Goddess of Forgetfulness

  “You’re trying to make me feel better.” Louie sniffled.

  “Sadly, I am not. I live on the fringes of the world, in the shadows of people’s minds. It’s very lonely, but I take comfort in knowing that I still have a purpose. So do you.”

  “What?” he scoffed. “To be a loser like my dad?”

  “No. No one defines you but you, Louie. You get to shape your life. But it’s up to you to do the work and find your path.”

  He flashed a hard look. “That sounds like some bullshit poster at a new age shop.”

  She bobbed her head. “Yet you find yourself knowing it to be true. The Universe is complex, insane, and chaotic, but she doesn’t make mistakes.” Except for mating me to Távas. Huge fumble, Universe. Huge!

  “So I was meant to be a bad person who’s done bad things. I was meant to hurt people even when I didn’t want to.”

  No. But she could see that he’d been infected with the sort of darkness that now threatened her. How? Why? What was Távas’s connection to this? She wasn’t sure, but this wasn’t the moment to find all that out. She just needed him to get down off the ledge. Preferably on the inside of the hotel room.

  “Oh gods.” She laughed, trying to make him feel better. “Is that what this is about? You hurt a few people?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Pfft. You should meet my sister Cimil. In a million years, you couldn’t come close to the horrible things she’s done, but you know what? She never gives up trying to do her best. Not even on Fridays, when she calls herself Biaaanca. Basically, her evil day. But she still tries to be her best evil self and find a way to make it work for humanity.” Murdering evildoers and all that.

  Forgetty zeroed in on Louie’s gloomy face. She hadn’t gotten through to him. Whatever malevolent energy had wrapped itself around his heart, it was a sticky son of a bitch and would require time to dissolve. Kind of like crispy catsup on the edges of the meatloaf dish.

  Gods, I love meatloaf. It was the first dish she learned to cook after she’d decided that she would live a full life, even if it was to be alone. Comfort food had been number two on her list of things to conquer. Number one had been sex.

  Still working on number one.

  “Okay, Louie. Just look me in the eyes and tell me why the world is a better place without you. Convince me, and I’ll let you jump. Hell, I’ll give you a push.”

  Half shocked, half confused, he stared her in the eyes. “Because if that man is my father, there is no hope for me.”

  She tipped her head to one side. Huh?

  Suddenly, Louie began leaning forward.

  “No!” She lunged for his hand and released her goddess energy.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  What a blur. A horrible, scary blur. Forgetty had never been through anything like this. As Louie lunged and she pulsed with her forgetfulness, the world stood still. In one hand, Louie’s wrist. In the other, Távas’s hand held onto hers, her body dangling over the cement sidewalk.

  “Do not let go, goddess.” Távas strained under their weight.

  “Not on your pigheaded life,” she growled. It wasn’t that she feared crashing to her death—it would hurt, but she couldn’t really die—however, his son would not survive the fall.

  “Hang on.” Távas groaned, pulling her up an inch at a time, police sirens blazing in the night, seeming to come from every direction.

  “I’m hanging on every word!” she yelled, knowing that Louie was out cold from the burst of light she’d given him. It would wear off by tomorrow, and by then, she would have gotten to the bottom of all this.

  With a few heaves and hoes, Távas had them both through the window and back onto solid ground.

  He laid Louie on the bed just as there was a loud knock at the door. He turned and grabbed Forgetty by the shoulders. “Are you all right?”

  She gave him a nod.

  “Good. Then let me do the talking.” He went to answer the door, and within seconds the policia de Rio were in the room, inspecting Louie and pulling her and Távas to the living room for questioning. She could see in Távas’s eyes that he wanted to go to his son and did not appreciate their strong-arm tactics.

  “No.” She grabbed Távas’s hand, sending a spike of warmth through her arm. It almost felt intimate, which shocked the hell out of her, frankly. “Best let them do their thing and leave. We don’t want trouble.”

  “Can you not simply use your gifts so they will feel confused and leave?” he whispered into her ear.

  She gazed out the panoramic window at the dark ocean, mulling it over. Typically, she didn’t use her powers unless absolutely necessary; however, this was no ordinary situation. The clock was ticking on her sitch. I really need to find out who Távas is before my weasel pops.

  “I suppose,” she replied, “I could. But once they’re gone, I need you to promise you’ll tell me everything and how you know so much.”

  He snarled down at her with his crisp blue eyes, his strong jaw pulsing under that short dark beard.

  Her fingertips tingled with the urge to pet him. Not the time!

  “It’s either that,” she added, “or you can deal with the police, who will insist on taking Louie to a hospital.” Not good because she suspected his issues stemmed from supernatural causes related to this man.

  With a grunt, Távas nodded. “Very well. I agree.”

  Two minutes later, Forgetty had the police filing out of the room, believing they’d lost their way to another call involving a panty raid.

  “That’s right,” she said in Portuguese, ushering them out. “The thieves have been hitting all the rooms. You must go door-to-door and ask all the guests if they’re missing panties.” She locked the door behind them.

  With a whoosh, she closed her eyes and drew a breath. That should keep them busy. “Okay, they’re gone, Távas. Now it’s time for you to tell me what’s going o—”

  The stillness in the room jarred her. Wondering where Távas had gone, she walked to the bedroom, where Louie lay on his back, out cold. Távas sat beside Louie, holding his hand with a lost look in his eyes.

  A father’s pain. She’d seen the look hundreds of thousands of times in the eyes of parents. Wars, famine, natural disasters—the pain of losing a child was the sort of thing a human did not easily move past on their own. It was her most difficult duty as a deity, but she was always there, ready to ease their sorrow and help them heal. A very delicate procedure, but if done correctly at the correct time, it was possible to fade the pain of loss and leave behind the loving memories so that they might carry on. No, it didn’t work with everyone, but like a surgeon, she’d learned that she could not save every patient.

  “Távas, he’s going to be okay,” she whispered. She’d get to the bottom of this and free Louie from the poison in his soul. “But are you? Okay, I mean?”

  He nodded slowly, his eyes stuck to Louie’s peaceful face. The young man was quite beautiful, really. Dark features, high cheekbones, and wide lips.

  “Funny, he doesn’t look much like you,” she said, though Távas was indeed beautiful—intense eyes, a strong jaw, and soft pillowy lips. She wouldn’t describe him as exotic. More like fierce and classically male. Not a wimpy feature on him.

  “He takes after his mother,” Távas muttered.

  Távas is married? Her soul twitched with regret. “Well, she is a lovely woman.”

  “Was. Was a lovely woman.”

  “Oh. I’m sorry.”

  “I hardly knew her,” Távas said without emotion. “But I’ve spent the last few months searching for Louie.” He turned his large frame and faced her. “I only found him three days ago.”

  “And I’m guessing the reunion hasn’t gone so well.”

  “No. I am the sort of man no one would want as a father. Just as I am the sort of man no one would want as a husband.”

  The harsh bitterness in his voice sucked her in. Did this have something to do with Louie being infected?

  She clas
ped her hands together and leaned her shoulder into the doorway. “So tell me, Mr. Liath, who are you?”

  Távas looked at the floor for a moment and then slowly rose. “This is a conversation that requires tequila.”

  With Louie passed out, Forgetty followed Távas into the dining area with the full panoramic view of Rio’s coast, the night sky, and dark ocean. She hadn’t noticed before, due to the commotion, but an entire meal had been laid out on the sleek black table in the dining area, just next to the living room.

  Was that poached salmon stuffed with crab and filet mignon under those metal domes? It smelled delicious. And thankfully cooked.

  Távas walked over to the bar in the corner and poured two small tumblers of golden liquid. He threw one back, repoured the glass, and then returned to her with both drinks in hand.

  “You do drink, yes?” He held out the glass. “Because I plan on having at least four more, and I understand that drinking alone is an unacceptable practice by modern standards.”

  She took the tequila with a polite nod. “Modern standards are like underwear. People wear them for a while, then throw them out and get new ones.” She lifted the glass. “Cheers.”

  He tapped the rim of his drink to hers. “And do you eat?”

  “On occasion.” Every chance I get. I just don’t want you to think I’m a gluttonous pig.

  “Excellent.” He pulled out the chair closest to her and helped her slide in. “Because I’m starving.” He walked around the table and sat to face her. Instead of speaking, his hard, troubled gaze moved to the plates of covered food on the table.

  A melancholy silence filled the room.

  “Listen, Mr. Liath—I mean, Távas. I think I can make this fairly simple. You tell me who you really are and how you know what I am. In return, I will tell you why I’m sitting here giving a crap.”

  He looked up at her with those penetrating eyes, the fleck of lavender seeming to sparkle. “And then what?”

  She shrugged and took a small sip of the tequila. It was the good stuff, tasting of cinnamon and vanilla instead of the cactus gasoline she used for making margaritas. Yes, she knew her liquors since she often bartended at their nightclubs when her brother had been having too much fun to show up for work.

  She set down the glass and met his unsettling gaze. “Why don’t we leave the ‘then whats’ for after.” Because honestly, she didn’t know what came next. She couldn’t see a future with Távas given his unchivalrous disposition, but she felt entirely intrigued by his contradictions.

  He’s like a pit bull and a poodle packaged in the body of a god—metaphorically speaking. She didn’t find her brethren the least bit attractive. Not because they were siblings (because they weren’t truly related by blood), but because they were physically perfect. She liked men with imperfections, character, and a few battle scars—the kind of beauty one could only achieve through living a life filled with mistakes, pain, and victories. The gods were flawless in appearance, making it impossible to ascertain the sort of life they’d led just from looking at them. No, there are no stories to be told by our outer shells.

  Távas took a swig of his tequila and gave her a nod. “As you wish. We shall table our discussion until after dinner.”

  “No. I said we’d postpone talking about next steps until after we put our cards on the table, which starts now.” She leaned back in her chair. “Who are you?”

  “I am Távas Liath—as you already know.”

  It dawned on her that Távas meant peacock in ancient Hebrew and Liath was Gaelic for gray. Very befitting. “Thank you for repeating your name. Now tell me who you really are.”

  “Who do you think I am?”

  She cocked her head. “You want to play coy? I just saved your son’s life and then brainwashed a bunch of policemen for you.”

  “I am merely curious to know what sort of creature you think I am.” He grinned slyly, exposing two sets of fine wrinkles in the corners of his eyes.

  Her heartrate ticked up a bit. She was a sucker for that kind of stuff. It hinted at a man’s maturity and character. Though, he doesn’t look a day over thirty-three. His aura, on the other hand? Its blue ribbons screamed old soul.

  “If I knew what you were,” she began, rising from her seat, “I wouldn’t be asking. But I don’t have a moment to lose, so if you’re not interested in coming clean, then it’s time for me to lea—”

  “I am a man. A plain old regular man.”

  She lowered herself again. “If you’re just a man, then how do you know who I am?”

  He stared into his glass, circling his fingertip around the lip. “I’ve met your sister Cimil.”

  I should’ve known. “You’re one of her little minions, aren’t you?”

  “Do I look like a minion?” he scoffed.

  “No. You’re entirely too tall, but she put you up to this, right? What’s in it for you? A ride on Minky? Free parking for life?”

  “What’s a Minky?” he asked.

  “Answer the question.”

  “I am not working for Cimil, nor would I ever. I have simply met her.”

  “And from that you were able to figure out what I am?” Not likely.

  “She went into a catatonic state, babbling about Twinkies, unicorns, demonic clowns and her sister ‘Whatserface’—a goddess no one remembers who wears her gift like a curse.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” she asked.

  “After meeting you? My guess is that what was once a prison is now a shield. If given the chance to let the world see you, truly see you, you would still hide because you believe you’re not worth seeing.”

  Forgetty stared into his eyes, fighting the urge to slap him silly. How dare he, a Neanderthal poster child, judge her like that?

  “When did you figure out she and I were sisters?”

  “The moment I saw you—your eyes, really. I’ve never seen that shade of turquoise on anyone except her.”

  “When did you first see me?” she asked.

  “When my staff showed me your demo video before I booked you for the tour.”

  She sensed he was lying. The aura often shifted to a darker hue when one tried to hide something.

  “Well,” she said, “if you know who I am, then you know why I cannot believe you.”

  “No.”

  “Because,” she drew a breath, “I am the Goddess of Forgetfulness. No mortal has ever managed to truly remember me for more than five seconds.”

  He tilted his head. “Then how do you manage to have millions of followers?”

  “Because they don’t really remember me—it’s more of a craving or dull sensation given off by my music, which triggers an awareness in their souls. But I could walk right by any one of them and they’d never know who I was.”

  “Sounds very lonely,” he said, his voice deep and smug.

  Wrong response. “No. Sounds like you’re playing games.” She rose from her seat and planted her hands on the table. “Why do you remember me?”

  Calm and cool, Távas leaned back. “You tell me. You’re the goddess. Because I assure you, I am human—born with a mother and a father like every other person on this planet.”

  Either he was a phenomenal liar or he was telling the truth because his aura hadn’t flickered that time.

  She mulled it over. She supposed if he were in fact born human, that could still leave werewolf—or were-penguin—and vampire as species options, but she would know. Those creatures had very distinct scents and energies. Távas had neither.

  She let out a sigh and sank into her chair. “Well, the only explanation I can come up with is because the Universe chose you to be my mate.”

  “Your what?”

  She groaned and pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes. “My mate. My one and only. I don’t really believe in all that one-true-love, mate bull crap, but clearly there’s something different about you if you’re able to remember me when no one else can. You’re immune to the effects of my energy,
and the only reason I can think of for this is that you were chosen by the Universe for me.” How nauseating.

  He snickered, clearly amused.

  “What’s so funny?” she snapped.

  “I knew you were hitting on me.”

  She frowned. “No. Ugh. And stash that bloated ego of yours. I think you’re completely horrible and rude.”

  “Yet you kissed me, and we both know you liked it. Also, according to you—a divine being—the cosmos has chosen me to be your one true love.” He chuckled to himself and threw back his drink. “Ironic.”

  “I said that might be why you remember me, but obviously I don’t know for sure. I mean, look at you. Other than your tight ass, big arms and what I guess to be a washboard stomach underneath that shirt, you have zero appeal to me.”

  “My cock is huge. Don’t forget that.”

  “Pfft. Is it as big as your ego? Because then I’d be impressed.”

  “It’s big enough.”

  “Whatever.” She got up and stepped away from the table, feeling like she’d gotten absolutely nowhere with this man.

  “Where are you going?”

  She gave him a look, wanting to throttle him. Mostly because he’d let her down. A tiny part of her had hoped he’d come clean and tell her he was really a nice guy—one who deserved her love, but that for some reason, he had to pretend to be this complete asshole. That hadn’t happened.

  “Truth?” she said. “I’m going to go to my room, pack my things, and book a flight to LA, where my sister is hopefully throwing me a speed-dating party.”

  He bobbed his head. “Sounds…interesting?”

  “Given the influence I have on pilots, you have no idea.” In fact, she needed to call Acan and make sure he was on standby to help the plane land safely. Seriously, if we get through this, I’m so getting my commercial pilot’s license.

  He stood, moving to show her out as she made her way to the front door.

  “Then I bid you safe travels, goddess.” He opened the door.

  She turned to face him one last time. “And I wish you luck with your son, because clearly he needs a father, and you are not suited to be one.” He’d admitted it himself, which was why she’d be bringing Louie up to Cimil as soon as she got back to LA. They needed to help the young man, and quickly.