Crimson Bonds

Chapter 2: Fangs and Banter

"Well, this is awkward."

Babe didn't move. He couldn't afford to—his muscles were tensed and ready, and his mind was still racing. The rogue witches were momentarily thrown off, thanks to the unexpected arrival of the vampire standing at the mouth of the alley, but Babe knew better than to drop his guard. One wrong move, and the witches—or the vampire—could strike.

"You just going to stand there, or are you going to help?" Babe asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm despite the adrenaline still coursing through him.

The vampire stepped closer, his polished shoes clicking softly against the pavement. Even in the dim light, Babe could see the smirk playing at the edges of his lips. He had that easy, unbothered confidence that all vampires seemed to have—like they owned the night and everything in it.

"Looks like you were handling it just fine on your own," the vampire replied, his eyes gleaming with amusement as they swept over Babe, lingering just a little too long. "But if you're asking for my help, I'd be happy to oblige."

Babe rolled his eyes. Of course, he's one of those vampires.

The witches regrouped, their eyes flicking nervously between Babe and the newcomer. They weren't stupid. Fighting a witch with blood magic was bad enough, but adding a vampire to the mix? Even rogue witches knew when to cut their losses.

"We'll be seeing you again, Babe Tanatat," the lead witch hissed, her eyes narrowing dangerously. "You can't run from us forever."

With that, the witches vanished into the shadows, their departure as swift as their arrival.

Billy watched the rogue witches slip away into the shadows, his jaw clenched. Syl Coral had always wanted more power, more control, even if it meant tearing down those around her. He knew her games well, had been caught in them once before, and he had no intention of letting her drag Babe into that same trap.

He'd learned the hard way that some obsessions were better left alone, but here he was, tangled up in Babe's mess, risking the Patchanon clan's strict rules about meddling in witch matters. And yet, something about the kid's defiance, his fierce resolve, reminded Billy of a part of himself he'd nearly forgotten—a part he wasn't willing to let Syl destroy.

The tension in the alley deflated, leaving Babe standing there, catching his breath. The adrenaline was starting to fade, replaced by the familiar ache of exhaustion. He wiped a hand across his face, smearing dirt and sweat.

"That was... anticlimactic," Babe muttered, glancing sideways at the vampire, who had now sauntered closer.

"Disappointed?" The vampire's tone was playful, his grin wide enough to reveal just a hint of fang.

"Hardly," Babe shot back. "But thanks for scaring them off. What's your deal, anyway? Do you make a habit of lurking in alleys and saving witches in distress?"

The vampire chuckled, his eyes flashing with amusement. "I wouldn't exactly call you 'in distress.' You had it under control... mostly."

Babe crossed his arms, the adrenaline finally subsiding enough for irritation to settle in. "Right. And who are you, again? I don't usually get rescued by random bloodsuckers."

The vampire's grin widened, and he gave a mock bow, his dark hair falling across his forehead in a way that seemed almost too perfectly rehearsed. "Billy Patchanon, at your service."

Patchanon.

The name sent a ripple of recognition through Babe's mind, but he kept his expression neutral. The Patchanon clan was old—ancient—and powerful. If this guy really was one of them, it explained the overwhelming aura of confidence he exuded. Vampires from the founding clans didn't just carry power—they were power.