Vamps in Chaos

Chapter One: Midnight in the City

Babe Tanatat loved the night. For most, the dark was a time to hunker down, maybe sleep, maybe worry about all the things left undone. But for Babe, it was freedom. Under the city lights, with the neon glow painting the streets in surreal, shifting colors, he felt more alive-or undead, technically-than ever.

He leaned against the side of his favorite café, a tiny place tucked away between a trendy boutique and an all-night gym. It had just closed, but the barista left him a cup of coffee out of habit. Babe didn't need coffee-vampires didn't do caffeine like humans did-but he liked the taste. Something about bitter espresso on the tongue made him feel almost human.

The faint buzz of his phone broke the silence, and he lazily checked the message.

"You've got mail," it read, along with an attachment of a glowing wax-sealed letter that practically reeked of trouble.

"Oh, fantastic," Babe muttered, rolling his eyes. When the witches, his three beloved and sometimes overly "hands-on" guardians, sent letters like this, it usually meant only one thing: his life was about to get complicated.

He pushed off the wall and shoved his phone into his pocket, reluctantly heading back to his small but stylish loft. His guardians had a peculiar habit of getting him involved in things he hadn't exactly signed up for, and he'd learned early that resistance was mostly futile.

As he walked, he kept one eye on the sky, the moon a sliver in the city's haze, and sighed. Just once, he thought, it'd be nice if something went smoothly.

Babe's loft was an eclectic mix of neon lights, secondhand furniture, and half-packed boxes he never quite got around to unpacking. The kind of place that looked effortlessly cool but had "I don't care" written all over it. He kicked off his sneakers, tossed his phone on the couch, and took a deep breath before cracking open the glowing letter.

As expected, it was from Seraphina, the most "motherly" of the three witch guardians. In her handwriting-looped and elegant, as though she'd just penned it with a quill-it read:

"Dearest Babe,
We trust this message finds you well. Your assistance is required in an urgent matter. The details are... delicate, but suffice to say, you shall be babysitting an important relic. Consider it a test of patience, fortitude, and, well, humor. Expect him soon.
Yours in trust,
Seraphina (and yes, I mean that in the loosest sense possible)"

Babe let out a long, dramatic groan. He plopped onto the couch, letter in hand, and stared at the ceiling.

"Babysitting?" he muttered, frowning. The word itself was absurd enough, but "relic"? Babe might not have been the oldest vampire around, but he wasn't some clueless fledgling either. He knew "relic" was code for something ancient and probably difficult to manage. Knowing Seraphina, it'd be a fun little "project" that would keep him out of trouble-for her, at least. For him? Chaos.

He ran his hand through his hair, chuckling despite himself. They could've at least given him some prep time. But no, typical Seraphina style, throwing him straight into the deep end and expecting him to swim. Maybe that was the lesson, though.

Not one to dwell too much, Babe shrugged, grabbed his phone, and did what any self-respecting modern vampire would do: he Googled how to handle antiques.

What he found was mostly about restoring furniture, preserving family heirlooms, and polishing silverware, which he figured was... vaguely helpful. He sighed, rubbing his temple, the humor of the situation settling in. His brain tried to imagine the possibilities: maybe he'd be stuck with some cranky vampire from the 1800s who didn't know what an elevator was. Maybe they'd be a total downer, like one of those brooding types he'd heard about in books.