Ninja Girl: The Nine Wiles

by Steven W. White

  Ash would never deal with Drake, never work with Drake, never trust Drake, never speak to Drake.

  She would kill him, maybe. If she got the chance. But she would never forgive him.

  "The page," Mr. Alexander said. Elsbeth's grip tightened on her shoulder.

  Drake's cold stare flicked again to the tip of the blade, which now hovered above him. Then his eyes locked on Ash. His eyebrows moved slightly, something like a little shrug.

  He was telling her something. But what?

  What did it matter? It was a lie, whatever it was. Ash was on her own.

  Maybe she could suckerpunch Mr. Alexander, get a shot in before he swung.

  Yeah, right. He'd cut her in two.

  Drake's eyes left hers for a third time, settling on the blade tip, then returning.

  "Last chance," Mr. Alexander said. He looked at Elsbeth pleasantly. "If she doesn't tell me, maybe you will."

  For a split second, the third Wile flashed into Ash's mind. "Bite me," she hissed, and she drew in a breath. Time downshifted, and she wondered if a leap of faith could include faith in a person.

  Mr. Alexander focused on Ash and his pleasantness vanished. His arm stiffened and the tip of the blade raised as he flexed his muscles to swing.

  She could probably dodge it. She had to be faster than he was. But instead, she drew back her right fist for a blow to the center of his chest.

  This is where I lose my head, Ash thought.

  Mr. Alexander leaned into the swing, crossing the point-of-no-return. Rather than dodge, Ash poured all her power into a right jab.

  Drake reached up and plucked the tip of the sword blade between a thumb and forefinger, ever so gently, like holding a sprig of mistletoe. That bit of resistance threw off his father's balance. Mr. Alexander's eyes widened, his eyebrows climbing in surprise. A split second later, Drake innocently let go, and the blade veered off course.

  The flat of Ash's knuckles blasted Mr. Alexander in the solar plexus. His shoulders rolled forward and his body seemed to curl around Ash's extended arm. The sword swung past her ear. Mr. Alexander went sprawling backward, past the cockpit door and into an empty food cart.

  And he dropped the sword. It clattered to the floor, its blade whittling up spinning bits of airliner carpet.

  Ash couldn't believe it. She had laid out a grown man with a single punch. Mule couldn't have done better. It had hurt less than hitting Punchy. And Drake! Drake had...

  She faced him, astounded.

  Drake shook his head. "Don't thank me. It's not over yet."

  Elsbeth melted around Ash and snapped up the sword. Now standing between Drake and the open door, she pushed Ash toward the stairwell. "Escape, you said? Excellent thought."

  Mr. Alexander picked himself up. It took him a moment, since he couldn't seem to breathe very well, or stop pressing at least one hand to the center of his striped necktie, where Ash had nailed him.

  "You..." he said to Drake, and Drake was wincing even before the blow came. Mr. Alexander punched him hard on the ear, and Drake wobbled to a passenger seat and fell into it.

  "Betrayal!" Mr. Alexander gasped for air and jabbed an angry finger at his son. "And for her? A girl? You'll pay for this, my son. You'll regret it dearly."

  Ash was ready to sock him again, but she couldn't get past Elsbeth. She scowled at him from under the overstarched prisoner-orange sleeve of Elsbeth's sword arm. "Don't you touch him, you son of a bitch!"

  Elsbeth had the sword, Ash thought. She could whack this guy. But that froze her in a moment of doubt. What would Elsbeth do? Was she about to cut Mr. Alexander into little pieces?

  Ash really didn't want to see that. "Elsbeth..." she began.

  Mr. Alexander struggled to his feet and sneered at them fearlessly, not cowering, but exposing himself to Elsbeth's sword. "You think this is over? You think you've won? Well, here's a suggestion. Why don't you run for your lives?" He looked at the ceiling. "Quisling!"

  Ash didn't know that word. Mr. Alexander had said it in the same tone one would use to call a dog.

  The stairway behind her rattled slightly, and Ash turned. At first, she couldn't make sense of what she was seeing. There was something blocking her view of the airport, an otherworldly blackness, a shadow that had descended on the stairwell.

  Then Ash saw that it had a human shape. It stood with legs spread, one black-slippered foot on each rail. Its eyes stared mercilessly at Ash through a crescent-shaped gap.

  And the shadow held a sword.

  It's a ninja! was all Ash could think before that silvery blade came slashing down at her head.

  41

  Ash had no time to react.

  But Elsbeth did. The spooky ninja's blade came to a sharp halt a few inches above Ash's forehead, stopped by Elsbeth's blade swinging in from behind her. The sound when the blades touched was a piercing ring, sharp and beautiful.

  Ash launched herself backward into Elsbeth. In a series of unninjalike fumbles, she scrambled past Elsbeth, past Mr. Alexander, and found herself trapped inside the plane with Drake.

  She had no time for him now. She spun to face the new threat.

  Elsbeth held her sword crossed with a shadow. As the invading ninja moved in front of the light from the cockpit, she acquired an outline, became real.

  She? Ash had seen it in her eyes at first glance, in that crescent gap in her mask, and could see it now in the shape of her body. A woman. But who? What ninja would abandon the cause of guarding the Silent Book?

  "Kill them," Mr. Alexander said.

  The spooky ninja responded with a swarm of sword blows at Elsbeth. Elsbeth dodged and blocked, sidestepping into the narrow aisle between the seats.

  Ash stood helplessly, a few feet behind Elsbeth. The swords moved faster than Ash could follow. Corners of seatbacks and tray tables caught some of the blows. With ripping and snapping sounds, bits of stuffing and plastic wheeled through the air and bounced off the overhead bins.

  Drake worked his way to his feet beside Ash. "Get out," he said.

  "I can't leave her," Ash insisted.

  Drake pointed at the invading ninja. "You can't fight that."

  "Who is she?"

  "Get out now."

  That wouldn't be easy. There were emergency exits at the rear of the plane, but by the time Ash worked a handle and yanked a door open, the crazy traitor ninja would have cut them into bite-sized pieces. Ash and Elsbeth were running out of space.

  The ninja hadn't landed a blow – Elsbeth still had all her arms and legs – but Elsbeth kept losing ground, backing up, as more and more seats were shredded in the crossfire. Ash backed up as they came closer.

  Drake grabbed her arm. "By the way," he said, pulling her close. "I hope I don't ever have to fight you."

  "What?" Ash said.

  He looked into her eyes, and Ash was suddenly aware of her mask and how it was the only thing between them. "You're sort of a badass," he said. "What I mean is, you look good in black."

  Ash wished she could have held on to that moment, but there was no time. Words piled up in her mind, jumbling to be said, like I hope I don't have to fight you either, and thank you for not giving the page to your father, and come with us, but what finally came out was, "Don't count on it. Not fighting me, I mean."

  Drake released her. "Go."

  He and Ash retreated to the rear of the plane as Elsbeth and the evil ninja approached. Ash didn't even try to work an emergency door – she wouldn't leave Elsbeth.

  Instead, she felt in the small of her back for the star, and pulled it out.

  She crept up behind Elsbeth and breathed, driving time to downshift again. The sword blades became visible, slicing arcs through the air. Bits of foam and plastic tumbled lazily.

  Ash wouldn't risk the ninja's head-to-toe quintessent weave blocking the star. She would hit the ninja where she was vulnerable, and that meant no more sweating over hurting someone, as she had over cutting down unarmed Mr. Alexander. Elsbeth was fighting for her
life. Time for a kill shot.

  Ash would nail that ninja between the eyes.

  The range was easy – no more than ten feet. But Elsbeth was partly in the way, and the woman in black was moving fast. Ash narrowed her eyes and concentrated. It would work. Ash was fast too.

  She pinched the star by a sharkfin blade between her thumb and forefinger, and took another breath. Elsbeth and the ninja drew even closer to her.

  Ash twisted her body and let herself unwind like a spring, as she had at the beach with Drake, when she had thrown the stone. The star left her fingers, streaking to the crescent of skin in the woman's mask.

  The star hit the silver blade of the woman's sword with a sharp clang that was somehow musical and ricocheted away.

  Ash lost track of it, but saw the broken passenger window – a perfect star-sized gash in the glass, with white cracks radiating from it.

  Ash's heart sank. Couldn't she do anything right? The ninja had batted the star away like a paper airplane, and now it was lying on the tarmac somewhere, lost.

  But Elsbeth used the moment. She turned her back on the ninja and swept her sword in a broad vertical loop, rolling her shoulder to make the biggest circle she could. The blade raced through the floor between Ash and Elsbeth, up the wall, across the ceiling, down the other wall–

  "Ash!" she called. "Take my hand!"

  Ash leapt for Elsbeth, grabbing Elsbeth's wrist in both hands, as a gap appeared in the plane overhead and Ash saw amber-gray overcast sky. A sudden cold breeze blew through the cabin.

  The gap widened, the floor sloped under Ash’s feet, and the tail of the plane dropped off. Umpteen tons of steel fell to the ground with a deafening crunch. Ash dangled from Elsbeth's wrist until her toes could find the edge of the carpet.

  "Jump!" Elsbeth commanded.

  Ash didn't wait. She sprang into the night, somersaulting over the broken tail and landing on the tarmac a hundred feet beyond. The plane's front two thirds remained balanced on its landing gear, leaning a bit from the tire Ash had slashed. Elsbeth stood silhouetted against the light from the cabin, and in the airplane's last remaining row of seats, Ash saw Drake peering over a seat back, wide-eyed, at the damage.

  Something in the tail was starting to smoke.

  Elsbeth hopped off the plane, out of the crazy ninja’s reach, and landed in a crouch on the curving steel near the tail's vertical fin. The tail rocked under her weight, shifting until one of the tail's wings touched the ground. More smoke.

  As Elsbeth leapt clear, little spurts of orange flame appeared where the tail had been cut. Not surprising to Ash – Elsbeth must have cut through hundreds of wires and conduits and electrical bits. The flames spread across the fuel-soaked tarmac. Ash pressed a hand on the ground, feeling for wetness.

  Dry, except for a few drops shaken off her own body. She should be safe from being burned alive, for now.

  Elsbeth landed a few feet away. Ash stood and threw her arms around her mentor. "Wow," was all she could say.

  "Time to go." Elsbeth slipped the sword back into the scabbard on Ash's back. "You're invisible." Elsbeth gestured at her orange jumpsuit. "I'm not."

  "Wait..." Ash watched the plane as the fire spread. She was looking for the ninja, she told herself, to see if they were being followed. But she knew she was really looking for Drake.

  Why, she wondered. Who cares? Let him burn up.

  At the stairs, Mr. Alexander appeared. Another man appeared behind him, and Ash guessed that might be a pilot, hiding in the cockpit all this time. They scampered down the stairs.

  Drake came out onto the stairs behind them. Ash let out the breath she'd been holding, as all three of them ran for their lives.

  She scanned the low white buildings in the direction of the offramp that had brought her here. She could see people in uniforms – lots of them – and vehicles flashing red and blue lights. They all kept their distance, though. If Ash and Elsbeth could get to one of the white buildings, they could slip away by rooftop.

  Elsbeth pulled her arm. "This way."

  They had a clear path to the buildings – law enforcement personnel had made their stand farther back, between the buildings. Ash could understand why. The fire behind her and Elsbeth lit the airport with flickering orange. The people seemed to be paying attention to the growing fire, rather than following them. The distraction was okay with Ash. In fact, she wished she'd thought of it. That set her wondering again. Had Elsbeth set the plane burning on purpose?

  Flames rose higher than the plane's fuselage now. She could feel the fire's heat at her back.

  Rather than running to the closest building, Elsbeth led her three buildings over. Impaled in the white siding, about a foot off the ground, was the star. Elsbeth twisted it out of the wall and handed it to Ash. "You'd better take this." She shrugged and gave a demure grin. "I have no pockets."

  The star glimmered in the firelight. Ash took it and slipped it into the fold in the small of her back.

  Elsbeth crouched, and like a spring, leapt ten feet up the side of the building and disappeared over the roof. Ash followed. The roof's broad white expanse, with its humming pipes and metal boxes, muffled the sirens and radio calls coming from below, and seemed ordinary – above the chaos.

  The cops hadn't planned for their escaping prisoners to leave the ground. She and Elsbeth ran the length of the building, passing over the police perimeter without a sound. They slipped down the wall on the other side and raced for the shadowy trees near the offramp. Once there, Ash knew they were home free.

  Except...

  Ash stopped in a shadow as Interstate 5 traffic raced by and the dark yellowish ceiling of Seattle’s cloudy night brightened in the east. Morning was coming, and it would steal their cover. They didn't have much time.

  Where could they go?

  42

  Elsbeth led Ash west, swinging over still black water from the drainage pipes under the Sixteenth Avenue bridge, then rooftop by rooftop and shadow by shadow, to the West Duwamish Greenbelt. As the sky lightened and the stench of jet fuel faded from her black pajamas, they cut two miles north through sheer forest, unbroken by street or clearing, and emerged from the woods into the suburbs of West Seattle.

  They stopped on a rooftop two blocks away from Alki Beach. Across the gray water of the sound, Ash could see the skyscrapers of downtown and the hills of Magnolia. She could see the blue-gray dome of the water tower, and had a vague idea of where her house had to be, though she couldn’t see it. That’s where Dad was. The thought hurt her heart a little.

  Elsbeth's prisoner-orange jumpsuit had begun to fray around the edges from all the high-speed travel. She slinked down the slope to the roof's edge and rolled over, catching the rain gutter. Then she disappeared.

  Ash crept to the edge and peeked down. Elsbeth had entered an open second-floor window.

  "Elsbeth?" Ash whispered. "Who's house is this?”

  Elsbeth beckoned at Ash from the dark room inside. All the other windows were dark, too, and there was no car in the driveway.

  Ash dangled from the rain gutter, feeling it strain and flex under her fingers, and hopped to the window sill. She wriggled through and plopped onto bare carpet.

  The room had no furniture. Ash caught the stale smell of dust, and she knew that no one lived here. Not for a long time.

  "This house belongs to a bank at the moment," Elsbeth said. She shut the window. "I've been borrowing it."

  "How did you find it?"

  Elsbeth opened the closet. It was empty, except for a couple of piles of folded clothes on the floor. She rifled through them, her back to Ash. "There are hundreds of foreclosed houses in Seattle. Millions in the country. And you'd be surprised how many have an unlocked upstairs window." She passed a bundle of clothes to Ash. "This has been my home away from home."

  Ash took the bundle. It was Ash's third-favorite pair of jeans, and her green swirly t-shirt. "I've been looking for this!"

  "I borrowed it. I keep essentials he
re for both of us."

  Ash slipped the sword off her shoulder and set it down in the middle of the room. Then she pulled off her velvety cap, and worked the neck-warmer whatsit over her head. Cool air touched her face. She slipped off her gloves, dropping everything in a pile, and rubbed her eyes and cheeks.

  So, this was her new home for now. A dark house with no furniture, across the sound from her own bed. She would sleep on the carpet, and probably had to keep the lights off because they would draw attention.

  It was going to be lonely.

  The tears came up hard and fast, surprising her. She was glad it was dark in here – the only light came from the deep blue twilight out the window – and she let herself cry.

  Elsbeth watched her, saying nothing. She quietly changed out of the orange jumpsuit into street clothes of her own.

  "You rescued me." Elsbeth said at last.

  Ash's sobs finally ran dry. "I can't go home."

  Elsbeth gazed out the window, remembering something. "Neither can I."

  Ash wondered where home was for Elsbeth. But Ash didn't ask – there were too many disasters on her mind. They welled up and tumbled together, until one in particular overshadowed the others.

  "Elsbeth... I failed. I lost the page."

  Elsbeth's face showed no confusion, no shock, no disappointment. Ash knew that Elsbeth was choosing her reaction, practicing the first Wile.

  "Mr. Alexander doesn't have it," Elsbeth said. "I suppose... Drake?"

  Ash couldn't believe it. "How did you know?"

  "I know you. You would go to Drake before attempting to rescue me."

  Ash wilted inside. "Am I that transparent?"

  Elsbeth smiled. "You don't yet believe some things you should believe."

  Ash was too exhausted and disappointed to try unraveling that. "The whole point was to protect the page. That was all we had to do. And I blew it."

  "The boy didn't hand it over to his father. That's suggestive. Perhaps it's still in play. All is not lost, Ash."

  Maybe not. But Ash was afraid to hope. Because if Drake had kept the page from Mr. Alexander, maybe there was a chance that Drake and Ash could be... well, something other than mortal enemies.