Ninja Girl: The Nine Wiles

by Steven W. White

  "Well..." She searched her mind for a witty comeback. "All right, then!"

  That wasn't it.

  Drake kept up his insufferable grin. "Obsess much?"

  "No."

  "You're red as a beet."

  "So?"

  "It's cute."

  "Stop it."

  Ash turned to the water and squeezed the stone in her grip. As the swells eased in to the sand, she steadied her breathing. Her heart seemed to get itself under control, just a little. She aimed over an incoming swell and threw her stone. It plunked into the water and vanished.

  Drake coughed into his hand. "Good throw." He turned away, clearing his throat.

  "Is that funny?" she asked. "Fine. Your turn, pitcher."

  Drake flicked his stone. Ash counted seven skips. Jerk.

  She carefully stepped over the stones, patrolling in a tight circle, until she found a perfect reddish-gray disk. It felt smooth and sleek in her hand, and she brushed grains from it and settled it into place along her index finger. A swell rolled in toward her feet, with a wide and shining field of water beyond it.

  She glanced at Drake. He waited serenely, arms folded.

  The swell curled on the stones. Ash could feel the tension in each muscle of her body, lingering from Drake's words, and let it go with a long exhale.

  The world slowed down. The gulls stopped their calling and hung motionless over her, and seawater racing over the stones slowed to a sparkling crawl. Ash inhaled steadily. Her index finger slid under the stone and she pinched it against her thumb, as she had pinched the sharkfin blade of Elsbeth's star.

  Don't overdo it, she told herself.

  She lowered her center of gravity and whipped her body around in a full circle, her arm extending and building speed. The air clung to her, pulling at her skin and hair as she moved through it. The hem of her coat flew out, fanlike. Her eyes locked on the blue horizon and she fired the stone at it, hip-high.

  When it touched the water thirty feet out, it skipped, tossing up a misty cloud of spray, and kept going. The flying hem of Ash's coat slapped hard against her torso. She didn't take her eyes off the stone.

  It skipped again at sixty feet. At ninety feet, the stone stabbed through a swell with a barely audible puff, and kept going. Somewhere beyond a hundred feet out, it disappeared into the water, too small to see.

  Drake took a step backward, staring. "Well. All right, then."

  She might have overdone it.

  19

  Ash's mouth hung slightly open, her breath pausing in her throat. As the normal world returned and time resumed its proper pace, she felt exposed to Drake, naked in her ninjatude. She pushed her hands in her coat pockets and held her coat around her body.

  Very stealthy, Ash thought. So smooth. She couldn't even look at him – she was too scared that she would see shock on his face. He was going to run and tell everybody–

  She dared to glance in his direction.

  Drake didn't look shocked. He watched the spot where the stone had disappeared with a serene sort of... contemplation. Ash couldn't believe it. Didn't anything shake this guy up?

  "That was a..." Drake began quietly, as if he were making a difficult judgment, "really good throw."

  Ash's mind struggled desperately and was suddenly blessed with the perfect lie.

  "Are you kidding? That throw was awesome!" Ash punched his shoulder. "I can't believe it. I couldn't do that again in a million years!" She stared at the rolling surf for any trace of what she had done. But the ocean had swallowed the stone and forgotten it. "It's like, the stars aligned for me. At least in this lifetime, I got that one perfect throw." She smiled at him. "Wow, I'm glad I had a witness."

  She searched his face. Was he buying it?

  His thoughtful look broke into a grin. "Maybe I'm your good luck charm."

  Relief hit Ash like a quenching flood, and with it, a little thrill at his words. "Maybe you are."

  She stepped closer to him, the stones shifting under her feet, until she was close enough that he could put his arm around her, if he wanted to. She waited, smiling at him, and wished for something clever to say.

  The stones warmed her toes nicely, and in brief moments when the ocean breeze was still, she felt the blissful heat of the sun. She turned to the ocean, and together, they watched a sail on the horizon.

  A thought hit Ash like a speeding truck. Drake was no dummy. She never knew what he was thinking, but he was always thinking something. The wheels in his head turned as well as anybody's, and they turned a lot. So... why had he believed her little story just now?

  It had been too easy.

  And a startling scenario opened up to her. Ash didn't know exactly how the principal was connected to the enemies that Elsbeth's sisterhood had resisted for so many centuries, but he had arranged the video cameras all over the school, and arranged the coming renovation of the library as a ploy to find the key page of the Mutus Liber. Ash remembered last year's principal, Mr. Graham, and the heroin they had found in the nurse's office. That had been the end of him. Had Mr. Alexander arranged that, too? What couldn't he arrange?

  And Drake had started at Magnolia High as a student just as Mr. Alexander had taken over as principal. The cameras were one thing, but what could be better than having his own son report to him? If Mr. Alexander somehow knew about Elsbeth, could he have told Drake to keep an eye on Ash? To try to get close to her?

  Ash remembered balancing on the log by the train tracks. Could Drake be testing her? To see what she was capable of?

  "What's the matter?" Drake asked. Ash watched the sail in the distance, not daring to face him, because of what he would read in her eyes.

  She shivered. It couldn't be true – she was losing her grip on reality. Girl meets boy, girl likes boy, girl goes crazy.

  Never, never blame the boar.

  Of course, it had to be her own paranoid brain that invented this stuff. He had been perfectly decent to her today, and she was choosing her reaction – which was to come up with reasons to push him away. Drake was not following his father's orders. That was just nutty.

  "Nothing at all," she managed to say. It hurt to push the words out. "So, are you going to show me the rest of this beach?"

  #

  That afternoon, Ash did her best to drive the junk out of her head and have a good time. By six o'clock, she was exhausted. The only solace was being with Drake himself.

  They were silent as he drove her home, and Ash could feel their moments together ticking down to an end. She didn't feel relieved – just a haunting guilt that she could accuse him of something so awful, even if only in her mind, and let it grow creepy roots into her thoughts of him.

  Because it wasn't true. She had to find a way to convince herself of that.

  She clung to the passenger door handle as Drake wheeled the convertible into her driveway. He shifted into park. "Safe and sound. Not a scratch on you."

  "Thanks." She didn't want to get out. She wasn't ready for this to be over, not yet. She had left her shoes off, and she rubbed her big toe along the top of her other foot, feeling the scratch of sand grains.

  "So..." Drake said.

  "So," she replied. "Great idea. The beach, I mean."

  "Good."

  "I mean really."

  "Glad you had a good time."

  "Yeah." Her heart was starting to pound something fierce. End of date, she thought, plus boy, plus parked car, equals nervous Ash.

  "Let me walk you up," he said.

  Oh, that would be worse. Not the porch! But Drake was around the Audi and opening the door for her. She grabbed her shoes, got out, and they walked to the front door side by side.

  "Hey," Drake said. "Thanks for running around with me today. That was fun."

  "Drake?"

  "Yeah?"

  She dropped her shoes on the doormat and stared up at him, her hands on her hips. "Are you for real?"

  He met her eyes and frowned, searching. He took his time answering.
"Usually."

  She shook her head. "Are you real... with me?"

  His eyes narrowed, showing a trace of scowl. "What's this? A sincerity issue? You don't trust me? I thought we had fun today."

  Ash didn't budge. "Are you or aren't you?"

  Anger brought out the ice in the blue of his eyes. His scowl intensified. "I am. Damn it."

  "Good." She let out a breath and smiled gently at him. And here, she thought, goes nothing. She swallowed. "Prove it."

  Drake's jaw fell a bit. He stared at her, and Ash's heart let loose with a fresh volley of hammering. She knew she was pushing him, she knew it was outrageous, but the only thing she could think of was to challenge him and see what he did.

  He put his hands on her cheeks and kissed her hard on the mouth.

  Ash squeaked in surprise, and his lips muffled it. She felt light-socket intensity in every inch of her – her hair had to be standing on end. She tried to put her arms around him, but couldn't manage it, so she let them hang limp. Her knees went to jelly, so badly that he was holding her up.

  He broke off the kiss and let her go, and she suddenly had to stand on her own. She wobbled, and looked into the bluest, angriest eyes she had ever seen.

  Without a word, Drake stomped off the porch, turned the corner and disappeared. Ash heard the car's door slam, its engine roar, and a short screech from the tires as he sped away.

  Her entire body was covered with a fine sheen of sweat. With trembling hands, she got her house key in the lock and let herself in.

  20

  Ash didn't say a word during dinner.

  She remembered when she was eleven and her parents got her a desk and chair for her room, so she could do her homework. Dad made sure she had a sensible lamp for plenty of light. But for the first month, with assignments spread out in front of her, all Ash did was sit in the chair and lean back onto two legs, balancing in that delicate spot at the edge of falling backward.

  One time, she did fall. There had been a stomach-churning instant when she realized she had leaned too far, a moment of floating doom. Then she had sprawled onto the floor.

  All day, since Drake had kissed her, her body felt suspended in that moment.

  She knew Elsbeth would sense that something was up. She tried to hide it anyway. Because when Elsbeth learned of Ash's suspicions about Drake, she could only do one thing.

  There was only one rational choice.

  She would ban Ash from seeing Drake.

  Ash's mind couldn't go there. Her attention fled the subject, and settled on the rice she was chewing. She concentrated on its feel in her mouth, anything to distract her.

  She swallowed. "Great dinner, Elsbeth." She took another bite, and chewed.

  #

  On their after-dinner walk, Elsbeth and Ash turned south, toward downtown Magnolia. Elsbeth had brought a dark fabric shoulder tote with her.

  "Do you want to talk about what's on your mind?" It was the first time Elsbeth had spoken since they had left the house.

  Ash sighed. "I... really don't." Ash loved these walks. But she couldn't shake the dread, the feeling of hovering over an abyss.

  "That's all right."

  They reached downtown – just some shops, a bank or two, and a gas station along a few blocks of McGraw Street. It was a Saturday night with decent weather, and people strolled and biked past them. They turned the corner and passed a burger place.

  Ash wondered what was on the schedule for tonight. She remembered the second Wile, and the challenge of seeing the potential in things, and of making small, invisible moves. She wished she could clear her head of Drake, just lock her fears in a box for a while, so she could concentrate. "Where are we going?"

  Elsbeth nodded her head at the shop past the burger place. "Ice cream."

  "What?"

  Elsbeth held open the glass door of the ice cream shop for Ash, setting the bells ringing. The inside was brightly lit and lined with a double row of tubs, all colors, under glass. "Have you got a favorite flavor?"

  Ash was in no mood to mess around. "Chocolate."

  They each ordered a single cone – Elsbeth got orange sherbet, and she paid by neatly stacking quarters from her shoulder tote on the glass counter.

  They sat at a black steel-mesh table on the sidewalk outside. Ash pinched off some chocolate with her lips, and everything inside her began to feel better. "Thank you, Auntie," she sighed.

  They ate their cones in silence. Ash watched people go by and enjoyed the chance for "normal" time with her aunt, in public, with no superhuman activity. It was a new feeling. She glanced at Elsbeth, who watched Ash with her usual expression: an almost-grin, a look of pleasant serenity, with eyes that were alert but steady and calm.

  Ash crunched down the last of her cone. Elsbeth still nibbled at the edges of hers. "I have something for you."

  A gift? Ash hesitated. "You're being really nice to me today."

  "You haven't seen it yet. You've got a lot of advantages, Ash. A lot of physical challenges have been easy for you. That's due to your natural ability, and your training in ballet." Elsbeth leaned forward. "But you have weaknesses."

  "Yeah." Ash frowned and traced a finger over the table's steel mesh. "I have the aim of a garden sprinkler."

  "That's one. There are a lot of Wiles ahead, but for now, consider this." Elsbeth pointed at her. "Could you stop a ten-story fall with a single finger?" She made a fist. "Could you punch through a pane of glass?"

  "But you said..." Ash dropped her voice. "Ninjas aren't strong."

  “If you mean brute strength, they aren’t. But speed, and especially focus, can masquerade as strength. You are already as physically strong as any ninja, Ash. But your ballet has neglected your hands.”

  Ash couldn't help it – she looked at her hands. They were small and harmless-looking... like the rest of her, she supposed. "But," she began, and the ballet kicked in. "Hands are supposed to be graceful and flowing."

  Elsbeth set her elbows on the table, her forearms crossed, holding her cone daintily in three fingers. A finger of her free hand tapped a rhythm on the table’s steel mesh. Her finger slowed, tapping harder. Then it stopped, and pressed against the mesh. It sank into the table, to Elsbeth's second knuckle. She never even lifted her elbow. She pulled her finger out and wiggled it playfully at Ash, leaving a bent, finger-sized hole in the table's mesh.

  Ash felt her jaw go slack. "That's... more vandalism."

  Elsbeth grinned innocently. Then her expression became serious. "I'm going to give you something. It will strengthen your grip, your fingers and nails, and let you strike a more dangerous blow."

  "Okay. But wait. Punching people... is that in the job description?"

  "Of course not, Ash. If you ever have to fight, it will be for your life. It may come down to a split-second, and a single hit." Elsbeth reached into her shoulder bag, and drew something out. She set a ping-pong paddle on the table.

  Ash stared at it, as her brain tried to short-circuit. No, it really was a ping-pong paddle. She looked at Elsbeth's serene face. If this was a joke, Elsbeth wasn't letting on.

  "Well, sure," Ash said. The giggles hit her, and she put a hand to her mouth. "Because ninjas and ping-pong go together like..." She couldn't think of anything, and that made her giggle more.

  "Yes, it's a table tennis racquet," Elsbeth said. "Laugh if you like."

  Ash did.

  "But you will use it in your own way." Elsbeth picked it up. "Hold the handle. Tap the face of the paddle." Her finger repeatedly struck the thin layer of red foam rubber. The sound was louder than Ash would have thought, and each tap left a crescent-shaped cut from her nail. "Hold tight, and punch." She held the paddle sideways in front of her and mimicked a slow-motion punch, resting her knuckles against the paddle's face. "You'll strengthen your grip and your punch." She set it back on the table. "When you can hit it hard enough to break the wood without dropping it, we'll move on to something else."

  At least it had its own cover
story, Ash thought. It would be easier to explain than some five-hundred-year old artifact. "Wait a minute. How did ninjas train before ping-pong?"

  "You don't want to know."

  Ash picked it up and tapped a finger against the thin foam rubber. She did it again, harder. A small spark of pain shot through her nail. "Ow. Hey, is all this poking and punching going to give me big ugly hands?"

  Elsbeth rested her hands at the center of the table, displaying them. They were slender and perfect. Ash felt a pang of jealousy and wondered again how old Elsbeth really was. "Well... okay, then."

  Ash hooked her finger in the table's hole that Elsbeth had made, and tugged at the unyielding metal. To see the future unborn in the present. She tried to imagine having the power Elsbeth had, and couldn't. But seeing herself doing those things... that was what the second Wile was about. To account for the power of time.

  Seeing something's potential, as well as its reality. Seeing her own potential...

  Ash couldn't manage it. She closed her eyes and rubbed her temples.

  "You all right?" Elsbeth asked.

  "Oh, sure," Ash said. "I'm fine."

  "Good. Because maybe it's time we spoke about Drake Alexander."

  21

  Ash felt a chill of dread at her words. What did Elsbeth know?

  "You haven't told me anything about him," Elsbeth pressed. "You never even mentioned your date today."

  Of course, Elsbeth knew about the date. She had probably noticed Drake’s car in the driveway. She had to be worried about what Drake might see, might mention offhand to his father... let alone what he might be looking for.

  Spying for.

  What would Elsbeth do? She couldn't just let Ash continue to date the enemy, could she?

  Ash's body had become a bundle of tension, and her breaths came in spasms. "Elsbeth, please."

  "Ash... we need to talk about this."

  If Henry Prue had told her that he had a problem with Drake, Ash would just disobey, sneak around, see Drake on the sly. But Elsbeth was different. She wouldn't do that to Elsbeth. Could she defy Elsbeth to be with Drake? "No." Ash put her face in her hands.