This story is based on the book "Dead Witch Walking" by Kim Harrison. The environment: Hollows, is totally hers. I simply add more places to it. Some of the characters belong to her also including: Rachel Morgan, Ivy, Nick, Jenks, Jax, Keasley, Matalina, and Trent. Any other characters that I chose to add, and do not belong to me, shall be listed above the chapter that they make an entrance in. My portrayal of these characters will be different from how Kim Harrison portrayed them and intended for them to be.

The Black Rose

Darkness overcame everything in sight. The chilly air was both refreshing and painful; like shards of ice. Not a sound was present save for the heavy panting that came from us. Our footprints on the wet street reflected the soft yellow light of the streetlamps. It was dark, and though we could see what was immediately ahead of us, it was as if our vision was impaired. Blindly, we limped forward, traveling at the pace of a newborn babe.

Shivering, I pulled his jacket closer around me with my right hand. He felt me move and his arm around my shoulder tightened. Noticing his look of concern, my chest constricted. I offered him a reassuring smile, but my heart wasn't in it. It wasn't that I didn't care for him, but it was hard to find any optimism in this situation.

"How is it?" he asked, stopping our nonexistent progression.

I glanced down at my foot and grimaced. Additional pain shot through it as my ankle received attention. I muttered a curse before seeing his creased brow. "It's fine," I assured him. It could be a lot worse considering the circumstances.

"I might have a charm that could help." He dug into the pockets of his thin jacket. I couldn't understand how he was not shivering. Having been forcefully lent his jacket, I still felt as if I were bathing in glaciers. I studied him. It was only for a couple seconds that he searched through his pockets, but as I watched him it seemed like so much longer. I absorbed the image of him, especially his soft brown hair gracefully falling over his eyes. A small grunt of satisfaction escaped him as he produced a small charm attached to a long chord. He brought it to his wounded shoulder with his opposite hand, and gently brought them into contact; causing his face to scrunch up in pain. It was a pain that was immediately dulled away. "Here," he said, offering it to me.

"No, I think that you need it more than I do." I said, pushing his hand away from myself.

"Please, take it. I can handle the pain. I'm worried about you."

"No! You're the one who's bleeding!" I protested.

"You're bleeding too," he answered, his tone marginally lighter, as he pointed to the scratches on my arms and face.

I swatted his finger gently with my hand. "These don't count. I'm okay. You need it more than I do."

With a resigned sigh he applied a slight pressure to my back, telling me to start walking again. This jolted me back to reality, alerting me to the fact that we had wasted so much time stationary. I bit my lip in worry. It was bad enough that we had little to no chance of escape, but now that we had delayed, it seemed additionally grimmer.

My head automatically jerked up as I felt a heavy weight land upon my chest. I glanced down quickly to see what it was, and found the charm around my neck. The throbbing of my ankle diminished and became numb. "Hey!" accusingly I pointed at him.

His only response was to grin and muss up my hair as if I were a child. Shaking my head, I resigned myself. No matter what, he would get what he wanted; and what he wanted was for me to have the charm. He was always like that, once he put his mind to doing something; nothing was going to stop him… even if it was just giving me a pain-reducing charm.

We hobbled along slowly, knowing all the while that we'd have a better chance if I had not twisted my ankle. Suddenly, I became aware of an angry chorus of footsteps. Oh my god; they were here. Turning my head to glance behind us, my eyes grew wide and my mouth dropped open. Having sensed my movement, he also spun around. All hope was lost. The four of them came into view; each like death's personal assassin. Their black clothing could have camouflaged them in the darkness, if the streetlamps' soft light didn't add an icy sheen to them. They seemed to glow. The white masks that hid their faces stood out drastically against the gloom of the night. Four emotionless killers came to a halt, just yards away from us.

"Oh fuck!" I yelled. My heart sped up, pumping so fast I thought I would go into cardiac arrest. His hand left my shoulder and slipped into my own; giving it a reassuring squeeze. I couldn't believe that this was happening. If only I had listened to father. If I had only I worked harder, then I wouldn't be weak and a burden to him. And now he couldn't get away because of me. Why didn't I listen to father? I vowed myself that I would, if we ever made it through this. I would start… but there was no hope. They were four, and we were two wounded. The night had our death written all over it.

Suddenly the pressure on my hand disappeared, and I stared in shock as I realized that he had made his way in front of the assassins.

"It's me you want. Leave her alone." He commanded.

The masked face showed no acknowledgement and silence reigned.

"Leave her alone!" he repeated, once again gaining no response.

But then the figure farthest to the left unexpectedly lifted his hand palm up. A faint blue light formed around it, curling between his fingers. The light grew stronger, becoming a ball of energy solely contained in his palm.

"No!" he screamed, turning towards me. "Duck!"

My long hair spun as I twirled to the ground, landing with my face an inch away from the grimy street and my clothes already in ruin. But it was too late; a scream of anguish tore through the night. I waited for the burning fire to reach my senses; waited for the pain to sear through to my mind… But then I felt nothing. Looking up from my position, I then realized that it was not my scream that resounded in the air, but his.

And that was when a yell did escape from me, but it was not one of pain, but of rage. I pushed myself off the ground and into an upright position. "You are going to pay for that!" I spat at the four hooded and masked figures.

This time one of them in the center of the lineup lifted his hand. Damned witches. A moment later I mentally kicked myself. Threatening them was not the best idea, now I was even deader than before. Angering them was the genius movement of a novice.

Should have been smarter than that, but I had been mentally blinded. "Oh shit. Oh shit. Oh shit." I muttered in quick succession. Rising from my place beside him, where I had run to previously, I knew that there would be no escape for me. There was no chance that all four of them would miss.

A grip around my ankle sent tendrils of pain through me. Involuntarily, my leg pulled itself up away from the hold, coming down to land on the ground inches from where it had been beforehand. Searching for the source of the pressure around my wounded ankle, I saw that he was struggling to stand. "Whoa," I breathed as I aided him in regaining his feet. I kept my eyes on the line of four dark assassins as I helped him to stand. He was shaky, and it was no miniscule task. They did not attack us, surprising, but it offered some relief.

"Go! Get out of here!" he ordered me, shoving me away. I stumbled backward, but after regaining my balance I didn't move any further.

"What the hell are you talking about?" I demanded.

"Go!" He repeated, this time staggering up to me and shoving me towards 'safety' with what little strength he had left in his body. Honesty I couldn't believe that he was still alive, let alone standing and shoving.

At that moment the four cloaked figures simultaneously took a step forward. Oh crap.

"They won't come after you. Now go!" When he saw that I was not responding, he added. "Please. I want you too. It's my last wish."

I was numb, but I was also scared. He pleaded again, and I dallied no longer. I trotted a short distance away. Panting for breath, I paused ignoring the renewed pain in my ankle as I frowned, looking at the scene. Four emotionless white masked people took slow steps, taking their time to surround their agonizing prey. He rested there on his knees, his head bent down in defeat, just waiting. Slowly their hands rose at the same time, at an exact speed, as if they had practiced together for long hours. Balls of energy formed in the palms of their hands, growing together with threatening power. My eyes refused to look away; I was trapped. His head rose to turn and look at me, an eerie glow from the assassins' hands was reflected upon his face. That was the last thing that I could see, for soon after the lights would become too bright for sight. Sadness shown on his face; his brown eyes glittering with tears. His soft command was the last thing I heard… before his final scream, and before the intense light.

"Kaylie run!"