My Anti-hero Fairy System-Chapter 77. Late Bloomer

"Who?" Farrah asked, her stomach tightening. She prayed it wasn’t her mother. That would totally drive her over the edge.

Mr. Bailey wiped his face, struggling to steady his voice. "It’s Reverend Franklin and his wife. They were attacked this evening on their way home from the church. Their children were left alive." His jaw clenched. "They killed a great man."

"Sorry, sir," Cara murmured, absorbing the news. Her mind raced, trying to piece together who could have done this. It can’t be Joana. They had agreed she would wait two more days before taking any action against the Reverend. His death came at the worst possible time, especially since Cara had just gathered a wealth of scandalous dirt on him.

[What are you going to do now?]

’Expose him anyway. Dead or alive, people need to know the kind of dirtbag he was, especially Farrah’s father, who worships him blindly.’

[Do you think Joana did this?]

’I doubt it. She’s a woman of her word. But I’m visiting her tonight. She won’t be able to lie to me.’

Farrah reached for her father’s hand. "I’m so sorry for your loss, Dad. I know how close you and Reverend Franklin were."

Mr. Bailey exhaled sharply, his grief hardening into something colder. "I know who did this. It had to be one of them."

Farrah frowned, knowing exactly what he meant. "Dad, you don’t know that. It could’ve been anyone."

Mr. Bailey’s expression darkened. "Who else would have done it? The supernaturals have had it out for him for a long time. They are all evil, spawn of the devil."

Farrah stiffened. "Dad, not all supernaturals are evil. Grandma isn’t evil."

His face twisted with fury. "Don’t you dare mention that ungodly woman in this house. I have warned you time and time again, nothing connects us to that witch."

"But, Dad, we are witches—"

"Shut up, little girl! We are humans!" Mr. Bailey roared, slamming his hand against the table.

Immediately, his eyes flared, fiery red once more. Sparks ignited from his fingertips, crackling like embers before flickering out.

Cara and Farrah sat frozen, their breath caught in their throats.

For two long minutes, the only sound in the room was their uneven breathing as the fire dimmed, his eyes cooling back to blue.

Cara swallowed hard. "Sir... what is going on?"

Mr. Bailey swayed slightly, disoriented. "I—I don’t know."

Farrah reached for him, voice gentle. "Dad, just breathe. Calm down."

"I am calm. I am fine." He pulled away from her embrace, shaking his head. "I need to get to Reverend Franklin’s house. His children would need me."

Before either of them could respond, he grabbed his keys, rushed out the door, and drove off.

The silence he left behind was deafening.

Cara turned to Farrah. "What the hell just happened?"

Farrah exhaled shakily. "My father apparently has powers. That’s what just fucking happened."

Cara’s mind whirred. "He’s a late bloomer." She pulled out her phone. "Your grandma needs to hear this."

"How do you know about that?" Farrah asked.

"Well, I have done a lot of research on witches since our encounter with your grandma," Cara responded.

She dialed Celine’s number. It rang for nearly two minutes before the old woman finally answered.

"Good evening, Celine," Cara said.

"Good evening, Cara. How have you been?" Celine said, with a cheerful tone.

"Well, let’s see I almost died the day you warned me that my life is in danger. I am fine. Though, that is not why I am calling," Cara said.

"Ok, then, to what do I owe the pleasure?" Celine’s voice was warm but laced with curiosity.

"I have some important news."

"What is it? What happened? Is Athena alright?" Celine asked, her concern immediate.

Cara exchanged a glance with Farrah. "Athena’s fine. This is about your son."

A pause. Then, "Go on."

"I got the lock of hair for the ritual—"

"Really?" Celine interrupted, her excitement evident. "Well, that’s wonderful news."

"Yes, it is," Cara agreed. "But there’s something else, you’re not going to believe it. Your son... he has powers."

Silence.

Then, "What did you just say?"

"I mean it. We saw it happen. His eyes turned fiery twice tonight, and he released sparks of fire from his hands."

Celine let out a low whistle. "Damn. So, he’s a late bloomer after all."

"You suspected?"

"I thought it wouldn’t happen." Celine’s voice grew more serious. "Let me guess, he was angry when it happened?"

"Yes!" Cara and Farrah said in unison.

Celine sighed. "Then I think it’s time for me to make an appearance in his life again, whether he likes it or not."

—-----

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Cara stepped out of Farrah’s house and stood by the curb, waiting for a taxi to take her to Joana’s castle. She flagged down several cabs, but the moment she mentioned her destination, the drivers refused, shaking their heads, their faces tight with unease.

That part of town was off-limits tonight.

Frustrated, she pulled out her phone and booked a ride online. The fare was significantly higher—no doubt because of the location—but within five minutes, a driver arrived.

The man, likely in his thirties, barely spoke during the ride, keeping his eyes fixed on the road. As they neared the castle, Cara noticed the way his grip tightened on the steering wheel, his jaw clenching. The moment they arrived, she handed him the money, and before she could even close the door properly, he sped off—like someone escaping from a lion’s den.

The castle loomed before her, its massive wooden doors intricately carved with symbols she didn’t recognize. Taking a breath, Cara stepped forward and knocked.

Heavy footsteps rushed toward the door, but before it could open, something cold and strong clamped around her neck from behind.

Her body stiffened. This wasn’t Joana.

For a split second, she thought it might be Lisa, but the grip was too strong, the presence too hostile.

Vampires.

A surge of fear coursed through her, but before she could react, another set of hands seized her arm, shoving her forward. The massive doors swung open, and she was dragged inside.

She quickly scanned the dimly lit interior, three of them. No Joana.

The largest of them, a bald, muscular vampire, licked his lips as his sharp eyes roamed over her. "This one’s gonna taste so fucking good."

Cara’s pulse hammered. Even if she fought back, the odds were stacked against her. Three against one.

And being vampires, they had the upper hand.