"On a second thought, I honestly don't care if it's allowed or not, you are my father, and I will share everything with you," Lauren stated with unwavering determination. Mr. Turner smiled, gently squeezing her hand. "Such a strong will, like her mother," he mused internally.
"Alright, please, go on," Mr. Turner encouraged, his eyes reflecting eager anticipation.
"Life in the supernatural realm has been nothing short of surreal. The occurrences and happenings in this realm never cease to amaze me. One of the most unforgettable experiences since joining the witches was my first visit to a pearly dimension," she recounted, her smile broad and infectious.
"What's a pearly dimension?" Mr. Turner inquired with earnest curiosity.
"It's not a 'what,' Dad; it's a place," Lauren chuckled softly, finding amusement in her father's innocent question. "It's a dimension that only a few can access in their lifetime. The space is simply breathtaking, almost otherworldly. In that ethereal place, I encountered and conversed with the moon goddess herself, as well as my spirit animal, who happens to be a talking unicorn."
"A moon goddess... I remember your mum mentioned that name when she was still alive. But a talking unicorn? It sounds like something out of a fairytale," he remarked, a chuckle dancing in his voice. His casual tone prompted Lauren to burst into laughter, the sound filling the room with warmth and joy.
Lauren leaned in, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "I promise I'm not making this up. Another mind-boggling experience was when I stumbled into a portal in Iceland and, within a matter of minutes, found myself in the living room downstairs," she shared with animated enthusiasm.
"What on earth is a portal?" Mr. Turner queried, his interest piqued.
"Um, how can I best explain this?" Lauren mused, racking her brain for an accessible analogy. "Oh, I've got it. It's like a passageway that whisks you from one place to another, but instead of walking, it's more like... teleporting. Yes, that's the word: teleporting," she clarified, hoping her explanation would convey the concept.
"Ah, I understand now. So, it's like what those young ones at Hogwarts do, waving a wand and uttering some incantation?" Mr. Turner innocently questioned. His earnest gesture and genuine curiosity caused Lauren to burst into hearty laughter, the kind that made her sides ache with mirth.
"I'm really sorry, I didn't mean to laugh at you, Dad. But you see, we don't employ wands and incantations; this isn't Hogwarts. We simply cast spells, and it happens," she explained, still chuckling as she endeavoured to reassure her father, who now wore an 'O' of comprehension on his face.
"Why did you enter a portal to go to Iceland? Is there some kind of witch headquarters over there?" Mr. Turner probed, his curiosity getting the best of him.
"Oh, no, Dad, it wasn't to go there. In fact, I entered to return after being rescued from my captors," she admitted simply, the word 'captors' hanging in the air. Instantly, she regretted letting slip that tidbit, as she didn't want her father to worry. She could see the concern begin to creep into his expression, and she silently chided herself for potentially causing him distress.
"What do you mean, captors? Were you kidnapped?" Mr. Turner's voice held a note of concern, his brow furrowed with worry.
"It's all in the past now. The important thing is that I'm back and here with you, having this chat," Lauren reassured, attempting to dispel her father's apprehension.
"Who did this to you? I can make a few calls and make sure they regret the day they were born," Mr. Turner stated with heartfelt conviction.
"Dad, I assure you everything is absolutely fine. I'm here, aren't I?" she said, seeking to reassure her father and ease his growing anxiety.
As they continued their conversation, Lauren tactfully skirted around any details she felt might overwhelm or perplex her father. She then decided to give her father a glimpse of her abilities by demonstrating some basic feats, such as using her mind to lift a pillow, open a door, turn on the television, and even levitate a glass of water.
After her traumatic kidnapping experience, Lauren dedicated three weeks to rigorous training, devoting herself to learning about her magical powers, spells, and incantations.
Her focus was on mastering the intricacies of her abilities— understanding how and when to wield them, and, most importantly, discovering how to make her magic formidable and potent against any adversaries that might come her way. This was her way of preparing herself and ensuring she would be ready for any challenges that lay ahead.
Much like every other witch who underwent training, Lauren discovered that she had been gifted with a rare and extraordinary power: the ability of telekinesis. With just a single thought, she could move and lift objects, and she also possessed the power to control the wind.
These were two of the most potent gifts bestowed upon any witch, and it was unparalleled that she was gifted with not just one, but two remarkable abilities.
"Tell me, my dear, is there someone you fancy? Could it be this Marcel fellow?" Mr. Turner teased, aiming to draw out some candid confession from his daughter.
"Dad, please," she answered, her cheeks flushing at the playful interrogation.
"Ah, so there is someone then?" he probed further.
"Well, there was... He mentioned that it was all a misunderstanding, that I had misread the situation or something along those lines. But really, I couldn't care less," she remarked in a casual tone, though inwardly, her heart panged with a twinge of pain.
"Come now, that's rubbish. Who wouldn't admire my princess? She's clever, a prodigy, the top agent in the country, the most stunning girl in the entire world. It's his loss," Mr. Turner declared emphatically, attempting to lift his daughter's spirits, keenly observant of the pain she was concealing beneath a composed exterior.
Lauren softly chuckled at her father's heartfelt words; they did bring a small measure of comfort to her.
"Shall I have a word with this person then, so he knows not to trifle with my daughter?" Mr. Turner joked sarcastically.
Laughing, she nodded in agreement. "It's Damien, Dad. Damien Voltorie," she confessed, cringing inwardly as his name slipped out. She hadn't intended to divulge his name, knowing now that her father would undoubtedly seize upon the topic and never let it go.
"Mr. Voltorie of Apex Conglomerate? How? When? Did you truly take a liking to him that night at the charity event I asked him to escort you home?" Mr. Turner queried, visibly taken aback by the revelation.
"Oh, Dad, what on earth do you take me for?" she chuckled, playfully exasperated.
"He's a vampire, by the way," she revealed, finally letting the proverbial cat out of the bag.
"A vampire?!" he exclaimed, his expression a mix of shock and incredulity.
"Yes, a vampire Prince, to be precise," she admitted. Mr. Turner couldn't help but notice the way his daughter's eyes lit up whenever she spoke about him. He made a mental note to have a chat with Damien that very night. It was clear to him that his daughter held a genuine fondness for him.
"Seems like there's no shortage of supernatural beings in this city," Mr. Turner remarked, almost to himself.
"Oh, Dad, you'd be surprised," she quipped, a mischievous glint in her eye.
At exactly six-thirty in the evening, she bid her father farewell, despite his numerous failed attempts to persuade him to stay the night.
"I've also been invited to the security gala. I need to head back to my place and get ready. I'll see you later, my dear," Mr. Turner said, planting a kiss on his daughter's cheek before stepping into his car, the driver soon zooming off into the evening.