GODDESSES INC

2

Shee's office was the shape of an octagon with five glass walls. Shee, her back to the impressive vista, sat on an ancient ivory chair—more like a throne, really—behind a shiny carved ebony desk.

Mnemosyne dropped to her knees on the grass, ready to assume the classic posture of obeisance, forehead to the floor, hands outstretched, palms to the ceiling. The grass was a way of grounding a goddess to the earth. It smelled like heaven, green and fragrant and fresh.

"That's so last millennium." Shee swiveled around and waved Mnemosyne forward. "Take a seat."

Mnemosyne sat in the wingback chair, crossed her ankles, and looked with awe at Shee. The CEO of FEM leaned back in her chair and bestowed a kindly smile. A doting grandmama kind of smile. Her face was everywoman and no woman. Encompassed a spectrum of features, from beautiful to ugly. Young. Middle-aged. Old. Shee was all ages and ageless. Shee was mother and daughter. Lover and enemy. At the same time. Shee was every race. Shee was change and constancy. Shee was All.

Shee clasped her hands together, composed and prayerful. "How have you been, Mnem?"

Very few goddesses called her Mnem. Only her closest friends. Mnem's stomach clenched, the Swiss Mountain water swirled like a turbulent sea in her gut.

"I'm wonderful, thank you." Mnem pushed her lips into a smile.

"Is that so?" Shee tilted her head, compassion flickering across her face.

"Life is wonderful." Mnem sat up straighter. "Beautiful."

"Beautiful?" One of Shee's thumbs tapped with steady slowness atop the other.

Mnem dropped her gaze. It was difficult to look at Shee's face for too long. It was much too...disconcerting. Mnem looked at Shee's clothes instead. Shee always wore a kaftan, this one was tied with a thin braided sash threaded with wooden beads. It was beautiful, the wide stripes of pale blue, bronze, cream, and ginger were timeless hues. The earth's pallet.

"Is this about my daughters?" Mnem prayed to goddess her stomach would not gurgle. "They can be a handful at times. Is it Melpomene? She's such a drama queen."

"Your nine daughters are fine. Quite active in the world." Shee unclasped her hands and set her palms on the gleaming desk. "Which is why I've summoned you here."

Mnem relaxed. Her stomach settled. This must be about my daughters.

The nine Muses. What's not to like about them? Creative mortals everywhere called on them regularly. Zeus, their father, however, had little hand in their upbringing. Talk about an absentee father. Well, most of the time. Mnem uncrossed her ankles and leaned forward, eager to hear the good news.

"Your daughters have increased their significance," said Shee. "They are important. Needed. Desired."

Mnem's head bobbed with pride. What mother doesn't love hearing praise about their children?

Shee, her eyes hardening into obsidian, poked a rigid index finger into the air as though tapping an invisible button between her and Mnem. "You are not." Shee settled back in her throne-like chair, her hands draped over the intricately carved armrests.

Mnem blinked. "Pardon me?"

"You are no longer relevant, Mnemosyne. No one knows who you are or what you are the goddess of."

Mnem touched her chest. "I'm Mnemosyne, Greek goddess of memory."

Shee's lips twitched. "I know who you are."

"I—"

Shee held out a silencing palm. "Do you have a brand?"

"A what?"