Ninja Girl: The Nine Wiles

by Steven W. White

  She could see there was no chance he would be pulled over. He was the safest driver on the planet.

  Since leaving Seattle, they had passed Lake Washington and miles of forest, and the pines towered blackly into the night sky. The reddish bark of their trunks caught the Volvo's headlights. After a few more miles and a few more turns, the car passed a sign, "Welcome to Salish Lodge." Spencer pulled into the parking lot.

  Ash sat up and searched the parked cars. "Drive around."

  In the second-to-last row, she found it: Drake's Audi, with the top up. "Stop!"

  "Okay, okay." Spencer parked beside it.

  Ash hopped out, slipped on her backpack, and headed toward the lodge, following the roar of the falls. Spencer locked the Volvo and raced after her. "So... what now?"

  "Thanks for the ride."

  "That's it? You don't say a word for the whole trip, and all I get is thanks for the ride?"

  Ash turned to him. "Don't follow me."

  "I know Mr. Alexander, Drake, you, and that woman are all connected in some way. Why don't you tell me how?"

  "It's too dangerous, Spencer." Across the river from the big hotel, Ash remembered, just west of the power plant. She passed the lodge entrance and continued down a concrete path. Bushes hid the falls.

  Spencer was right behind her. "Come on, I love danger."

  "No you don't. Mule almost made you pee your pants."

  Ash came to a break in the bushes. Beyond the rail at the sidewalk's edge was a vast dark chasm. The falls shone white as milk, illuminated by spotlights. Clouds of mist drifted up through the spotlight beams, sprinkling her face with icy, tingling drops. The roar was ever-present, steady and forgettable.

  Spencer came to the rail beside her. "I also know that woman is wicked fast. So fast it makes me think that's part of this."

  In the darkness to the left, on their side of the river, Salish Lodge stood on the cliff, a few of its windows glowing yellow. To the right, on the river's opposite side and upstream, sat a cluster of buildings, made of white brick and rusting metal.

  The power plant.

  The slope beside the buildings was dense with black pines.

  That was the place.

  "I also know," Spencer went on, "that you are pretty fast yourself."

  "Spencer..." Ash didn't know what to say. He had brought her this far, given her this chance. But she couldn't tell him anything. And if she found Drake, she had no idea what would happen. "I'll tell you this. The woman they arrested this morning was my Aunt Elsbeth. She didn't do anything wrong – other than mess up those police cars. She doesn't deserve to be sent to some secret prison. I'm trying to help her."

  Spencer watched her intently. "By coming here?"

  "By coming here."

  "Why? What's here?"

  Ash sighed. "A long shot." Upstream from the falls and behind the lodge, a foot bridge crossed the river. It was just a slender gray line above the mist, and the only way to the other side that Ash could see. She glanced at Spencer. "I'm sorry. I have to go."

  She headed back to the parking lot. Spencer stayed with her as she circled around the lodge and came to the treed asphalt path that led to the foot bridge.

  "I'm sorry too," Spencer said. "Because I'm not going anywhere."

  The bridge was blocked by a chain link fence. A padlock hung from the gate. The bridge looked more like an industrial catwalk than anything else, apparently not meant for tourists or tenants of the lodge, but rather for staff at the power plant. The chain link fence ran along both sides of the bridge, all the way across. Ash couldn't get to it.

  Okay, then.

  The fence extended along the riverbank, blocking the way to the water. Ash gripped the cold chain links and scampered up and over. Her feet landed in the soft earth on the other side.

  Spencer stared at her through the fence. "What are you doing?"

  Ash shrugged. "Thanks, Spencer. This is where we part ways."

  Spencer grabbed the fence and set the toe of a sneaker in the links, ready to hoist himself up.

  "Before you do that," Ash said, lifting a finger, "you'd better watch this."

  She side-stepped down the slope until she was under the bridge, just a few feet above the rushing water. Here, unlike the milky falls, it was eerily black, reflecting traces of light from the windows of the lodge like oil. It flowed relentlessly toward the drop, and looked cold and bottomless.

  She looked up to the fence that ran along the side of the bridge. Its steel links ran all the way across to the power plant – maybe a hundred feet. She reached out over the water, grabbed the links, and let her body swing.

  She heard Spencer gasp.

  Her feet dangled over the water, but she concentrated on her hands. Left, right, left, right. The floor of the bridge was about eye level. The steel wires felt like they were cutting into her fingers. She resisted the urge to kick her feet randomly as her body swung back and forth.

  It was no way to cross a bridge, really. What if her fingers gave out?

  The lodge towered to her right, and she wondered if anyone had noticed her. From up there, the view of her body would be blocked by the bridge. And unlike the falls, this part of the river wasn't lit at all. So this was actually pretty stealthy. Sort of.

  She glanced back. Spencer stared at her like she'd stolen his homework. But he didn't try following.

  Halfway.

  The pain in her fingers really set in, a dull, clawlike ache. She stopped to rest. But hanging there didn't feel like resting. It only made her think of an invisible clock that counted down the time until she became too exhausted to hold on.

  She hung her head and watched the black water racing below her feet. Under the bridge, she saw crossbars that ran sideways every foot or so. She lowered herself and grabbed one.

  Much better! She began working her way hand over hand, the straps of her backpack pressed to her earlobes.

  This backpack had been a nuisance all night. She had to keep it with her – there was no question about that. But as black swells passed beneath her, a sick feeling set in.

  Elsbeth had entrusted her with the Mutus Liber's page. And tucking it in with the switchblade... well, that was just Elsbeth being Elsbeth. The spoils of victory. Both the switchblade and the page had been won in battle, or something like that.

  She had pushed Mule's words about the switchblade from her mind. What else could she do? But now, as the far side of the bridge came closer and closer, she found herself slowing down.

  No, it couldn't be true. She picked up her pace.

  But still... was it really so smart to have the page on her person when she confronted Drake?

  God, what if it was true?

  She stopped again, hanging like a monkey over the river.

  If this night went badly... if her worst fears about Drake were true... he could steal the page from her.

  Ash couldn't go on. The next crossbar beckoned, shadowy, inches away, but she couldn't will herself to grab it.

  Her arms were really starting to kill her.

  She let go with one arm and shook the backpack's strap off that shoulder. Then she got a grip on a crossbar and let go with the other. She put the shoulder strap in her teeth and felt for the waist strap that always dangled pointlessly from the pack's bottom. Growling with frustration, she finally got the waist strap clipped around the crossbar.

  There.

  The pack hung free, upside-down, under the bridge. Nobody could see it, let alone reach it.

  Steal that, Drake.

  And hang on, little strap.

  Ash swung hand over hand, leaving the pack behind, until her feet found the wet boulders of the river's far shore. She sat on a rock and rested her hands, palms up, on her thighs. Her fingers were stiff and hooked. She flexed them gently, trying to bring them back to life.

  The roar of the falls came to her. She'd been hearing it all this time, but she'd lost track of the sound. It was loud, but soft and formless, oddly soothing. She
wanted to sit here and listen to it for a bit longer, smelling the damp, earthy forest.

  But she had to find Drake. And clouds of mist were settling on her. If she stayed any longer she'd be soaked.

  She picked her way over the boulders to a path that ran along another chain link fence. Beyond it, a creepy white brick building, with rust-spotted steel beams, stood in the darkness. It looked like it had been built a hundred years ago – part of the old power plant.

  So she was close.

  She worked her way past the falls. The rushing water at the shore dropped away, leaving a cliff with a vast empty space beyond. Ash climbed one last chain link fence and faced a dense forest of pines. The ground sloped sharply toward the chasm, and there was no warning, no fence, nothing before the drop.

  She looked back to the bridge and the Salish Lodge. All was quiet over there. She couldn't even see Spencer any more. She turned and waded into the tall grass, disappearing among the trees.

  33

  It was pitch black in here. The thick grass snared Ash's feet, and the ground sloped so steeply toward the cliff that Ash leaned on the trees for assurance, feeling the rough, wet bark pressing on her hands.

  Her eyes adjusted. Downhill and between the trees, swelling clouds of mist rose into the spotlights and turned brilliantly white, erasing the lodge beyond. It messed up her night vision.

  Over the roar, a voice came out of the darkness. "Well, well."

  Drake!

  Ash spun, searching, but the sound had echoed off the trees and she couldn't tell the direction. She had a sinking feeling that he could be anywhere and that, somehow, he had sensed her approach. She steadied her nerves. "Hi," she said, into the darkness.

  "How is my sister doing?"

  "She's fine." Ash kept searching, knowing Drake had already deduced how she had found him. "Why are you hiding from me?"

  She heard Drake's directionless laugh, then the crisp sound of footsteps in the grass behind her. She turned.

  There he stood, just a silhouette at first. Then light from the mist softly fell on him. He had set aside his black leather jacket for camping attire. "I'm not hiding."

  It was really him. Ash felt a flood of relief, and fought the urge to throw her arms around him. "Right. If you knew what I went though to find you–"

  "What are you doing here, Ash?"

  Ash searched for the right words, and the events of the last twenty-four hours rushed back to her. Fatigue and helplessness swelled in her. She took a breath and pushed them down. "I need your help."

  Drake watched her, unmoving, as the sound of the falls rolled over them. At last, he nodded. "Gutsy. What if I say no?"

  "You don't even know what I'm going to say!"

  "I might be able to guess. But go ahead, then."

  Ash had no choice now but to reveal her secrets, to tip her hand. But that was why she had come here. He was her last chance. "My Aunt Elsbeth is in jail, and your father is going to have her sent to some maximum security fortress where I'll never see her again."

  "You think my father is involved?"

  "I do."

  "He's just a high school principal."

  Ash bristled. "Let's not talk like that."

  "Okay." Drake ran his fingers through his hair, slicking it back, spreading the countless tiny drops of mist that had settled there. "Let's play a game. I'll tell you something I know. Then you tell me something you know."

  Ash felt a chill. Such a game could get out of control – there was so much she didn't dare reveal. But Drake could be holding a secret that could help Elsbeth.

  "You start," she said.

  "Hey, you came to me."

  "It's your game."

  "Okay, then. I know your Aunt Elsbeth is a ninja."

  Ash's mind swam, and her foot slipped on the wet grass. She caught herself before she fell down the slope. Did Drake know everything? Was he really working for his father?

  "Your turn," he prodded.

  "I know your father is looking for the Mutus Liber."

  "Right. The Book Without Words. That's the big prize." He took a careful step closer to her. "I know that your aunt must have told you that a page of that book is in the school library."

  Then I know something you don't know. Drake had been out of touch for a few days. If Ash was careful, this game could go her way. "I know... that the page is no longer there."

  In the dim light, Ash saw Drake's eyebrows arch just a bit. She had surprised him. "Someone's been busy," he said. "Who got it?"

  Ash shook her head. "It's your turn."

  "I know that you're not going to see Elsbeth again."

  "That's not true." How could he say that? Ash had to free her. Ash would! Drake was just trying to throw her off.

  "Ash," he continued, "These people beyond ruthless."

  This wasn't helping. Ash felt her body stressing, desperation welling up, and pressed a hand to her mouth. "I need you to help me."

  "They'll kill you, Ash. Or vanish you without a trace."

  Ash shook her head. "Drake, please. I know..." Was she still playing the game? Maybe she was. "I know that you're Mr. Alexander's son. I know that's the world you were born into, but I know you aren't his servant. You think for yourself. That's why you're out here. Because you can't stand being someone else's pawn."

  Drake took another step closer to her. If he wanted, he could reach out and touch her. And that would be all right, Ash thought. It would be all right if he held her close, here in the dark, beside the roar of the falls. The mist in the air had chilled her skin, and now she could almost feel his warmth, this close. Almost. If he held her, they could set aside all the hellishness around them, just for a moment–

  "You don't know me," Drake said coldly.

  Ash blinked.

  "You know why they're so dangerous?" Drake asked. "Because they believe in what they are doing. If they can get all the pages of the Mutus Liber and create the philosopher's stone, they can change the world."

  She shook her head. "Into what?"

  "Into something better. My father... is a great man."

  Ash couldn't believe it. She felt her heart sinking.

  Drake continued. "Is it my turn? Good. Ash... I know you're not a ninja. I've seen ninjas before. I've studied them. You might be trying, and you might have some skills, but you're not cut out for it. It isn't for you."

  If he had wanted to hurt her, he should have just slapped her face. She could feel the muscles in her throat tightening, cutting off her air. Her bruised eye pulsed with hopeless rage, and warm tears tickled her cheeks.

  "How can you... say that...?" To talk, she needed to breathe, and she couldn't breathe.

  "Get out of the game while you can. Take a long vacation in Canada. Just run. It's the safest thing."

  Ash struggled to swallow the lump that had hardened in her throat. "You don't know who or what I am."

  "Ash, please."

  "Did you study me, too? Is that it? It that what I am to you? An assignment?" Her voice grew louder, sharper. "That night at the school, the attack – that really was you, wasn't it? Testing me? By coming at me with a switchblade?"

  Drake held up a hand, placating. "Ash–"

  "You attack girls with knives, do you, Drake?"

  "Ash!" His hands settled on her arms, just above her elbows, as if to contain her, to keep her from exploding.

  "Don't touch me!"

  Drake's grip on her upper arms turned to iron, and he pushed her sideways. The sudden pain shocked her into her altered state – the roar of the falls faded, the slow current of mist through the trees came to a standstill. Ash hung there, off balance, floating, her awareness revved to maximum.

  But it was all too late.

  Drake had already dragged her a couple of feet to her right, as if positioning her where he wanted her. She remembered, too late, that he had held up only one hand a moment ago. The other had been in the pocket of his coat. As he clung to her arms, she could feel that hidden hand at her
elbow.

  Drake held something in his fingers.

  She noticed, too late, that a chain link fence loomed beside her, invisible in the darkness as it ran through the trees, marking the boundary of the power plant.

  Drake pinned her right arm against it. She heard a zipping sound, low and close.

  She pulled, but he already had a hold of her right wrist.

  Ninjas aren't strong.

  Drake released her, his fingers open and easing away. She lunged for him, ready to throttle him, but the fence clung to her right hand and wouldn’t let go. A slender band of plastic circled that wrist. He had zip-tied her to the fence.

  What kind of idiotic strategy was that?

  He was still standing in front of her, looking at her zip-tied hand, too slow to react. Ash made a fist with her left and belted him one, a jab straight to his nose.

  Ash hadn't punched anybody since that mean girl had kicked her lunchbox in the first grade. The moment stretched out, Drake's face shifting under her knuckles until they settled against the hard bone of his skull, and a shock of pain ran through her fingers. He reeled back, and kept reeling...

  His body settled into the grass.

  What had she done?

  "Drake!" As she spoke, her time sense shifted back to normal. Drake lay on his back. He put his hands to his face and groaned, and his body slipped on the wet grass, sliding downslope.

  Ash stomped the cuff of his trousers with her heel, stopping him. It stretched her out, and the zip-tie cut into her wrist. He probably would have stopped himself – grabbed a tree trunk – before going over the cliff. But she pressed her heel into the grass, just the same.

  "Ow," he said.

  "Drake?"

  He put out his arms to stabilize himself. Ash let him go, and he carefully got to his feet. He felt his nose. "I'm always getting hit."

  "You're... okay?"

  "I've had worse."

  Ash tugged at the zip-tie, shaking water drops off the fence. "What's with this?"

  "Cheaper than handcuffs. Concealable. Multi-purpose. Handy when camping." Drake cleared his throat. "Sorry. But if you won't go to Canada, maybe at least you'll stay here for a while."

  "Wait... what?"