Ninja Girl: Women in Black

Prologue

"Elsbeth... what's the fourth Wile?"

"Not now, Ash."

1

Drake Alexander sipped his ice-water and looked across the table at his father. The pleasant strings of Vivaldi played through the penthouse restaurant, but Drake wasn't soothed, and he could tell his father wasn't either.

Well? Mr. Alexander said. The knot of his necktie was perfect. His eyes were calm, cold, waiting.

Yeah. Drake narrowed his eyes, choosing his words. As we agreed. Most of the other tables were filled with executives and bureaucrats having lunch – it was noon on a sunny Thursday – and anyone could be listening. With a smartphone in every pocket, and spyware on any smartphone, a listener could be anywhere in the world.

But maybe he was being too cautious. Ninjas didn't use spyware.

What he didn't say was: As we agreed, I brought page nineteen of the Mutus Liber. As we agreed, I'll hand it over to you in exchange for favors granted two months ago.

And without warning, his mind found her again. Beautiful eyes in an angry glare.

"I have to let you go."

A memory, like a ghost, of a kiss that never happened.

Well? his father's baritone pulled Drake away from her, and for that he was grateful. He reached down and his fingers brushed the handle of the gray featureless backpack that leaned against his shin. They hesitated there, as he instinctively ran through his security checklist again.

He had driven downtown in his Audi, adding an extra twenty minutes of random loops to shake any tails, parked in the basement of a parking garage six blocks away, and taken a taxi through downtown Seattle to this address. The first few floors of this building were dedicated to city and county government, and he had been scanned and wanded by armed guards as the backpack passed through their X-ray machine. Now, he and his father were eighteen floors up, with brilliant spring daylight beaming through the full-height windows, surrounded by witnesses and ceiling security cameras.

This was about as ninja-proof as anyone could get.

Second thoughts, his father said, would be unwise at this point.

Yes, father. Drake brought the pack to his lap, opened it, and drew out a slim, hard-backed high school math book with a bright picture of a nautilus shell on the cover. He held it tightly closed as he set the pack on the floor.

Mr. Alexander eyed the math book. Decent camouflage. He reached for it.

Drake did not extend it to him. He had cut out squares from pages 75 to 150, making a secret home for the artifact, sandwiched between two panes of glass. The artifact, page nineteen, was actually the sixteenth page to be found, leaving three more in the wild. With this one, his father's organization would be that much closer to the complete recipe.

To creating the philosopher's stone.

To transmutation of the elements.

Lead into gold.

Wonders beyond measure.

World domination.

Drake had thought it through countless times, and each time, came to the conclusion that in the end, he just didn't care. Whoever ended up owning the planet didn't concern him. He just cared about one thing.

One person. And with this, he was betraying her.

But Drake could not resist his father. He extended the math book.

In the midst of a crescendo, the Vivaldi clicked off. So did the soft overhead lighting, though with the sunlight from the windows, it was hard to notice. The gentle hum of the temperature control whirred down to a stop.

Mr. Alexander clutched the book, his eyes raised suspiciously. Power's out. Drake didn't let go. The strident screech of a fire alarm cut through the room – diners started and murmured.

Damn, Mr. Alexander growled.

A man in an expensive suit appeared and marched among the tables to the center of the room. Ladies and gentlemen, he began, projecting his voice over the noise. He raised his hands, and his gold watch caught the sunlight. I apologize for the disruption, but this alarm is not a test. We have no choice but to treat this situation as an emergency. If you could proceed directly and calmly to the exits. Again, I am terribly sorry.

A few of the patrons rose and gathered their things. There was no sign of panic, but merely a grudging desire to get away from the piercing whoops that filled the air. Drake and his father didn't move.

The man with the watch gestured to the exit. Please understand that the elevators shut down automatically during an alarm. You must proceed to the stairwell. That created a stir of frustrated grumblings.

Mr. Alexander released the math book. We should stay with the crowd.

You want to get bottlenecked in the stairwell? Drake slipped the math book into his pack, glad to get it out of the open, whatever was about to happen.

We can't be caught alone here. Mr. Alexander rose. Just stay close to me.

It will be dark in there, Drake thought, but he didn't say it. He wasn't truly sure how he wanted this to go. He scanned the room, checking the doors, the windows, the ceiling, glancing under tables, his senses on high alert.

She's here. She has to be.

He pinned the backpack to his body, hugging it under an arm, and pressed himself into the crowd with his father. Like cattle, they worked their way past the elevators and through a fire door, onto concrete steps.

At least it wasn't entirely dark – harsh white emergency lighting illuminated each floor, and the pale glow of numerous smartphones lit the steps between floors. That didn't last, though. The alarm was deafening and relentless, and by the time they had descended two floors, most patrons had put their phones away so they could press their hands to their ears. They kept their eyes down, watching their feet so they didn't miss a step as they jostled each other.

Drake's mind swam through the noise as he clung to his pack and followed his father, bumping shoulders with strangers. If he made it to the lobby or the street, it would be over.

So the attack would have to come now.

At each floor, the crowd was bathed in white light. Just above the glare of the emergency bulbs, almost hidden, lay a rectangular panel in the ceiling – a ventilation system. Drake's eyes locked on it as the crowd filed beneath it. Floor after floor, he passed under it without incident. More people pushed into the stairwell from each floor, hands to their ears and eyes down, as the whole building emptied itself. Their pace slowed, and Drake wondered briefly if this could all be prosaic, an actual alarm, an actual fire. Maybe he would burn to death with all these people.

Somehow, he doubted it.

At the ninth-floor landing, as he passed under the vented ceiling panel, he smelled a trace of smoke. A clean smell, wood or more likely paper, with no accelerants.

He still doubted it.

Below the ninth-floor landing, the stairs were swallowed by darkness. Drake and his father were herded into it. The eighth-floor emergency lights must be out, he thought, and his whole body went tight and humming, like a violin string. He almost forgot the shriek of the alarm as he passed under the ventilation panel... and saw that it was missing. Above him yawned a rectangular opening into sheer blackness.

He only had a split second to tighten his grip on the backpack before she appeared – head, arms, torso, hips, all in black, swinging down on him. She grabbed the backpack and gave it a savage yank. Drake was nearly lifted off his feet. He still held on, barely, clutching the pack at arm's length, his elbows locked, his fingers squeezing the canvas straps, his grasp the only thing that kept the pack from disappearing into the ventilation system.

The crowd around them – eyes on their feet and deafened by the alarm – didn't notice the ninja in their midst. Even Drake's father didn't react. But Drake stared for microseconds at the face over him, peering at him over the backpack, a face hidden except for the faintest crescent around ruthless gray eyes.

Ash.

He bent his knees and pulled at the pack with the weight of his body, trying to draw her down into the open. The pack came with him but she didn't – she nearly let go, clinging with a single hand to the loop at the top of the pack.

Those eyes narrowed fiercely. He saw no affection in them, no history. Only war. Drake held her gaze.

He spotted her free hand as it reappeared near her face, holding a silver wheel with shark-fin blades. His mortality came to him – she could blind him or slash his jugular – and as his heart shuddered, she sliced once, twice at the straps he clung to.

She was gone, the backpack was gone, and Drake stood with a severed canvas strap in his hands, still holding his breath. Shoulders nudged him on in the darkness.

2

Ash ordered a double-scoop waffle cone at the ice cream shop in downtown Magnolia. Both scoops chocolate – the flavor of victory. She stepped outside, setting the glass door's bells ringing, and sat in a metal-mesh chair on the sidewalk. She gave the cone a slow, decadent lick and turned her face, eyes closed, toward the dwindling afternoon sunshine.

What a great day.

It had taken hours to slip out of the building, get to her street clothes, and bus back to Magnolia. The contents of the gray backpack were safely in her own shoulder bag, along with her black pajamas and the star. The backpack itself she had tossed in a random dumpster.

Elsbeth was due to meet her here when she could, after finding her own way out of the building. Ash wasn't worried. Hopefully Elsbeth would take her time, and give Ash a good long while to savor her ice cream and her memory of the look on Drake's face.

She had popped out at him after lurking in that stupid cramped vent... and he had stared up at her, dumbfounded. Flabbergasted. Agog, that was the word. Not a common look for super-cool, scowly old Drake. It had only been for a split second, but it was priceless.

Then the look changed. He recognized her, of course, but it was more than that. She couldn't quite place it, and she held the image of his face in her mind. Longing, maybe. Loss, maybe. She turned her cone and watched the swirls of chocolate in the sunlight. It wasn't so appealing now.

How much longer would Elsbeth be?

She gave the cone a half-hearted lick and spread her fingers over the steel mesh of the table. She and Elsbeth had sat at this table once before. Ash found the spot where the mesh was bent, where Elsbeth had pressed a hole into the table with her finger.

A shadow suddenly fell over her. Ash looked up to see Elsbeth, framed in sunshine.

The women of the hour, Elsbeth said.

Ash could feel herself smiling wide and goofy. I have a present for you.

I was hoping you would say that. Elsbeth sat in a metal chair beside her. She wore a light blouse and dark skirt and carried a modest purse. Her rimless eyeglasses rested weightlessly on her nose, almost invisible. She looked perfectly ordinary and respectable, certainly not up to any ninja hijinks that morning.

Ash set her shoulder bag on the table and unzipped it. But as her fingers touched the glossy hard cover of the math book, she stopped. She wanted to savor this.

Elsbeth watched her, nonchalant.

Elsbeth, Ash said, how did you get into the building?

Ash! That's an indiscreet question to ask aloud.

The telepathic scolding hit Ash like an electric shock. Right... sorry.

Elsbeth's eyebrows crinkled with disapproval. Anything you brought from the building could be bugged. They could be listening to us right now.

Ash's hand jerked back from the math book. Then she let out a breath, settled herself, and pulled the book out.

Elsbeth took it, opened the cover and flipped through the pages to the squares of glass inside. She grinned slyly at Ash. Brilliant work.

Elsbeth... they still have your face on record. How did you get in? How did you pull the alarm?

Elsbeth slipped the glass out of the math book. Ash caught a glimpse of bright colors and intricate patterns on ancient frayed cloth. Elsbeth slipped the glass into her purse and held the purse in her lap, under the table. A ninja's face can be controlled.

You mean a disguise? Ash's mouth fell open. That's so cool! I didn't know you could do that.

Elsbeth grinned demurely. And as for the alarm–

Wait! Can you teach me disguises?

Yes, I will. And I never set off the alarm.

Ash narrowed her eyes at her aunt. Then how did you–

I started an actual fire.

Ash laughed.

A bearded man and toddler at the next table – a father and son maybe, each with a cone – glanced over. Ash realized that after sitting quietly, she had burst out laughing for no reason. She felt herself blush and licked at her dripping chocolate.

Elsbeth lifted a crumpled pack of cigarettes out of her purse. Some foolish woman tried to smoke in a bathroom stall. Her cigarette accidentally brushed a roll of toilet paper. Quite a frightening mess.

But that's crazy. You could have burned the building down.

The cigarettes disappeared into the purse. The rest of the bathroom was steel and ceramic tile, and there were fire extinguishers on every floor. The only casualties were two rolls of toilet paper, the indoor air quality, and the daily routine of a few hundred government employees.

Ash sat in wonder at what Elsbeth was capable of, and as she had many times before, suspected that she didn't know Elsbeth at all. Elsbeth... do you smoke?

Only when necessary.

Ash gave her dwindling chocolate a contemplative lick. I'm serious about the disguise thing. And when will we talk about the fourth Wile?

First, this page needs to be hidden somewhere safe.

Ash nodded, then caught herself nodding at nothing. Right. And not back in the library at Magnolia High. Where?

Elsbeth extended her hand toward Ash's cone and waited with a subtle, impish grin. Ash passed the cone to her. Elsbeth nibbled at its edge, watching traffic roll up McGraw Street. I'm not sure yet. Far away. I'll have to confer with others to settle on a new place, where hopefully it can reside for a century or more.

Wait – confer with... other ninjas?

Yes.

Oh, wow. Ash had wondered about the greater underground, the secret society of ninjas Elsbeth belonged to. After all, Ash herself belonged to it now.

Elsbeth passed to cone back. I'll have to leave immediately.

Hey, wait a minute. You mean 'we,' right?

Elsbeth watched her silently.

We're both going, Ash said. Aren't we?

Ash...

Don't you dare. You can't ditch me on this. How can you not bring me?

Elsbeth shook her head slightly. I need you here.

The hell you do!

The man and boy at the next table looked over at Ash. Elsbeth's thoughts came at her hard. I can vanish. You can't. You have school, a father, an identity to maintain.

But I want–

Be quiet. Elsbeth glared at her.

Ash fell silent and focused her thoughts. I want to go with you. I want to meet other women like us. Elsbeth, I just want to help!

If you disappeared, they would notice. Our enemy suffered a humiliating defeat today. They couldn't be more dangerous than right now. There's no telling what they'll do... but they will do something. They will lash out. Expect it.

Ash chucked her ice cream cone into a trash bin. You want me to be a decoy. To pretend that everything is normal.

I want you to watch Mr. Alexander. I won't be gone for long.

How long? And what about Dad? Are you going to say goodbye?

About a week. Let's make it exactly seven days. I'll be back or you'll hear from me. And no, I won't say anything to Henry. I'd rather apologize when I get back. Better that he expects less of me. I can use that flexibility later.

So Elsbeth was going to take off just like Mom used to do. Ash thumped her elbows on the table and propped her face on her hands. Unbelievable. So I'll just... sit around and be normal. Ash suddenly lifted her head. Wait, you want me to watch Mr. Alexander? That means I'll have to keep an eye on Drake too.

Of course. Elsbeth took Ash's hand. In particular, find out if he made a copy of the page.

Ash made a bitter face. She'd spent the last couple of months avoiding Drake, weaving around campus so they didn't bump into each other. She'd gotten good at it – or maybe he was avoiding her too. Either way, today was the closest she'd been to him since...

Ash pushed away the memories. She didn't like thinking about her earlier times with him. It hurt, as if her chest was hollow somehow. Great, she muttered.

Elsbeth stood, her purse and its precious cargo dangling from her shoulder as she held Ash's hand in both of hers. I'll be back in one week.

Ash stared at her as she rose. You act like you're leaving right now.

I am. I'll stop by the house before Henry gets home. I need a few things from the chest in the hall.

Elsbeth's black pajamas, Ash knew. And the sword. Ash clasped Elsbeth's hands. I can't believe you're leaving me.

Seven days, Ash. Elsbeth pulled free of her grip. Seven days. Elsbeth retreated, drifting away, until she vanished around the corner.

The hollowness in Ash's heart seemed to paralyze her, so she could only watch Elsbeth go.

#

At the end of the next school day, Drake stood before his father's desk, in the principal's office of Magnolia High. The office was spare and businesslike, devoid of warmth, like so many of their conversations.

I can't express how disappointed I am in you, Drake's father said. He sat behind his desk in a shining black leather chair, gazing up at Drake and steepling his fingers.

There was nothing I could do, Drake said. You were right beside me in the stairwell and you didn't even see anything.

Excuses, the man winced, as if Drake's words gave him a pain. Of course... you have a copy of the page.

Drake held his tongue.

Mr. Alexander put his hands on his desk. "A copy? You did make a copy?"

Drake closed his eyes. No.

Really? You expect me to believe that?

It doesn't matter what you believe. I don't have a copy.

This is another one of your little games, isn't it?

Drake's eyes opened. Father...

No matter. The Bureau won't let up the pursuit of the original in any case. I'm leaving today, on their orders.

Leaving? The thought of his father gone made Drake think of crisis, of opportunity.

In pursuit. We have intelligence on the Jane Doe. She's left town. Drake's father leaned back against his chair. What's your analysis?

Drake knew that Jane Doe was the ninja Ash had called Elsbeth. He didn't hesitate. She's taking the page. She'll try to get it somewhere secure. She's mobile... so she's vulnerable. If she uses conventional transportation, she can be tracked.

So we have a chance here. A narrow window.

Drake nodded. Very narrow. It would only take a few days before page nineteen vanished for decades. If it could be found before that... well, yesterday's disaster at the government building would be more easily forgotten. And Drake would be more easily forgiven.

A sly grin touched his father's lips. Interestingly, a certain student attended her classes today.

Ash! Still here. So Elsbeth left her behind. Drake nodded, remaining silent.

She needs to be isolated, his father said. That's your job while I'm gone. Watch her. We need to know if she communicates with the Jane Doe or any other ninja.

Yes sir. Drake felt a flutter of uncertainty and wondered exactly what this task would take from him.

Get that look off your face! Mr. Alexander barked. You don't have to engage. This is just a babysitting assignment. Keep your distance.

Drake snapped to attention. Yes sir!

I'll only be away a few days. A week at most. The dean of students will handle administration. You'll have access to the campus security cameras, of course.

Drake had an image of himself hunched over a monitor, spying on other students. No, thanks. He'd leave that resource untouched.

And I'll leave you two numbers, his father continued. One will let you reach me. The other will be a hotline to order surveillance, warrants, rendition, anything you might need.

Even more power Drake had no interest in. He kept his face stony, serene. Yes sir.

"That's enough yes sirs from you. Now... The man's features softened. Be careful while I'm gone. Remember you are my son. Remember the future you have. He lowered his eyes to papers on his desk. Get out of here."

Drake knew that was all the compassion he would get out of his old man – just an obscure reference to the future, to a destiny when all the pages of the Mutus Liber would be assembled and deciphered, and Mr. Alexander and his son would stand astride the world.

Drake left the office without a word.

In the hall, he nearly bumped into a kid emerging from the broom closet. Drake had seen the little guy around – Spencer Marsh was his name – but they had never spoken a word to each other. The kid was just a freshman and looked young for his age, round-shouldered, timid, with curly hair and plump cheeks. Barely out of middle school. The funny thing about him was his eyes.

His eyes seemed older than the rest of him. Always watching.

Drake gave him a surly glare as he strode by. The kid froze, as if caught at something... and watched him pass.

3

Ash ate dinner quietly at home with her father, Henry Prue, actuary extraordinaire and general worry-wart. Tonight (night number two of Elsbeth's absence) wasn't as bad as last night. Last night, Elsbeth had left nothing but a note:

Henry – back in a few days – Elsbeth

It was something, Ash supposed. Back when she was a kid and Mom was around, Mom wouldn't bother with a note. She would be gone on a Saturday and show up on a Thursday, something like that. Never any explanation. It made Dad crazy.

Ash shoveled a few peas with her spoon. The main course tonight was chicken and jo-jos from the supermarket on McGraw. Not dahl-baht or some other exotic dish. Even the food was like old times.

They ate in silence. Ash couldn't believe how weird it felt to not have Elsbeth around. After all, before two months ago when Elsbeth showed up, this was normal. Now... everything felt empty and dull.

She had to break the silence. It's no big deal, Dad.

Hm? Dad raised his eyebrows and looked at her, startled out of his inner world. Oh, I know, sweetie.

She'll be back in a few days.

He nodded, looking thoughtfully at his potatoes. That's what the note said.

Ash knew there was a cold logic to what Elsbeth had done. Vanishing with no explanation was better than outright lying about where she was going. Safer – if you don't lie, you can't get caught. And Ash was glad Elsbeth hadn't lied right to Dad's face. That would have been creepy. Even more, she could understand what Elsbeth said about setting a pattern. Disappearing now and then would soften Dad up – make the act seem normal to him. That could pay off later, if she had to do it again.

Maybe Ash was thinking like a ninja.

She decided that tonight she didn't care. Dad?

Hm?

She's not Mom.

He smiled awkwardly. I know that, honey! He set down his fork. It's just... it does bring back memories for us, doesn't it?

He was hurting, Ash knew. She wished she could tell him everything. It would serve Elsbeth right for leaving Ash behind. Ash felt a stab of bitterness that she was here with him – normal Dad, innocent, ignorant Dad – while Elsbeth was out in the world, carrying out the mission.

What did that make Ash? Normal, innocent, ignorant?

Wasn't she a ninja?

Ash watched Dad dig into his chicken. A troubling thought came to her. Dad... she didn't go on.

He paused, his mouth full. Yes, honey?

You don't... like her, do you?

He looked puzzled. Of course I do. Then his eyes went wide. Oh! He quickly chewed and managed an uncomfortable-looking swallow. "Do I... like her? Well..."

Ash watched him squirm and was sorry she asked.

She's very...

Never mind.

She's really quite...

Dad?

He