Clipped (The Clipped Saga Book 1)

by Devon McCormack

  He walked to the wall-length window on the opposite side of the loft and gazed out at the city lights.

  He looked so lonely. She couldn’t say it was very different from when she’d first met him, but it saddened her. He was a compassionate, kind man—well, a fallen. She knew he’d cared deeply for Dedrus, the higherling that had initially held her captive. In nights when they would go to the local bar for drinks, he would tell her of their times together–the times he’d had with Janka, the cruel ex-lover who he’d believed had died, but who had been secretly conspiring with God to destroy the world.

  Sharing their drama-filled lives with one another had birthed a deeper connection between them.

  “You gonna head to bed?” she asked.

  He stared out the dust-covered window and shook his head.

  “Nah. Think I’m gonna look this hospital up, figure out how we’re gonna get there, and then maybe workout.”

  Work out. That’s all he seemed to do these days. He’d informed Maggie that, since he no longer had his wings, one of his myriad disadvantages was that his body didn’t keep itself up as it once had, as it did for most immortals. He had to work extra hard to maintain his muscular physique. She gave him credit, because he did a very good job, though he never seemed to be satisfied with it.

  “Well… ’night then,” she said.

  Kinzer nodded, lost in his daze. She wondered what he was thinking about—his loss of Dedrus, the betrayal of Janka, the horrible predicament they were in. So many things he could have been contemplating. Maybe it was all too much to think about, as it was for Maggie on occasion. Maybe, like her, he just stared off, trying to drown out the noise that crowded his thoughts.

  She headed into her room and flipped on a lamp, gazing down at a mattress with cotton pushing from tears in the fabric. It had been her bed since they’d arrived there. It wasn’t easy to sleep on. But it was just as good as any of the places she’d slept before she’d met Kinzer. She imagined some women wouldn’t have been caught dead in such a place. After all the backs of cars she’d slept in, rough as this was, it was fine. Although, it was strange falling asleep without having passed out from a trip or drunken spell.

  Nice, but strange.

  She hadn’t touched crystal since she’d been kidnapped months earlier. She’d been dry, something she’d never thought she’d say. It hadn’t been a deliberate choice as much as part of the natural sobriety that had followed the events of a few months prior.

  She removed her shirt and pants and gazed in the mirror.

  Her dirty-blonde hair, once naturally straight, waved from her chin to her chest. It was dry and rife with split ends.

  Her worn, cream panties and bra clung to odd patches of fat that had remained on her since the pregnancy. She figured some of it would never leave, but it wasn’t vanity that bothered her. It was the recognition that she would always be reminded of the beast she’d carried inside her—the monster that was to end mankind.

  Initially, Kinzer and his crew of immortals had believed she was carrying the Antichrist, which would prevent God’s Christ from destroying the world. But they’d been deceived. She’d really been carrying the Christ all along. Veylo, the leader of a gang of fallens known as the Raze had taken the baby, and since that night, she and Kinzer had embarked on a quest to prepare to hunt the Christ—her child.

  She’d never wanted a child before, but since she’d had her child so cruelly ripped from her grasp, she couldn’t help but feel that she had been denied something she’d deserved. Though she didn’t deserve it. Maybe she had in another life, but nothing that she’d done in this one could have possibly permitted her to say she deserved anything.

  She would never know what it was like to be a mother. And though she kept telling herself that was for the best, she wasn’t sure that she believed it.

  She removed her bra and panties, turned off the light, and situated herself in her bed.

  An orange glow from a streetlamp outside spilled into the room, as it always did. The only sound she could hear was the occasional revving of a motor as cars passed on the street outside.

  She and Kinzer lived a lonely life, but she couldn’t say it was any lonelier than the one she’d lived before she’d met him. Back then, it was her and her pimp, Kirk, who tricked her out. They’d eagerly accept the rewards of her labor and then spend the rest of the night enjoying crank. It’d been less than a year since she’d lived that life, but it seemed so far away now. So much had happened, so much had been revealed to her. And now she was stuck in this new sort of loneliness, without anything to relieve her pain.

  ***

  Maggie woke with a start.

  She heard something in the darkness, rolled off the mattress, and retrieved the broadsword tucked between the wall and her mattress. It was the sword Kinzer had given her.

  A blade glistened in the light pouring in from the street. She struck before her and blocked it.

  “Quick thinking,” Kinzer said.

  She was pissed and relieved. It was just another of Kinzer’s tests.

  Following that dark day when Kinzer had rescued Maggie after she’d given birth, they’d returned to Dedrus and Treycore’s house, where Kinzer opened a secret compartment in the wall and looted supplies: swords, daggers, vials—an extensive assortment of weapons Dedrus had collected over the years. Kinzer had given her one of the swords, which he informed her had been Dedrus’s. He taught her how to use it, hoping that in the event of an emergency, she could take on an immortal in a fight. In their time together, he’d helped her become physically fit and prepare to battle immortals to get to the Christ. She knew she wouldn’t easily win against such superior creatures, but she was willing to do whatever was necessary to set things right—to stop the monster she’d birthed from destroying the world.

  Initially, Kinzer hadn’t come at her with swords in her sleep, but as she became more and more skilled, his attacks became abrupt, surprising. He’d told her this was the only way to train for a war. While he was right, it was hardly the way she was used to living.

  Her heart raced and sweat beaded across her forehead. In an instant, she was wide-awake, alert.

  Kinzer’s movements were quick and powerful. In the dark, all she could see was his silhouette and the luminous sword, which she had to keep up with. Fortunately, she could feel his movements and catch shifts in his position by the change in his silhouette, tricks he’d taught her early on.

  As Kinzer pulled his sword back for another attack, Maggie jabbed at him.

  He ducked and swung his sword, hitting the side of her legs.

  The blow was powerful and knocked her back onto her mattress.

  Dammit.

  Kinzer had hit her with the side of the sword, as he usually did to make a point that he could have easily severed off a leg or an arm.

  He flipped on the overhead fluorescent lights.

  “I’d say that was pretty good,” Maggie said, “considering I haven’t been doing this since before humanity existed.”

  “Oh, yeah, yeah. It was good. Not good enough, but good.”

  He smirked. Maggie sighed.

  “’Night, Maggie.”

  He flicked the light back off and headed out.

  Maggie wiped the sweat that had collected on her palms, against her sheets.

  ’Night? Like I’m gonna be able to get back to sleep now. Fuck you.

  CHAPTER TWO

  A taxi curved through the lush green hills of the Irish countryside.

  Treycore gazed at the baby blue sky over the hills, but he wasn’t thinking about his surroundings. He was thinking about a mortal—a very special mortal who’d sacrificed his life to save him.

  For months, he’d hunted, scoured the world, searching for an immortal who would take him to the realm where his villainous ex had taken this generous creature. It was not easy to find those who knew the way through the realms. There were many laws that prevented immortals from crossing into realms other than those
they came from.

  Though Treycore had acted as a spy for the Almighty, he had been granted a permit to enter the realm as a guard, to watch and ensure that the Leader did not attempt to usurp his authority on the planet. Of course, the Almighty had actually sent him to violate the Council’s restrictions regarding conspiring against the mortal realm. He wanted Treycore and those like him to help assist in its demise. Little had the Almighty known, Treycore acted as double agent for the Leader, exchanging intel from the Almighty’s allies to His enemies.

  A few months earlier, his cover had been blown, when the Raze, one of the Almighty’s private gangs, discovered the moles in their midst and attempted to assassinate him and the other Leader’s allies.

  It seemed such a long time since he’d set out on his quest, since he’d begun his search for his mortal lover.

  He’d searched high and low for assistance to enter Hell, and though many wished to assist him, none knew the way. Most of his allies were higherlings, who could only access portals to Heaven. But he was informed of one higherling who could assist. She was the last higherling anyone thought he would reach out to.

  The taxi pulled up a winding pebble drive, which led to a castle in the distance. This was where his only hope dwelled.

  When he’d learned of her residence, it had come as a great surprise. This higherling had been one of the Almighty’s greatest prizes. She’d reigned alongside the elite in Heaven, as Treycore once had. But now, to know she had been placed in isolation on Earth, to be forgotten, saddened him. It reminded him of how much things had changed from the early days, yet he couldn’t divorce himself from the fact that those days had not been so great for all.

  The driver parked before the castle, its towers of cracking stone reaching as high as mortals of primitive times could build them. Treycore paid the driver, who said something indiscernible, perhaps a greeting or an insult. He was too focused on his mission to care.

  As he headed to the main entrance, a cool wind rushed through the blond locks that dropped into his gaze. It pressed the tips against his eye so he had to brush his hair to the side.

  He should have considered his appearance before heading out, especially before meeting with this particular higherling, but since he’d begun his mission, he’d given little thought to how he looked. He just had to save Kid, the mortal boy whom he’d hardly known, but who had sold his life to Treycore’s villainous ex, Vera, to prevent her from hurting Treycore. Why he made that decision confounded Treycore. He knew how he felt about Kid. His feelings had been so strong—more intense than anything he’d felt over the course of his incredible history of love affairs. He hadn’t understood why he’d felt that way, and he’d cursed himself for feeling so blindly infatuated with this creature he barely knew. But despite his resentment of those sensations within him, he couldn’t deny that they existed. After Kid had given his own life to protect Treycore when Vera had threatened his life, he had to believe that Kid felt the same for him. Even if he didn’t, he still wouldn’t let Vera keep him in her vile clutches.

  That meant he had to follow this path that led him to what seemed now a distant memory. Before his life with Vera, he’d had another lover, who through her work with the Council had access to portals between the realms. As much as he didn’t want to approach her, considering their tumultuous end, if he was to rescue this incredible boy, he would have to sacrifice his pride and request her help.

  As he approached the castle entrance, he wondered: Would she let him in? Would she attack him? Considering what he’d discovered about her reason for being locked in isolation, he feared the worst.

  Two impressive metal doors with vines etched around their frame guarded the construction, which judging by the cracked and fallen stones around it, had not been kept up properly.

  A higherling such as her deserves better.

  He pushed on the door, which was unlocked, and allowed himself inside.

  The entry was bare. It made him wonder if he’d been misled about his ex-lover’s whereabouts. White light from overhanging chandeliers illuminated a long hallway. He followed it to a series of rooms, stuffed with piles of magazines and stacks of books, which seemed to be mini-mazes in each room. They were logical possessions of a higherling who had worked as peacekeeper for the Council, as she had been charged with understanding mortal culture. Now that she no longer worked for them, he wondered why she kept them and why they hadn’t been better organized.

  As he came to a door at the end of the main hallway, he pressed it open.

  Motionless doves were strung all about the room. Mounted on the walls, laying in piles beside a table with needles and thread. Treycore could only assume she’d taken taxidermy up as a hobby.

  A soft sound caught his attention—a tune he recognized, took him back eons.

  He abandoned the room of lifeless doves and followed the melody.

  It led him through another hallway, to a large room. On the opposite wall, French doors opened onto a patio, and just beyond the patio, bright green grass filled acres of land that went on and on. It was a lovely sight, but it certainly couldn’t rival the sights his ex-lover had been accustomed to in Heaven.

  The melody came from outside, which didn’t surprise Treycore, as this was where she’d spent most of her time in the golden days of Heaven.

  When he stepped out of the castle, he saw, standing next to a large cage, the source of this pleasant sound. Her white gown pooled onto the grass, fanning out around her. As she poured feed from a brown paper bag into a tray in a cage before her, she continued humming.

  Treycore descended a small set of stone steps onto the grass, keeping quiet so as not to alarm her.

  His ex pulled the bag back and closed the cage, her baby-powder-white fingers slipping over a latch. Ducking until she was eye-level with a dove on a nearby wooden perch, she smiled. Her expression appeared to ask the vermin to express gratitude for the meal she’d provided.

  Treycore wondered what it must be like. Trapped out here, all alone, with only the company of these doves. In her days in Heaven, she had delighted in the attention of the higherlings—their appreciation of her flawlessness. Treycore recalled how she would wander the Heavenly cathedrals, endlessly laughing, chatting, and singing, just to bathe in the sort of awe the Almighty had intended for her to be surrounded by. How could a creature that had been designed for praise live like this? Were her days only spent sifting through the magazines and books in the castle and feeding these disgusting creatures? After all that she’d done for the Council, surely the least they could have done was provide her with company.

  She rolled the top of the bag shut. Turning toward Treycore, her eyes met his, and she froze.

  She was, as she had always been, the embodiment of a living portrait. Swirls of cream locks hovered around her white face, just a few shades lighter than the ivory dress she wore, which vee-d beneath her neck, its cloth wrapping under her arms, shaping tightly against the crests of her breasts and hips. Though she looked like she was about to rush off to her own wedding, the vision was so stunning that, had she worn it to a strip club, Treycore was sure the only side remarks would have been attempts to identify the goddess in white.

  But for Treycore, all this beauty was a blur next to those wide, perfectly symmetrical aquamarine eyes, framed by two perfectly-arched eyebrows, a few shades darker than her hair—certainly the Almighty’s way of drawing attention to the glistening pride of his creation.

  The sight of those eyes made Treycore’s thoughts cease.

  She remained still, as if the picturesque state she found herself in had been permanently captured.

  He didn’t speak. He wanted her to initiate the exchange. Considering their past, he felt he needed an invitation to interact with her. She might have been reluctant, but their intense history, coupled with her generous heart, made him certain she would allow him to vocalize his request. Whether or not she would grant it was another issue.

  She wasn’t quick to speak
, and she didn’t appear unsettled by the silence. It seemed like she was allowing a moment to adjust to the presence of this figure from her memory.

  “Trey,” she finally said. Her high-pitched tone was like a symphony to Treycore’s ears—even more so than the one produced by her humming.

  He waited for her to add a greeting or a remark, but she just stood there, staring.

  Her gaze finally released him as she scanned her surroundings, as if trying to remember where she was.

  “I should’ve cleaned.”

  It was an odd comment, filled with innocence and lacking any mortal or immortal etiquette. It was the sort of oblivious comment Treycore would have expected from the higherling when they were together, when she felt safe to be at ease around him. It brought him relief. Made him feel that hardly any time had passed since their last encounters.

  He smirked. “It’s fine. It’s good to see you again.”

  Her free hand rushed to her face and massaged her cheek. Her eyes widened as they would if she’d seen something horrifying. “Oh, I—”

  “You look flawless, Eilee.”

  “Oh, no, no.”

  She hurried up the steps and rushed across the patio, into the castle.

  Treycore followed.

  They passed through the magazine labyrinth and the stacks of books that Treycore had encountered when he’d first entered. Eilee didn’t comment or seem aware of them as she hurried along. Rushed as she appeared, she didn’t manage a pace faster than one that permitted her hips to shift ever-so slightly—in a way that Treycore remembered all too well. The way that kept all the higherlings, male and female, lusting after her physique.

  Treycore followed her through a series of halls and stairwells to a room, which he assumed was where she slept. Like the other rooms, magazines and books littered the floor. These were open and ripped apart. Various scraps and pieces of articles and passages were collected in patterns on the floor. Again, he wondered, if she was no longer with the Council, what need she had for this cultural hoarding.