My Devoted Demons

Chapter 12 - Who Are You?

He led me around the house before stopping at a set of polished double doors, and then brought me inside the room.

No one else was there yet, but the desk and office chairs made everything seem too real.

"They sold my wife," Henry mumbled, just barely loud enough for me to hear.

His hand had moved from my waist to my bicep, and I felt it tighten as I turned and asked, "Your wife?"

He opened his mouth to respond but was swiftly cut off by the entering of my father and the woman in the black dress.

"It is always delightful to be doing business with the wondrous Jett family!" My father's deep voice rang out, cheerier than I'd ever heard it, like he was happy to be selling his only daughter off to some other rich empire.

"Of course, it has been far too long since we've seen each other." The woman in the dress could have been the most elegant woman I'd ever seen, but something about her was cynical and cruel-looking.

"I look forward to strengthening the bond between our families," my father told her, but he almost looked nervous. As if he was trying his absolute hardest to impress her with every word he spoke and every action he made.

Once he got to the other side of his desk, he scrambled for a pen and handed it to her, turning the documents laying on his desk around so she could sign them.

"If you'll just sign those, then you can be on your merry way!" He chuckled softly and clasped his hands together in front of him, rubbing his sweaty palms over each other while slightly rocking back and forth on his feet.

Her toned, manicured hand effortlessly scribbled her signature on each of the papers before she placed the pen back down and straightened, securing her snakeskin purse in the bend of her elbow.

She turned to face me, and her upper lip curled in disgust as she ran her gaze up and down my nearly-naked body.

Tilting her head towards my father, she requested, "Do you mind if we change her into something...more."

My father bowed his head. "Of course, Mrs. Jett." He nodded once at Henry, and I felt myself being pulled out of the room and in the direction of the basement, where I had originally switched outfits upon arriving here.

When we made it to the familiar room, the metal table in the middle brought back unpleasant memories.

Henry stopped at the table, let me go, strode over the rack of clothes, grabbed a sweatshirt and a pair of sweatpants, and walked back over to me.

I took the clothes from his hands and carefully slid them onto my body, not wanting to accidentally tear the stitches on my side.

I heard a buzz shoot out of the back pocket of his jeans, and he pulled his phone out to check it.

As he glanced at the screen, he grimaced and clenched his jaw. "Your father wants to show you something," he ominously informed me. "He says that he'll meet us there."

I had no idea what it might have been, but the look on Henry's face said that it couldn't be remotely close to good.

Without another word, Henry wrapped a hand around my bicep once again and led us out of the room.

Before long, we had arrived at my dungeon-esque room, and I saw my father leaning on the doorway, bored, but with an anticipating smile adorning his angular face.

"Ah, I can't wait to show you what's in here." My father turned to face me completely, and he locked his gaze onto mine before placing a hand on the rusty doorknob, turning it, and pushing the door open.