Young Writers Society

I feel like this is missing something....Help!

*****

Damon took Ivy back to her home in Westminster, London; it was a semi-detached house which surprised him considering who her parents were. They had a small drive and garden at the front which grew roses. For Ivy, seeing her house again brought back a flood of memories and as she fished for her keys, tears began streaming down her cheeks.

Damon rolled his eyes at her emotional breakdown. Humans are so weak, he thought as he watched her miserably fail to open the door. Impatiently, he snatched the keys from her and unlocked the door, ushering her inside. But that made matters worse, as the pictures of her family in the hallway hit home.

She crashed to her knees and screamed like a baby for its mother, the noise distilled the peace in the house and Damon’s frigid mind.

  “Sweet, innocent Ivy,” Damon cooed as he tried to comfort her by gentle tapping her back but came to no avail. To his defence, he was bad at this, demons never cry. “Stop crying, you need to be strong for what I'm about to show you."

  “Can’t you see I’m in mourning, I’ve lost everything! I’m not in the mood to talk about our deal,” she wailed with a croaky voice.

Damon gave a restless sigh before walking over to the at the back of the living room.

  “What are you doing?” Ivy demanded as she got to her feet but Damon didn’t answer and held out his hand. Ivy looked at him quizzically and he gave her choleric glare before grabbing her hand.

He dragged her through the wall and into a secret room she’d never seen before. Its walls were black unlike the pure white like the rest of the house. On the walls were pinned pictures of people, buildings and notes. A huge TV sat on the back of the wall, the screen was split into eight, showing footage of houses and the Gardens of Eden building.

  "What the-"

  "Welcome to your parents' hidden lair," Damon announced giddily.

Ivy looked around gobsmacked, horrified by what she saw. A large metal cabinet sat in the corner of the room and without even opening it, she had a feeling what was inside. Hesistantly, she pushed the door back, it groaned in protest but after she gave it another push it gave way revealing a collection of firearms. Deep down she wasn't surprised, this obviously belonged to her father, he was a vicious man at heart although he tried to hid it from them. But he never hid his true nature from Ivy, educating her to be a wolf in sheep's clothing, a God among men, to take whatever she wanted.

  "That's not all," Damon said before pressing a panel on the wall.

Suddenly, the empty wall hissed as it sunk into the ground exposing a hidden stash of money, there was so much in the hidden room that it rushed like water to their feet. Ivy's touched her temple as she felt her head pound at the revelation; all this was too overbearing to bear.

  “They were filthy rich!” Damon laughed.

  "Did they steal it?" Ivy finally uttered.

  "In a way yes."

  "From a bank?"

  "No, from the Gardens of Eden," Damon informed with an amusing grin.

  “That’s impossible!”

  “Not if they own it.”

Ivy shook her head in detest and pointed her finger in Damon’s face. “You’re lying.”

Damon bit at her finger and she retracted it hastily. “Unfortunately, in this instance I’m not.”

  “My mother was a doctor at Chelsea and Westminster Hospital and my father owned an art gallery, they didn’t – couldn’t have-” Ivy justified but Damon could smell a hint of doubt in her words.

  “Late nights? Excuses? Suspicious behaviour?” Damon listed.

Ivy sat on of the swivel chairs and buried her head in her hands. How did he know these things? He was right; her parents would often miss important events and even birthdays. They’d go of late at night and come back early in the morning, saying it was work. And would often hold us close when walking on the street, always looking over their shoulders.

Damon sat down on the seat next to her and started typing away at the keyboard. The TV screen changed to footage of an abandoned warehouse, the date in the corner read ’29 March 2005’, her birthday. Ivy leaned in closer when she saw a group of people meeting in the centre most of their faces was unrecognisable because of lack of light, but Ivy could recognise her mother’s black and red braids but that could be someone else.

Though, her doubts were put to rest when she heard them talk.

  “Thank you for coming,” Luciem said crouching and rubbing his finger along the edge of his knife’s blade.

  “Well we had no choice,” a manly voice said.

  “I already told you no, Luciem, we can’t waste our finances and companies on a wild dream,” another male voice protested.

  “You speaking for everyone because I know some here that agree to this idea, to becoming ‘Gods among men’ isn’t how you put it Luciem.”

Luciem laughed in joy as they turned to face the entrance, to where a new dark figure walked in and joined them. They held each other in a tight embrace before letting go.

  “You don’t care for power only about being the richest son-of-a-bitch in the world,” Luciem teased.

  “Money lasts forever, Luciem, power can be taken away,” the newcomer advised.

  “Are you finished?” Eva retorted. “Now all those in favour raise your hand.”

  “You’re actually giving us a choice?” one of the men asked surprised.

  “Yes but if you decline I’ll have your family killed,” Eva threatened and looked at a woman standing nearby who took out her phone, ready to make the order. “Your choice.”

Uneasy silence conquered the atmosphere, and then someone spoke.

   “Fine,” one man reluctantly agreed. “Just please don’t hurt my family.”

The rest followed hastily in suit, agreeing to help them build this empire they claimed would make them ‘Gods among men’.

  “I was hoping to use this knife too,” Luciem moaned. “To the Gardens of Eden,” he proclaimed.

The footage cut out in a haze of black and white lines, which Ivy stare at in disarray. Part of her was appalled by her parents’ actions especially her mother, which she had believed was a kind-hearted woman incapable of doing wrong. But another part of her, a small seed planted in her soul was drawn by the fear they instilled on them, the power they commanded.

  “You were right,” Ivy said disappointed rubbing her temple. “I didn’t know my parents at all.”

Damon shot up in excitement and conjured the feathered pen and soul contract. “So you’ll sign the contract?”

  “Prove to me you’re a demon first,” Ivy reminded.

  “I’ve transported us from the park back to your house, disappeared through a wall, and conjured this pen and paper from thin air, what more do you want!” Damon complained before crashing back into his seat.

  “If I want revenge, I need someone strong and powerful to do it for me and from what’ve read demons possess these qualities,” Ivy explained, with her hands entwined together.

Damon gave a villainous smile. “My power isn’t for the faint-hearted, love, sure you want to watch?”

Ivy leaned forward, enticed. “Very.”

With her permission, Damon took her hand and left the secret room in a cloud of black smoke. With the new found information, Ivy didn’t know what to do with or how to react, she still loved her parents, admired them. In fact, deep down she wasn’t mad, she was impressed. But because of her parents’ dreams, it led to their deaths and she’ll make sure that all those who portrayed them will die by her hand!

Damon brought her to a derelict part of London, one run by an infamous gang called ‘The Sons of the Ripper’. It was here that Ivy arrived but Damon wasn’t there to accompany her. Fear pinned her to the ground, rendering her paralyzed. It was as if the ‘Sons of the Ripper’ could smell her dread, as one by one they appeared out of the lurking shadows and into the street lit street, surrounding her.

  “Damon!” Ivy yelled as she backed away.

The Sons of the Ripper smiled maliciously as they took their guns and knives. They were around thirty of them, dressed in black streetwear and donning skeleton masks. The leader had a hood over his head and stood at the front of the group.

He took in a huge exhalation of the air. “Fresh meat!” he exclaimed sadistically.

  “Damon!” Ivy yelled in desperation.

  “Get her boys!” he ordered and they charged at her like a pack of wolves at their prey.

Ivy broke into a sprint but they enclosed the circle making it impossible for her to escape. Her eyes darted around her, trying to find a way out but came to no avail. So like a scared child, she closed her eyes and covered her ears but that couldn’t silence the sadistic laughter.

Suddenly, she heard cries of fear and gunshots. It was definitely them but why were they so afraid? She slowly opened her eyes and saw something moving around them, as swift as the wind. She could barely see their figure it was blurry as they moved so quickly, she was in awe.

Finally, the figure charged at them manipulating their bodies so their attack their friends with their weapons. They couldn’t stop it and were too slow to realise what was happening, it was like they were a puppet being controlled by the puppet master. Blood spilt everywhere, painting the streets with a crimson masterpiece even Jack the Ripper would admire. Then the screams came to a halt and the street returned to silence.

Now that the massacre had stopped, Ivy could see who the figure was. They wore a black trench coat, turtleneck jumper and leather pants. Their pale skin was painted with streaks of blood which complimented his crimson eyes and his blonde hair was shaved into a buzzcut.

He approached her with pride in his stride, she didn’t back away because she knew who it was but there was a glint of fear in her eyes.

  “Ready to sign the contract?” Damon asked.

Ivy gulped nervously. “This will get me my revenge?”

  “And much more,” Damon vowed.

He conjured the black feather pen and soul contract for the last time and after Ivy took a deep breath she signed the contract, handing her soul to the Devil. The stars marked this precarious event, dancing and laughing within the blanket of the night.

  “Now what?”

  “I’m at your disposal, Master,” Damon bowed.

The word ‘master’ sent chills through her spine, unlocking memories she didn’t want to remember.

  “Just call me, Ivy.”