Chapter One: Ninjas and Knives

Most teenage girls would scream if they woke up to find a ninja assassin in their bedroom. Alexandra just grinned. Finally, someone thought she was important enough to kill.

Judging by the ninja’s heavy tread, he had more muscle than skill. She watched him hunch over and edge closer to her bed, noting how he nearly tripped over a stack of her textbooks. He might be wearing the traditional black garb, but no way was this guy the real deal. What a shame. She could use a challenge.

Manhattan’s city lights poured through her windows and reflected off the small knife he held. She barely held in a laugh. What a goober this guy was, coming after her with a knife. Did he really think that would be enough to take her down?

Slowly tensing her muscles, Alexandra drew her legs up into a crouching position, rolled onto her feet, and leapt off the bed. The springiness of the mattress gave her just enough lift to come down on his head. One swift chop and she disarmed him, his knife skittering uselessly under the bed. She dropped to the floor behind him and enjoyed the way his stance shifted, exposing how vulnerable he felt.

And then the ninja began to glow, his dark clothing eerily backlit by the green light pulsating beneath his skin. He turned to face her, smiling like a jack-o-lantern. Crap.

“The knife was a decoy, little girl. Just to get you close. You’re coming with me.”

The light spread onto the surface of his clothing, green flames that licked down his arms and gathered in the palms of his hands. She threw herself into a roll but it was too late; one of the flames caught hold of the sleeve of her nightshirt. She smacked at it, but the fire quickly spread, engulfing her in a halo of sickly green.

A Binder. They’d sent a stinking Binder after her. Crappity-crap-crap-crap. She had to knock him out, fast, before he took control.

“Sorry, but you’re not really my type. I don’t like a guy who can’t keep his hands to himself.”

She hurled herself at him but the Binder just laughed. He pulled his hands up into the air and began wiggling his fingers about. Alexandra felt herself lift off the ground, and her muscles twitched involuntarily till she was dancing like a drunken flamenco dancer. She quickly scanned the room, looking for something she could use as a weapon. He’d have to put her down eventually and she was not spending the rest of her life as this sicko’s human puppet.

Suddenly, the room flooded with light, and another dark figure sailed through the doorframe. He tackled her assailant and immobilized him with a few blows. Alexandra paused for a moment to admire his technique and then let out a little gasp when she crashed to the floor, the Binder’s light extinguishing as he lost consciousness. She bounced up onto her feet and glared at her rescuer.

“I was handling it, Dad.”

He gave her a shaky smile. “Can’t a father help out his little girl without getting scowled at? Kids these days. So independent.” He wobbled a little and nearly fell over. Her bitterness was quickly replaced by concern.

“Dad?”

He grabbed hold of her bed and steadied himself, shaking his head as if to clear it. “Later, honey. We’re executing Option Epsilon. Now.”

He might as well have told her that he’d taken up the accordion and was joining a traveling polka band, that’s how surprised she was. Epsilon. E for Escape.

“You have got to be kidding me. Because of one stupid Binder dressed up like a ninja? That’s ridiculous. I totally had him where I wanted him.”

“No,” he replied. “Because of ten guys dressed up like ninjas, three of them with status. They even had a level two Morpher. He nearly got your Mom. She’s hyperventilating in the bathroom now.” He rubbed a hand through his mop of dark hair, displaying a level of agitation she’d never seen in him before. “I managed to take them out before they made it to your room. This one,” he kicked at the guy on the floor, “got past me somehow.”

She had to admit, if only to herself, that a third level Binder was a pretty big deal. But Epsilon meant fleeing, leaving everything behind. They were safe now. He just had to see that.

Alexandra tore her gaze from the small puddle of drool forming beneath the Binder’s mouth and looked up at Dad. “But Epsilon? Seriously? That’s a total overreaction. We’ve been attacked before. It’s part of the job.”

“It’s my fault we didn’t leave sooner.” It seemed like he hadn`t even heard her. He ripped the top sheet off her bed and began lashing the unconscious man to the bed frame. “The Agency warned me that this could happen.” He finally made eye contact, and his expression was super intense. “Let’s just say that our cover has been compromised.”

“Let’s just say? Dad, this isn’t like you. What’s really going on?”

“Later, honey,” he replied. “Later.”

She swallowed a growl. Later. His new favorite word.

***

Alexandra’s eye twitched. Stupid eye. As if she needed it to tell her that she was tired and stressed. Life was messed up enough without her looking like one of the psychos she and Dad were always tracking down.

She caught herself staring out the window of their rented sedan and shook her head over what a cliché that was. What was she? The brooding main character from a corny made-for-TV movie? Outside, Colorado whizzed past, all mountains and trees and boredom.

This whole situation was mental. Mom kept going on about how they were safe now. Safe. Right. After all, it had been days since anyone tried to kill them. And now they were on their way to their new home in Nowhereville, their new names fitting about as well as a glove fits a walrus. She shifted her glare to her parents. It was, of course, all their fault.

They’d talked a lot about how they were all in this together. As if running away from a bunch of lunatics was quality family time or something. There hadn’t been any lovey-dovey togetherness when Dad had decided to give up his job at the training facility to become a field agent. They hadn’t consulted her, but guess who had to deal with the consequences when things went sour? Sure, Mom and Dad had to give up their old life too. But they were old. It wasn’t like they had much of a life to give up anyway.

She slouched down a little more in her seat, trying to get her parents out of her line of vision. Their new identities were creeping her out. It was as if one of those TV makeover shows had swallowed Mom and Dad up and then spat out two barely-recognizable strangers. Dad had ditched his Dockers and golf shirts in favor of a sleek leather jacket that made him look like a gangster. And Mom was dressed like the cover model for a women’s magazine, decked out in stylish jeans and a funky silk blouse. They were so . . . so glam.

Creepy didn’t begin to cover it.

She clutched her phone, holding onto it as if it were a lifeline. At least she’d been allowed to keep one thing from before all this insanity began, even if The Agency’s tech guys had insisted it had to be upgraded first. The phone felt warm and heavy in her hand and she stabbed at the screen to bring up her calendar. It was full of events from her old life: assignments due, study dates, her fifteenth birthday party next month. More button-stabbing sent her old life spiralling off into the trash. As if it were that easy. Delete old life, insert new one.

“You’re going to go blind if you keep staring at that itty-bitty screen, Alexandra,” Mom said.

“Shouldn’t you be calling me Lexi now?” Alexandra grimaced a little at the snarky edge to her voice. Great. Soon they’d be wishing they’d taken Agent Chang’s advice to leave their “troubled teen” with Grandma.

“We’re lucky The Agency let you keep your name at all,” Mom replied. “Having to go by a nickname isn’t so bad. You could have been called—”

“No,” Alexandra interrupted. “Don’t even go there. Whatever gag-worthy name you’re going to suggest will probably be the name of my new BFF.”

Mom and Dad laughed, but Alexandra caught a vague hint of hysteria hidden in the sound. They’d seemed so calm the last few days, despite ducking enemy agents wherever they went. After all that, why did they sound scared now?

Dad’s brown eyes filled the rear-view mirror and he waggled his bushy dark eyebrows at her. It made him look like a Muppet. “We need to fill out the paperwork for your new school tonight, so what’s it going to be? Lexi? Zandra? Ally? Alexa?”

“What about Lex?” Mom asked.

“Isn’t that the name of a super-villain?” There was a slight edge to Dad’s voice. “Lex Luthor—the scummer who had it in for Superman? That’d be a bit . . . strange, considering.”

“Sure. And how about we pair that up with our real last name? Lex Earhart. Comic book super-villain meets mysteriously missing female aviator. Nice. And so appropriate given the circumstances.”

“I don’t know,” Dad replied. “It’s got . . . what’s it called? You know . . . starts with a P. Pizzazz!”

Mom laughed and turned in her seat to look at Alexandra. Something about the light filtering through the sunroof made her look older than forty-five. Her thick dark hair had occasional strands of grey in it, and it fell like a curtain across half of her pale, lightly freckled face. At the corner of each greyish blue eye was a network of fine wrinkles, and Alexandra winced a little. She hated seeing herself plus thirty years all the time.

“Can you believe The Agency used to let him train new recruits?” Mom asked with a laugh.

Some of Alexandra’s grouchy mood slipped away, a smile stretching her face for the first time in days.

“Hey!” Dad protested.

“Come on Dad, you’re not exactly the most articulate guy on the face of planet Earth.” There were five-year-olds with smoother verbal skills than Dad. If it weren’t for his other talents, The Agency would never have recruited him in the first place.

“Well, no. I mean, well, there’s always the time I . . . but I guess that was more of a. . . huh . . . wow.” He paused and flashed Alexandra a grin through the mirror. “You might have a point.”

“You can still take a guy out with just your thumb.” Mom patted him comfortingly on the knee. “That’s a useful life skill.”

“Assuming we have a life left.” Dad was suddenly somber.

Alexandra shifted uncomfortably in her seat when she heard the mournful tone in Dad’s voice. It made it harder to be mad at him, and she needed to be mad at him. Okay, so it was The Agency who’d sent them off into what they called “protective custody,” but it was easier to blame Dad. The Agency was a faceless organization and when someone doesn’t have a face, it’s hard to imagine kicking it in.

Shoving her phone into her jacket pocket, she said, “Look, let’s feel sorry for ourselves later, okay? I need to pee.” Mom shuddered and Alexandra tried not to smile. Mom was such a germaphobe. Referring to bodily functions was a sure way to gross her out.

Dad slowed the car and switched into the slow lane. “All right, there’s a rest stop up ahead here. But be quick. You know how outdoor toilets upset your mother.”

“What’re you going to do to me if I’m not?” Alexandra asked. “Thumb me?”

Dad laughed as he casually flicked off his turn signal. Gravel crackled under the car’s tires and she saw the squat forms of green port-a-potties through the nearby trees.

“Bob?” Mom asked, her voice strained. “Why’s the turn signal still ticking?”

Dad slammed on the brakes. “Out! Now!” he barked.

Alexandra struggled with her seatbelt, certain somehow that this was finally it. She was going to die.