The City had succumbed to absolute chaos over the last few months; which at first, to the Nephilim was absolutely, without a doubt, entertaining. There were many times that she found the city to be somewhat sleepy if she took away the drama which surrounded The Bradford siblings with their Father as well as the trouble that she often found Siobhan in. Those moments of down time were usually welcomed, but as of late, things in her own life seemed somewhat normal, thus, the chaos which erupted in the city was just what the doctor ordered. It gave the ex-assassin reason to get herself into fights, and get away with it if her Detective Sister questioned her once again why her knuckles were battered and bruised. Not only did this give her a form of entertainment, it also served her as a distraction; many would not believe that she had allowed herself to open up to a guy, yet she had - only for him to disappear from the face of the earth, like a few before him. So, it was so surprise, at least to her, that she needed to keep herself occupied so she could stop her thoughts from venturing to her terrible love life. However, there were only so many fights she could get into, without that getting boring; after all, she had spent most of her life in battle, or maybe, she was simply growing up.

Once Rissa had completed her good deed of the day - cleaning up the messes of the latest violent breakout, she couldn't think of any better reward than the local bar to drink herself into a state of oblivion which would consequently help her sleep at night. The Nephilim placed herself at the corner of the bar, and insisted that the barman kept an open tab for her considering it was still very early in the evening and she had nothing planned for the following day. With the beer in hand, she eagerly took a very needed swig which triggered a pleasurable sigh to bypass her lips. The barman began to make small talk with her, which under any normal circumstance, she would have hated yet for some peculiar reason, the chat was welcomed even if she had no interest in the conversation or the latest gossip of who went home with who from the bar last night. With that in mind, she playfully placed a series of bets with the man behind the bar on who would be next to leave with another; and it was safe to say that her name never made the list of potentials which pleased her despite many trying their luck over the last few years of her frequenting the bar.

The hours passed fairly quickly, in fact, they passed just as quickly as the beers in her hand did; in fact, she even surprised herself just how quickly she knocked back the alcohol - clearly something was bothering her and, as normal, she was not ready to face the problem head on. Avoidance was key. Clarissa began to slump on the stool, her spine arching as she rested her arms on the bar, and then her cheek on her forearms; the bar man insisted she should head home which consequently lead to her snapping a quick 'no' his direction - she was not ready to face her thoughts alone, not yet. Her lavender coloured eyes closed contently as she listened to the buzz around her; from the music, to people simply enjoying themselves but none of those were enough to completely catch her attention until one particular voice spoke above the music to order their next round. The Nephilim forwarded her brow before lifting her head - her gaze trying to adjust into focus at the male who stood a few stools down from her.

Wyatt Brookes? No way, it couldn't be - it definitely had to be her beer goggles playing tricks on her mind. Confused and rather baffled were the only words which could be used to describe her expression as she looked over at the male; yet the moment she found him catching her stare, she quickly and rather unsteadily composed herself to focus on the beer bottle in her hand. "You know it's rude to stare?" She slurred ever so slightly but loud enough for the male to hear her; it was him, it was definitely him and to not give him the satisfaction that she could remember him, she would play aloof and dumb to his being.

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A laugh escaped as she spoke of keeping him in her wardrobe, his green eyes slightly glassy from the alcohol that swirled in his system. "Damn, I can't even stay in full view all the time? I'm a little hurt. I thought for sure I could get better real estate than the closet." Wyatt stretched an arm out on the back of the couch, facing her more as she sat down. "I guess I'll have to pass a few more tests, but know I'm rather hard headed. I don't give up easily and I'm willing to put in the work." Wyatt smiled somewhat coyly at her before taking a sip of his whiskey and watching her place the glass she held down on the table. Perhaps it was best he slowed down too before he said something he wouldn't be able to backtrack on. 

"The Brookes mausoleum.." he said softly with a slight scoff. "You know I thought I knew everything about my parents. We were the perfect family and I had the perfect upbringing. Supportive parents. A nice house. Good schools." Wyatt trailed off and looked into his drink, but was far away into his memories as his fingers tapped rhythmically against the cup. He hadn't ever really gotten too personal with Clarissa, despite the closeness he felt they shared in their trips together. "When they died it was like I didn't really know much about them at all. Secrets upon secrets to which I still don't have the answers to. I didn't even know Kaelyn existed and she didn't know anything about her parents either. We still don't really have answers on why my father and uncle had the falling out they did." His gaze found hers again and he lifted his shoulders softly in a shrug as he recalled her learning about her twin. "Guess we never really know everything about our families."

He finished the rest of the whiskey and put the glass down next to hers on the table before settling back against the couch. Wyatt looked at her for a silent moment and shook his head, glancing her up and down. "Honestly, it's really good to see you again. I catch myself wondering how you're doing every so often. I also can't thank you enough for helping me avoid the blind date I didn't know I was being set up on. I was not looking forward to that awkward end of the night."

Resting forward on his knees, he looked over and kept his gaze on her with a grin. "Now, I'm going to try something and I'm not sure if this will really set me back on my goal of being one of the only if not first to pass the test, but I've been wanting to try something for a really long time and have never done it for all the various reasons I've convinced myself of. I'm trying a good offense here." Wyatt moved towards her and placed his hand on her cheek while slowly leaning in. His lips met hers and he softly kissed Clarissa for a moment to test the waters. It was nice to have the liquid courage to help him along. He pulled away slightly for a moment and opened his eyes, raising a brow with a smirk. "I'm still alive. I'm taking this as a good sign."

“But you just said, among the others!” Clarissa laughed with a shake of her head, amused but also a little frustrated that he had managed to get a genuine laugh out of her; however, it did feel nice to not always be the cold hearted woman everyone thought she was - there was more to her than what meets the eye, but more often than not, she was too scared to show it. Who’d have thought it? Clarissa Bradford, scared?. “I can always get you out on special occasions, perhaps for Christmas? You can be my tree, and I’ll decorate you and make you pretty” She threw him a wink, before slowly nodding as he stated that he was stubborn and willing to put in the hard work; she was strangely enjoying their back and forth a lot more than she previously had done so. Definitely the alcohol, definitely, she thought. “Good, because I will be putting you through your paces, don’t you worry about that” Her eyebrows quirked upwards suggestively, before even she choked on what she said; safe to say her flirting skills were not as what they used to be.

Normally, Rissa was not one to really want to hear about someone's background, because more often than not; they had a much better upbringing than she did. Wyatt was no different, but perhaps it was the solemn tone which laced his words which made her want to listen on; despite the slight tinge of jealousy she felt within her gut about how good his parents were, and how he got into all the good schools. Seeing him look far into the distance within his drink, her hand naturally went out to rest upon his shoulder in a comforting manner; she was definitely getting better at this - even though she still felt the urge to run at anything emotional. “Is it not possible for your cousin now, Kaelyn to contact the spiritual realm?” Clarissa queried, she was still unsure of just how far Diviner magic could go. “You could try getting some answers that way” She suggested, but she nodded in agreement and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I understand though, I’m trying to find my Mother” She mused - he did not need to know that she planned to kill her, however. “I have nothing but a handwritten letter to go on” 

A somewhat shy smile found her lips at his comment; it was bizarre but nice to hear that someone occasionally thought about how she was doing - not many did. “I got to say, I’m glad I didn’t run this evening when I first saw you” Rissa chuckled quietly before grinning widely at the date he was actually on. “Ah blondie. You being grilled by your friends tomorrow will be good enough entertainment” She commented before quirking a brow at his next statement, her gaze dropping between his eyes and his lips as he moved closer to press a soft kiss upon her lips which she surprisingly welcomed. The kiss was soft and it warmed her; perhaps it was because she hadn’t experienced such intimacy in a long time, but she found herself wanting more and only exhaled at his comment. “Shut up” Rissa playfully responded, her words laced with a slight growl, and she found herself leaning in to kiss him again with slightly more passion than previously, her fingers knotted in his hair to pull him closer; her body shivered as it pressed up against his. 

At first, Clarissa was too preoccupied to notice the bile which began to gather and boil within her stomach; after all, her body was responding to other, more important things until the bile demanded to be noticed. The Nephilim froze for a moment and glanced up at him with wide eyes. “Don’t move” She spoke fairly quickly as she pushed herself away from him and dashed towards the bathroom to find safety with her head down the toilet. 

Wyatt smiled as she breathed out her teasing response. Watching her body move forwards, he leaned further into her, pushing back against the sofa. The lingering sweetness of the whiskey was on her mouth as he brushed the tip of his tongue lightly across her lips, feeling her press against him. He didn't need any more convincing to deepen the kiss as his hand slid behind to her neck and his fingers buried into her dark hair. His other hand trailed down along the side of her body slowly until he reached underneath her knee which he lifted slightly to bring her down on her back, bracing himself lightly above her. 

Just when he had begun to get lost in the ardent situation, Clarissa was abruptly pulling away from his lips which caused him to look at her. The expression on her face was clearly worrisome and he lifted himself slightly in response. Before Wyatt even had the chance to question what was wrong and if he had gone too far, she was moving to get from underneath him with a command to stay put. His brow raised slightly as he saw her hurrying down the hall and watched as a door closed. "Okay?"

The sounds of a toilet flushing was the cue that made him hang his head with a slight smirk. 'Right.' The question now was whether or not he would listen to her wish of staying put or if he would do what he would normally want to do in this situation. Wyatt pushed himself off the couch and straightened his shirt out as he walked slowly over to the room she'd fled into. He lightly knocked on the door and waited a moment before turning the knob and slowly pushing it open.  

Clarissa was on her knees and leaning into the toilet as he stepped inside the bathroom. In all the time they'd ever spent together, it was a little strange to see her so vulnerable now when he was used to her strong and demanding presence. Wyatt knelt beside her and softly pushed the stray raven locks that had fallen over her face behind her ear. "I decided it was worth the risk to see if you were okay." Smiling, he stood up again and reached for the hand towel nearby, turning on the faucet and soaking the cloth with cool water.  After ringing out the excess, he lightly placed the cloth against her forehead. "As many drinks as we've shared together in the past, I'm starting to think it wasn't the alcohol which made you sick tonight." He chuckled, placing his other hand on her back in comfort as he tried to lighten the situation. "If I'm really that bad of a kisser, I'm going to have to dive deep into my grimoires to find an immediate fix. Perhaps I'm a little out of practice. It has been some time since my last one." Wyatt placed his hand on her face, lightly brushing his thumb over her cheek with a smirk. "Can I help?" 

How embarrassing. She groaned internally as her head remained lowered into the toilet after she had pretty much vomited up most traces of the alcohol that was in her system; along with what she believed to parts of her very late lunch which she had simply to line her stomach and to prevent this very thing from happening. He’s going to think this because I kissed him. The thoughts kept coming and coming as she tried to straighten herself up again, her body shuddering at the aftertaste which burned at the back of her throat; yet she managed to eventually raise an arm upward to pull down the lever to flush the toilet. It had been a few weeks she had gotten herself in this state, but with the current Bradford dramatics, it seemed to be one of the only ways to cope. Instead of trying to push herself away from the toilet, Rissa curled an arm around the seat and simply rested her cheek against her forearm, her eyes closed for a brief moment whilst taking deep breaths to try and compose herself for the embarrassment which would soon come when she reentered the living room. 

The faint sound of the bathroom door knocking caused her brows to furrow and she lifted her head to find him knelt beside her; her eyes closing at his soft movement of brushing a stray strand of hair away from her heated cheek. “You’re brave, or stupid… I can’t tell which one” She offered a crooked smile his way as he turned to wet a cloth to wipe away the cold sweat which appeared at the very unfortunate act. “I mean, this would put off a lot of men, yet here you are being a gentleman” Rissa mused softly, she shifted just a little bit to sit more comfortably as he placed the damp cloth against her forehead; at her first expression was slightly confused, never had a person ever treated her in such a way - and for a moment, she was too stunned to fight it. It was incredibly foreign for her to have someone treat her in such a way, she was silenced for a moment before clearing her throat. "Thank you" She smiled up at him until his string of words only supported her thoughts; which caused her to laugh some. She glanced up at him and held his gaze with a slight shake of her head. “Well, seeing that you are out of practice in that department, I shall take the role of teacher” 

Clarissa ignored his question for a moment as she stood up, once her balance had composed itself, she wandered over to the cabinet  where she found some mouthwash; she took the liquid and rinsed it around her mouth, and spat it back into the sink once she was satisfied all grossness had been removed before facing him. “Hm, there is one thing that you can do” She whispered softly, a faint smirk twitched at the corner of her lips as she closed the space between them; the palms of her hands smoothed around his waist as her lips came into contact with his neck. Rissa pressed a series of kisses upon the delicate flesh and kissed upward to his ear to whisper “Me” against it; she nipped at his earlobe before moving her face so their lips were mere inches apart. She was curious to see if he still would after what just happened; upon not seeing him pull away she was somewhat surprised and in response, she found herself reuniting their lips with the same intensity as before. 

Wyatt closed his eyes as she kissed along his neck, the sensation making him smirk with his mouth parting slightly in response. The whisper in his ear was more than enough to have him immediately lean down into her lips and moving her backwards until they were out into the hallway. He pressed Clarissa against the wall, letting his fingertips slide beneath her shirt and graze along her skin while he kissed her feverishly. He pulled the fabric above her head and leaned down to lift her up, letting her legs wrap around his hips and their bodies press together. Lips finding hers again for a quick moment, he breathed out against them as he reluctantly pulled away. "Now which one of these doors leads to the bedroom?" 

_____________

Wyatt's eyes fluttered open as he looked up at an unfamiliar ceiling. His brow furrowed as he lifted his head up slightly and looked around until he saw the sleeping nephilim next to him. His eyes widened slightly as last night came crashing down on him again. He lowered his head back onto the pillow and couldn't help but smile at the fact that that hadn't been a crazy dream. Shaking his head, Wyatt noticed the sun coming through the window which tended to be an alarm for him being fae. He watched as the light danced across her bare skin, making him want to touch her body again. He opted against waking her up and instead moved as quietly as he could to place more of the bed sheet around her.

He braced himself on his elbow and watched her sleep for a moment wondering how she would feel about what happened when she woke up. Normally there would be some awkward tension where a walk of shame might be in the works, but Wyatt didn't exactly feel shameful about any of it. He certainly had no regrets. In fact, all the alcohol from the previous night was informing his stomach that he was in need of a good breakfast and with how empty hers must have been now, he wanted to offer her one as well. He glanced down at his watch and saw that his favorite cafe by his studio would be opening up in twenty minutes or so. Perhaps it wasn't too crazy to believe she might actually want to join him.

He lowered himself back down on the pillow, looking to the woman next to him with a soft smile, but a sudden noise made him turn his head. Wyatt was fairly certain Clarissa lived alone so when the distinct sound of light footsteps could be heard down the hallway, he lifted up further. Maybe the angel forgot she was meeting up with someone else this morning, but then it occurred to him that this person would have to have access with a key. The diviner couldn't really think of anyone she would have given the key to unless it was a sibling. That wouldn't be awkward at all to see them in this current state.

Wyatt turned slightly, touching her shoulder gently and whispering near her ear. "Clarissa. Are you expecting anyone over this morning?" Before she was even able to fully wake, the half opened door swung fully open and Wyatt turned to see who was bold enough to walk through. At first he wasn't really sure he was understanding what his brain was telling him because he actually knew the person standing there, it just didn't make any sense at all for her to be. "Abigail?" She was wearing the same clothes from last night and it didn't look like she'd gotten any sleep at all. Her hair was rather messy and her eyes wild. "What are you doing here?" 

She remained silent and stared at him for a moment until Clarissa was beginning to rouse from sleep. Her gaze went to the nephilim for a moment that to him was clearly murderous. Abigail then looked back to Wyatt and she suddenly had a far off look. This didn't seem like the same woman he was with last night at the bar and it was then they both knew what was going to happen next. He opened his mouth to cast, but she immediately went to a spell that was much more deadly. "Lihednat dolchitni." Wyatt clutched at his neck with a hand, his mind trying to comprehend what in the hell was happening right now. She didn't waste any time casting against Clarissa with a pain inflicting spell before the nephilim had a chance to use her own powers in return. Wyatt was losing consciousness fast. His eyes landed on the bedside lamp and he sent it flying across the room telekinetically towards Abigail in an effort to break her concentration for a moment as it was all it might take for Clarissa to maybe gain control. Fingers clutching the magically imbued amulet he wore around his neck, Wyatt slipped into darkness.

For the first time in what felt like forever, Clarissa had found herself in a peaceful slumber; she wasn't awoken in the middle of the night on numerous occasions due to night terrors, or the overwhelming sensation that someone she held dearly was close to a violent end at the hands of her Father. Perhaps the reason for her peaceful sleep was the amount of alcohol she had consumed, or the physical activity she had found herself in moments prior; yet, despite those very valid reasons, she knew it was because of something else - rather someone else. It was not common for her to share her bed if she chose to sleep with someone, normally she left theirs or she simply kicked them out, but with Wyatt, she wanted him to stay; and when she felt his body pressed against hers throughout the night, she bizarrely felt safe… And, content. They, however, were not foreign feelings when it came to her relationship with him. Throughout their Organisation days, she always felt like he had her back despite never truly knowing what she was doing or who she truly was. Thus, throughout the night she did find herself waking only briefly to see if he was still there; and there was a small part of her that groaned at how someone could have such an impact, even after all the years that had gone by. 

Rissa could feel the male beside her stirring, and a slight smile found her lips when she felt the delicate touch of the sheet moving further up her body; the simple motion caused her to exhale and allowed her muscles to sink further into the mattress - that was, until his voice brought her closer to consciousness. Rissa muttered her response, but whether the words were clear enough was questionable. “Izzy, he comes to steal food, it’s just him” She nuzzled her cheek back into the pillow, hoping that her answer would be enough to ease the Diviner beside her; even if Izzy did stumble in and found her in bed with Wyatt, it wouldn’t have been too much of a surprise - after all, he was well aware of their cat and mouse relationship all those years ago. Yet, despite it all, Rissa did bring herself to, albeit slowly only to suddenly feel the air shift in the room and just as her gaze fell upon Wyatt, her teeth clenched together, her body jolting with agony as her muscles tensed. 

The pain was creeping up her body, rendering her paralysed as she watched the male before her sink into darkness; she felt completely useless in that moment, unable to fight the beings who stormed into the room, and all it took was one fatal blow to her head for her to sink back into her unconscious state. Clarissa didn’t know how long she was out for, but when she weakly awoke and her blurred gaze cleared, she found herself on her knees, her arms bound above her head and her ankles bound to the floor. She groaned as she then found the needle in her veins which pumped blood out of her system. “The fuck” Rissa fought against the shackles to no avail, only to hear the sound of footsteps approaching along with a sinister laugh. 

“Magic preventing shackles really are a Godsend” The blonde woman stood before her and had the audacity to brush a strand of hair away from Rissa’s face. “Remember me? You stole my date. But that doesn’t matter, he was supposed to be my victim, but you just happened to paint yourself into the picture perfectly”

Rissa remained silent as she watched the woman; she had seen these scenes play out too many times to count and knew there was no point in crying out for help. When the shoe was on the other foot, she found that her victims silences were more powerful, it got into their captors head; besides, after all the years of working with The Organisation, she knew her time would come where she would meet her end. She had made peace with her death many moons ago. 

“See, I remember you - all those years ago. You slaughtered my village, murdered my family all because of money.” Abigail hissed and spat her words onto Clarissa’s cheek. “So it’s finally pay back, but of course… It won’t be quick, mainly because I need that Nephilim blood of yours.” With that, Abigail clapped her hands, and in followed masked men who stood either side of her. “Plus, this will probably hurt Wyatt more than what I originally planned for him.” 

Wyatt gasped awake. His chest burned intensely causing him to violently cough. Hands twisting into the bedding, the diviner tried to focus as his body was trying to catch up on the low amount of oxygen it had been getting. The pounding in his head made him squeeze his eyes shut and he took a few deep breaths to calm himself. When he was finally somewhat composed, his eyes darted around the room. He was alone or so it seemed for the moment.

He quickly got out of the bed and stumbled, falling into the wall with a thud. The apartment was dead silent. The amulet around his neck bounced against his bare chest which he grasped for a moment, thankful for the magic within that had helped his life force stay going when he'd fallen unconscious. "Clarissa?" His voice was weak and barely audible as he continued forward with a quick clearing of his throat. "Clarissa!" His footsteps pounded over the wood floor as he pushed open the doors of the other rooms in the unfamiliar space, but just as he feared, he was the only one there. Rushing back into the bedroom, he pulled out his cell phone from his jeans which had been thrown on the floor, and dialed the nephilim's number in some hope that she might actually answer. His heart pounded in his chest as the ringing began, but his stomach dropped when he heard a ring tone on the other side of the bed and saw her cell sitting on the bedside table. "Fuck."

Wyatt quickly pulled his shirt on, not bothering with buttoning it up, and continued dressing before he took one more frantic look around the apartment and disappeared in a puff of white smoke. He teleported to his own house and punched in his pin to unlock the door. Jogging over to the coffee table in the middle of the room, he pushed the books and papers with his research onto the floor. His eyes landed on one of his athames and he grabbed it off the kitchen table before yanking his closet door open which held the endless amounts of other ingredients and diviner tools he used in magic. Wyatt pulled a map out of Evermore and spread it out on the coffee table, placing two of the books that had been strewn on the floor onto the parchment to hold it down. The dagger went smoothly across his hand with a swift cut that brought the red blood pumping through his body quickly to the surface of his skin. Squeezing his palm, he let the droplets fall on the map and chanted the proper words of the spell that would help him locate Clarissa.

The magic should've been instant. It should've moved the blood directly to where Clarissa was, but there was nothing. Wyatt's breathing quickened and he slit his hand again, attempting the spell once more. Still, the blood stayed where it had fallen and only pooled out from where it lay. Wyatt tossed the dagger across the room and screamed in frustration. She was being cloaked from magic. Trying to track her was pointless and he hoped something worse hadn't happened. The diviner shook his head of the thought and stood up. He had to do this differently; The slow way, but time didn't feel like it was on his side. 

Taking a deep breath, he thought back to what he knew. Abigail. Obviously she was the key to this all, but what she wanted from him, he didn't know. The first time he'd ever met her was last night. Clearly she was a diviner and a fairly powerful one at that. The vacancy in her eyes was so odd. Almost as if she'd been under a spell herself. Perhaps it was the collection of things he'd gathered from across the world over so many years. Maybe there was something she was after or something he'd stolen from her or someone she knew. Wyatt couldn't be sure, but he knew where to go next. After changing out of the nicer clothes from last night and into something more comfortable, Wyatt ported from his house again to where he'd left his car the night before at the bar. He tossed the ticket on his windshield to the floor as he turned on the car and gunned it down the street to the one who had introduced him to Abigail in the first place.

With intermittent vision, Clarissa continued to attempt to gather her bearings; just in case she was ever able to release herself from the metal shackles. Yet as an expert in this field, she already had a good idea of what her prison looked like - windowless, damp, heavy metal door; a typical abandoned warehouse, she would assume. She continued to clench her eyes to control her vision but with the significant blood loss and concussion, there was not much hope; yet upon realising how they got her, she suddenly looked down at her body. A very brief sigh of relief escaped her; at least they covered me up. Rissa thought to herself, yet the clothes still didn't leave much to the imagination - plus, they looked as if they've seen death too many times. She assumed the tank top was once white but now a dreary yellow colour whilst the shorts were probably once a kit worn during athletics. With a shake of her head, she lifted her gaze once more to the woman and two masked men who stood before her; she very much doubted it was just them in the building. 

Clarissa knew she had to bide her time if she were to escape or hope to be found by Wyatt, or her family; which meant she did have to engage with the woman. “I didn’t always know why I had to kill a community” Her voice was hoarse, and weak but she knew she was conveying well enough by the slight look of shock on Abigail’s features. “But I guess it was because of this - they wanted to kill you to prevent some crazy shit” A light smile tugged at the corners of her chapped lips as the blonde approached her. Before Abigail could respond, Rissa continued. “Yet you will be sadly mistaken if you think killing me will make you feel better, or make you think you have won in some strange way.” She cleared her throat. “You see, I actually have people now who will take revenge so even if you win between us, you won’t beat them” It had never truly hit her that she had people that cared for her until now, and it made her smile grow until the force of Abigail’s palm slapped her cheek. 

“You’re just a pawn in my plan, Bradford. So is Wyatt. If I die, my work will continue” Abigail finally responded and stepped backward, she glanced at the men either side of her and nodded once. “Start with her wings.”

Upon hearing that comment, Rissa fought against her shackles, she even glanced up at her wrists and wondered if she could dislocate them enough for them to slither through the bindings. But her thoughts were soon dismissed the moment one of the men released a baton from his belt and began to beat at the exposed scars upon her shoulder blades; in hopes to release her wings. The pain was excruciating, her teeth clenched together in hopes to prevent the cries that wanted to escape; she did not want to give the woman the satisfaction but she couldn’t control the whimper like screams which escaped her until her wings ripped through her skin, through the fabric of her top to extend out fully - almost knocking the men over. Clarissa’s features furrowed, and she muttered under her breath; scolding herself for allowing her wings to release. 

“Well, haven’t you been a naughty girl” Abigail cooed as she glanced at the glorious wings which arose from Rissa; what should be white feathers were tainted with black, indicating she had not lived an angelic life. “For what I want, I would have preferred the purest wings, but these will do” She spoke as she approached Rissa, the woman’s slender fingers running over the softness that the feathers provided which automatically made the Nephilim flinch; not many people had witnessed her wings, let alone touched them - for Rissa, they were an intimate part of her body. 

“What do you want them for?” Clarissa commented, yet it really did not take a genius to figure out what was next in store for her; and she gathered, no matter how much she would prepare herself for the woman’s next move, she would never be ready. 

Wyatt slammed on the brakes of his car as he skid to a stop in front of the apartment building that he was on a mission to get to. He was so quick to open the door that the pickup coming from behind him had to swerve to avoid knocking into it and him. Jumping back as the horn blared, he let out a quick breath to calm his nerves before locking up the car and jogging up the stairs to the lobby. 

The diviner's finger slid down the long list of residents's names of the complex before he finally stopped on the one he was looking for. He pushed the call button and waited a few long and agonizing seconds before pushing it again and again. "Come on, Mike." On cue, an elderly woman began to slowly open the door and Wyatt took advantage by grabbing the handle to open it wide for her to shuffle through as he hurriedly passed her. The doorman stood up from behind the desk and knew he hadn't been let in, giving Wyatt a quizzical look. "Uh, sir. Sir, you have to be buzzed in."

"I'm going to Michael Dobbs's apartment," Wyatt said in a flurry as he jogged over to the elevator and pushed the next button that seemed to be in the way of him getting to where he needed. The man had walked around the desk and tried to catch up to him, but the elevator door was closing and Wyatt was already on his way up to the 22nd floor.

Wyatt banged on Mike's door a few times before looking at his watch. It was early; at least for Mike. He was probably hung over and in bed with his girlfriend, hellbent on sleeping until late afternoon before prepping to head out again that night. "Mike! Mike! It's Wyatt, open the door!" He could hear a phone ringing inside and then a few moments later the sound of the locks unlatching after someone came shuffling to receive him. Soon the door was being opened and Mike stood in the doorway on his cell with his hair disheveled, in boxers, and an open robe looking like he just woke up.

"Yeah... yeah, yeah. He's a friend. You don't have to call the cops." Wyatt pushed passed him and into the apartment as Mike ended the call. "You've upset my doorman."

"How do you know Abigail?" The confusing look on his friend's face made him repeat the question in annoyance. "How?"

"Uh, at the bar. Jess met her a couple of weeks ago and they seemed to hit it off real well. She goes to that place every weekend like we do. Figured you two should get to know each other." A smile began to form. "Damn, dude. You really like her, huh?"

Wyatt ignored him and looked to his friend's cell. "You have her number? Address? Last name?" 

Some few minutes later and Wyatt was back in his car on the phone, leaving his friends calling after him in confusion of his clear distress. He was calling in a favor to a friend that he hoped would be able to pull a few strings for him since he had once helped her in a time of need. The silence in the car while waiting for the return call was making Wyatt bounce his knee in anticipation after hanging up and waiting to hear back with the hope of good news. Giselle had indeed come through after the diviner had given her as much information about Abigail as he could and thankfully being the mayor of Evermore and having an in with the police department, she gave him the home address that Abigail had on file including a property that she had recently acquired outside of town. Wyatt feverishly wrote down all the information Mayor Stark had gathered on a napkin from the glove compartment and thanked her more than a few times for the favor she was doing. Seeing as Abigail didn't seem to be stupid, Wyatt banked on the property outside of town to be the place she'd taken Clarissa.

The drive to get there felt like hours even though it was probably no more than twenty minutes. His mind was racing with all the possibilities of what this entire ordeal could be about and none of them made him feel any easier. The woods had gotten thicker and he was fairly deep into initia territory which brought him closer to the mountains. Pulling off to the side of the road, he could see the decaying warehouse further back and through the trees which he had the feeling would be warded. "Not ominous at all." He stepped out of the car and onto the freshly fallen snow which lightly dusted the ground, quickly cloaking himself and moving closer to the building.

One of the very first lessons she was taught in The League of Assassins was to appreciate death as a form of art, and if that was any lesson to go by, then her very own death would be painted by a child; it would be messy, but many would appraise the artist for such creativity simply due to their apparent age.  It was a first for her, never in her many years of conducting death herself had she ever seen anyone rip off someone's wings; not even her Brother Isaiah who was probably the maddest of them all. Her eyes shut for a moment as she allowed her being to travel back to the days of her induction; to allow her mentor's words echo through her mind, guiding her to recall what awaited for her on the other side - peace. Yet there were things she needed to see, needed to take to her grave just incase Wyatt was able to pull any memories from her after her death, if he were to find her; to help end the woman who killed her as well as the group that Abigail worked for.

Thus, wearily, her eyes reopened and she looked to the other beings in the room yet her hearing was elsewhere; despite having very human senses, she was able to just hear further groans of pain, and screams for help. Clarissa grunted and gathered this was simply a warehouse, she doubted the true crime was happening in the same building; any organisation would be stupid to do both in the same place unless they we were arrogant enough to believe they would never be caught. Finally, she was brought back to the present as Abigail lowered herself to Rissa's eye level and smirked. "No more flying for you" She murmured. 

In response, Clarissa spat in the woman's face and grinned; to mask the actual fear which overwhelmed her inside. The fear snaked into every fibre of her being, perhaps it was simply karma getting its round in; showing her, making her feel every single thing that her victims did before she took the life right from their eyes.  The man behind her teased her flesh with the cool, smooth side of the blade against the skin which met the wing; the sensitive touch causing her to shudder, her eyes intent on Abigail. “This is going to get very messy” Those were the last words that Rissa heard before the removal of wings began. Her eyes bulged from their sockets at the first incision, her lips pulling back as they revealed her teeth; her wrists moved enough so she could roughly and tightly hold onto the metal chain to try and move the pain elsewhere. 

Nothing in the world could have prepared her for the excruciating pain which followed every stroke of the blade; the warmth which ran down her back, painted her flesh a bright red - she was bathing in her own blood. She screamed, she couldn’t control the bellowing wails which taunted her lungs and ribcage, testing her framework’s hold; just to see how long it would take to break those too. Clarissa was sure that by the screams alone, she would run out of oxygen before they had finished removing the first wing; which in any fool’s mind, that would be the best thing for her. “Please… I beg you” She choked out the words she had heard so many times, yet there was no response, her head fell backward as her spine arched; she could just hear the faint sounds of latin from across the room - Abigail was placing a spell upon her.

Clarissa felt a strong pair of fingers around her jaw. “No passing out. I want you to see this through until our final move” Abigail placed the kiss of death upon Rissa’s lips before stepping away. “Once you’re done with her wings, give her break before getting those purple eyes of hers” 

With blurred vision she watched the foggy figure of the woman wander out of the room; which caused her to grunt and spit out blood from her mouth before her inner banshee returned as they began to move down to the thickest part of her wing. Moments later, yet it felt like an eternity in hell, she felt lighter, much lighter on one side - a loud thud hit the ground as her wing fell, the men groaned from the physical labour. Clarissa felt the constant stream of tears falling down her face as she eventually looked down, she was up to her knees in blood and she wished, she wished her Father killed her when he had the chance; even Abraxas Bradford wouldn’t put his bastard daughter through this. 

Wyatt moved along the perimeter of the warehouse and could see through the trees a couple of men standing outside of the building. They were both armed with machine guns which wasn’t exactly comforting to him. To have that type of artillery meant they wanted to keep something inside protected and planned on doing that in whatever deadly fashion it required. This was just becoming more and more confusing. What did they want with him? Was it even him at all? 

He of course could take a couple guesses as to why Abigail would want to take Clarissa. He wasn’t naive. He knew their former employer was not on the honest and good side of the law. The Organisation was mums when it came to more details than was required for him to know and he had no problem not knowing. It was a time in his life that he wasn’t exactly proud of, but they had a business relationship that was mutually beneficial; A pilot that didn’t ask questions and an employer with a database of information on some of the rare artifacts around the world along with deep pockets.

The only way in was through the door they stood in front of. The wards around the building would no doubt reveal him the closer he got, therefore, he’d have to find a way to pull their attention to something else to get inside. It wasn’t the first time he’d have to cause a distraction to get in somewhere he wasn’t supposed to be, but never in his life did it have to be to potentially save someone’s life. However, something told him that Abigail was hoping he’d show up. 

To the men guarding the entrance, it would seem incredibly confusing when a large section of a fallen tree came flying towards you from out of nowhere, and it was what Wyatt was hoping. He’d telekinetically picked up the dead wood from the snow covered ground and hurled it across the space with as much speed and force as he could. The two unsuspecting victims dodged out of the way which was enough of a window as Wyatt ran towards them and cast the suffocation spell on one. It was easy to knock the man out just as he slipped into unconsciousness, but not before Wyatt took the gun from him just he collapsed to the ground. The second man was scrambling to his feet, but the diviner was already pointing his newly gained weapon. With a quick hit to the face using the butt of the gun, the second man fell and Wyatt was pushing the door into the warehouse open.

There wasn’t much movement when he stepped inside. The overwhelming smell of blood and what he assumed death seemed to fill the air. The quiet stillness of the place was broken every now and again when a gut wrenching cry or scream would ring out, making Wyatt wonder what this place of horror was all about. The sound of footsteps stopped Wyatt dead in his tracks and he quickly hid behind one of the adjacent walls as a person walked by with a smock that was covered in blood and he could only guess as to what else. This was a lot bigger and a lot worse than he had anticipated. A moment later, a bloodcurdling wail of pain from a nearby room made him jump and a sinking feeling of familiarity made his stomach drop. 

He cautiously moved to the slightly ajar door and peered inside, but was too in shock to really understand what he was looking at. Clarissa was chained to the ground and the floor was a sea of red from her blood. A wing was lying nearby and it was this that his brain was not truly putting together. His gaze moved over to the nephilim who was barely conscious and slightly tilting to one side from the lack of weight that was removed from her back. 

Somewhere in the process of tuning out what was happening around him, Wyatt had made himself visible to the masked individuals inside the room. The shouting brought his attention back to the present and seemed to be the catalyst he needed to move. Wyatt was no murderer, but a switch seemed to go off in him that was about to change his perception on those that deserved to die as he focused on the first man and tried to cast against him with the intent of taking his oxygen away slowly. The words quickly left his lips, but the man was still rushing towards him. Somehow, this place was warded against magic users, though he had the feeling Abigail would be the only one that could in fact cast.

The man swung wildly and Wyatt ducked the attack, using the man’s momentum against him to trip him up and go falling into the wall. The second assailant had a blade in his hand which he swung high above his head to strike Wyatt down. The diviner blocked the blow and thus began a fight for the weapon. Even without magic, Wyatt had been fighting in underground matches for decades when he had nothing left to him after his parents’ deaths and was glad to have the skill to defend himself and now others when being fae wouldn’t be enough to do the job. A punch to the face caused Wyatt to recoil, but a final kick to the man’s sternum sent him backwards as Wyatt picked up the gun he’d dropped and swung it across the attacker’s face.

Wyatt knelt to the blood soaked ground, nearly slipping as he did so, cupping Clarissa’s face. She was barely conscious and seeing her so vulnerable was such a contrast to everything he knew about her. He looked to the wing on the ground before analyzing the blood that was still pooling from her back which he knew he needed to stop, but not here. Getting out was the main goal now and not being able to teleport was the biggest obstacle of all.

Grabbing the rifle, he shot the chains loose from the ground and bent down as Clarissa slumped over, carefully lifting her into his arms. “I’ve got you. Just hang on.” Wyatt didn’t know how he was going to get her out of here without being seen, but he was determined to do what was necessary.

“How touching.” A voice said with dripping amusement. Wyatt’s gaze looked to the door where Abigail was leaning against the frame, smirking.

Throughout her lifetime, Clarissa had always had a love hate relationship with her wings, but never within this time would she see ever them gone; and even if she had wanted them off, she knew they would return eventually - and if they didn’t, she would slowly lose her immortality and transition into a human. Which was something she truly didn’t want; but it now felt like her options were cruelly taken away from her - she knew she had a troublesome way of living, and change came hard to her; thus as she felt each feather tear from her skin, she feared the worse. She feared she would never get them back if she were to survive; she struggled to stay on the straight and narrow but she had to believe; she had to believe that if she told anyone else, other than Wyatt, they would keep her mind and actions out of the darkness which often loomed over her. 

The sound of the wing as it hit the ground managed to wake her up ever so slightly and she couldn’t help but open her eyes to look at what had been apart of her ever since birth; her heart and her stomach ached as she saw the almost all black wing - and those that were white feathers now soaked in her blood. Rissa clenched her teeth together, her jaw tightening as she attempted to hold back the tears of sadness and of loss as she looked away again; allowing her head to lower against her arm as she slumped more so to one side. “It’s just karma, you deserve this” She barely mumbled to herself and to anyone listening the words would be an incoherent sound; she was high on pain and in the uncertain realm between life and death - she felt like she could already feel the presence of the devil himself waiting to take another fallen angel to the pits of hell. 

Yet it was not the feeling of her second wing being assaulted, or the sound of men rustling around her that caught her attention; it was the familiar voice which whispered into her ear next to her. Abraxas Bradford - she glanced up through tear stained lashes to see her Father stood there, smiling wide like the cheshire cat as he watched her suffer. “My girl, the worst is yet to come” The hallucination of her Father teased as he knelt down before her, with the little energy she had; Rissa flinched as his rough hands came to cup either side of her face. ‘I am green with jealousy, I could never have thought of this infliction in a million years, perhaps I can save this for your brother, Isaiah” Clarissa groaned albeit muffled as blood clogged the back of her throat but before she could spit the blood out; the taste of it lingering on her tongue, she felt her body collapse as the chains released their hold over her. 

“No, no!” She pleaded, as she felt the strong arms of her Father wrap around her, only to bring her to his chest; she wanted to fight, to flee from him but how could she? Perhaps he was the Fallen Angel that would take her to her forever flamed home. Thus, soon enough, she stopped her weakened flail and accepted his warm embrace; perhaps this was the moment she had always craved with him. 

Yet as she felt the ground beneath them move, she inhaled deeply and smelt the familiar yet intoxicating cologne wash over her; a sudden feeling of safety sat within her stomach as she weakly glanced upward. And soon enough, the face of her Father disappeared and the face she never thought she would see again in this lifetime appeared; Wyatt. A slow smile appeared as she reached her hand up, shaking as it did so, so she could brush the pads of her fingers across his cheek; just to make sure he was really there and that she was not dreaming. What a cruel dream that would be. 

His features were blurred but she knew it was him; how could she not? Her face hid within his chest, hissing as the movement pulled upon her opened wounds and she was glad she could not see; because she could recognise that tauntingly sweet voice from anywhere - Abigail. The voice alone triggered a shiver to run down her spine and without much thought, she held onto Wyatt with as much strength as possible. 

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