Angels and Ministers of Grace

by Michelle O'Leary

  She turned away and began pacing again, but not before he saw her suppress a smile. He clenched his fists in anger, but her next words stopped him from unleashing his temper. "It's a little late for those kind of theatrics, Jace—she's been and gone. Did very well too from what I hear." She glanced over her shoulder at him with a half-smile curling one corner of her mouth. "The Hive Queen's calling her a queen."

  "She's all right?"

  "The Queen gave her a bit of a fright, but no harm done."

  Unable to disguise his relief, Jason sank back into his seat, suppressing with difficulty the sudden urge to go check on her. "Why they hell did you make her visit the Queen?"

  "I didn't make her do anything, Jace. The Queen invited her to come, and she went of her own volition. You of all people should know that Anya Vaedrin doesn't do anything she doesn't want to do."

  The clear amusement on Marta's face made him grit his teeth and glare at her. He didn't know what she found so funny, but it was rubbing him the wrong way. He went back to the original subject with a snarl. "What do you expect her to do for you, Marty? Change Central's mind with a smile and a bat of her eye? I don't care how strong her talent is, she's not going to win this for you."

  "I don't need her to win anything for me, as you very well know. She's not integral to our plans, but she may become very useful." She tipped her head to one side and eyed him with an assessing look that put his guard up. "When are you going to go see her?"

  He stared at her, nonplussed. "What?"

  "You have been moping about and snarling at everyone like a bear with a sore paw since you left Medical. You were also unforgivably rude earlier when she came to see you."

  He flushed, wondering if she was referring to Anya's first or second visit. He wouldn't put it past Frank to have ratted on him already.

  "You want to see her, Jace. And obviously there's some issue that you need to resolve with her. So when are you going?"

  "I don't know what you're talking about," he muttered without much hope that this evasion would put her off.

  "You most certainly do. Since this is personal, I can't get involved as your captain." She paused for a moment, settling herself on the edge of his desk with a faint smile. "But as your friend, I suggest you clear the air with her and stop making yourself miserable."

  "I'm not miserable," he mumbled miserably, turning his face away from her piercing scrutiny.

  "If you say so," she sighed, her tone dubious. "But I will order you to see her if it begins to affect your work."

  "You know it won't!" he snarled at her, stung that she would imply that he couldn't do his job. When he saw her smile, he nearly groaned at his own mistake.

  "So you admit there is something. That's a start." She got up and headed towards the door. "I don't like to see you like this, Jace. As your friend, it hurts me to see you hurt." She paused before leaving, giving him a hard stare over her shoulder. "As your captain, I can't have you distracted. We are at a critical juncture, and I need you focused."

  With those cold words, she left, and Jason shook his head, rubbing his eyes with weary fingers. Dealing with Marta was like walking a tightrope in a gale. Every step was uncertain. Before Anya had come, he'd found his captain stimulating—she kept him on edge and sharply focused. He admired her formidable intelligence and wily nature, but lately her manipulations and quicksilver changes in conversational direction left him exhausted. He was usually better at seeing and avoiding her verbal traps, but he admitted to himself that she was right; he was distracted. Anya had him tied in knots, and he grimaced at the acknowledgement. Maybe it would be better if he went to see her…

  A vision of her face drawn in lines of pity and embarrassment made him stiffen with rejection in his seat. No, he had more pride than that. She knew what he felt for her. If she wanted to do something about it, she'd come to him. That decided, he plunged into his work with single-minded determination. It didn't keep Anya from occupying a large portion of his thoughts, but it did help to make the time pass more quickly.

  Jason was in the middle of an argument the next day with a Verdettan merchant who was demanding priority clearance to dock when Frank burst into his office and interrupted.

  "Jace, I've got a problem…"

  He held up a silencing hand without looking up from the screen where a red-faced Verdettan was still hollering about perishable items. "Ler Donbiele, your merchandise is not my concern. If you don't have the foresight to put your goods in stasis then maybe you should look into a change in occupation. Wait your turn like everyone else."

  He ended the transmission while the Verdettan was still spluttering without feeling the smallest qualm for the insult he'd just delivered. Jason knew that the merchant was just looking for special treatment—Verdettans prided themselves on wrenching the best possible deal out of their customers.

  "What's the problem?" he asked Frank with forced calm.

  The older man didn't answer, walking around the desk instead and activating a screen. What was there blindsided Jason, making his heart stumble and his breath catch.

  The screen showed an overview of the open market, usually busy even on the slowest of days, but today it was swarming with people. None of them were paying attention to the merchandise, though. In the middle of this crowd were four very recognizable people who had captured everyone's attention. They were in the middle of a song, lithe bodies dancing in tandem with absorbing energy.

  Watching Anya and her friends, it took Jason a minute to figure out what Frank's problem might be. He posed his question to the security chief without looking away from the screen, his voice tight with hard-won control. "Do they have a permit for this?" It was, after all, disturbing the peace.

  "Nope."

  "So go stop them."

  "Well…that's my problem. See, I can't seem to say no to 'em. I think you should do it."

  With raised eyebrows, Jason looked up at Frank. "Are you joking? Go do your job, Frank!"

  The older man avoided his gaze. "I'd like to, you know I would, but she'll just smile at me and I'll cave. I think you should—"

  "What kind of crap is this? Send somebody else then, if you can't. It's not a mob. It's just a couple of women!"

  "All my people like her just as much. Wouldn't work. You're gonna have to stop her, Jace."

  Jason stared up at Frank incredulously while the other man gazed with abstract attention over his head. His bland expression made Jason suspicious. "What the hell's going on, Coop?"

  "Nothing. Look, I hate admitting that a slip of a girl can get the best of me, but there it is. You're the only person who can say no to her, so I'm asking you as a friend to do this for me."

  Jason might have believed him if Frank had looked him in the eye during that little speech. Then again, maybe he was too embarrassed to meet his superior's gaze. With an aggravated growl, he stood, and Frank shifted out of his way with alacrity. "Should be ashamed of yourself," he grumbled as he passed the older man.

  Frank answered him in a tone that was much too bland and calm. "I am, sir."

  Jason shot him a suspicious look, but the security chief was wearing a poker face that would've made Marta proud. Shaking his head, Jason strode out of the office and headed towards the market place, grimacing to himself as he realized that he was humiliatingly glad of the excuse to see Anya.

  By the time they reached the market, though, the show was over and the crowd was dispersing. Jason paused in an archway and watched Anya interact with the crowd of fans around her. She seemed to be in her element, gracious and friendly with everyone. There was a kind of inner glow about her that was drawing people to her like moths to a flame, and Jason scowled in defense, folding his arms in an unconscious rejection of that magnetic pull.

  After a moment she caught sight of him, and he watched her expression go from open friendliness to shuttered wariness in an instant. His stomach cramped in reaction. She began to extract herself from those around her with an ease that he decided was bo
th practice and charm. Then she was moving towards him, and he had to fight to breathe normally. She was wearing a skintight silver body suit that showed every sleek curve and only enhanced the grace with which she moved. His mouth dried, and every muscle in his body tightened in response. The memory of her soft mouth and sweet taste ambushed him—he only retained control of himself by fixing his eyes on her cool blue ones and glowering ferociously.

  "Well well. If it isn't Commander Salvatore, angry with me as usual. I don't suppose you have a reason this time?"

  Like her reading his every emotion wasn't enough of a reason. His scowl deepened. "Do you have a permit to entertain here?" he asked, his tone harsher than it needed to be.

  Anya lifted her eyebrows at him in what looked like surprise before she turned her attention to Frank. "Frank? You told me I didn't need one."

  Coop at least had the grace to look embarrassed, his face and bald spot bright red as he stared down at his feet. "I said I'd look into it. Turns out you need one," he mumbled, and Jason snorted in disgust. Some friend he turned out to be! He'd tricked Jason into coming down here. With angry resentment, he looked away from the security chief and watched Anya frown at the older man.

  "Frank, why—"

  "Next time get a permit," Jason interrupted, not wanting Coop to answer her. God knew what kind of idiotic story the man would come up with.

  She turned her attention to him, eyes wary. "I will." There was an awkward pause as they stared at one another. Anya looked away first. "This was only an introduction of us four to the station. I announced that we'd be playing at Whitey's and the Seasons. It probably won't happen again."

  Jason stiffened at the mention of Whitey's, knowing what kind of clientele frequented the sleazy place. "Why Whitey's?"

  She shrugged, her expression closed. "Why not? Business is good there, I understand."

  "It's a pit," he muttered in a flat tone, and she flashed him a brief glance through her lashes.

  "Money's money."

  Jason looked away with his jaw clenched, stopping himself from protesting with an effort of will. It wasn't any business of his if she wanted to shake her ass for a bunch of slobbering, horny idiots. Just because it made him feel like strangling someone…

  "Well—" Anya began, her tone indicating that she was about to make her exit.

  Jason found himself unable to let her leave. "Captain tells me you've seen the Hive Queen," he interrupted her, focusing his eyes on the air just over her right shoulder. He could feel her eyes on him, but he couldn't meet her gaze.

  "Yes."

  "Did she hurt you?" he asked through stiff lips, pretending a fascination with a passing fabric vendor. Anya didn't answer immediately and he glanced down at her, only to look away from the intensity of her gaze, a complicated heat warming his face.

  "No. No, she didn't. She scared me stupid, but she didn't hurt me."

  "Good," he mumbled and fell silent, unable to think of anything else to say.

  They stood in an uncomfortable silence for a moment, Jason excruciatingly aware of her proximity and the delicate fragrance like peaches that always seemed to accompany her.

  "Well—" Anya began again, but it wasn't Jason that interrupted her this time. She put a hand to one ear and then looked over her shoulder. He could see the communicator between her fingers. "What? No, twist it the other way. Not that way, you'll break it— Hang on, I'm coming."

  She turned back with a little grimace. "Ces is having trouble removing one of the amplifiers." She hesitated, looking from him to Frank and back again. "We're going to be at Whitey's tonight and the Seasons tomorrow if either of you wants to come." Her eyes met Jason's with a twinkle and a small smile. "Who knows, you might just enjoy yourselves."

  With that she walked away, and Jason was helpless not to watch her go. Frank coughed at his side, and he pulled his eyes away from Anya to glare at the older man. "Why'd you do it, Coop?"

  Frank didn't even pretend not to understand what he was asking. "You wanted to see her, didn't you? You weren't gonna do it on your own, so…" He shrugged without a hint of apology, and Jason made a rude noise in the back of his throat.

  "You've been taking lessons from the captain, haven't you?" When Frank just stared into the crowd without answering, Jason snapped at him, "Just stay out of my business, Cooper!"

  He turned around and headed back towards his office, but he still heard Frank reply, "Yes, sir."

  His friend's voice was toneless, and he winced, knowing that this would put a strain on their friendship. But damn it, the man had no right to trick him like that!

  The rest of the day dragged by, and Jason found himself spending more time fixing his own mistakes than making much progress with his work. His concentration was effectively blown and what occupied his mind was not docking schedules and engineering quandaries, but whether or not he was going to Whitey's that evening. He knew it would be a mistake to go—watching all those men lust after Anya as she danced for them was going to drive him insane.

  On the other hand, he knew how rowdy Whitey's got when there was new blood on stage, and he rationalized that there should be some sort of police presence there to forestall any brawling. Of course, that didn't mean he had to go, but the temptation proved to be too much for him.

  Jason, Frank, and a squad of guards made their appearance at Whitey's twenty minutes before the show started. Frank had agreed to his suggestion of a show of force, but made no comment when Jason himself turned up, just looked at his superior with a bland expression. Jason did his best to ignore him and was the first to enter.

  The place was already in an uproar. The noise was deafening, and Jason could see a couple of scuffles breaking out even as he watched. The one resolved itself, but he sent a couple of guards to break up the other. Frank ordered the others into strategic places around the bar/casino, nodding to Jason as he moved to take position next to a particularly rowdy table. Jason shouldered through the crowd to the bar, amazed by the amount of people in the place. Her little promo at the market place must have been a smashing success.

  He had no trouble gaining a spot to lean against the bar. If he wasn't recognized outright, most of the people in there had a healthy wariness for his uniform. He settled himself to wait, sweeping the crowd with watchful eyes and wishing his heart would stop pounding with anticipation.

  When the house lights finally lowered, the noise level went up a couple of notches, people whistling and pounding on the tables or stomping their feet. But when the lights on stage came up and the music began, the crowd hushed abruptly. Shifting to catch sight of the stage, Jason could see why. The four women were dancing together, but he couldn't tell one from another. They were twisting together in a sensual confusion of glistening limbs and undulating bodies. The effect was enthralling, and Jason found himself watching with the same intensity as everyone around him, peripherally aware of the croon of the women that wound through the throbbing music.

  Suddenly they separated, Anya in the forefront and the other three dancing behind her. She began to sing, gliding forward across the stage until she was nearly in the crowd. Her voice was throaty and sensual and somehow intimate, as if she were singing to each and every one of them individually.

  Jason missed the first part of the song because he became convinced that she was wearing nothing at all. It took him a minute to see the skin hugging fabric that draped her torso and managed to start breathing again, sweat breaking out on his forehead. He'd known this would be torture, but this was beyond anything he'd imagined. She was moving with a kind of languid sexuality that dried his throat and made him hot all over, but what really drove him crazy was that he knew every other man in that room was feeling the same way.

  He caught the first chorus and realized that it was a new song, one he'd never heard before.

  You know I'm too good for you

  I've got it going on, it's true

  But I watch you move and I see

  That you're just bad enough
for me…

  He lost the next part of the song in a thrill of alarm as she actually stepped off the stage and onto a table, causing the crowd to remember their vocal cords. The noise practically drowned out her amplified voice, but she sang on with a playful twinkle in her eyes, looking for all the worlds as if she was encouraging this reaction.

  "Damn woman's gonna start a riot," he muttered to himself, but couldn't even hear his own voice. He was getting ready to push through the crowd towards her when he noticed that none of the men at the table where she danced were acting up at all. Jason stared in shock as one rough dock worker even held a hand for her as she stepped from that table to the next. No one grabbed for her or made lewd noises, and he watched amazed as she sang for the next table, seeming to sing for each them in turn. He noticed a kind of aura around her that was both playfully sensual and untouchable, as though she were a sweet siren come to tease but not to touch.

  He watched as enthralled as the rest of them as she seduced the whole room. It wasn't just the men either—the few women in the crowd she sang to as though they were co-conspirators and the lyrics were a hilarious secret between them. She ended up back on stage for the last chorus.

  Truth is I'm too good for you

  I'm sweet honey through and through

  But I can't seem to let you be

  Cause you're just bad enough for me."

  Then the stage was empty, and the crowd erupted in a roar of approval. Jason blinked dazedly and looked around at the noisy crowd. Without knowing what he was going to do until he did it, Jason started shoving through the press towards backstage.

  The enthusiastic crowd ignored him, still roaring at the empty stage, but a very large man stopped him at the entrance. "No one comes back here!" the man shouted, the only way he could communicate in the noise.

  Jason realized that the guy must be either a bodyguard or bouncer, but he was in no mood to negotiate. "Get out of my way!"

  The big man frowned down at him, but he seemed more confused than angry, as though he'd never had anyone confront him like this before. Uncertainty flickered across his furrowed brow as he caught sight of Jason's uniform, but he still didn't move. Jason was about to put his fist in the man's face—and probably start the brawl that he'd come here to prevent—when the bodyguard twitched and then shot a look behind him as if someone had tapped on his shoulder. Craning his neck, Jason looked past the man and saw Anya at the end of the corridor. She made a gesture that must have meant that Jason could pass, because the bodyguard stood aside out of his way.