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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Wyatt remained on the spot, staring back at Abigail. She looked him up and down slowly for a few silent moments as if she were analyzing every minute detail about him, but in an instant her features went dark with anger. A guttural scream came from within her that seemed to shake her whole frame. Her eyes went completely black and she hissed the suffocation spell at him again. The air immediately ceased in his lungs. Wyatt stumbled, but was mindful of the angel he still held in his arms. He staggered to a shaking knee before being unable to hold Clarissa any longer. She tumbled from his grasp as he went to all fours, hearing the slow clicking of Abigail's heels as she walked over the concrete ground and closer to them.

As his vision began to blur, the diviner looked up to the vengeful woman. She was all smiles as she placed her stiletto against his shoulder and pushed him onto his back. The shadows of others began to come into the room and he rolled to his side to see them going for Clarissa. Abigail began to give them orders, but was interrupted as Wyatt grabbed a hold of her leg. He wanted to bargain with her. He wanted to plead and do anything to keep her from hurting Clarissa any more, but nothing came from his lips save for the ragged attempts of him trying to breathe. Abigail looked down to him with a sneer and shook him loose, pressing her heel against his neck and bringing him to his back once more. Wyatt wrapped his hands around her ankle with his last struggling breaths before falling into darkness.

When Wyatt woke again, he felt the cold of the ground against his skin. His eyes adjusted to the dim lighting of the room they were in which was different then the one he'd found Clarissa. His head was pounding with the migraine he now sported, but he was thankful for the even breaths he was able to take which came easily. Above him were thick, metal bars and as he looked, Wyatt realized he was in a cage. 

Rolling onto his chest, he stood on somewhat shaky legs, using the bars as a way to balance himself. His cell was against the wall and Clarissa was in the middle of the room. They had placed her on a stretcher and tied her down so she lay on her side facing him, her remaining wing outstretched and easily set for removal. "It never occurred to you what this woman did in all your time together?" His gaze moved across the room where Abigail sat in a plastic chair. Her slender legs were folded and she was back to her smug smirking. "No? How about I let you in on a few of those things." Wyatt watched as the men from earlier came into the room and stood behind Clarissa, grabbing hold of her shoulder and wing. Abigail rose from her seat and stood behind the angel. "She kills people, ya know." Wyatt's jaw clenched as the anger rippled through him. He grabbed hold of the bars in frustration as he watched helplessly, keeping his gaze on Clarissa and refusing to look at the dark diviner. "Scores of them, in fact," she continued, circling the stretcher while goading him on. One of the men pulled a large blade from a table nearby that was strewn with different instruments. "Children too."

Wyatt slammed his hands against his prison in frustration, keeping his focus on the nephilim. He couldn't even tell if she was conscious or not because she didn't move. Perhaps that was better with what was to come and he knew that Abigail was forcing him to watch. "Clarissa..."

"What kinda man does that make you? Knowing that you also worked for the same people she did. Thought you were meant to be a diviner of the light? The fae, all proud and mighty, rolling on the side of good." Abigail ran her fingers along Clarissa's wing as she continued to walk the stretcher, leaning against it once she was in front of Wyatt and folding her arms over her chest in mock thinking. "Perhaps you just didn't want to accept the truth of it. Which I understand, of course. Quite horrible, this one here." She pat Clarissa's legs and did a little twirl towards his cell. "Honestly, I'm doing you a favor here, Wyatt. You should be thanking me." Abigail gave a nod to the men and Wyatt watched as the blade lowered to Clarissa's wing. "Did I mention she killed children?"

"Stop. Please." Wyatt choked out the words, pounding the bars again. Abigail smiled cruelly while looking at him as the stinging of tears began in his eyes. He finally took his gaze from Clarissa and glared at their captor. "I'll do whatever you want. I know you want something from me. I'll give it to you. If you hurt her any more, I won't."

Abigail gave a light chuckle and shook her head. "Still worried about her well being even after I told you of the awful things she's done. You really are a necromancer trapped in that fae body." Her fingers reached to touch his and he quickly let go of the bars. She sucked her teeth and sighed. "What makes you think I won't just kill her and then torture you for what I want?"

Wyatt stepped forward again and held her gaze, unwavering. "Look me in my eyes and tell me that I would."

Abigail grinned at him silently for a moment and shrugged nonchalantly, turning to face her men. "Fine, Wyatt. We'll settle some transportation and patch your little devil slut up enough as she will of course come with us as leverage." She gave a wave for them to all leave the room and the door slammed closed before the finality of a lock sliding into place. Wyatt finally looked over to Clarissa as she still lay on the stretcher, feeling a swirl of mixed emotions in his gut.

The scream which suddenly echoed violently around the room made her flinch, and soon after left a very noticeable ringing sound afterwards for a few moments until her ears once against adjusted to the silence. Clarissa could feel Wyatt’s body tense, instinctively fighting whatever was forced upon him; her fingers clutched ever so tightly upon his shirt until his body could hold onto her no longer and as her body crashed upon the cool hard ground she hissed. Yet, there was also some relief in the chill which now rested against her body, it helped ease the pain ever so slightly. Clarissa fluttered her eyes open, albeit weakly to watch the woman approach Wyatt; she could see he was already struggling to breathe as it was. “No!” The word was barely formed more than a wheezed whisper as her arm extended outward as if that would do any good. 

For as long as she could, Rissa battled with her vision to keep it focused upon him, but to no avail as men once again grabbed her; she had no energy to fight them thus they felt there was no need to go to as great lengths to move her - currently, she was no threat to them. One man picked her up and flung her over his shoulder, if she were nothing more than a rag doll and as he began to leave the room, she caught one last glimpse at Wyatt and Abigail and winced as Wyatt was unable to fight whatever spell Abigail had thrusted upon him. The spell which Abigail had placed upon her, weakened for a short while which gave Clarissa a few moments in the welcomed darkness which took away the pain which throbbed upon her shoulder blade. 

A series of short groans and grunts escaped her as the men roughly bound her to what she assumed was a mattress of such; an incredibly uncomfortable mattress to say the least - yet she doubted she could find any comfort right now. The Nephilim felt her body begin to respond to the wounds, small wounds she would recover from... but this - she had no idea how long it would take her body alone to get back to normal; yet it was well enough to now be able to hear the beings in the room talk, even if the words were intermittent. Upon the words which were spoken proudly to Wyatt, she couldn’t bear to open her gaze to see what his reaction would be to her killing people - and innocents like children. She would have told him eventually on her own terms if they continued to see each other, and the fact that option was taken away from her was frustrating, upsetting. 

The sound of his voice was reassuring, at least they had kept him alive; and he sounded well enough to convince Clarissa that he wasn’t harmed. The touch at her remaining wing caused it to flutter briefly but her attention was taken away when Wyatt agreed to give whatever Abigail wanted as long she was harmed no further. Idiot. Rissa hissed internally, and groaned as she tried to stirr her body awake again; the darkness clung onto her like a bad smell and her body wanted nothing more than to accept it’s embrace but she would be damned if she didn’t try and speak with Wyatt once the others had left the room. 

Once the door had shut behind Abigail and the silence lingered between Wyatt and herself, she cleared her throat; although her words were strained. “Why? Why did you do that? You shouldn’t have agreed” Rissa coughed and stirred some to look at him just as the cage doors were being opened from an outside source. “After what… I have done, I deserve this” She winced as she tried to move her only wing to a more comfortable position. 

The hurt which radiated from Wyatt caused more pain inside of her than what her wing did; it was a foreign feeling for her, emotional pain. “The men you saw go to my room each night” She coughed. “They never got a look in. Died before they even reached the bed” Eventually, Rissa made eye contact with Wyatt as he approached and lowered himself down beside her. 

“And the children, it was either me or them. Their faces, their screams haunt me every night.” She sighed before closing her eyes; a cold sweat appearing upon her brow. “Abigail, I slaughtered her entire village with Isaiah.” She could hear Wyatt trying to hush her, to stop her talking but she needed to explain it to him as she didn’t believe she would ever get another chance to do so. “I never knew why, I just did as I was told; but we got sloppy and she escaped, never to be seen again until last night”

“You can choose to never see me again if we survive this… But” Rissa swallowed, she hoped it wouldn’t be the case, but she wouldn’t blame him either. She attempted to look over her shoulder at the instruments which resided on the table behind her. “I need you to do something for me. I need you to remove my other wing, they’ll never grow back otherwise” 

Rissa could sense his hesitation, his reluctance to hurt her even more; when she looked back up at him, she could see the tears which dared to over flow and stain his cheeks. Her own gaze began to blur with tears.“Please. If you don’t do it, they will” She weakly grabbed hold of his hand and attempted to move it and guide him as close to the blade as her own body would allow. 

Once Wyatt stood behind her, she inhaled deeply and braced herself for the pain that would come; her fingers curling tightly around the buckle in preparation. 

The small amount of quiet that was left between them when the door closed was strange as Clarissa stirred. He was relieved to see her moving if only briefly. There were no words he could find to say to her still, but she was quick to reprimand him for agreeing to Abigail. Wyatt closed his eyes in frustration for a moment until the door to his cage jolted open, making him fall forward a step. He slowly stepped towards her, eyeing the door to the room in case this was some kind of trick. Wyatt only gave it a second though before he was kneeling in front of Clarissa.

Her focus was weak as he surveyed her. Wyatt didn't know what he was going to do to get them out of this, but his resolve wasn't swayed when it came to making sure she was alright. Clarissa's words made him instantly grit his teeth. He didn't want to hear this. Not now. They could figure things out later. He had to believe there would be a later and he wanted her to as well. Wyatt knew why she was doing this and he quickly shook his head. "Clarissa..." but she powered through his short interruption. It wasn't his business ever as to who she was taking to the hotel rooms those many nights when they worked together. He didn't want to judge, but he also was foolish to think that he could pretend for so long that what she was doing was probably just as violent as Abigail implied. Looking the other way about the employers he worked for had gotten him into minor trouble that a quick exit from a country he'd flown into could fix when it came to archaeology finds, but the Organisation was playing a whole different game he didn't want to admit he had played for.

Her dark eyes were hard to meet as she found his gaze and spoke about the children. He couldn't help but look away from her and instead reached to the straps that held her down to pull the buckle free to give her some movement. "Clarissa, please," he said in a whispered hush, but she ignored his pleading. Wyatt's head lowered as her story about Abigail's village filled his ears. His grip tightened on the buckle that now lay fallen from her side. Slaughtering children. How could the Organisation find killing children justifiable? Wyatt wanted to say something back, but what could he? What did he really know about the nephilim that was laying before him? 

It was her next request that made him raise his head to meet her eyes again. "What?!" It wasn't the fact that Wyatt hadn't heard her, but that he couldn't believe what she was asking of him. "No. No, I c-an't." The diviner quickly stood then, wide-eyed and mouth slightly agape. As Clarissa begged him, the look in her eyes was more than he could bear. Her slender fingers reached for his and shakily moved them to the knife that lay on the small medical table nearby, yet he still refused to take it. Their eyes met again then and Wyatt cursed before he found a small amount of resolve that would allow him to do what she asked. The thought of one of them touching her again made him fill with rage.

Wyatt walked behind the table so her back was now to him. He slowly reached for her wing and let his fingers glide gently over the white and some blackened feathers before gripping the bone. Somehow this was even more intimate than the previous night they'd just had together, but worse. It was so much worse. He grabbed the blade and swallowed hard, shaking as he placed the instrument to the base of where her wing met her back. The injury from Clarissa's other missing wing was still bleeding and he had to quickly look away in order to remain firm with the small amount of determination he still had. The tears he had been holding onto flowed from his eyes and onto her back. "I'm sorry." 

The blade moved over the connection that brought her wing and back together, but it did not go easily. It was as if he was taking a limb from her body. Wyatt closed his eyes as the wing finally broke free and went to the floor. He immediately dropped the knife and watched as it fell in the pool of blood that was beginning to collect around the fallen wing. Clarissa's whimpers and screams were enough to make him want to die and as he went around the front of table again, he could hear the footsteps of their captors coming down the hallway. He knelt down and grabbed her hand in his bloody one, leaning his head against hers. "I'm sorry." The words were choked and at the same moment the door came flying open.

The men in the masks poured in to see what was going on and they quickly pulled him away from Clarissa. Wyatt struggled against them before being tossed against the cage and held there. Abigail's laugh filled the room as she came in with wide eyes, looking between them both. "Well, this is a whole new level of foreplay I was not expecting!" Wyatt began shaking with rage. The dark diviner sauntered over towards him with a sick smile that filled her whole face. She licked her thumb and brushed it over his face to remove the spots of blood that had spurted from Clarissa's back. He tried to jerk away, but she held his face still as she spoke. "We will be leaving this facility now. There's a van outside that will be taking us to our destination. The only question is where?" 

Wyatt glared at Abigail and then glanced to Clarissa before speaking. "The Archives Hall. Anything I keep of value is there. Whatever it is you want, it'll probably be in one of the vaults." His hues slowly moved back to Abigail and he made a promise to himself that he would see her dead before this was all over.

His silence stung, it unnerved her completely; what was he thinking about as he looked down at her? Did he see her as the monster that Abigail described, or as a person who had the power to change from the being in her past? Was he upset that she kept him out of the loop all those years ago, when in reality, she did it to protect him from what could have happened if he found out or if he got too close to her? Clarissa didn’t know, and she hated it but what she hated even more was to see the tears overflow and run down his cheeks; one because she did care for him, more than she probably realised and two, there wasn’t anything she could really do to make their situation any better, right now.  When he stood back, clearly shocked by her request; she knew then she was asking too much of him and she couldn’t help but sigh. “If I could, d-do it myself, I would” She confessed and glanced down as blood began to dry upon her body. When her fingers wrapped around his hand, she gave him a reassuring squeeze before guiding him towards the nearest blade. 

Clarissa gave him a final nod before he moved to stand behind her; her features scrunched up just at the image of what he could see as he fell upon her back. Yet the light touch to her feathers caused her to exhale, the touch gave her the briefest moment of comfort - despite having her wings as an intimate body part that not many got to see let alone touch. She kept her mind replaying that softest of touches for as long as she could before she felt Wyatt’s hand grasp onto the base of the wing; she hesitated for a moment before bringing the buckle he had loosened up to put the leather strap between her teeth to clench down upon. Wyatt’s apology caused her heart to sink, she knew he wasn’t one for violence yet here he was, removing a limb; possibly one of the worst crimes to be done towards a Nephilim. She hummed in response, to try and reassure him it was okay before he began. 

The leather buckle unfortunately did not do as it intended; the screams, the whines and whimpers, they were still as loud and as intense as before. The tears continued to stream down her cheeks as the darkness began to move in on her sight once again and her head began to feel new levels of being lightheaded as it rolled backward. The buckle consequently fell out between her teeth as she began to drift into unconsciousness; Clarissa exhaled as she felt his head against her own and mouthed a ‘Thank you’ his way before feeling his fingers being torn from her own suddenly. The amount of blood that she had lost would have certainly been enough to kill a human, but still enough to have a substantial effect on a Nephilim’s being; thus when Abigail came in, Clarissa was unable to even register the sound of the woman’s high pitched laughter. 

Once Abigail was finished attempting to wipe some blood splatter from Wyatt’s face and once she received the information she needed as to the location of what she needed; she approached Clarissa and knelt before her. The woman’s hand came and patted Clarissa’s cheek mockingly. “I said no sleeping for you, I don’t like people that break the rules” The Diviner huffed. “You’re lucky I struck a deal with lover boy here” Abigail was clearly frustrated that she was unable to scold Clarissa for falling into the clutches of the darkness who took the pain away; but with a click of her fingers, she forced The Nephilim back to the present. “Atta girl”

The blonde smirked and pinched Clarissa’s jaw before turning to face Wyatt smugly. “See, a woman of my word” 

More men then came into the room and sat Clarissa’s weary body up so that they were able to tend to the open wounds that ran the lengths of her shoulder blades; they were not shy when it came drowning her wounds in antiseptic, the sting caused her to hiss in frustration. Clarissa glanced up at Wyatt and held his gaze for a long moment before glancing at Abigail who she hadn’t truly seen since before the removal of her wings. 

“As much as I adore the tension in this room, it’s time to cut it as it seems we have places to be. Chop chop” Abigail clapped twice, and headed out of the room.

One of the men who had tended to Rissa’s wounds tugged her from the stretcher and her legs wobbled once her feet found the ground. It was risky, she knew and in all fairness, she didn’t know if she’d have the strength to grasp anything right now; and she hoped the men holding Wyatt were too focused on him. As the men guided her past the instrument table, she wobbled again, apparently slipping on the blood, to collide with the table. Her groan was, however, very much real, but she was able to grab a scalpel and slipped it into the pocket of her shorts before they pulled her away. 

With all the exertion it took to make that move, she accepted the tight hold of the masked men as they escorted the pair to the van waiting outside. The night air, although cold was fresh and eagerly welcomed even for the briefest minute, before being pushed into the back of the van. 

Abigail banged on the side of the van. “Evermore’s Archive Hall” She ordered them to leave and sat down opposite Clarissa and Wyatt with a grin on her lips as her gaze danced between the two. “Not once did I think it would be this easy to take you two down, given how good you both are supposed to be in your fields”

Clarissa glanced sideways to Wy, her head resting back against the van before responding quietly. “What is it you’re trying to achieve? This is more than revenge.”

Wyatt couldn't contain the emotions writhing in his body as he again struggled against the guards that held him against the cage. For his efforts, he got a punch to the gut that winded him before they started ushering him behind Clarissa as they headed for the hallway. The sounds of the others that were being held captive echoed through the halls. He didn't want to guess at what they were possibly going through after seeing what Abigail had done to Clarissa by stealing her wings. Rumors of the human government experimenting on supernaturals was not unheard of in his long life, but never did he expect to see one of his own doing something like this.

The metal doors of the facility opened and he could see the sun had just set behind the horizon. Glancing quickly over through the trees as nonchalantly as possible, he could make out the outline of his dark car still sitting there hidden in the looming shadows. His mind flashed back to when he was in the vehicle and talking to Giselle, letting her know only small details about what was going on. He hadn't wanted her to get wrapped up in whatever this was, but as a fail safe, Wyatt asked her to reach out to only a few of the trusted supernaturals in ECPD with the locations of Abigail's properties to do a check in. Wyatt didn't know what to expect going into the warehouse at the time and didn't want to risk putting Clarissa in further harm's way. He couldn't help but feel a little disappointed they weren't up on the mountain, but at least they could possibly save the others who they were currently leaving behind.

As he was shoved closer to the van that would be taking them to the Archives, one of the guards quickly grabbed at his wrists and handcuffed him. His eyes lowered to the restraints and he could see the runes etched within them making it impossible for him to use any magic. Wyatt let out a breath and glared at Abigail as she walked over and snatched the amulet from around his neck. As her hands ran over the object, Wyatt couldn't help but reach for it, but he was quickly pushed backwards. "This. This is powerful stuff, Mr. Brookes." He didn't say anything in response, shifting his weight from side to side in agitation as she inspected his family heirloom. Abigail placed the necklace into her pocket as the men moved them into the van.

Sitting across from Abigail and knowing that his most precious possession was now with her was making his anxiety almost unbearable. Her remark of getting to them both so easily made him lean his head back in annoyance, averting his gaze to the ceiling as the van rumbled down the mountainside. He could feel their captor's eyes on him as Abigail was clearly enjoying herself immensely and only listened to the two women conversing as the will to fight back was gone from him; at least for now. Abigail's eyes slowly moved from Wyatt and over to Clarissa with her incessant plastered smug still fixed to her features. "I don't owe you any answers at all. If anything, you owe me the answers and more." Wyatt tilted his head straight again to look across at the fellow diviner, not liking the sound of what her words were implying as if the nephilim's wings were not enough already. She looked Clarissa up and down and then between them both. "You're both nothing in the grand scheme of it all. You're just the added bonus."

The ride remained quiet as they continued to the Archives, finally stopping at the edge of diviner territory by the river and forest and no other buildings around. As the doors opened, they were roughly pulled outside and Wyatt's eyes gazed up to the building that was like a second home. His hues flitted quickly about the property and didn't see any cars as expected, knowing the place would've been locked up for the night. Getting in wouldn't be easy for anyone trying to break in. The place was obviously warded with all kinds of magic from its previous caretakers and even he himself. Winston had guarded the Archives for decades and the old man was one of the most powerful diviners he'd ever come across. It broke his heart when he passed, but having met his daughter Penelope who was now guarding the place was a gift he wasn't expecting. Wyatt didn't know if it was a good thing he could easily pass through the doors or if his being one of the only trusted people to get passed the warding was now a curse.

"Open the doors." Wyatt glanced back at Abigail before he was shoved in the back by one of the guards. 

He lifted his wrists in the air to present the handcuffs to her. "You're going to have to take these off then." The woman's jaw visibly clenched and she stepped behind Clarissa with a raised hand, clearly threatening that she would hurt the angel with magic if Wyatt tried anything. Nodding to one of her men, the cuffs were removed, and Wyatt faced the ornate doors. His blood was literally one of the only ways to get inside when the place was on lockdown after hours and as he reached for the doorknob, a small needle pricked his palm. He quickly drew a symbol over the keyhole and within a few moments, the sound of the Archives Hall shifted and came to life. The magical locks began to release and the doors opened for them. What Abigail didn't know was that as soon as the Archives were opened after being closed to the diviner public, Penelope would instantly know through the spell they created as a fail safe no matter where she was in the world and since she lived at the Archives, Wyatt hoped she was home.

Stepping into the massive library that only appeared to be a small building from the outside was always impressive. Their footsteps on the marble floor echoed loudly as they filed in. Wyatt absentmindedly rubbed at his wrists where the cuffs had dug in as his eyes glanced around the space with endless amounts of books that reached up for a few floors. He then looked towards the back where the diviner vaults and real magic presided behind another set of doors. "Lead on, Brookes," came Abigail's impatient tone as her heels clicked along the floor and eyes went around the space. Wyatt's gaze went to her and then over to Clarissa which lingered for a few silent moments between them before he was pushed again in the back to continue on.

The slightest of smiles teased Clarissa’s lips alongside a brief exhale at the response in which she received from Abigail; it was no surprise that the woman before her wouldn’t answer her question and somehow had the audacity to turn it around her. Yet the final statement did, unfortunately, strike a chord within Clarissa’s chest and stomach; everything seemed to have tightened and it felt as if something heavy had just sat itself comfortably upon her. How could the woman before her think she owed her more than she had already given? With all her might, she tried to ignore the fact that her wings were no longer a part of her, she could feel a sense of emptiness in her being. She had hoped that the adrenaline, the fear of what was to come next for the pair would keep her mind distracted; or she had hoped that the blood loss and the overwhelming pain would send her to sleep so she didn’t have to relive the moments of her wings dropping to the ground. Yet here they sat, in a van of silence and all she could hear were the memories, the thoughts and sadness which loomed over her; things which she typically had a lot of control over. 

Clarissa sat there, her body swaying with the van as she allowed those very thoughts to consume her; how did the once thorn of a rose become such a delicate flower? The nephilim quickly squeezed her eyes shut, hoping that this would prevent the tears from falling and she swallowed multiple times, somewhat roughly to get rid of the screams as well as the sobs which rumbled silently within her chest. It was common knowledge that the nephilim kind were powerless to their emotions, and any training she once had to be on par with them was slowly seeping away from her. Think of the physical pain, think of the physical pain. She kept repeating to herself as she tried to move her focus to the shoulder blades which continuously collided with the side of the van; yet her eyes did open and focused on her bare feet, the blood on her legs that constant reminder. How could she even call herself a Nephilim now? She had no wings, she was Fallen. 

With much relief, the van soon came to a halt and the back doors of the van opened, the guards once again ushering Clarissa and Wyatt out; the gravel tore at the soles of her feet but her attention swayed as she glanced upward at the grand building which stood before them. Clarissa stood in awe, the building was magnificent as it stood against the darkening sky; she felt a presence behind her, which brought her back to the present moment and caught a glimpse of Wyatt as he asked to remove the cuffs. She glimpsed over her shoulder to see a hand raised threatening to inflict more pain and she braced herself; Rissa watched on as Wyatt didn’t ‘do anything silly’ and soon the doors were opened. Rissa grunted when the guards moved them into the building and it was much bigger than she expected; if it was at any other time, she would have truly loved to see as much as possible. 

The silence lingered between the group, however, Abigail clearly wasn’t interested in anything else the place had to offer besides what she wanted and what she needed. Clarissa caught Wyatt’s glance and furrowed her brows slightly at him; there was still time for him to change his mind? Surely? She exhaled as they proceeded towards the back of the library to where she assumed documents and artefacts were kept away from public viewing. Clarissa glanced up at the man that supported and guided her, he practically dragged the weary Nephilim through; it amused her ever so slightly to hear Abigail groan in frustration as they came to another set of magically bound doors. 

“Open those doors or it’s not just her that gets hurt” Abigail spoke through a tightened jaw with another threat as she swung Wyatt’s amulet back and forth before placing it back into her pocket. Of course, she didn’t know what power was held inside of the thing, none of them did besides Wyatt. They all stood, and waited in silence to see if Wyatt would open the final set of doors which stood between Abigail and her plans; and as much as it frustrated Clarissa when she watched Wyatt unlock those doors, she found herself sympathising with him - she knew in that moment she would have likely had done the same. 

The moment the doors had opened, Abigail in haste, shoved Wyatt to the side and whistled for some of her men to follow her inside. The sounds of tables, book shelves and chairs being overturned echoed around the eerie library and she could see the dismay radiate from Wyatt as his passions were so easily disregarded. Glass was shattered and what probably felt like an endless amount of torment for the light diviner she kept her eye on, the triumphant sound of Abigail danced its way out to them. “I knew you wouldn’t disappoint” Abigail grinned and placed the scroll between her arm and torso. 

“Now we’ve gotten all we truly need from you both, you won’t mind if I leave you here with my men to clean up the…” The female glanced at both Wyatt and Rissa from head to toe with raised brows. “… Mess”  She emphasised the word with clear indication of what she meant before she exhaled proudly. Abigail waved her fingers. “Toodles” She grabbed her phone from her jacket to make a call as she left the room. Her voice drifted away from them and Clarissa smiled sheepishly at the guard beside her. 

The guard let go for her arm, and she stumbled backward, her fingers trailing along the table for some moral support; her free hand grabbed the rather pathetic scalpel which she held out with clear shakes. “You’re the muscle right now Wyatt” Rissa forced her voice out, upon not getting a response, she stole a glance at him; and exhaled harshly as he continued to stare at the destruction which was left in the other room. “Wy, for the love of God!” 

As they moved further into the Archives, Wyatt glanced around to the upper floors as casually as he could to see if Penny was anywhere within the shadows, but he didn't see any indication that she was around. The woman barely left the place, but it seemed on this rare occasion, she of course was not at home. Still, Wyatt didn't give up hope that the magic tied to her and this place would undoubtedly send out the alarm and there was nothing in the world that would stop Penny from getting here as fast as possible which he hoped would be an easy teleport. 

Wyatt led the group throughout the building and towards the back where he had his own rather grand room to himself for the artifacts of the diviner world that he procured. Many would say he was somewhat of a thief and Wyatt didn't necessarily mind the title. Yes, he did steal many of the treasures he found around the world, but it wasn't exactly as if he found them in places where they would be kept safe. Most of the time he was finding them in lost locations that time forgot and the only reason it was considered stealing was because of the laws governments had against taking artifacts from sites they deemed to belong to them. It was foolish. These human governments had no idea what they really possessed and in many cases it was dangerous for them to even handle. Did he maybe steal a few things from auctioneers and museums while they were being transported to their new locations? Absolutely and he would never regret that.

Staring at the door which he'd only ever allowed Malva, Kaelyn, Penny, and her father to walk through, it was difficult to even move towards the magical lock knowing that when it did open, they could have access to some of the most powerful objects in the diviner world. Wyatt cut his eye over to Abigail as she taunted him with his amulet that was in her possession before turning to face the lock. He placed his palm against the knob just as he did with the front doors of the Hall and watched as the needle quickly pricked his skin. Once his blood had been placed on the seal, the gears began to move and they were allowed entrance inside.

The diviner's eyes moved about the space for a brief moment as the lights automatically began to rise from the floor before he was pushed aside by Abigail and then held by two more guards to quickly cuff his hands again. Wyatt didn't fight it though. He stood frozen to the spot as these people carelessly went through his collection, throwing things haphazardly as if they weren't priceless. His hand flinched with every new thing they tossed aside and a growing anger flowed through his body.

Abigail came out of the room with a familiar scroll that Wyatt had found with Penny in the chambers of ancient tombs in the Valley of the Kings in Egypt. It was something he had yet to translate because the scroll was set in coding and to decode it, one needed the cipher which he had not found yet. His eyes followed the woman as she took away one of the most valuable things he'd ever found, trying to listen intently at the conversation she was having with the person on the other end of the call. For her to be so confident in finding it, Wyatt had the feeling that the person she had reached out to might be the one that had the cipher. If that were the truth, they had a chance at finding one of the lost treasure rooms of the world. It would be like finding El Dorado, something Wyatt still wanted to properly have a go at too.

His concentration moved back to his destroyed room and it took Clarissa's shouting to finally bring him round at the current situation. Wyatt looked to her confusedly before realizing she was planning to overtake the guards. Wyatt kicked one of the nearby wooden chairs towards the man, sliding it across the floor and hitting its target in the knees. The guard doubled over and the diviner ran and kicked him across the face cleanly, sending him down and unconscious with a thud. The second man that had been helping Clarissa along just moments ago pulled a gun from his belt, but the assassin had already gotten the upperhand against him and Wyatt slipped into his room.

Eyes darting about the space, Wyatt found what he was looking for and slid on his knees across the floor towards the blade as a gunshot went passed his shoulder. He ran the links of the magical cuffs across the short sword and watched as the metal heated up a bright red into hues of blue before it melted away. The part of Wyatt that had left him feeling empty began to return. The warmth of his magic coursed through him now that the handcuffs were broken in two and as he moved back into the main room with the sword in hand, he mentally lifted one of the chairs and slammed it across the head of the man that was still tussling with Clarissa. 

Abigail had heard the commotion by now and turned back to see what was going on. Wyatt hurried to Clarissa's side and grabbed her arm, pulling her towards one of the hundreds of darkened rows of bookcases that filled the Hall in order to get lost among their safety. Pressing his back against the shelving, the diviner listened while Abigail angrily ordering the other guards about to find the two. Their footsteps could be heard splitting up as they began their search, but Wyatt wasn't at all that worried about staying hidden. He did have his power back after all and a newly gained weapon that could cut through anything. His attention stayed towards the middle of the Archives as he watched for anyone coming near through the breaks of books lining the shelf. "We can't port out of here. It's magically impossible as a safety precaution," he whispered to the angel next to him. "The Archives will automatically lock anyone in here that has trespassed after closing. The doors won't open until done so from the outside or inside by the Keeper. Not even I can open them." Wyatt turned to face her then and met her dark brown eyes which was much harder than he expected with a sense of pleading and hopefully her understanding. "I can't let her have that scroll or my amulet." The sound of one of the men approaching made him lace his fingers in Clarissa's with his free hand. "I can't." Wyatt continued to firmly hold her gaze before they both went invisible as he cloaked them from the naked eye just as the guard rounded the corner.

What was she going to do with this? The small instrument which shook within her hand wouldn’t do that much damage, never mind how much might she put into it; and with her current levels of energy and strength, that truly wouldn’t be that much. The guard knew it too, she may not have been able to see his face, but his eyes were a true give away; they glistened with amusement albeit in a mocking tone as he advanced towards her. She still did have her Nephilim powers, Abigail knew she didn’t need to put magic reducing cuffs on her due to the weakness that Clarissa blatantly showed. Yet, if she used what magic remained within her system, it would certainly leave her floored; Rissa was relying on the magic which weakly pumped through her veins just to remain awake and upright. Using that sort of power would well and truly be a last resort if there was no other means of escaping. 

Clarissa muttered to herself in a feeble attempt to psych herself up for whatever fight which was about to happen; she could only hope that her voice would knock Wyatt out of his train of thought so he could at least help take on some of the guards. Just as the guard came into her personal space, she focused on the pulsation in his neck; her muscles tensed and just as she was ready to make her move, the man who was once taller than her, crumbled over. Her brows furrowed but once she realised Wyatt was taking care of him, she moved out of her corner - only to be met by a click of a gun. “Oh you gotta be kidding me” Rissa mumbled in distaste at the gun; she glanced in Wyatt's direction, and became increasingly aware that he wasn’t conscious of the fact that he was directly in the firing line. 

Clarissa exhaled and threw herself at the guard; tackling him to the ground just as he pulled the trigger - she tried to make sure that the bullet had missed Wyatt but she was soon overpowered before she was able to. She groaned out in pain as the guard slammed her back into the ground multiple times; the pain vibrating through her very being once again. The scars were a weak spot for any Nephilim, let alone what she had just endured a few hours prior. The scalpel had fallen out of her hand as she tackled and she could just see it in view and if she stretched hard enough, she may just be able to reach it. The guard’s hands soon wrapped themselves neatly around her throat and began to squeeze.

The Nephilim continued to reach for the instrument despite the decreasing levels of oxygen in her lungs; and with a weak smile of success, her fingers curled round it and without hesitation, she began to stab the man in his side. That move alone was enough to distract him from taking all the air from her system before he fell flatly and rather heavily upon her when his own consciousness was taken from him. Clarissa huffed as the dead body weight flattened her further into the floorboards and with gritted teeth, she rolled the body off of her. She laid there for a moment, composing herself, as well as catching her breath before Wyatt guided her into the shadows of the masses of books. She rested her head back against the shelving units, satisfied just for the brief moment of rest before Wyatt began to speak to her; her eyes widened as it was the first time he had spoken to her since Abigail revealed her rather gruesome past. 

“Wait what?” She whispered back, almost in disbelief. “You’re telling me we’re stuck in here until some Keeper comes by? We’ll be stuck in here with them?!” She silently exclaimed and ran her fingers through her now very messy and blood knotted hair but when she caught his look, she exhaled with a very gentle nod. Clarissa gave his hand a squeeze as the magic cloaked them from the sight of the guards which wandered past the aisle in which they stood and when adamant they were gone she turned to face him again. With her free hand, she brought it up to cup the side of Wyatt’s face and a slight smile appeared as she revised his drawn features; her thumb gently brushed over his cheek bone. “I won’t let her take those two things from you, okay.” 

Clarissa leaned up and gave him a lingering yet tender kiss, a kiss far different to the ones they shared previously; her fingers ran through his hair before trailing down his shoulder and arm to rest above his bloodied knuckles that clenched around the sword. She withdrew and rested her head against his as she took in the moment, she could very well be walking into her death and if that would be her last moment alive, she’d take it. “I’ll distract the guards. You do what you need to do, to get your possessions back” The Nephilim looked at him stubbornly before letting go of his hand, which ultimately removed the invisibility cloak from her. 

Before Wyatt could protest to her plan, and she knew he would, she quickly removed herself from the situation; perhaps she felt like she needed to redeem herself somehow, she didn’t know, but here she was - walking into a suicide mission with no more than a few ounces of magic in her veins. The Nephilim didn’t look back - not that she’d be able to see him anyway - because she was worried he would be able to see the apprehension she wore on her countenance. 

“So I’ve heard my eyes are still up for grabs” Clarissa called out before stepping into the middle of the Archives; the five masked guards soon moved to circle around her, and she pulled up her own forced mask of confidence. With a blink, she allowed whatever angelic magic she had to come alive in her system which in turn added vibrancy to her lavender tinted hues. “Which one of you masked little Frankensteins will be the one to do the deed?” She teased in a flirtatious tone; she curled her finger, beckoning one guard forward. “Will it be you?” With a sly crook of her lips, she narrowed her eyes and watched as his knee popped out of place just as he went to take a swing. He fell to the ground in agony which persuaded another guard, eager to please his boss to come at her; she just needed to hold on long enough to give Wyatt his opening - his chance to stop Abigail from stealing anymore from them.

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