewelry. The days of the Mayans and the Maaskab are over, and it’s time for me to find a new place in the new world.”

  “So that’s it? Just like that?”

  “Yeah. I cleaned myself up, stopped eating black jade, and the next day Louie and I began making plans. Wings and beer to start, all very unhealthy. I’m also looking into funding some very violent video game companies. Eventually, once I get bored of that, then I think I’ll get into politics.”

  “Seems like a logical place for someone who wants to mess up the world,” Aurora muttered, her mind trying to absorb all this.