Ninja Royale
an excerpt

It was dark, I was in my towel when the ninjas attacked.
Well, really, I was in my towel when the ninjas were attacked. They made the mistake of coming into my yard without announcing themselves which terrified my Welsh Corgi, who ran next door. My neighbors are much more effective at that sort of thing, having a lovely selection of criminal-deterring weaponry, and Gwynn was well aware of this fact, having been puppy-sat by them many times. When she was terrified, it was there she went.
By the time I got out of my towel -into clothing mind!- and outside, the four ninjas were all seated, rather sheepishly, on my front porch, masks off, looking very apologetic and more than a little embarrassed as my neighbor stood there, gun in hand -now pointed to the ground- looking like he was either going to still shoot somebody, or laugh til he couldn’t stand up anymore.
“I’ve got them, Corbin,” I assured my neighbor, recognizing the wayward ninjas at once. They were actually friends of mine. Normally however, they were not foolish enough to show up in full ninja attire!
“If you’re sure,” Corbin replied, looking only mildly skeptical. He knew I could take care of myself, despite the fact that my appearance as a tall, willowy blonde female -looking nearly as Welsh as my dog- tended to contradict and hide that fact. But then, he and his wife knew me better than most. “Well, I’ll leave them to you then. Just call if they need any more ‘convincing’ about sneaking around town in that get up. They’re lucky I don’t shoot on sight.”
“Very lucky,” I nodded, watching as Corbin - who was surprisingly intimidating for a man only five foot six - walked back inside his house and closed the door without another word.
I turned and sternly looked at the ninjas. “Come inside, boys. We need to have a little chat about discretion.” I’m usually very firm with them. By now they ought to know better than to be seen approaching my house in that get up!
They stood and followed me in, still silent. At least they were remembering part of their ninja training! Or perhaps they were just dreading what I was going to say to them when we were out of public eye. They knew I wasn’t going to dress them down properly in front of my neighbors. After all, there were some things even my friends didn’t know!
Back inside, with Gwynn sitting in the hall watching them with a glower, despite the fact she now realized who they were, I sat the boys down in the various chairs in my living room and poured them all cups of hot spiced chai. As I prepared the tea I glanced through the small ‘window’ between the kitchen and living room, watching the ninjas.
With their masks off, they really didn’t look much like ninjas. Not unless you knew them. Steve was tall, lanky, and had long thin brown hair he kept back in a tail. He even had a scruffy goatee and soulful eyes. Hardly the ninja type. He was looking with feined interest at the illuminated manuscripts on my wall. He had seen them before of course, but he now seemed fascinated by the intricate details of the celtic knotwork.
Jerrod was shorter than the others, standing maybe five food eight, with more solid shoulders and build, though it was all muscle. He was as scruffy as Steve, but his hair was short, thicker, and his beard better trimmed. It must be some “mystical ninja ability” that allowed him to keep the facial hair from being obvious under ninja mask, but he managed it. He was eyeing Gwynn, not worried, but amused really. I could see it in his eyes even though he wasn’t actually smiling.
Pete wasn’t any taller than Jerrod, only he was truly lean, almost skinny, with a redder-brown hair than the first two boys. Eager, the youngest and least experienced, he seemed hopeful that this would turn out all right. He fidgeted a little, then caught himself and remained still, pretending to consider the ‘amazing’ architectural features of my rather small, humble home; the crown molding, the baseboards, the old Jacobean hutch in the dining area with Queen Bouddica carved into it, charging valiantly into battle in a Roman Chariot.
Charlie was the leader. A lean young man of average height, with dark blonde hair kept almost militarily short. He was the most pragmatic of the lot; a little older, a little wiser, a bit of a skeptic. He merely sat, waiting expectantly, and was the only one who dared to look into the kitchen and meet my eyes.
None of the boys was over twenty-four. Ah, how I sometimes longed for my own younger days. Four good looking college boys in my house, and there was nothing to be done for it! They looked on me as a mother-figure and confidante usually; a friend. That was for the best though. Anything else would have been far too complicated.
I returned to the living room with mugs and sugar and served them up. I have to admit I reveled in the fact that they were made all the more nervous by my hospitality. It was an old tradition. Older than they knew, but I had always found it the best way to put folks in the right frame of mind before deep and important discussions, or lectures, depending on what it was to be. Sometimes, they didn’t know. I like to keep them guessing.
“So,” I began, sitting down in the chair between the floor harp and the side table with brass inlay. “What brings you to my door in this get-up on a Friday night? Surely you’re normally down at the Strip by now, or out causing mischief somewhere a little less prominent.”
Charlie was, unsurprisingly, the one who spoke up first. “We had an interesting... misadventure, this evening,” he began, sipping the chai, unhurried. It was the ‘even more deliberate than usual’ way he spoke, and the hint of irony in his tone, that told me it was something more unusual than they normally ran into. Which was interesting, giving the giant bunny costume incident, the ‘repent, meat Jesus on campus’ political statement, and the many times various types of household appliances had been blown up violently in their back yard. These, at least, were easily explained! “And we were hoping you could help explain it, Cathy.”
“Me.” I treaded lightly there. Just what kind of adventure required my explanation was anyone’s guess. They knew I was more than I seemed at times, that I knew more than some folks, but while the boys were aware of this, they had never been told just how much I really knew on some rather archaic and unusual subjects. “Just what is it that you need me to explain?”
“Do you know about the aliens?” Pete blurted out, eyes a little wide, eager to know the truth of something.
“Aliens? Are there illegal Immigrants in town?” I asked, honestly not entirely sure as to his reference. Aliens. I hadn’t been expecting that one tonight. Perhaps I was slipping, or perhaps they were.
“They seem to be here legally,” Steve admitted. “If you count the fact I don’t think anyone knows they’re aliens, but they’re running legal businesses.”
“Perhaps,” I said calmly. “You should start from the beginning. I can better answer your questions, or at least understand your worries, if I know the whole story.”
So it was, that they told me a most unusual and, truly, almost unbelievable tale. If they had gone to anyone else, they would likely have either been dismissed as drunk, high, or truly insane. No wonder they brought it to me. And as it was recounted to me, I shall now report the story as it was explained to me over the course of that evening by the four boys. Any outside commentary or necessary explanations or elaborations are mine.
“Well,” Charlie began for them. “It all started early last week...”