by Alyssa Day
Considering the fact that the agent had been undercover with the Dark Angels for more than half a year, Flynn didn't doubt it.
“The sooner we get there, the sooner we get them out before they're harmed. Narco promised he'd let some of his minions have some fun," Jake said, looking sick.
Flynn glanced at the thugs on the ground. "First, I propose we get rid of these two. And then Zach, you can say you asked Jake to come along for backup just in case, and it was a good thing because I shot Rock and Monkey, and they're dead. You get all the credit for bringing us in. I have a feeling that, at this point, Snake will be happy to sacrifice me, too."
“My team will pick up these two,” Zach said. “They’re on the way. And yes, I agree that’s the best plan, now.”
"But it’s a different plan," Eva said staring at him. "You'll have to be in restraints. How can you fight? How can you help those girls?"
Jake smiled at her and pulled a pair of handcuffs out of one of the many pockets on the inside of his ratty-looking trench coat. "Special cuffs," he said, grinning. "Watch."
He snapped one of the cuffs on Flynn's left wrist and then gave the chain a quick yank. The cuff, which was made of solid steel and looked extremely sturdy, snapped right open.
Zach's eyes narrowed. "Where did you get those? Those would even fool me, and I've been at this for a long time."
"I have my ways," Jake said.
"Let's talk about handcuffs later. Let's go get those girls right now," Eva said impatiently. “I’m not sure how much longer I can be brave.”
10
In the end, it was much easier to get inside the mine than Eva would have ever believed. Apparently a huge part of any Dark Angel celebration involved barrels and barrels of demon rum, a beverage that was guaranteed to cause unconsciousness, liver failure, and blindness in humans, and that was only in the lucky ones.
Guards were scattered around like dying roaches when they drove up at four a.m. The last man standing waved them in, not bothering to check for ID.
“Who’d be damn fool enough to crash a demon party?” the man asked jovially.
“Who indeed?” Griffin said when he dematerialized inside the dark mine and joined their group.
“We won’t get the girls without a fight,” Zach warned them. “Don’t be fooled by how easy it is to get in. Getting out is going to be the battle. And the actual demons aren’t affected like this by their own rum.”
They headed steadily down, and down, and down, until they reached a vast open area that contained a giant open pit, filled with fire, exactly in the center of an enormous inlaid copper circle. Inside the circle, twenty nightgown-clad girls huddled together, terror and shock stark in their faces. They were surrounded by row after row of minor demons, the firelight shocking on the deep red-and-black, liquid-vinyl texture of their skin. Fangs and tusks abounded; demons with giant drooling mouths stood next to demons with huge, bulbous eyes. Long, whip-like tails next to razor-sharp tusks. So many of them. So very many that Eva could feel the pressure of their heartbeats in her bones.
“It’s too late,” Zach groaned. “They’re already in the circle. None of us can breach it, our magic isn’t strong enough.”
“Watch out!” Jake pulled a pair of daggers and headed into the fray when a demon who wasn’t in the circle started running toward them, claws out.
“I see Narco,” Griffin shouted at them, already halfway across the mine toward the sorcerer. The two met in a crash of light and sound, hurling magic at each other too fast and furiously for anyone else to follow.
Flynn whirled to fight off a couple of the human Dark Angels who’s still managed to stay conscious, and while he was busy Eva walked forward, step by step by step, as if in a trance.
“I can walk right through it,” she told them dreamily. “I don’t have any magic at all. Not that kind of magic.”
Flynn grabbed at her arm, but he was too late. She was already at the circle. She simply stepped across and felt nothing more than a mild tingling sensation. Behind her, Flynn roared in frustration, and she saw him try to smash through the invisible magic barrier but it kept him out. He was slicing and hacking at it with a sword he’d gotten somewhere, but it all seemed somehow distant to her, because something was calling to her; calling so powerfully.
The girls surrounded her, weeping, and she touched as many of them as she could. “It’s all right, girls. I’ll get you out of here.”
At her words, the demons all turned toward her, moving as one, in a shockingly coordinated motion. Scott—Snake—sauntered out from behind them.
“I always knew you’d come back to me, babe,” he said, and his eyes glowed red in the firelight. No. That was wrong. His eyes actually were red. He’d gone fully over to the demonic realm, then.
She sorrowfully shook her head. “You made the wrong choice, Scott. So many wrong choices. I’m so sorry for you.”
He threw his head back and laughed, a long, hyena-like sound. “You’re sorry for me, you stupid slut? Be sorry for yourself. I’m going to gut you for the power you’ll bring.”
He was so wrong, and he didn’t even know it. She raised one hand, prepared to do the one thing she’d never wanted to do, but Snake must have suspected something, because he hurled his dagger, end over end, across the stone floor at her. She watched, paralyzed by the sight of her death advancing on her, but then an object hurtled in front of her.
No, not an object. A man.
“Flynn,” she screamed. “No!”
But it was too late. He’d somehow burst through the magic circle and thrown his body in front of the dagger to protect her. It struck true and sank deep in his chest, and blood bubbled up from his mouth as she fell to her knees next to him.
“I protected you?” His eyes held an edge of desperation. “I saved you?”
“You saved me, my love,” she told him, wrapping her arms around his head so it didn’t touch the stone beneath him.
And then, as he gasped out what she thought must be his final breath, Eva looked around her at the hundreds of demons, reached deep, deep inside herself, and pushed. Every single one of them snapped to attention, frozen in place but eyes locked on her. Waiting for an order to obey.
“Kill Snake,” she told them. “Destroy him.”
The demons shuddered with unholy glee and swarmed Snake, who screamed and screamed and screamed as he died. Eva, holding Flynn’s dying body in her arms, found that the sound didn’t bother her at all.
That realization, though, bothered her more than a little.
“You can control demons?” Griffin stood over her, and she thought she saw fear in his eyes, quickly masked.
She turned her head slowly to look at the demons, who were now dancing along the rim of the pit of fire. “It turns out it was no harder than offering a bit of hot dog.”
“What?”
“Never mind,” she told him, still cradling Flynn’s body in her arms. She pushed again and, as one, the demons all turned toward her again.
“Begone,” she ordered, and they bowed to her and then jumped, tens of them at a time, into the fire pit.
Jake ran up to her. “Flynn! Eva! Are you okay? You--" He stopped speaking when he saw Flynn.
Eva looked at him, feeling the world go hazy around her. “We saved the girls?”
Jake knelt down beside her. “We saved the girls. And I happen to have a little bit of healing magic from my mother’s side of the family.”
She didn’t understand his words, though, because by then the power that had swept through her from the demons had drained out of her body. She didn’t need it anymore, anyway. Flynn was gone.
January was as good a time as any to die.
11
Atlantis, two weeks later
Flynn walked into the room and yanked the sheets off his beautiful, dangerous, fascinating woman. “Wake up. I have another present for you.”
Eva peeked out from beneath the clouds of hair covering her face. “Another presen
t? Oh, is Gramps here yet?”
“He arrives today. No, this is a much smaller present. Close your eyes.”
“Well.” She gave him a very naughty smile. “I wouldn’t say it’s small, Flynn.”
He shouted out a laugh. “Damn straight. But that present is for later today, you insatiable woman.”
She sat up, kissed him—a long, luxurious kiss that he found very hard to resist—and then pulled the sheet up and tucked it over her glorious breasts. “What is it this time? Atlantean blushberry pie?”
“Better.” He walked back out to the kitchen of the wonderful little cottage that was all theirs and picked up the surprise, who promptly slurped him in the face. “Close your eyes.”
She promptly closed her eyes and held out her hands. “Gimme!”
He laughed, wondering yet again how he could have fallen so completely in love with such a wonderful woman who just happened to have an affinity for demons.
“Greedy girl. Okay, here you go.” With that, he very gently deposited her present in her lap, where it promptly began wiggling and making funny little squeaking noises.
“Daisy! Oh, Daisy!” Eva burst into tears and gathered up the little pug and showered her with kisses. “Oh, Flynn, how did you know?”
He grinned at her. “Did I mention Mrs. M is coming for a visit, too? In fact she’s already here.”
“I love you, you know, you crazy Atlantean,” she said, beaming with radiant and complete joy.
“I don’t deserve you,” he said, knowing it was true. Vowing to change so that someday, maybe, he would.
"Love isn't about what you deserve. Love is a gift, and I'm giving mine to you. And I've got a strict no-return policy."
Flynn sat down next to them and tentatively petted the newest, three-legged member of their family. “Did I ever tell you that pugs were originally from Atlantis?”
“Shut up and kiss me,” Eva told him.
And so he did.
On the balcony outside the royal apartments, Queen Riley smiled at her husband. “I heard an interesting story today, my darling. About Flynn and his demon whisperer.”
Conlan froze. “You’ve got that look in your eyes, Riley. You promised, no more matchmaking.”
“And I had nothing to do with this one. But there are eleven more warriors in Denal’s Dozen, or so I hear. . .”
“Riley,” he said, warningly.
She smiled at him. “It’s going to be an interesting year.”
A NOTE FROM ALYSSA DAY:
I loved writing these books! A band of misfits who find strength in themselves and each other, and all find true love along the way? Magic! And Flynn and Eva finding their strength and salvation in each other? Totally my favorite kind of book.
I’m thrilled to announce that Poseidon’s Warriors will continue A Year of Atlantis in all of 2018—a book per month—and you’ll find out how Atlantis’s independent, brave, strong warriors will cope with their matchmaking queen, who is determined to find them all true love. The next book is February in Atlantis and it’s available for preorder now at select retailers and will be available to all on release day: February 26, 2018. Jake!! You’ll love what happens to him when he meets the one woman who finally challenges his carefully cultivated laid-back exterior.
If you want the scoop on all new releases, behind-the-scenes details, and the chance to win prizes, Text ALYSSADAY to 66866 to sign up for my newsletter. I promise never to sell, fold, spindle, or mutilate your information so you will get no spam—ever—from me.
You can also follow me on BookBub if you only want new release news.
Thanks again for reading—you rock! Keep going for an excerpt from Christmas in Atlantis.
Hugs,
Alyssa
Thank you!
Thanks so much for reading January in Atlantis. I hope you had as much fun reading it as I did writing it.
Want the scoop about new books? Text ALYSSADAY to 66866! Find out when my next book is available, get special bonus-only-for-subscribers, behind-the-scenes info, and win cool stuff! (No spam, because I would NEVER sell my mailing list!) And/or follow me on twitter at @alyssa_day, Instagram at @authoralyssaday, or like my Facebook page at http://facebook.com/authoralyssaday.
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Excerpt: Christmas in Atlantis by Alyssa Day
After eleven thousand years beneath the seas, the lost continent is lost no more. The fabled group known as Poseidon’s Warriors will continue their sworn task of protecting humanity, but some things will change . . .
This year, Atlantis will celebrate its first-ever Christmas, and one of Poseidon’s chosen will never, ever be the same.
Christmas in Atlantis
ONE DOLLAR AND EIGHTY-SEVEN CENTS. That was all. And sixty cents of it was in pennies. Pennies saved one and two at a time by bulldozing the grocer and the vegetable man and the butcher until one's cheeks burned with the silent imputation of parsimony that such close dealing implied. Three times Della counted it. One dollar and eighty-seven cents. And the next day would be Christmas.
There was clearly nothing to do but flop down on the shabby little couch and howl. So Della did it. Which instigates the moral reflection that life is made up of sobs, sniffles, and smiles, with sniffles predominating.
-- The Gift of the Magi, O. Henry (1917)
It was a bad damn day to be a pirate.
The storm had sprung full force from Poseidon’s wrath or from the gates of the nine hells themselves. Seranth had only had time to give Dare a glimmer of a warning—an insistent pulse in the back of his mind before she even materialized on the deck.
Warning! Danger!
Seranth. The sea spirit who’d chosen him less than a year after he’d first captained a ship. Her thoughts and feelings were tied to him as closely as his own breath, and he’d risked her very existence in this stupid move. For money. Nothing more than stupid greed and avarice that might cost him the magical bond that had made him the best captain on the high seas.
And worse—sudden pain stabbed through his chest when he realized another, awful truth—he might never see Lyric again.
He shouted orders to his crew, even knowing that they couldn’t hear him over the raging fury of the storm. He was drenched, water pouring from his head into his eyes, hindering his vision, but he kept at it. His crew was highly trained, and they all loved the Luna as much as he did. They were all working their asses off to save her.
He could feel Seranth reaching out to the heart of the storm; trying to calm the waves. She was a water elemental and could commune with the ocean at the best of times, but...
These were far from the best of times.
He’d listened to her immediately—taken action immediately—but immediately had been far too late.
Now rain lashed his crew, pummeled the deck, and threatened to drown them all with silvery sheets of pounding water. The waves threatened to swamp them. The ship was buffeted by the crests and valleys of mountainous waves. He kept shouting his futile orders to the crew, knowing they couldn’t hear them, but driven to save the ship that was his entire life. He had to save them—must save them all.
His crew. The exotic supernatural creatures in his cargo. Seranth.
Saving himself fell into a distant fifth, or sixth, or hundredth place. Did he even deserve salvation? Probably not.
Hells, no.
He shouted out a bark of laughter that went unheard and lashed himself to the wheel. “Come and get me then, you bitch,” he shouted at the ocean. “I’ve always known you’d claim me in the end.”
The bow of his ship smashed into the crest of a monster wall of water, and he could feel the battering of her timbers and beams in
his blood and bones. The Luna’s first mate was waving his arms to get Dare's attention. The man pointed to the boxes and bales of cargo lashed to the deck and to the temporary pen they’d built for their most precious cargo, who’d refused to go below where at least they would have been marginally safer.
Siberian unicorns are claustrophobic, the seller had said.
The creatures themselves had proven that ‘claustrophobic’ was a severe understatement. They’d made it very clear in no uncertain terms that they would not be put down in the hold of the ship. One of his crew had a broken leg and black eye to prove it; another had been knocked unconscious by flailing silver hooves.
Smitty was right. They needed to protect the animals. They were possibly the most valuable cargo Dare had ever carried on his ship. Beyond that, he had no wish to see such rare and beautiful creatures harmed. He was a pirate, not a monster.
He gave Smitty the thumbs-up, and his crew jumped into action, untying the cargo and hurling boxes into the sea. They’d been overloaded and were riding too low in the water as it was. They needed more maneuverability to get out of this. Profit be damned.
The wheel fought him like a wild thing; tried to yank itself out of his hands and turn the ship in pursuit of what he didn't know. Maybe the ship had decided to steer itself straight to the nine hells. Or send him and all his crew to visit Davy Jones. Or at least to visit the ghosts of past Atlantean sea captains.
Another monster wave was coming right for them. There was no way to maneuver around or through it. It was going to smash them into splinters. He threw his entire weight into steering the ship, turning it just a little to approach the wave at an angle.