• As we stepped out of the back door of the club, a girl staggered towards us. She was about 16 years old, tall, a good 5’10” to my 6’2”.She has silver hair that shimmered in the moonlight and her eyes were a bright gold colour. I had the feeling that her hair and eyes were in their natural colouring. Thinking the beautiful girl was a drunken fan, I smiled. However, as she neared, I noticed her eyes were glazed and her staggering was more pained. As she came even closer, I saw her shirt was bloody and her jeans were filthy and torn. “Boy,” she whispered, “help… me.” She collapsed. There was a knife sticking out of her back. Behind me, Erryk gasped. I heard him pull out his cell phone and dial 911. She groaned. As Erryk talked to the operator, I ran to the girl. She was alive, but just barely. I heard her whisper something, but I couldn’t make out what she said. All of a sudden, she tried to get up. “No, don’t, you’ll bleed more,” I warned her. Stubbornly, she struggled to her hands and knees. I tried to push her down so she would lie still, but she shoved me away, nearly falling over again in the process. Shakily, she reached back and grabbled the knife in her back. “NO!” I yelled, but before I could reach her, she pulled it out. Fresh blood spurted from the open wound, and she gasped with pain. She fell on her face, clearly unconscious. I touched her throat. Her pulse was faint, but still there. “Ambulance on the way,” Erryk said. “No!”she shouted, immediately awake. With surprising speed and streangth, she crouched, turned, and threw the knife. It spun in the air and hit a man in the mouth of the alley. He dropped the gun he was aiming at us, turned, and fled. I looked back at the girl, wanting to ask how she did that and how she knew he was there. However, as I saw her, all questions fled. She was breathing hard, sitting against the alley wall. Distantly, I heard Erryk frantically dialing 911 again, but my attention was focused on her. In as much pain as she must be in, she wasn't panicking; her eyes clear as she looked at me. “Boy,” she whispered, “listen... to me.” As she spoke, she reached inside her jacket. Knowing she wouldn't listen to me, I watched as she fumbled inside it. She took out an elegant golden dagger sheathe with a beautiful silver dagger handle sticking outside of it. “Take this... to Giovanni... della Terra... Notte di...” she gasped, struggling to speak the words. “Should I die, tell him... tell him ' I giorni... del Signore... Morte ... sono qui. ' Should I live... tell... him...' Madre ... Luna ... e Madre ... Lupo ... sopravvivono ancora ... nel ... Caos ... del giorno. ' Tell... no other... person. Guard it... with your life.” After she finished speaking, an ambulance pulled into the mouth of the alley. Quickly, I put the knife in a belt loop of my jeans and covered it with my jacket. Thankfully, it was my floor-length leather jacket. The paramedics shoved me away from her. Once she was on the gurney, getting into the ambulance, she reached for me. Looking at each other, the paramedics let me on. The doors locked shut behind me.