Ninja Girl: The Nine Wiles

by Steven W. White

  "You know who his father is. You know where he must stand in this." Elsbeth took Ash's hands away from her face and held them.

  "Please, Elsbeth. Don't say it." People passing on the sidewalk glanced over, concerned. Ash ignored them. "Don't..."

  Elsbeth pressed Ash's hands in hers and leaned forward, worried. "Don't say what?"

  "Don't forbid me from seeing Drake!"

  "Oh." Elsbeth let her hands go. "I see. Ash, Ash. Listen. Such a rash move would tip our hand. Now, I don't think you should trust him. He must be his father's son. But he is also a teenaged boy... that suggests a distaste for authority. His loyalties may be divided." Elsbeth grinned. "Or at least divisible. Has it occurred to you that he may actually like you?"

  Ash swallowed and took a deep breath. She let it out and nodded.

  "Good. He might reveal something useful about his father, even unintentionally. We should keep him close." Elsbeth fixed her stare on Ash. "You will need to be very careful. But if our worst fears are realized, and he is spying on you... your course is clear."

  Ash felt her strength returning. She sat up straight and met Elsbeth’s gaze. "Spy back."

  #

  Monday morning. 7:30 AM.

  Spencer kept his jacket collar up and his knit cap down, to ward off the chill as well as look anonymous. He'd been watching Mule from a safe distance for twenty minutes, who'd been leaning against a lamp post in the student parking lot, waiting for Drake to pull in.

  The student lot stretched along the entire south side of the campus, with room for a hundred cars. This early, there were only nine cars, all in the rows closest to the main entrance.

  Mule wore a white t-shirt and jeans, his typical attire. He showed no signs of being cold or bored, and Spencer tried to imagine what might be going though that microscopic mind of his. Not much.

  A silver Audi convertible, with the top up, pulled into the lot. Mule looked over, but kept leaning on his pole, until the Audi pulled into a spot a few rows from the other cars. Then he started walking toward it.

  Spencer didn't know if this was going to be good or not. Anything could happen. He pulled his mini video camera from his pocket and started recording.

  Drake got out of his car, threw a leather backpack over his shoulder, and slammed the door. He started across the lot. Even from here, Spencer could see his carelessly perfect blond hair and his intense brooding look. The principal's son, a grumpy pretty-boy.

  Drake noticed Mule and stopped. His scowl amplified.

  "Are you the principal's kid?" Mule asked. There was no love in that immense baritone.

  "Don't call me that."

  "You know who I am?"

  "I've seen you around. You're the big one."

  "Close enough."

  Spencer crept among the parked cars, one row over from Drake and Mule. He held his camera close to this body, trying to be discreet, in case they glanced his way. The figures on the camera's screen were disappointingly small, and he could only hope it could pick up their voices. He should have bought that directional microphone.

  Because it looked like this was going to be good.

  "What do you want?" Drake asked.

  Mule stopped about ten feet from him. "Just to talk."

  "How lucky I am. So talk."

  "There's this girl, Ash, with the locker next to yours."

  Drake watched the giant for a long moment, with a nasty look in his eyes. "Yeah?"

  "Stay out of her way."

  "Huh. Does that come from her, or did you plan this little intervention all by yourself?"

  "This is all me," Mule said. "She's too nice for this kind of thing. In fact, she told me not to talk to you. But I am anyway."

  "Then you're out of line."

  Mule shrugged. "Maybe. I have been feeling uppity lately. I passed a math test. Then again, you've been a bastard to her. So maybe I'm just doing her a favor."

  "I see." Contempt oozed from Drake's voice. "She must tell you all about me."

  "Yup."

  "You must be her best friend."

  "Well... pretty much."

  "And here you are, defending your buddy from me." Drake took a few steps closer to Mule. Spencer could see his face: eyes narrowed, chin jutting. "Here's what I think," Drake said. "You like her. You've got the hots for her. You lie awake nights, thinking about her. Problem is, she's not into you, not like that. Or worse, you haven't had the guts to tell her how you feel. Or most pathetic of all... you're such a dumb macho hulk that you don't even realize you have feelings for her."

  Mule didn't say anything. But a low rumble came from his throat, barely audible at first, then louder. It shifted tone, up and down, as he breathed.

  Drake put his hands in his pockets and inspected Mule head to toe. "She tells you everything, huh?"

  Mule's rumble grew still louder, but didn't form any words.

  "So she told you about our date Saturday?"

  Mule's rumble stopped.

  "Look," Drake said. "I don't know about Ash and me. I think she's incredible... but she doesn't trust me, and that's..." Drake glanced away for a moment. "I don't know. That's hard to take."

  Mule still made no sound. His fingers trembled and slowly curled into fists.

  "So you can imagine how thrilled I am by this conversation." Drake shook his head. "Whatever, it's not your business. But if you want to tally up our scorecards at the end of the day... you stupid, drooling ogre... I've got a better shot with her than you do."

  Mule's roar echoed across the lot like some primal call from eons past. He cleared the distance between them and swung his right fist in a sledgehammer arc at Drake, who stepped out of the way.

  "Great." Drake pulled his hands from his pockets, pivoted like a karate instructor, and kicked Mule in the stomach.

  Mule didn't react. It looked like Drake had kicked a tree.

  Mule swung his other fist and caught nothing but air. Drake danced back, then cut in and launched his heel at Mule's knee. Mule grunted and caught hold of Drake's jacket. He lifted and threw Drake onto the trunk of the Audi.

  Drake rolled over and lay on the trunk, wincing, as Mule approached. He tucked his legs under his body and stood, towering over Mule, and fired a perfect kick to Mule's nose.

  Mule's head snapped back when it connected. He teetered on his heels, and Drake hopped down to stand before him and threw a bunch of quick jabs at his chin.

  Spencer heard the impact of each one. Mule seemed to recover from the kick and slowly notice that he was being punched. He took hold of Drake's jacket again, one-handed, and as Drake tried to pry his fingers loose, Mule socked Drake between the eyes.

  Drake slumped, and hung by his jacket. Blood fell from his nose. Mule let him go, and he sprawled to the asphalt.

  Mule gazed at the hand he'd hit Drake with. "That's weird," he said, working his fingers.

  Drake staggered to his feet and wiped his nose. He wobbled back a few paces and glared at Mule, shaking his head. "Enough of this shit. You win, you big ape." He unlocked his car and climbed in.

  The fight seemed to have gone out of Mule, and he let Drake go. The Audi's tires squealed as it backed out of the spot. Mule didn't flinch as it raced backwards past him, shifted into gear and accelerated out of the parking lot. At the driveway, it turned left into the street, cutting off a sedan, and sped out of sight.

  Mule watched it go. He stood alone in the lot as the Audi's engine faded. "See you around," he said to no one. Then he shrugged and started toward campus.

  Once Mule was gone, Spencer turned the video camera toward himself and held it at arm's length. "A disturbing example of campus violence," he said to the lens. Then he couldn't think of anything more to say, so he stopped recording.

  He slipped the camera safely into his jacket pocket. What a prize! Teenaged boys fighting was no biggie, but actual violence captured on camera? Pure gold. When people saw this video, they would go crazy. Maybe he could get it to a local news website.

 
Drake might escape disciplinary action – privilege had its privileges, after all. Mule would get suspended for beating on the principal's son. Spencer wished he could be there when Mr. A unloaded on the big oaf. Of course, Mule would be pissed, and probably hunt Spencer down and wring his neck...

  Maybe this video would fit better in Spencer's private collection.

  As cars pulled into the lot one by one, filled with students arriving for class, Spencer wondered at the name Mule had mentioned. Ashley Prue... the girl who got attacked, in the center of it all. He watched for Drake's Audi, but it didn't return.

  Where had he run off to?

  22

  Ash paced in her bedroom after dinner Monday night. She held her ping-pong paddle (which she had named "Punchy") in her right hand and tapped it with her left index and middle fingers. She had already tapped five hundred times with the fingers of her right hand, and only switched hands when her cuticles began to throb.

  Five hundred was too many. She didn't have to master this tonight, she reminded herself. She had time. That was what the second Wile was all about. Small moves. She'd be thumping away at Punchy tomorrow and next week, and next month, and someday, she'd have hands of steel.

  She still wasn't sure how she felt about that. She no longer feared having hands like Mule's – Elsbeth had put that to rest.

  It was the thought of fighting.

  Since Elsbeth had come into her life, Ash had fallen in love with being fast and wouldn't trade it for anything. But she had never been in a fight before... at least, not since the second grade, when Becky Pimmelman had kicked her lunchbox. Ash had thrown herself at Becky, but had given up when Becky had given Ash's hair a good yank.

  Could Ash really do it? Could she protect herself? Could she hurt someone, if she really had to?

  She didn't know. And that gave her a cold feeling in her stomach.

  She dropped Punchy on the bed and opened her dresser drawer. Nestled in her socks lay the black box holding the switchblade. She lifted the box's lid and stared at the gleaming handle, thinking of its hidden blade.

  There were bad people out there. Sooner or later, they would come after her again.

  Someone knocked on her bedroom door. Dad's knock.

  Ash shut the drawer. "What?" she called.

  Henry Prue peered into the room. "I give up. I know you're sixteen, and you need your privacy, but I can't restrain my curiosity any longer. What is that infernal tapping sound I've been hearing for the past hour?"

  Oops. "What tapping sound?"

  Dad frowned at her. "You didn't hear it?"

  She shrugged. "Crows pecking the roof again?"

  "Hm. I guess..." He spotted the paddle on the bed. "Hello. Ping-pong?" He scooped it up.

  "Yeah," Ash said. "Some kids play after school."

  "How about that. Good. Since ballet... well. I'm just glad you're trying something new."

  She smiled at him, hoping her nervousness didn't show. "It's fun. I'm trying to broaden my horizons, I guess."

  "Good. Homework done?"

  She had broadened her horizons, all right. "Yes, Dad."

  "Did you brush your teeth?"

  She sighed. "Not yet, Dad." Every night, the same question. Since she was five.

  He took the hint, and grinning his fatherly grin, passed her the paddle and slipped out the door.

  Alone again, Ash turned the paddle in her fingers. She gripped its handle in her left hand and thumped her right fist against it. It tried to jump free.

  Mule had acted funny today. Quiet. Like there was something on his mind.

  Ash tightened her grip and punched again. Thump. The impact jarred painfully. It was harder on her gripping hand and wrist than on her knuckles. She dreaded what would happen if she punched it as hard as she could.

  She hadn't seen Drake at all today. He hadn't come to school. In a way, that was a relief; she wasn't sure how to talk to him post-kiss. But still... where was he? The memory of the kiss came back to her, and so did the memory of him speeding away without a word.

  She wrapped her fingers around the handle and squeezed, holding it just short of arm's length. She wound up her right arm and threw the most savage punch she could, willing the paddle to snap in half. She knocked it to the floor, unbroken, sending a bolt of pain up each arm.

  "Ow." No more for tonight, or Dad was likely to hear. And she was likely to hurt herself. The second Wile said... that she deserved a break. Because tomorrow would come soon enough.

  She put Punchy away and felt relief at the thought: Tomorrow... maybe Drake would be back.

  #

  But Drake wasn't back.

  After Tuesday's classes, Ash wandered the stacks in the library, waiting for Mule. It had been three days – almost to the hour – since Drake had kissed her on Saturday afternoon, and she hadn't seen him since.

  Was he all right? Where could he be?

  And was it her fault? Had it been her challenge of him on the date that had driven him away? She had practically called him dishonest to his face.

  She came to the end of the shelves, turned, and let herself disappear into the next row. The key page of the Mutus Liber was hiding here, somewhere. Maybe it was tucked between the pages of an obscure book, never checked out in seventy years.

  She pulled down a heavy, hardback Doctor Zhivago and with her thumb, spun through the pages. Nothing. The copyright date wasn't old enough anyway.

  She was just trying to distract herself from thinking about Drake. Just trying to get away from the school cameras. Still, she might blunder across the page. There was a chance. And she could use a little good luck about now.

  She tried Don Quixote. Nope.

  It had to be hidden in a really boring book. One with no file in the online catalog, and maybe the page was hidden in it so well that someone could read the book and not know it was there. Hidden behind a dust jacket, maybe.

  In the quiet of the library, Ash heard heavy feet come down the steps from the entrance to the tables, and the familiar thump of a backpack hitting the floor, dropped from a high-altitude shoulder.

  She emerged from the stacks.

  Mule was here.

  "There's the professor!" he boomed. "Looking for something to read?"

  "Could you hush? This is a library, you know." Ash sat beside him at the table and slumped, her hands on her cheeks.

  "Whoa. Tough day?"

  "Why?" she snapped. She suddenly remembered her promise to herself to not discuss Drake in front of Mule. She'd better perk up.

  "You seem a little grim."

  "You seem a little happy."

  "I am. But you first."

  "I'm fine."

  "No, really."

  Ash breathed in, steeling herself. "I mean it. I'm good. What's new in Mule's world?"

  He lowered his head, as if he was about to speak to the table. He looked up at Ash, under shaggy eyebrows. "It concerns our buddy Drake, the principal's son," he said with a sly grin.

  "What?" It was the last thing Ash had expected. She could barely speak. "Wh – wh – what?"

  "Have you noticed? He hasn't been around the past couple of days."

  "Mule!" Ash exclaimed. "I... " She still couldn't form words. How could this be happening? Why would Mule bring up Drake? Was he reading her mind? All Ash had wanted was to protect their friendship, to keep Drake out of the conversation.

  Pointless. She should had known better than to keep things from Mule. Ash sighed and rubbed her temples. "I know he hasn't been around. It's been driving me crazy."

  Mule nodded. "It's been driving...” He stopped. “Um, wait–"

  "Mule..." Ash had to do it. "Drake and I went on a date Saturday. We... well, I don't know about we... I'm sorry. I should have told you. But you get really ornery whenever I mention him."

  Mule stared at her. "You and he...?"

  "Yeah."

  "Are you nuts?"

  "Yeah," she said, without hesitation.

  "Wow." Mule leaned b
ack. "And I thought he was just yanking my chain."

  Ash looked him up and down as the wheels in her head went spinning. "What do you mean? You talked to him?"

  "Yeah."

  "Since Saturday?"

  Mule frowned, looking less comfortable. "Yeah."

  "How?"

  He cleared his throat. "I sort of ran into him in the parking lot Monday morning. We got to talking. Then he turned around and took off. Maybe to cry to his mama."

  "Talking... about me?"

  Mule shrugged and grinned. "What else would we talk about?"

  So Drake had come to school Monday morning. Just like normal. As if the date, and her ‘are-you-for-real’ line, hadn’t bothered him at all.

  It hadn't been her.

  Relief ran over her like warm rain. She sighed.

  It had been Mule.

  "What did you say to him?" she demanded.

  Mule frowned at the table. "Nothing, really."

  Ash spoke with low intensity. "Mule. Listen to me. What did you say?"

  "We just talked a little smack. I told him to leave you alone. I wanted to pay you back for helping me with the math test. I thought you didn't like him. I didn't know you were dating the guy!"

  Ash knew there had to be more. Tough talk wouldn't scare Drake off, even if it came from Mule. "What is it you're not telling me?"

  He looked doubtful.

  "Give it up," Ash pressed.

  "Well..." Mule's fingers caressed the scar on his chin. "I was about to tell you. I have to tell you. But now... you aren't going to like it."

  "What is it?"

  He made a sour face. "Seriously? You're dating him?"

  "Mule!"

  "Okay." He stopped rubbing his scar and tapped it with his finger. "Remember this?"

  Ash remembered Mule's blood dripping to the stain on his t-shirt. And the blood, dried and dark, on the switchblade Elsbeth had given her. She remembered that blade slashing at her on that night, shining in the darkness.

  She didn't answer.

  Mule went on. "Here goes. The guy who came at us that night, the guy who attacked you... I think it was Drake."