For The Love Of…Bryn’s Flight by Artemis Crow

Having just released Cancer’s Moon, the 7th book in my Zodiac Assassins series, it’s time to return to the first draft of the next book, a short novel titled, Bryn’s Flight. Bryn is a Valkyrie, who has come to Colorado to convince a former Valkyrie horsemaster, named Rota, to help save the horde before they die out.

I love horses so this book is such a pleasure to write, and Bryn is filled with bravado and snark, making it doubly fun. So here’s an excerpt! I hope you love it!

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It took the men far too long to stop their tear-inducing guffawing. Bryn sat in sullen silence until they finally wound down.

Mr. C pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and dabbed at his face to dry it before lobbing a box of tissues like a football at the two men guarding the door.

Ira decided to forego a tissue, using his sleeve to swipe at his tears and the snotty nose that she couldn’t see, but could hear because he sniffled every five seconds.

“You want to get in the ring with Rota?” Mr. C asked, a fresh round of laughter bursting out of him. “She will eat you alive and spit out your bones.”

Bryn’s spine snapped straight at the insult that the human couldn’t possibly realize he’d made. “I took care of your sons well enough.”

Mr. C’s laughter stopped abruptly. “You’d be smart to keep your mouth shut and your hands to yourself where they’re concerned. Do I have to warn you a second time?” 

Yep, that got his attention.

“No, I got it,” she said, in a sing-song voice.

His eyes narrowed again.

“I came to fight Rota. If she’s so good that she can wipe the floor with me, why not put me in the ring with her to teach me a lesson?”

“She’s got a point,” Ira said.

Ever the helper, that one.

“Teddy is slated to fight her tonight,” Mr. C said.

Bryn bit the inside of her abused cheek to stop the snark poised on her tongue. Another name ending in –y. Seriously. Any moment now, her mouth is going to start bleeding from all the biting. 

She managed to remain silent, though, waiting for the men to work it out.

“Teddy will do whatever you tell him,” Ira pointed out helpfully.

“That he will, that he will.” The boss man studied her for a moment, before picking up his phone. “Sully.”

Bryn closed her eyes and held her breath. Do not laugh, do not laugh.

“Yeah, Sully, tell Teddy he’s off the slate tonight. No fight for him. Maybe next week. Yeah, I know he’ll be mad, but tell him I said so. If he doesn’t like it, he can go fight with some other outfit.” He listened for a bit. “I have another fighter for Rota.” He looked at Bryn and sneered. “It’s going to be a bloodbath, so tell her she should wear her old costume so she can just throw the bloody rags away.”

He hung up the phone and linked his fingers together. “Take her to the locker room, the far one.”

“That one’s still being repaired,” Ira said. “No one’s supposed to go in there.”

“You will with her. Make sure she doesn’t run.” Mr. C waved a hand in the direction of the door. “Go, I want her ready in time.”

Ira squeezed Bryn’s head and lifted her out of the chair.

Not fun, but at least her spine straightened to its normal length after some pop-pop-pops.

The huge man turned her toward the doors before releasing her head and taking her arm. “Come on now. You’re getting what you want,” he said, leading her into the hallway, the double doors closing. “You’re not going to like it.”

Bryn trotted to keep up with the man. There was no staying next this guy without some hustle up.

They entered the main space together. The crowd roared their feral pleasure, their fists jabbing and uppercutting the air as if they were the combatants slugging it out. Ira turned right and they walked next to the outer wall down the length of the warehouse. 

He pushed open a large swinging door that he had to turn sideways to enter, Bryn pressed hard against his body, her face shoved deep in his gut.

They popped through and she took a much-needed breath.

“Whoa,” she called out when he jerked her forward, almost pulling her off her feet in his rush.

They passed a long locker room that was filled with half-naked, and completely naked men—stellar specimens they were not—that Ira tried to shield from her view. 

Despite his best effort, she got more of an eyeful than she wanted to remember.

“Sure is cold here in Colorado,” she remarked, trying to blink it all away.

“Not this time of year,” Ira said, completely missing the point.

She rolled her eyes and looked ahead. There was a door to their right with a women’s restroom sign on it that someone had Picassoed with ginormous, lopsided boobs in Sharpie. “The Louvre is calling,” she whispered under her breath as they passed it by for the doorway at the end blocked by a plastic tarp.

Ira pulled the tarp aside and led her in. He walked her to the sole bank of lockers and opened the one that had “Rota” written on it, again in Sharpie. Inside, lay a folded pile of clothes.

“There’s shorts and a sports bra in there. And a chest protector. Boss doesn’t want any titties to get hurt, you know, for when you have babies.”

Bryn snorted at the thought. Babies. As if.

She pulled out the clothes, skimpy as they were, and put them on a wobbly bench. “Ira, you’re going to have to release my arm so I can get dressed.”

He pursed his lips but let her go.

The man seemed a lot nicer than his boss. Wonder how he ended up here?

She raised a forefinger and gave it a whirl. “Turn around, big guy.”

“Mr. C said I had to keep my eyes on you at all times,” he said, his discomfort obvious.

“Okay. Guess I’ll do the turning.”

She turned away from him and pulled her shirt out of her pants, unbuttoning it quickly. She dropped the shirt on the bench then removed her bra.

Ira sucked in a breath. “Oh, that must have hurt.”

She knew the visage her back presented; the rest of her was just as scarred from training and fighting and the horses she’d tried to fly and couldn’t. Years of injury and damage had riddled her with the evidence of her failures, but she didn’t care about the scars appearance, she cared that they existed at all. 

But tonight was going to change everything.

Bryn dropped her pants, standing naked in front of the man guarding her.

Again, Ira proved he had a much softer heart than his size and gruff manner suggested. He hissed at the sight, but this time he didn’t comment.

There was nothing to be said, by either of them.

She slipped on the shorts and chest protector, followed by the sports bra. “Like to keep your women fighters scantily clad, don’t you?” she said, facing him.

His face was beet red. He hadn’t looked away, not for a second and he was abashed by the experience. 

Sweet.

“The men only wear a cup and shorts.”

Bryn stepped into the huge guy, stood on her toes, and pounded his shoulder; her manner gruff even as she tried to reassure him. Strange that she could feel sorry for the man. “It’s okay, Ira.”

She pulled her silver and black-striped hair back and took a hairband from an open bag in the locker. Securing the thick mass, she rolled her neck. “I’m ready. Is it time?”

A bell rang and the crowd roared. The bout was over.

He nodded. “Come.”

He lead her quickly past the men’s locker room—this time she studiously studied the floor—and out into the open space of the warehouse. 

Men stepped aside to give Ira room to pass, their eyes falling on Bryn and staying there, their speculation almost as sure as a touch. She wouldn’t have been surprised to have one or more of the men reach out and squeeze her arms and thighs, checking the thick muscle she’d curated over the years. Hell, with this crowd she wouldn’t be surprised if they checked her teeth, like horse traders.

Bryn didn’t care though; she only had eyes for the rapidly approaching cage.

Just before they reached it, Mr. C and his henchmen stopped Ira. “Hold here a second while I announce the fight,” Mr. C said.

Ira nodded once and held Bryn back, surrounded by a crowd so thick that she couldn’t see inside the ring.

Her heart flopped in her chest when the microphone squawked. She closed her eyes and breathed slow and deep as she listened to the blowhard announce that there had been a change in fighters for the premiere bout of the night. 

The crowd muttered and shifted restlessly.

Mr. C went through what seemed like an old spiel about his business and cage fighting, until Bryn’s calm started to fray.

Finally, he announced Rota. No fanfare, no windup about Rota. He just said the name and the men went wild. Even Ira’s grip on her arm tightened.

The chainlink gate squeaked as it opened.

The chant “Rota, Rota, Rota,” started to Bryn’s left and wound its way through the crowd until the din was deafening.

Just when she thought they would never shut up, Mr. C announced that a new fighter had come to challenge Rota.

“That’s our cue,” Ira said, pulling her forward.

They reached the entrance and the crowd murmured when they saw her, talking among themselves as they assessed her.

Ira pulled her inside the ring and released her arm.

But Bryn barely felt her freedom; her eyes were on Rota’s back as the woman gripped the cage fence and leaned, her head down.

Years.

It had taken Bryn years to get to this moment, the opportunity that she could not fail. Not if she stood a chance of saving her people. 

“Hey, what’s your name?” Mr. C asked, leaning close with his hand over the open mic. “If for nothing else but your tombstone.”

Bryn kept her eyes on Rota’s back, anticipation about to choke her. 

“Just call me…The Valkyrie.”

May your words flow freely,

Artemis

The Zodiac Assassins series
Available on Amazon Kindle and Print, Nook and Kobo

Lyon’s Roar – https://amzn.to/2IBLeona’s Descent – https://amzn.to/2yaDfjWLibra’s Limbo – https://amzn.to/2q3VkNgLeona’s Cage – https://amzn.to/2QTbVyp

Gemini Asunder – https://amzn.to/2PyNUig