Crimson Bonds

Chapter 1: The Chase

The city never sleeps, and neither does danger.

Babe darted through the narrow alley, his breath coming in short, controlled bursts. The moonlight barely reached between the looming buildings, casting long shadows across his path. He could feel the rogue witches behind him—close enough to sense their energy crackling in the air like static. A gust of wind howled through the streets, but Babe barely noticed. His heartbeat drowned out everything else.

Keep moving. Don't look back.

He didn't need to look to know they were gaining on him. His chest tightened as he weaved through the maze of alleys, dodging overturned trash cans and rusted fire escapes. They'd been hunting him for weeks now, their desperation growing more dangerous with each passing day. They wanted his blood magic—wanted to exploit the power that had haunted him since childhood.

Babe's heart pounded as he sprinted through the maze of alleyways, the witches close on his heels. Memories flashed through his mind, sharp and unbidden. He'd been young the first time he felt the pulse of blood magic in his veins—a kid, confused and terrified. That night, his hands had glowed with a crimson light, power thrumming through him like a heartbeat, wild and uncontrolled. He'd learned then that his magic wasn't just powerful; it was dangerous, a force that seemed to have a will of its own.

Now, as he ran, he could feel it again, tugging at him, tempting him to unleash it. But he couldn't afford to lose control, not here, not now. Babe gritted his teeth, willing the magic to stay dormant, to stay hidden, even as his fear rose like a tidal wave. He knew too well that using it could mean losing a part of himself he might never get back.

This is not how it ends, Babe. Get it together.

The rogue witches were relentless, drawn to his blood like moths to a flame. It wasn't just the magic in his veins that attracted them—it was the potential. His bloodline was ancient, powerful, tied to a forbidden form of magic that could shift the balance of power in the supernatural world. And these witches? They wanted to exploit it for themselves.

The thought fueled his legs, pushing him harder, faster.

He skidded around a corner, nearly crashing into a stack of crates. His foot slipped on the slick ground, but he caught himself just in time, stumbling forward with a half-swallowed curse. Behind him, the sharp crack of breaking glass echoed, followed by a malicious cackle. One of the witches had almost caught him.

"Come on, Babe!" one of them taunted, their voice ringing out with twisted amusement. "You can't run forever!"

Babe's lips twisted into a bitter smile. Maybe not forever, he thought, but long enough to get away from your sorry asses.

He ducked under a low-hanging pipe and slipped through a side alley, his mind racing. There had to be a way out of this. He couldn't keep running forever—not with them so close. His magic flared in his veins, humming with suppressed energy. He didn't want to use it—not here, not like this. Blood magic always came at a cost, and he wasn't ready to pay that price yet.

Not unless he absolutely had to.

The witches' presence pressed in on him, their dark energy slithering through the cracks in the world around him. He could feel them, like shadowy tendrils reaching out to ensnare him, to drag him back to whatever twisted ritual they had planned. Babe's heart pounded louder, but his feet never faltered.

Stay calm. Stay focused.

But then, he felt it—an overwhelming surge of power, too close for comfort. His instincts screamed, and he threw himself to the side just as a blast of dark magic scorched the ground where he had been standing. The air crackled with energy, and Babe rolled to his feet, his body humming with adrenaline.

"Nice try," he muttered, dusting off his jacket as if he hadn't just narrowly avoided being turned into a pile of ash.

But his bravado couldn't hide the tremor in his hands. He was running out of options—and time.

The witches rounded the corner, their eyes gleaming with malicious intent. There were three of them—tall, shadowy figures draped in tattered robes that billowed unnaturally in the night wind. Their faces were hidden beneath hoods, but Babe could feel their eyes on him, could feel the hunger radiating off them.

"Nowhere left to run, little witch," one of them sneered, her voice low and cold.

Babe's jaw clenched. Not if I can help it.

He pressed his back against the brick wall, his mind racing through potential escape routes. The alley was a dead end. He could try scaling the wall, but it would take too long, and they'd catch him before he made it halfway up. His only other option was to fight—something he'd been avoiding for as long as possible.

The rogue witches spread out, circling him like predators closing in on their prey. The air grew colder, thick with their dark magic, and Babe could feel the pressure building, pressing against his chest.

He'd faced worse odds before. But tonight, something felt different. Something felt... inevitable.

"I'll give you one chance," the lead witch said, her voice a sickly sweet mockery of kindness. "Surrender now, and we might let you live."

Babe's eyes narrowed. "Gee, thanks. But I think I'll pass."

The witch's smile twisted into something far more sinister. "Your loss."

Without warning, she lunged at him, her hands crackling with dark energy. Babe barely had time to react, instinctively raising his own hand to deflect the blow. A surge of raw magic shot through him, powerful and wild, and the witch was thrown back with a startled cry.

For a moment, everything was still.

Then, the air exploded with energy as the witches unleashed their full fury. Babe dodged to the side, narrowly avoiding another blast of dark magic, and retaliated with a flick of his wrist. His own magic, sharp and precise, lashed out, striking one of the witches square in the chest. She screamed, collapsing to the ground.

Babe's pulse pounded in his ears. His magic was growing stronger, more volatile. He could feel it thrumming in his blood, demanding to be unleashed.

No. Not yet. Stay in control.

But as the second witch advanced, her hands glowing with deadly intent, Babe knew he couldn't hold back much longer. If he didn't end this soon, he might not survive the night.

And then, just as he braced himself for the next attack, something unexpected happened.

A blur of movement flashed past him, and the witch who had been closing in on him was suddenly thrown backward, crashing into the brick wall with bone-shattering force.

Babe blinked, his heart racing as he turned to see who—or what—had intervened.

Standing at the end of the alley, with a calm, almost bored expression on his face, was a figure Babe hadn't expected to see.

A vampire.

"Looks like I got here just in time," the vampire said, his voice smooth as silk. He flashed a grin, revealing sharp, gleaming fangs. "Hope you don't mind if I cut in."

Babe stared at him, caught between relief and exasperation.

Just what I needed. Another complication.