Chapter Text
Joey was gone and Abigal looked after her. She stood outside and listened as the car moved further and further away until it could no longer be heard. Then she was alone. Alone in the dark, listening to the wind as it blew through the leaves of the trees and brushed against her face. Somewhere to her right, she heard an owl flying through the air, hunting for its next victim. There was something soothing about the sounds of nature and Abigail needed that right now. Her body needed to regenerate and heal the injuries she had sustained. The fight against Frank had taken a lot out of her. She was so weak that she was basically no longer a vampire, but a simple twelve-year-old human girl. She was mortal and yet over 200 years old.
Her father, Kristof Lazaar, was in the house and hadn't spoken a word to his daughter since Joey had left. He had been drinking and then withdrawn, as he always did. Abigail wasn't surprised. Why would her father show any interest in her, even if she had nearly died? He hadn't shown it in all the years before. To him, she was just someone to get rid of the people who caused problems for his business. Other gang leaders, politicians, police officers, agents, staff or people who knew too much. He only needed her for that. Otherwise he didn't care about her. She was just a tool he could use. He exploited her and didn't care about her feelings.
But it hadn't always been like that.
In moments like these, Abigail remembered the time when her father was really like a father to her. Who was there for her, who cared about her, where she was above everything and she felt safe with him. It seemed like an eternity that these times had once existed. But they really did exist. How she missed them.
What had happened to her father?
Abigail knew the answer to that, and she hated it. Humans and other vampires had come into her life more and more. They had driven her father, who hadn't had much interest in power or any criminal dealings to begin with, into it. They wanted him to lead them so that they themselves had a sense of power. How they had only corrupted him. In just ten years, her father had changed so much that she hardly recognised him.
He now had his finger in almost every criminal organisation in the world and controlled the entire underworld, with a few exceptions. There was no one who had never heard of him and so everyone feared him. As soon as his name was mentioned, people's hearts began to race and they would do anything just to avoid ending up as dinner.
Humans could be so pathetic and many of the vampires were no different. It disgusted and bored Abigail. Kowtowing to her father was cowardly and boring.
"Abigail!"
Her father's voice. It came from the room that had been the only one spared from the chaos. His room. His office.
Even though she would have preferred to stay out here and avoid everything that was waiting for her inside, she knew she had to see him. There was nothing her father hated more than when you didn't come when he called for you. Many had not survived not obeying the order.
But would her father kill her if she didn't come? It was an interesting thought and Abigail considered testing it. She wanted to know what her father would do. What would he do with a rebellious daughter? Would he call her to order? Punish her? Hurt her? Kill her? Anything was fine with her, if her father would react at all. If he gave her any kind of attention.
"Abigail!"
The tone was already much sharper, he had clearly stood up and left his room. It wouldn't be long before he would be standing in the open doorway, snarling at her with bared teeth. That was typical among vampires. When they were angry or annoyed, they were hard to control. Abigail knew that and took the risk. She wanted a reaction from her father. Any reaction.
"ABIGAIL!"
Now his voice was as shrill as when he had tried to attack Joey and she had intervened. Now he was angry.
GOOD!
That's exactly what Abigail wanted. If she didn't get her father's affection, she would get his anger.
Perhaps her behaviour was childish and silly, but she was a twelve-year-old girl and had been for more than 200 years. Even in the centuries that followed, her body would always remain that of a child. But her mind did not stand still. Even if she behaved more like a child now, in spirit she was an adult woman. A woman trapped in the body of a child.
Quick footsteps with a clear intensity approached the open front door and Abigail turned in its direction. Her gaze was defiant and bitter. There was no guilt or remorse in it. The only guilty person was her father. He was all alone.
Eyes glowing pale turquoise, pointed teeth bared like a predator's and a face of fury, her father appeared at the door. Abigail returned it vampire-style, revealing her true form and hissing at him.
Instead of hissing at her too, her father just shook his head in anger. He lowered his head and then raised it again to look at her.
"When I call you, you must follow, daughter! Do you understand?" he said coldly.
Unconcerned, Abigail shook her head.
"Your defiance is in vain. As my daughter, you must obey me, your father. Have you forgotten that?"
"No, but are you unworthy as a father? I have no duty to obey you," Abigail replied coolly.
He came storming towards her to within a metre, baring his teeth and quivering with rage. But she could see in his eyes that she had hit him and he knew she was right. He had already realised that when she defended Joey from him.
"You're supposed to be my father? Then why aren't you acting like one? Why, Kristof Lazaar?" she accused him in a sharp tone.
If she had ever grown up, she would have brought him to his knees. But she was never going to grow up and so now she only had to do it with words.
"Where is the father who saved me from the greatest need? Where is the father who embraced me, gave me comfort and was there for me when I needed him? Where is the Lord who swore to be there for me and to be the father I needed? Where is he?" she asked him again and again.
With each successive question, Abigail pushed him further back into the house. Into the entrance hall, which was still soaked with blood and gore. He was to see clearly once again the place where he had almost lost his oh-so-beloved daughter.
It showed its effect, if only in his eyes, because otherwise he remained hard and unyielding. Just like all the others wanted. A lord without mercy, compassion or warmth. But she was not a subordinate, she was his daughter and she wanted to feel that.
Her father didn't say a word.
"What kind of father abuses his daughter to dispose of people who could harm his business? What kind of father doesn't recognise everything his daughter has done for him? The last one almost got her killed. What kind of father puts the only family member he has at risk? What have I not done for YOU! Answer me!"
He didn't answer.
Her father just looked at her. The anger and rage were gone. His face was expressionless except for his eyes. They were playing out a play that couldn't have been more dramatic. But that wasn't enough for Abigail. She wanted more and an open apology from him. She wanted her father back.
She could also feel his thoughts forming in his head again and again and meandering in other directions, but she couldn't read them. She couldn't hear him. He wouldn't let her.
Indignant, she walked past him, up the battered stairs and onwards. Tears began to cloud her vision and the agonising pain of healing was now even clearer in her heart. Once it was said that immortality absolved and freed one from human emotions, but that was a lie. A dirty lie. It reinforced them and could only increase the suffering.
Where was Joey? Why did I let her go? Was she on her way to her son now? Caleb?
Abigail wished that she hadn't let Joey go, or at least that she had gone with her. Even if that wasn't possible in reality, it was a strong wishful thought. Joey had been the first person in many years to actively look after her well-being. Who had made her feel safe and secure. She had been like a mother to her. A mother she hadn't had for centuries.
Abigail regretted that she had initially wanted to kill her. Well, she had been on the list. On the list of people who were a waste of time, a danger or competition. The people who should die. How could she have known that among them was the person she longed for. A mother.
She went into her room, which looked just as devastated as she had left it, but the bed was still halfway there. She sat down on it and wrapped her arms around her legs. She wanted to cry, but she couldn't. Despite the amount of blood she had drunk, she was literally dehydrated and unable to cry. But she wanted to cry and sobbed without shedding a tear. She wanted Joey. She needed her and if it had to be with Caleb. Or she could get rid of him, then she would be all hers. But either way, Abigail needed Joey.
Even before she could hear his footsteps, she could hear his thoughts. He let her into his head and that amazed Abigail. Her father had only very rarely allowed this before in all those years. The fact that he allowed it now meant something, but she still remained sceptical. Her father could be very manipulative when he wanted to be. It could be that he wanted to appease her with this behaviour.
So she remained closed to him. She knew her father's tricks and also knew what he was capable of. If he wanted to, he could torture someone mentally so that they wanted to die voluntarily. Just with their thoughts. But Abigail wouldn't give him a chance. She was his daughter and knew him well. Nevertheless, she found this scary.
She sat down on the right-hand edge of the bed, let her feet dangle and assumed a coldly dismissive posture. She wanted him to know immediately how she felt about him.
>>Abigail, my daughter.<<
His voice was in her head. She could clearly hear him. Yet she wouldn't let him see inside her head. She could feel him touching the walls, but it was gentle and he left it at that when he realised he wasn't getting through.
>>Abigail, may I come in?<<
Her father wanted to come into the room. He asked for it. Abigail became sceptical. He had rarely done that before.
Abigail had instinctively closed the door and so her father stood in front of a closed door.
Should she let him in? Abigail wasn't sure. But she wanted something from her father. A reaction. She wanted him to lay his cards out in front of her. She wanted to hear it.
>>Come in.<<
The door opened quietly as if by magic and when it was open, the soft footsteps could be heard. He walked with the grace he always did, but this time there was a certain heaviness in his steps. As if they were being pressed down by a weight.
Abigail felt a certain uncertainty inside her because she was no longer sure whether her father was just pretending or whether her words had really made a difference.
She didn't look at him. She didn't even look at him. She was angry and she didn't care whether it was childish defiance or not. The anger was the same.
>>Abigail, look at me.<< her father asked without command in his voice.
That he was still talking to her via telepathy puzzled her. Now that they were in the same room and it was no longer necessary.
More and more her father confused and astonished her.
>>Abigail, I can't give you what you're asking for.<<
>>But you can. You just don't want it.<< she contradicted without looking at him.
>>You know I can't, not that I don't want to.<<
>>You're lying. You're lying like you've always done to justify your actions.<<
The bitterness in her voice was so clear it was palpable.
>>They are facts. Not lies. It's not like that in this world....<<
>>Say what you want to say and don't talk around it.<<
The childish defiance was clearly interwoven with bitterness. They went hand in hand. Should her father feel this.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw her father coming towards her. She recognised immediately that he wanted to sit on the bed with her and so she slid a little to the left. It would have been disrespectful if she hadn't made room for him. He was her father and a lord. You had to show him respect. Even if you were angry and furious with him. So her father sat down next to her on the bed.
>>I can't give you what you ask for because it would weaken not only me, but you as well,<< her father said with bitterness in his voice. >>They fear us. We must not allow ourselves weakness.<<
>>Is it a weakness to wish for more affection and love? Wouldn't that promote solidarity and cohesion?" Abigail replied.
It still made her feel uncomfortable to look at her father. She also had the feeling that her father was only trying to manipulate her into obeying him again. That she was a good daughter who obeyed her father and lord.
>>I can't give it to you.<<
>>But you can. You used to be able to. But these people have corrupted you. The others have corrupted you.<< Abigail murmured in anger and sadness. >>You should have stayed out of this world, like you promised on my birthday.<<
>>Times have changed. In the last 150 years. I can't disappear. Not anymore.<<
>>Another lie. You're lying to me. Again.<<
>>Abigail! Look at me!<<
This time she looked at him, but with the same look she had given him when she had begged for food on his doorstep. Even after more than 200 years, she remembered it well and remembered every detail of it. She remembered how he had reacted back then. Would he do the same now?
Emotions of all kinds were reflected in her father's eyes and face, but only a few stood out. They took centre stage and were clearly visible. Anger, sadness and despair. They went hand in hand and fought for supremacy. Neither party won. They stayed on the same level. But one party would have to win in the end and that party would decide how this all ended.
Abigail looked deep into her father's eyes. When he moved them, she imitated him and when he blinked, so did she. They were connected not only through telepathy, but now also through their movements. She loved her father, but she wanted to feel that from him too. So far, she had only experienced his rejection and low esteem.
>>Abigail, you will always be a child, no matter how many years pass. You will never be taken seriously because of your figure. But if you ever want to take over my business, you must renounce such human things. Your body may be that of an eternal child, but your spirit is not. Your spirit and intelligence will be what they fear. They will underestimate you and that is your strength. But this must grow.<<
>>You want me to be your successor one day?<<, Abigail asked incredulously.
>>Yes<<
It was an honour and by no means something that could be taken for granted. Even if she was his daughter, he could have chosen differently. Someone who was an adult and could impress with her stature. Someone who had proven themselves over the years.
Not her. Not Abigail.
She was a child and always would be.
She wasn't destined to become a lord and rule someday. She didn't want that either. She wanted her father to love her, to cherish her and to be there for her when she needed him. She wanted a mother.
A family.
Abigail wanted a family.
>>You don't feel worthy of it.<<,
>>I'll never be worthy enough, because being the child that I am, one need will always come first. And not control of the underworld.<<, Abigail replied.
>>A family<<
>>Yes....<<
Without any warning, her father cut the telepathic connection and the intense eye contact. He turned his gaze to the side and stood up. He had made a decision. A decision that Abigail had no idea what it entailed or what the consequences would be. A slight panic rose up inside her and displaced the anger.
"Father..."
He didn't respond, but walked to the door and left the room. Abigail immediately jumped up to follow him. She had great difficulty keeping up as she was still very weak and so could only follow her father at human speed.
His every step became faster. He was in a hurry and that was not a good sign. Whatever decision it was, it demanded immediate action and that couldn't mean anything good.
"Father!" she said much louder.
His steps quickened and he didn't turn round. She tried to keep up, but she couldn't. She was too weak. Too human. It wasn't possible to follow a vampire.
So she could only follow him at a great distance and saw him disappear through the front door. Disappeared into the darkness of the night. He was gone. Again.
She followed him to the door before collapsing to her knees and crying. She cried because she was afraid. She cried because she was panicking. She cried because she was angry. She cried because she didn't know what else to do. She was helpless. Helpless for the first time in her long life. As helpless as she had been as a human child.
She was alone.
>>Father...<<, she whispered in her thoughts into the distance.
She could feel him, but she didn't know if her message had reached him. Whether he had heard it. Whether he even wanted to hear it.
>>Father...please....<<
She was heard.
>>I'll bring her back.<<
Abigail was about to say something, but then the connection was immediately severed. She tried to feel for her father, but he had severed any possibility. He had disappeared from the scene and so she was left with only his response. 'I'll bring her back'.
At first, Abigail didn't understand what her father meant. Who did he want to bring back? Who was she? Which her did he want to bring back? Which woman? A girl? Who? Who?
But then the penny dropped and all the anger evaporated. It was mixed with joy and scepticism. With joy and enthusiasm. With joy and desire. With joy and nervousness. With joy and fear.
Joey.
Joey. Joey. Joey. Joey.
He brought Joey back. He had correctly interpreted his daughter's wish and how she had defended this woman. He knew what his daughter needed. What she craved. What she desired. What she needed.
Abigail needed Joey. She needed a mother. She needed Joey as a mother.
Her father wanted to fulfil this wish. He wanted to make his daughter happy. He loved her. He did love her.
Joey would become her mum. He would make her her mum and she would never be alone again. Never alone again, because she would always be with her. Never alone again.
This filled Abigail with such euphoria that she began to tremble and cry tears of joy. Her fears were nipped in the bud and nothing else mattered now. Because there was only one thing that mattered.
A mum.
She would have a mum.
And that mum would be Joey.