Ninja Girl: The Nine Wiles

by Steven W. White

  She pushed through the outer doors and down the path to the sidewalk, and he stayed right behind. A part of her knew he could help and wanted him along, but no – it was a bad idea. On the sidewalk, by the driveway into the library’s parking lot, she turned to him. “Mule, you can’t come.”

  “I can be your backup. It’ll be awesome.”

  “I wish. But you and Drake shouldn’t be within a mile of each other.”

  He scowled. “What if you find him? What if he tries something?”

  Ash slipped her free arm through the strap of the backpack, securing it, and her fists settled on her hips. “No, Mule. I’m going alone.”

  “Aw!” He lifted his hands in frustration. “I think you need me.”

  Why didn’t he see that this was all her fault? “I need you to stay out of this.” She wouldn’t let him get hurt – no way. “You want to help?”

  “Yeah!”

  “Then wait for me. Trust me.” She pointed at the smartphone in his pocket. “If I need you… I’ll call you.” She remembered her phone sliding away from her and the distant sound of it shattering, and a chill fell on her heart. “Yeah, I’ll call you.”

  Mule was silent, and his eyes watched her bitterly. “Well… if all you do is talk to his mom, I guess that’s okay. That thing about your aunt, though. Promise me you won’t mess with the cops.”

  Ash smiled. “I promise,” she said without a thought, and raced away, faster than Mule could possibly follow, but not so fast as to truly startle anyone.

  30

  In another hour, Ash was sitting alone on a King County Metro bus bound for Bothell, north of Seattle. The address was in a sketchy neighborhood near Lake Washington.

  Ash hugged her backpack to her lap. She leaned the un-bruised side of her forehead against the vibrating window as the bus's engine ground away.

  The bus? Seriously?

  She needed a ninjamobile.

  She focused her mind on the coming confrontation. Drake Alexander's mother was named Gayle Hill. They had divorced three years ago, when Drake was thirteen. He had stayed with his father.

  He and Ash had that in common. She wondered if it had been his choice, or some kind of court-order thing. She couldn't imagine having Principal Alexander as a father.

  And that gave her confidence about this meeting. If Mr. A was her dad, she'd visit her mom a lot, too… well, not her own mom – that was impossible. Anyhow, she hoped Gayle Hill had seen her son, or knew where he was, or knew some of his hangouts. She hoped Gayle Hill wasn't involved in the same pursuits as Mr. Alexander.

  She even hoped that Drake would be there when she arrived.

  Because she only had until the day after tomorrow, at seven AM.

  Ash got off at the stop nearest the address, and still had a half-mile to walk. With her backpack settled over one shoulder, she passed a lumber yard on the corner, then crossed into some residential side streets. The houses needed paint, and some of the lawns were overdue for a mow. The street was nothing like the Bellevue home where Drake's father lived.

  Gayle Hill seemed to be having a tough time. Mr. Alexander was not looking after his ex-wife.

  Good. That could work in Ash's favor.

  Ash came to a house whose spotted brass numbers tacked to the eave matched the ones Spencer had given her. A brown Dodge Duster sat in the sloping driveway. Ash searched up and down the street for Drake's silver Audi. No trace.

  She hesitated, considering the best approach. The roof? An upstairs window?

  After a moment, she gathered herself and knocked on the front door.

  A woman answered. She had a tired but pleasant look about her, and wore dark slacks and a pink blouse. She wiped her hands on the blue-and-white striped apron she was holding.

  Gayle Hill, I presume. But Ash didn't say that. "Hi. Is Drake here?" The direct approach. It could work, if it didn't backfire.

  The woman's eyes locked on hers. "Sweetheart, are you all right?"

  Ash felt a chill of uncertainty. Was something wrong with her? "Huh?"

  "Your eye."

  The eye. Of course. "It's not as bad as it looks."

  "Do you want some ice?"

  "No, thank you." Ash felt herself blushing under the lady's gaze, and cleared her throat. "Drake?"

  "I'm sorry," she said. "You just missed him."

  Ash's heart skipped a beat. She'd been right! "Do you happen to know where he went?"

  The woman sighed. "Afraid not. Not that boy. He goes where he likes."

  Ash couldn't give up now, not empty-handed. She needed something, a clue, anything. "Are you his mom?"

  "That's right. I'm Gayle." She extended a limp hand.

  Ash took it. "I'm Ashley." She watched Gayle for a reaction to her name.

  None. "Nice to meet you, Ashley. I'll tell him you came by."

  "No!"

  "Pardon?"

  "I mean... when will he be back?"

  There was something strange about this woman. Ash couldn't place it. Her hair was cut short and starting to gray, and she was a bit overweight, with rounded shoulders. She was ordinary. Maybe that was it. Given Drake and his father, Ash had been expecting someone... unusual.

  But Gayle wasn't. "I can't say. He only visits here from time to time. Do you know him from school?"

  Ash smiled girlishly. "That's right."

  "Well, Drake lives with his father. You might try there."

  This wasn't going well. "I already did. Does Drake have a favorite hangout? Someplace he might be now?"

  Gayle shook her head and put the apron over her shoulder. "I never know what that boy is up to. He doesn't tell me anything."

  Ash frowned. "But you're his mom."

  Gayle's face went blank. "Some boys are closer to their fathers. And Drake, especially so. I've learned to accept that."

  Ash felt like she was close to a hook, close to getting this woman talking about Drake. But she wasn't sure how to set her off. "Really? I thought he didn't like his dad so much."

  She smiled skeptically. "Did he say that?"

  "Yeah, he did."

  Gayle's eyes went distant, gazing sightlessly past Ash's shoulder. "Well. You should have seen them together when he was younger. They were inseparable. Two of a kind. Big and Little Alexander. Seeing them run around together, we thought Drake was in training to become his father."

  Gayle's words cut into Ash's heart – two of a kind? – but she pressed on. "In training?"

  "Oh... yes, I suppose that sounds odd." Gayle touched her fingers to her lips, thinking. "Why don't I just show you? Would you like to come in?"

  Ash felt a nervous rush. "Yes, please."

  Gayle turned and Ash followed her into the entryway. Ash caught the smell of cigarette smoke, and behind that, something baking. The eggshell-colored walls of the central hallway were lined with pictures. Along one side, the pictures were of Gayle and a young girl. Along the other were pictures of Drake and Mr. Alexander.

  Ash stepped close. Father and son, in image after image. Drake at an archery range, releasing the string, the arrow frozen in the air in front of him. His father behind him, guiding.

  Tandem skydiving together, arms and legs splayed against white clouds.

  A karate tournament. Drake dressed in white, delivering a barefooted kick to another boy. His father in the front row of the audience, cheering.

  Each image brought a particular pain to Ash. Each time she looked, it was as if someone pressed another pin into a voodoo doll of her. Gayle stood right behind her, and Ash struggled to keep from revealing anything.

  Father and son in brightly colored racing jumpsuits, standing on an asphalt track, each with a round helmet under his arm. Cars or motorcycles, Ash wasn't sure.

  At a shooting range, Drake holding a paper target, a black silhouette of a head and shoulders, its center peppered with tiny holes. His father beside him, holding a rifle.

  Ash closed her eyes. Drake seemed hidden from her on the other side of an impassa
ble wall, built by Mr. Alexander. How could she convince Drake to help her?

  How could Drake ever be with her?

  She had to keep herself together, here. She couldn't give up. Elsbeth needed her. There was work to do.

  "What did Mr. Alexander do," Ash asked as she looked at the pictures, "before he became the principal of our school?"

  "Oh... government work," Gayle said vaguely.

  Ash turned to face her. "Something in education?"

  "I suppose so. The Bureau of Intelligence and Research sounds educational, doesn't it? Drake's father didn't like to talk about what he did. Something to do with the State Department."

  "The State Department to high school principal? That's a switch."

  Gayle smiled. "He said he was looking for something different."

  Ash heard the revving of a distant engine – a car out front – and Drake's Audi came to her mind in a flash.

  At the sound, Gayle glanced at the front door. "Oh! Rachel's home." She looked at Ash. "That's Drake's sister."

  31

  Ash thanked Gayle and excused herself, and found Rachel in the driveway, behind the wheel of an old Chevy Impala. It was a vague dark green, hard to tell in the deepening evening.

  Ash tried to see through the driver's side window. "Are you Rachel?"

  The window rolled down. "That's me." Rachel was older than Drake – maybe twenty or twenty-two – blonde, with a strikingly beautiful smile. She leaned out a little, on her elbow. "Who are you?"

  "I'm Ash."

  "Ash? Really?"

  "Yeah. Do you know where your brother is?"

  "Maybe. What's it to you?"

  Hope coursed through Ash's body, giving her a charge of energy that she could have used to throttle this woman.

  Patience. Little moves, Ash thought, and she would get there. That idea had its own Wile.

  And if Rachel didn't talk, then Ash would patiently beat it out of her. "I need to talk to him."

  Rachel smiled again. "Right."

  "It's important."

  "It always is."

  "What?"

  "You're not the first broken-hearted waif to wander by. That's what the boy does, sister."

  Ash was stopped by the sudden image of hordes of girls pining away for Drake, wandering after him, showing up here at all hours. Drake was handsome enough. It could be true.

  Ash's eyes narrowed. "That's not what this is about."

  "No?"

  "No."

  Rachel raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. "Tell me this. Is he the one that socked you?"

  The eye again. How could Rachel possibly think Drake was capable? "No. Of course not." Ash had barely uttered the words, though, before she thought of the switchblade in her backpack, and what Mule had insisted was true.

  Rachel fixed a stony gaze on her, judging. "It wouldn't be his style. Then again, the boy's a walking time bomb." Rachel tilted her head, indicating the Impala's passenger-side door. "Get in. Then we can talk a little easier."

  Ash circled the car and climbed in beside Rachel, resting her backpack on her knees. The car's interior smelled heavily of air freshener. In the dim light of the bulb over the rear-view mirror, Ash got her first clear look at Rachel.

  Her blonde hair fell past her shoulders, and she wore a white blouse and dark skirt. A receptionist somewhere, maybe. She was skinny, and her long legs and long arms stretched before her, her wrists resting casually on the steering wheel. She was gorgeously tall, supermodel tall.

  Ash felt herself bristle with jealousy... then she pushed the feeling down. "What do you mean, a time bomb?"

  The light over the rear-view mirror winked out, casting the car in darkness. Rachel's chin and mouth were just a silhouette against the light from streetlights coming in through the window.

  "Listen," Rachel said softly, as if she was afraid someone would overhear. "The boy lives for one thing, and that's his father's approval. He needs it, like food. He starves without it. If you're between him and that approval... look out."

  Ash felt her hope slipping away, out of reach. "Why? Why is he like that?"

  "Beats me. Boys, you know? But here's the thing. Now and then, the old man pushes Drake too hard. Sometimes Drake fights back. Usually he just runs. It's like there's a light switch inside him. On, and he's the dutiful son. Off, and he's an unknown quantity. The first time he disappeared, he was eleven. Father came home from one of their camping trips. Drake came home four days later. Just walked in the door, eleven years old! Mom had a fit. She was ready to call the police, but Father stopped her. He was fine with it."

  Rachel stared out the windshield at the closed garage door, her mind somewhere else. "I could never have gotten away with that. But Drake... Father just loved him more." Her eyes turned to Ash. "What about you?"

  Ash raised her eyebrows. "What about me?" A twinge of pain shot through her bruise.

  "Do you love him?"

  Ash's heart fired up a crazy drum beat, and her throat went dry. She remembered Drake holding her as they stood on her front porch. She took a deep breath, and swallowed. "No."

  Rachel watched her silently. "Liar."

  "Look! I just need to talk to him, and I don't have a lot of time. Would you please tell me where he is?" Ash gripped the backpack restlessly, her fingers probing the material, feeling the box within that held the switchblade and the page of the Silent Book.

  Rachel let out a long, easy sigh. "Once, I followed him. He has a favorite hangout at Snoqualmie Falls. Across the river from the big hotel, just west of the power plant. There's a little patch of woods right next to the cliff. Nobody's allowed in there, but that never stopped Drake."

  "Snoqualmie Falls? That's, like, thirty miles from here."

  "Yeah."

  Ash felt trapped. What now, another bus? No, the metro system didn't run that far. "Rachel... could you drive me?"

  "You mean now? Tonight?" Rachel shook her head. "He'll be back in a day or two."

  "I can't wait."

  "Girl, you've got it bad."

  "I'm serious! And... I've got nowhere else to go. Please."

  "I just got home from work. I'm too tired to play matchmaker for my little brother." Rachel's voice softened. "Here's an idea. Go home. Have some ice cream. Write about it in your diary."

  Hot rage burned in Ash's muscles. "Rachel, this is not about me. Please!"

  Rachel opened the car door and stepped out. She shut the door and peered at Ash through the still-open driver's side window. "He is not worth getting hung up on. You will never mean anything to him. He doesn't work like that. And God help you if you get in his way. You'd be better off finding someone else, maybe..." In the gloom, Rachel's eyes flicked down Ash's body. "Maybe someone more your size."

  Ash reeled from the blow, speechless, as Rachel turned and crossed the drive to the front door, her shoes clicking on the concrete.

  Ash heard the front door open... and close.

  She waited alone in the car. After a minute, she shook off Rachel's words. It was time for a new plan.

  But Ash had no ideas. She could find the place that Rachel mentioned, but how could she get there? She didn't have enough money for a cab.

  She climbed out of the car, settling her backpack onto her shoulder. The sky was fully dark now. At the end of the driveway, she stopped. Across the street, a gray Volvo sat parked that hadn't been there when Ash had walked up to the house. Someone home late from work, obviously.

  But Ash noticed dark motion inside the car. She couldn't see details, but someone in there was shifting now, as if in reaction to her standing on the curb and watching. She glanced at the front and rear bumpers, concentrating on seeing in the car's windows with her peripheral vision – Elsbeth's night vision trick.

  She saw a single person in there, climbing rapidly into the driver's seat.

  Ash started across the street. The Volvo's engine started up.

  Oh, no you don't. She sprinted the last few steps, hopped onto the car's hood, gra
bbed hold of a windshield wiper in case the driver took off, and cast an evil stare through the windshield.

  Spencer Marsh cowered behind the wheel.

  "You've got to be kidding me!" Ash snarled.

  He waved his hands at her, shooing her away... then he rolled down his window. "Could you get off, please? It's my uncle's car. I don't want to have to explain footprints."

  She hopped down and stopped at the driver's side door. "Are you driving this thing?"

  Spencer swallowed. "Maybe."

  "You're fourteen. Are you crazy?"

  "I'm almost fifteen."

  "That's illegal!"

  Spencer scowled. "Get over it, already. You think I'm such a goody-goody. I don't know why."

  Ash blinked. "You're following me."

  "You think I'm going to just give you this address and then not follow up?" Spencer raised a finger and declared, "Something is seriously going on, and I'm here to find out what."

  Ash could feel the wheels in her brain spinning like mad. It was okay that Spencer had followed her. In fact, it was perfect.

  But she sensed a flaw. "What happens if you get pulled over while you're wheeling around in your uncle's car?"

  Spencer grinned and raised a smug eyebrow. He wiggled in the driver's seat as he pulled a wallet from his hip pocket. He opened it and pulled out a driver's license. "Take a look at that baby."

  Ash took it and held it close, angling it so it caught the glare from a streetlight. "According to this, you're seventeen."

  "My uncle used to be a bouncer. He knows people."

  Ash felt envy like an ache in her stomach. She was still a semester away from Driver's Ed. "Your uncle is trouble."

  "My uncle believes in me." He snatched back the license. "Unlike some people."

  Ash squeezed her molars together. "Okay, Spencer. I'd like to show you that I believe in you, too. So... let's make a deal."

  32

  The Volvo cruised eastbound on I-90. As the turnoff for Snoqualmie Falls approached, Ash watched Spencer signal, then check his mirror, then check his blind spot, then change lanes to the right.