Reincarnate [Isaac Lahey]

Chapter Twenty-Three

"Lena," a voice called and she closed her eyes taking in a deep breath in a weak effort to control her irritation. Rob was sat on the edge of her bed with Steve lying across her pillows. She knew she was going to wake up with cat hair in her mouth tomorrow.

"Dad," she countered, her eyes looking at him suspiciously.

"I know you're trying to help with the sacrifices that are going on," he admitted and she met his eyes with ones so void of life that it was hard to imagine that she was the child he'd raised. "You know, your mother loved roses," he said and her brows furrowed as she tried to understand the reasoning behind it, "cut back so brutally..." he trailed off, "I don't want you helping."

"I don't think you get a say in the matter."

"I am your father and whilst you may hate me forever, those first sixteen years of your life were brilliant. Filled with art and beauty and love just as yer mother wanted," he growled out, "and I will not have that peace and happiness destroyed by some stupid effort to protect you! Your mother-" he stopped. She watched him with an already heavy heart as he hesitated; realising the words that were to leave his mouth, "your mother....my...my wife. My dead wife," he muttered, tears burning in his eyes and for a moment her heart got caught in her throat, "she did so much for us. For all of us."

"So I should just abandon it? Lie to myself-"

"I'm telling you to live, Lena! Holly is dead. Your mother is dead. She burnt along with the rest of her coven because she'd rather die and leave us than abandon her coven. You should have heard the stories about her; the strongest witch of her age. The legendary high priestess of the Crystal Rose couldn't even survive a fire."

"What is your point?" She finally asked.

"My point is you are ordinary. You are an ordinary witch and you could very well die. I lost your mother and I will not be losing my daughter too! Hate me all you want for it but I'm telling you to live! Go out and search for beauty and art like your mother would've wanted. Find the boy who writes you poetry and sings you songs! Find love and happiness and stop with this supernatural nonsense because it'll get you killed!"

"I can do both-"

"Like your mother did?" He asked, "she was a strong woman, do anything for her family, so as your father I'm telling you... you are not to continue. I don't want to see you with Scott, Stiles, or any of them."

"You have no right-"

"We will be on the first flight back to Scotland. You may hate me and your mother as much as you want but yer my daughter....yer my daughter," he broke down. Tears running down his cheeks as he shook his head, "and I don't even know who ye are. Where's your poetry? Your books, your necklace, your mother's necklace, where's the passion for the Renaissance...where's my daughter?" He asked as he searched her hopelessly.

She couldn't say anything.

She'd done something wrong again.

Not being able to look at her any longer, Rob stormed out the room and slammed the door shut behind him. Tears burnt at her own eyes as everything inside her felt sick. To her, he looked like he hated her. Like the mere sight of her was purely a reminder of how their mother had burnt and there was nothing left of her.

Nothing but the ashes which sat in the urn.

Snuggling her nose into the back of Steve, she stared out at the wall beside her which seemed so plain to her. Like the mere presence of it was offending her. Her mind felt cloudy and her skin clammy and cold but she did not care. Even Steve's warmth was nothing. Hearing the sound of the window, she forced her head up to look behind her and she saw Isaac climbing through in his usual clumsy way.