Angels and Ministers of Grace

by Michelle O'Leary

  Basically, they were right back where they started, except now they had one of their charges in medical. Jason wondered briefly if that had been the telepath's plan, to cut Anya from the herd so to speak, but he'd had the perfect opportunity to kill her when he'd darted her. Then again, maybe his goal was still to take her alive for the Guild. If so, then why try to kill the other women?

  He mulled this over as time passed, occasionally interrupting his thoughts to contact or be contacted by security details. About once an hour a nurse would come in, check Anya's monitors, give him a distant smile, and leave again. He barely acknowledged her presence, no longer aware that he was still holding Anya's hand. But there were only so many orders he could give and so much time he could spend trying to figure out the workings of a madman's mind. After a while, he slid into a doze, head propped up by one hand.

  "Jason?"

  "Yeah," he muttered automatically, as he lifted his head, but when he realized that it was Anya who'd spoken, he straightened.

  She turned her head and caught sight of him, blinking sleepily before giving him the sweetest smile he'd ever seen. "Jason," she sighed, and the contentment in her voice made his stomach flip, heart dropping a beat before it kicked into a gallop. Good god, if she said his name like that one more time nothing was going to stop him from hauling her into his arms.

  "How do you feel?" he croaked, lunging to his feet.

  "Tired," she murmured, eyes sliding closed for a moment before she fought them open again. "The girls?"

  "They're just fine."

  She smiled again, and her fingers tightened around his, making him aware that he still held her hand. Pulling away, he cleared his throat and sidled away from the bed.

  "You rest. I need to go—"

  "Oh, don't go, Jason. Please?"

  His name and her pleading tone went clear through him like a lance, freezing him on the spot. He clenched his fists and tried like hell to move, but the way she struggled to hold her eyes open held him in place.

  "Please stay."

  With a shudder, he moved stiffly back to the stool and sat without a word, leaning on folded arms and not looking at her.

  "Thank you," she whispered and laid her hand on his arm.

  He looked up quickly, but her eyes were closed, and he could see by the relaxation of her features that she was out again. Oh yeah, he thought as he watched her sleep and felt her cool fingers on his skin, I'm definitely in trouble.

  Chapter 12

  Anya woke up slowly, aware of a strange lassitude and ache in her muscles. She was also not in her own bed. Confused, she blinked hard and looked around. It was a small room, and there were flashing monitors—and a man sleeping with his head cradled in his arms.

  "Jason?" She was startled to hear his first name come out of her mouth so naturally. The sound of her own voice brought her awake enough to remember where she was and why. "Oh! The girls…"

  He sat up without looking at her, rubbing his face wearily. "They're fine. That's the third time you've asked. Aren't you awake yet?"

  "I'm pretty sure I am. How about you?"

  "Barely. Are you going to remember if I say I told you so?" He dropped his hands and looked at her with those dark eyes filled with reproach. He looked as tired and achy as she felt, and she wanted him to hold her so badly, tears came to her eyes.

  "Would you forgive me if I said you were right, I was wrong, and I'm sorry?"

  "I might," he murmured in a husky voice, and there was something in his dark eyes that made her catch her breath, but then he got to his feet. Moving away from the bed, he started pacing in slow strides around the room, stretching his muscular arms and shoulders as though they were filled with knots. "Are you up to hearing what happened?"

  "I'm awake enough, if that's what you're asking."

  "Your telepath set up traps for you on remote control all along the route that we were going to take. It wasn't just random luck—he knew exactly where you would be and when."

  Anya shuddered at the memory of the pain at her neck and the cold that turned her body to stone. "I was searching the area. I didn't feel him at all."

  "He was probably nowhere near there. The weird thing is the stuff he darted you with wasn't enough to kill."

  "What? Why would he —"

  "That's not all. He did actually make an attempt on your friends, but security got them out in time. The stuff he used on them was enough to kill. He tried very hard to erase your friends. Why would he do that and not take you out, too?"

  Anya could barely breathe through the suffocating blanket of fear and anger that came with his words. The bastard had tried to hurt her friends—had almost killed them! "He's playing a game," she rasped when she could speak.

  "A game."

  "He let me stew in those quarters for days, long enough to make me forget how crazy he his and come out after him. Then he rubs my face in how easy it would have been to kill us all. He wanted to kill them. He wanted to hurt me and make me afraid." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "He likes to play with his prey."

  "That's—"

  "Insane. I know."

  "How could you know this?"

  "I felt him. I know. Besides, does anything else make sense?"

  "He might still want to take you alive for the Guild and waited for his chance to get you out of the safe zone."

  "Then why hurt my friends? He's toying with me. Taunting me. Maybe he will take me back, now that he has the opportunity. But he'll have his fun first." She closed her eyes and tried desperately not to cry like a lost child. It was what that madman wanted after all, for her to feel this helpless terror. Was he watching even now? Was he gloating?

  Her eyes popped open as she realized that he probably was watching. Maybe not this room, but definitely the medical bay. He'd want to keep an eye on his prey. She opened her mouth to tell Jason this, but then closed it again as an idea began to form in her mind. A desperate, lunatic idea, but what exactly did she have to lose? Her life, she supposed, but she wouldn't call being a terrified prisoner much of a life anyway.

  "I'm so tired. I think I'll sleep some more," she dissembled. He nodded, but didn't leave, rubbing the back of his neck and frowning at the floor. So she added, "You don't have to stay."

  That got his full attention, his dark eyes vibrant on hers for a long heart-stopping moment before he gave her a stiff nod and stalked out. Unsettled, she wondered what that look had been for before a bleary memory surfaced of her begging him to stay. Wincing, she hoped that was all she'd said.

  With an effort, she pulled her thoughts away from her protector and to her newborn plan. Her condition made it difficult—she really was tired, but with gritty stubbornness she concentrated, trying to see it from all angles. Would it work? Was she strong enough? Did it matter? She couldn't remain locked in some room for the rest of her life, and she couldn't risk her friends anymore. Unfortunately, she couldn't see a way to execute the plan by herself.

  At that point she was frustrated until a nurse breezed in. Nut-brown hair pulled back in a ponytail, the woman was lively and quick with a smile. She was a little taller than Anya and thicker around the waist, but she'd have to do. Anya smiled back at the nurse, hoping with all her heart that she wouldn't have to push her.

  "Awake I see. How do you feel?"

  "Tired, kind of weak."

  "To be expected. Don't worry; we'll let you keep this bed for a while." She winked and started checking the different monitoring screens.

  "What's your name?"

  "Agamentia Clark. But you can call me Aggie."

  "Aggie…is there a vid feed to this room? I mean, can you see me from out there?"

  "Of course. We monitor all our patients from the central booth. Why?"

  "Is there audio? Can someone hear what I'm saying right now?"

  "Yes, though we only listen for sounds of distress. Why do you ask?" The woman had stopped what she was doing and was watching Anya with a curious look.

  Here goes no
thing, Anya thought and took a deep breath. "I'd like to talk to you about—well, something private, but I don't want any…um, men to overhear." She gave the nurse a meaningful look and hoped she'd take that to mean Anya wanted to talk about a female problem or some such.

  She seemed to, nodding solemnly. "Would you like me to cut the audio so that we can talk?"

  "Please."

  The woman smiled and touched a screen over Anya's head before sitting on the stool. A sudden thought struck Anya, and she winced, wondering what else she'd forgotten.

  "What about the lavatory?"

  "Do you need to go? I can help you…"

  "No, I mean, can they see and hear into the lav?"

  "Of course not. Patients are given full privacy in there."

  The nurse now looked thoroughly confused, and Anya decided it was time to get to the point. "Good. I'm going to be asking a huge favor of you, Aggie, but first I need to tell you some things."

  Anya started at the beginning, telling Aggie everything that had happened to her so far. She left some things out, like her talent and why the Guild wanted her. It seemed to be enough for Aggie that the Guild was after her. The nurse took it all in with a fair amount of exclamations and gasps of horror, and she seemed perfectly sympathetic up until Anya told her what she wanted to do. Then Aggie fell silent, eyes getting wider with every word. It wasn't a good sign. Anya went over her reasons with care, hitting the salient points like the telepath's madness and the ease with which he had gotten to her and her friends. "I thought we were safe, but we're not, not really. I have to do something."

  "B-but…" Aggie sputtered, then drew in a deep breath. "But you're too weak!"

  "That's why it'll work. It's unexpected. Nobody thinks I can even get out of bed without help."

  In the end, Aggie agreed, but only because she thought Anya was trying to escape. She let the nurse think it. When they had gone over the plan to her satisfaction, Aggie stood and reactivated the audio, expression grim.

  "Thank you, Aggie. I won't forget this."

  Shaking her head, the nurse said nothing and left. Anya tried to relax and not think of what the other woman might be doing out there. Was she acting normally at least? Or was she drawing attention to herself? Worse yet, was she blabbing the plan to anyone who would listen? Jason would definitely lock her up if he heard what she wanted to do now.

  She fidgeted and squirmed in the bed, nervously watching the door. On the plus side, the tension was helping to keep her awake. The lethargy that consumed her muscles wanted to spread to her head, but she shoved it away as best she could. Now was not the time to take a nap. When Aggie came back, Anya breathed a sigh of relief to see that she was alone and acting like a professional.

  "You look as though you need to use the lavatory. May I help you there?"

  "Yes, thank you."

  Letting Aggie pull back her bedding, Anya sat up and put her legs over the edge of the bed with slow care, trying to look as though every movement was a huge effort. When she stood and leaned heavily on Aggie, she was alarmed to find that she didn't have to exaggerate much. She was weak, and every movement did take an effort of will. Biting her lip, she exchanged an anxious glance with Aggie as they crossed the room to the lav. Once inside, they could talk without being overheard.

  "Are you sure you can do this?" Aggie whispered.

  "I have to." She started to remove her garments, but Aggie brushed her hands away, pursing her lips almost angrily.

  "Save your strength," she snapped and began to remove Anya's clothes herself.

  Leaning one hand on the wall, Anya did as she was told, trying not to feel embarrassed about being undressed and then dressed again as if she was a child. When she was in the nurse's uniform, she sat down and waited for Aggie to finish putting on her medical gown. "Where's the hair colorer?"

  "In the left pocket."

  Anya reached into the left pocket of the uniform and pulled out a small, folded metal object. Unfolding it, she handed it to Aggie. The woman undid her ponytail, fluffing it as best she could before placing the metal thing across her forehead like a headband and sweeping it backwards. In its wake, her nut-brown hair turned pure white. When done, she fiddled with the thing for a second before doing Anya's hair and tying it back into a brown ponytail. Lifting Anya to her feet, she looked her over with a critical eye.

  "Oh, this is never going to work. We look nothing alike."

  "They're expecting you to walk out of here. They'll see you."

  "That uniform is too loose on you." She reached to fuss with it, but Anya caught her hands.

  "Leave it baggy."

  "I see your point. If I suddenly got that figure, people would stare for certain!"

  They smiled nervously at one another for a moment before Anya took a deep breath and nodded. "Ready?"

  "As I'll ever be. What do you want me to do while you're gone?"

  "Take a nap." Anya grinned as the woman rolled her eyes in response.

  "Good luck, Anya."

  "You, too, Aggie."

  Ducking their heads to hide their faces, they left the lav, Anya doing her best to look as though she was supporting the nurse instead of the other way around. Aggie slid into the bed without help and let Anya pull the covers around her before shooing her towards the door with a little motion of one hand. Unable to emulate the other woman's brisk stride, Anya nevertheless managed to walk with credible speed to the door. There she paused, taking several deep breaths and envisioning the path through the bay to the outer doors.

  With a quick prayer to whoever was listening, she stepped out, keeping her head tilted downward as she made a beeline toward the exit. What Aggie hadn't known was that she had a talent that came in handy for just such an occasion. Anya radiated a kind of 'I'm not interesting' signal, fending off any unwanted attention in a broad band around her. It would work on the people in the bay, but not on the telepath if he was watching through the visual systems, which was why she'd worn the nurse disguise. All she had to do was keep moving and she'd be all right. Except that her legs started to feel like lead, and she desperately wanted to lie down. Stubbornly, she focused her attention on the doors and forced her weakened body to plug on.

  Her goal had been to reach the outer doors of the medical unit and then rest, but she should have known Jason would put guards there. When she stepped out and saw them, she nearly groaned in desperation. They would certainly pay attention to her if she collapsed against the wall or sat down—she couldn't make herself disappear completely like the telepath could. But she was so tired, and her muscles felt like water.

  There was no help for it, though, and with only the briefest pause she stepped between them, making the decision at random of which way to take in the corridor. She had no idea where she was in the station or where she should go and had been planning on checking the station's information systems once beyond the med unit. That would have to wait until the guards could no longer see her.

  Turning right, Anya moved down the corridor in as steady a pace as she could manage, keeping her eyes trained on the floor in front of her after one brief glimpse of the corridor. It was unimaginably far to a bend. Despair choked her, but she continued stubbornly on, thinking of her friends at the mercy of that madman.

  After only a few steps, her head began to pound and nausea twisted her stomach. She became afraid that she would disgrace herself and concentrated fiercely on putting one foot in front of the other. Time slowed to a snail's pace as Anya's world narrowed to the small space of metal floor in front of her. Her legs threatened to collapse under her at every other step, the muscles quivering with the strain. She no longer thought of her friends or the telepath or the guards behind her. There was only one thing she wanted anymore—all other considerations disappeared in her need to drop to the floor and sleep.

  When weakness finally overcame her stubborn nature, she surrendered with a hopeless gasp, stumbling into the wall. She leaned there in despair, waiting for the inevitable attent
ion of the guards. After a moment when she heard no questioning voices behind her, Anya opened her eyes to see the bend not two feet in front of her. With an effort that caused black stars to bloom in front of her vision, she glanced over her shoulder and focused her gaze enough to see that the guards were far down the corridor and looking the other way. Sliding along the wall because she had no strength left to stand on her own, she inched around the bend and then collapsed with a grateful sob into a huddle against the wall.

  She meant only to rest for a moment and get some of her strength back, closing her eyes in an effort to get her head to stop pounding. But with her eyes closed it was that much easier to nod off. She fell asleep.

  When she woke, Anya sat up with a start. She must not have been out for long, because she was still in the corridor and there was no one around. She didn't expect it to stay that way forever, though. Knowing she had to move or lose all the ground she'd made so far, Anya pulled herself to her feet, groaning at the trembling in her limbs. At least she didn't feel like throwing up anymore. Using the wall for support, she made her slow way down the corridor towards a station information terminal she could see recessed in the wall. There had been one by the med unit, too, but the guards had made using that one impossible.

  Once there, she sagged against the terminal, hitting the key for audible commands. "Station," she whispered breathlessly, "location of the nearest cargo hold."

  This was the part where Aggie had thought she would find her way off the station, luring the telepath away from her friends while she made her escape. Anya hadn't actually said that in so many words, but she'd let the nurse believe it. If Aggie had known what she really meant to do, Anya would be strapped to the bed by now, and Jason would be standing over her with the key to her restraints.

  When a detailed map appeared on the screen, highlighting the location of the cargo holds, Anya let her eyes close in momentary defeat. "Crap," she croaked.