Pieces of Autumn

by Mara Black

  Again, I shrugged. "Better than some. It had been a very long time. She's good with her mouth, too."

  "You ever share her?" one of the other scumbags piped up. I swear I saw his cock stiffen in his pants while he stared at her, and I had half a mind to rip it off.

  "With who?" I let out a bark of laughter. "No. She's mine."

  "You open to negotiation?" the scumbag pressed, leaning forward, staring at me with his eager, beady little eyes.

  "Lambert!" Mr. Charles barked, startling the scumbag out of his reverie. "Come on, now. This is a friendly social visit. Tate's been kind enough to extend the olive branch. Let's not strain his hospitality." He glanced at me, his voice going lower again. "He never was very good at sharing his favorite toys."

  I indulged in a cold, quiet laugh.

  "Do you mind if I ask her a few more questions?" Mr. Charles struggled to sit up in his chair. "Goodness. This is a strong vintage, isn't it?"

  I took another sip and just watched him. "Ask her whatever you'd like."

  "Come here, child." Mr. Charles crooked his index finger, and Autumn went to him instantly, just as she had before. "Tell me, this man, who is he to you?"

  "My Master," she said, without hesitation. My heart constricted in my chest. "He's everything. He's my world."

  Mr. Charles was still smiling his interminable smile. "Do you remember the first time he penetrated you?"

  Autumn swallowed audibly. "Yes," she said, softly. "I'm sorry for my hesitation, sir. I'm not used to answering these kinds of questions."

  "That's perfectly all right," said Mr. Charles, softly. "What did it feel like?"

  Her voice was dreamy and remote. "Like being torn apart, and made anew, with every thrust."

  "You have the soul of a poet, don't you, my dear?" Mr. Charles, for one heart-stopping moment, looked as if he might lean forward and touch her. I wouldn't have been able to hold myself back if he did, but thankfully, he just sat back in his chair.

  Autumn looked to me, her face still a carefully held mask. No one could have seen the cracks, except me.

  "She doesn't understand the question," Lambert murmured. He was the closest to Mr. Charles, so Autumn was practically kneeling at his feet, and he probably thought I didn't notice him adjusting himself in his pants. But I did.

  "She understands," I snapped, a little too quickly. I passed it off with a vicious grin. "She just doesn't know how she's meant to answer. You can't really expect her to address questions about her sense of self, can you? She's a slave. And my slave, no less."

  "Of course not." Mr. Charles was regarding me carefully. I got the strong sense that this whole conversation was a test, and I felt we were passing. But of course, I couldn't be sure.

  "She is poetic," I said. "Did you know her parents died when she was young?"

  I tossed it out, carelessly, and their reactions were exactly what I'd expected. Even a man like Mr. Charles was surprised that I talked about it so freely, so casually.

  "I didn't know that," he said, looking down at her. "I'm sorry, dear."

  "Don't talk to her about it," I said, sharply. "It makes her upset. No tears, right, my pet?"

  She smiled brightly. "No tears," she agreed.

  God, she was good. My hair was practically standing on end. The time was close. But not yet. Not yet.

  "Would you check on dinner?" I asked her, with the coldest smile I could manage. She hurried to her task, and I turned back to the men.

  They were suspicious, but they were hopeful.

  "I have to say, I'm very interested in this business proposition of yours," Mr. Charles said. "I know you're hardly a gossip, so I don't mind telling you - and I'm sure it's obvious to anyone who can do simple math. We're going to run out of customers. Sooner, rather than later." His lips pursed, thoughtfully. No wonder he was losing his hair. Profit margins were the only things that truly mattered, to a man like him.

  "Not many left who can afford to buy a girl," Lambert piped up.

  Mr. Charles nodded. "Most of our loyal customers already have a harem. And it's a bit like selling mattresses, you know. We can try to convince people they need a new one every year, but there's a limit. Pretty soon, it'll only be the sadists keeping us in business."

  I laughed, because I was meant to laugh. Inside, my blood went very cold, and then very hot.

  I knew the clients like that. The ones who bought girl after girl after girl, but whose houses were mysteriously empty. The ones who always had a new basement under construction, or a new vegetable patch they'd dug up in the garden.

  How narrowly had Autumn avoided being sent to one of them?

  "Such a waste," I said, as flatly as I could.

  "Oh, I agree," said Mr. Charles, with a wave of his hand. "But their money's green, so to speak. I can't rely on them - which is why I hope you'll be able to broker a deal."

  "There's quite a demand," I promised him. "The trick, of course, is getting past the cartels who already run the business in those parts of the world. They have a monopoly, so they're creating a false scarcity. We have to bypass them, and go straight to the source."

  "That sounds like an all-out war," Lambert put in.

  I smiled. "Not if we play our cards right. And that's why you need me."

  I wasn't lying, exactly. Stoker had always attempted to be an international agency. And they were, more or less. But in some parts of Eastern Europe, and the occasional pockets in Asia and South America, other corporations sprung up to get a stranglehold on the market there. Stoker was hungry for their business. I knew if I came to them with a proposal, they'd be eating out of my hand.

  Autumn's voice came, soft and demure, from the doorway.

  "Dinner is served," she said, gesturing towards the dining room.

  It was massive and disused - I never liked it, the huge hulking table reminding me of exactly how quiet and lonely it was in this house. But it was perfect for this. Autumn had laid the table beautifully, the crown roast taking center stage, surrounded by carrots and potatoes from my garden, and six of my best bottles of wine. It seemed like a shame to waste them on the Devils, but I knew it would be worthwhile.

  Autumn had poured a generous glass for each of them, and I was glad to see them all drinking. The plan didn't depend on it, but it certainly made things easier. At my nod, she took her place at the other end of the table, opposite me.

  We shared a smile, the meaning of which only we knew.

  One of the quieter Devils spoke up. "You let her sit and eat with you? At the head of the table, no less?"

  "It's a special occasion," I said, picking up my fork. "Isn't that right, Autumn?"

  She nodded. "Usually I eat in the kitchen, after he's finished."

  This seemed to satisfy the nosy fucker, who quickly dug into his meal like he hadn't eaten in a week. For a while, the room was filled with nothing but the noise of cutlery.

  "So Tate, have you been working on this scheme since you left us?" Mr. Charles was getting merry, his nose growing more bulbous and red with every passing moment.

  "More or less," I said. "I considered starting my own agency. But there was so much overhead. It seemed like it would be cheaper this way." I snapped my fingers. "Autumn, go fetch the folder that's on top of my desk, please."

  "Oh, we can discuss all the details later," said Mr. Charles.

  "I just want to show you something." I smiled conspiratorially. "Besides, it's helpful to keep her on her toes. Can't let her get too complacent, hmm? Especially when she's had the honor of eating at the table with us. She'll get all sorts of ideas in her head."

  Mr. Charles' eyes sparkled.

  "I have to say, Mr. Tate, you're different from how I expected," one of the Devils said.

  "Just Tate," I corrected him. "Really? What were you picturing?"

  "I thought he'd be older," Lambert said. "Didn't you?"

  The table murmured in agreement. It was an inane line of conversation, but it got everyone talking at once, which was exactl
y what I needed. Distraction.

  I thought about what Autumn was doing right now, in the next room, just out of sight. My blood boiled slightly. But I knew it had to be. I calmed myself with the memory that I'd be able to give the bodyguards their comeuppance, soon enough. I didn't know how much cleavage she'd have to show, to convince them to drink that drugged wine while they were on the job - but I forced myself not to think about it.

  God bless that fucking boor Lambert, because he soon had the whole table erupting in laughter. There was no chance of any of them noticing what Joshua and his crew were doing just outside the door.

  Autumn appeared suddenly, folder clutched in her hand. "I'm sorry," she stammered, blushing bright red. "I...I didn't see a folder on top of your desk. I brought the first one I could find."

  Allowing my face to twist into a look of disapproval, I snatched it away. "Are you blind?" I snapped. Then I took a deep breath, and made a show of composing myself. "No, this is wrong. There's a folder on top of my desk. Next to the lamp. You didn't see it?"

  She shook her head, fear filling her eyes.

  I pinched the bridge of my nose between my thumb and forefinger. "We'll discuss this later," I said, evenly. "Clear away the dishes."

  As she disappeared into the kitchen, Mr. Charles leaned over to me. "I'm sorry, Tate. Are we flustering her?"

  With a pained smile, I shook my head. "She's a work in progress - what can I say?"

  "Aren't we all?" One of the others grinned, and the whole table chuckled at his joke. Autumn darted in and out, carrying the plates two at a time, her breathing quick and shallow. It passed, very well, as fear of punishment. Fear of me.

  I thought I even caught a hint of sympathy in some of their eyes.

  At exactly the right moment, she dropped one of the plates on the floor.

  It shattered in all directions, and I jumped to my feet, snarling. Behind me, I heard the sound of the bodyguards hitting the floor. Only Lambert's eyes narrowed, trying to see around me and into the doorway to the next room. The rest of them were all staring at me, and the broken plate.

  Keening loudly, Autumn crumpled to the floor. A moment later, so did Lambert.

  One, two, three, four, five. The rest of the Seven fell, their wine-glazed eyes too slow to comprehend, hands scrambling too late for their guns.

  Mr. Charles was the slowest of all, and I had my pistol against his temple while he still just had his hand on the butt of his Ruger, tucked underneath his jacket.

  "Hands up," I ordered.

  He obeyed, arms shaking.

  I risked a glance at Autumn. Her eyes were like steel, the revolver clutched in her hands. Her bullet had gone straight into Lambert's stomach, and he writhed on the floor, groaning. Before he had a chance to recover enough to shoot me in the leg, I put one between his eyes.

  Mr. Charles' eyes watered. "Tate," he whispered. "Why?"

  My mouth twisted into a smile. "I'll answer you that, if you answer me this. Why the girl?"

  He breathed shallow and panicked, eyes darting from one of us to the other. "I wanted you to remember who you were."

  "Well, I did." My smile grew. "I remembered I used to be very good at lying to people. Convincing them that they'd be safe with me. Making them feel valued."

  Autumn, as planned, went to disarm him. He whimpered slightly as she took the Ruger and laid it down on the table, so far from his reach.

  "She was a good gift, Charles," I told him. "Very thoughtful. But you should have been more careful. She's a wild one." I actually felt my chest swell with pride. "She's as much of a viper as I ever was - and I'm afraid you've stepped on her tail."

  With a sudden movement that surprised even me, Autumn grasped a handful of his hair and slammed his head forward, into the unyielding wood.

  Blood gushed from his nose, spilling out from between his fingers. He shouted something incoherent, and Autumn grabbed the back of his head and smashed it into the table again.

  He thrashed and groaned, falling out of his chair and writhing in the floor in pain. I wondered if she'd cracked his skull.

  Her eyes burned with something I'd never seen in her face before. Revenge. True satisfaction. Her breaths came in short little pants.

  "Do you think you deserve a quick death?" she murmured, staring down at him.

  Mr. Charles just groaned, his hands still clamped over his face.

  "Tate is a better man than you'll ever know," she said. "But you sent me here, thinking he would break me. Knowing I might not even survive. How does that feel? Do you ever question your orders, when you tell one of those boys to whip a girl until she bleeds? Does it keep you up at night?"

  She held her revolver steady, training it at his head.

  "I'm going to kill you," she said. "I'm not going to make you suffer any more, because I don't enjoy it. Not the way you do. I just want to blot you out. The world will be a better place without you in it."

  The shot rang out, and it was all over.

  I stared at her, captivated.

  That wasn't part of the plan.

  Suddenly, I remembered - the guards. The sedatives she'd slipped into their wine wouldn't last forever. I went to them, gun raised, but Autumn's hand appeared on my arm.

  "Wait," she said, softly. "What if they're innocent?"

  I hesitated.

  "We'll tie them up," she said. "Let Joshua decide what to do with them. Maybe they can join us, if they're up for it."

  "That's insane." I stared at the heavily-armed men, slumped on the floor. "They came here with the Devils."

  "We should give them a chance," she said, firmly.

  And at this moment, I chose not to argue with her.

  "You've got blood on your dress," I pointed out.

  She rewarded me with a tight smile.

  Outside, there was a scraping sound. Joshua and his men were letting themselves in - but just to be sure, I kept my gun raised.

  "We come in peace," Joshua said, stepping through the threshold. "What should we do with the bodyguards?"

  "Restrain them," Autumn cut in, before I could say a word. "Talk to them, when they come to. Explain the situation. I'll leave it up to your judgment - but if they want to join us, they're welcome. Just don't give them weapons until you're sure they can be trusted.

  Joshua nodded, eyes widening slightly. "All right," he said. "I think you two have done enough for one night - we'll clean up the mess." He made a gesture to some of the Syndicate members behind him, and they swarmed their way through the door.

  "Get some sleep," Joshua said. "Tomorrow, we storm the skyscraper."

  Just before I turned away, he gave me a jaunty little salute.

  He was still a maddening prick, but a pretty good ally to have in your corner.

  Autumn followed me up the stairs, head held high.

  "Are you all right?" I asked her, still reeling from what I'd seen.

  "Never been better," she said. "You?"

  "I can't believe we did it." She was frowning at my barricaded bedroom door. "You don't happen to have a chainsaw, do you?"

  All that work, and I'd forgotten about getting back into my bedroom.

  "There's a shower in the other room," I said. "And a bed, more or less. One of the ones we left open. No windows."

  "Ah, a bed, more or less." She grinned. "That sounds perfect."

  My heart thudded in my chest, my limbs quivering with unspent adrenaline.

  We did it.

  We killed them.

  After so many years of nursing my anger, my desire for revenge, it was over so quickly.

  Autumn stepped into the disused room and stripped off her dress, heading straight for the shower. I followed, undressing as I went.

  She left the collar on.

  I watched her as she turned on the water and stepped in, her eyes falling closed with the pleasure of it. When she heard me step in after her, her eyes opened. She smiled.

  The cascades of water ran down her body, highlighting the curves
and contours, making her skin glow.

  She was fucking intoxicating.

  And judging by the way she looked at me, I wasn't alone in that feeling.

  We were deliciously, deliriously fucked-up together. For the first time in my life, the possibility of sharing my existence with someone seemed...real.

  We crashed together under the water, teeth, tongues, hands, panting and scrambling to join together. Autumn moaned and rutted against me shamelessly, grabbing my hand and sliding it between her legs. She was so hungry, so eager, so violent, and I loved every part of it.

  Every part of her.

  I love you.

  The words died in my throat. I'd never be able to say them, not out loud, not to her. Coming from my lips, those words were a curse. I ached to make her understand, almost as much as I ached to fuck her - but I would have to find other ways.

  Kneeling down on the tiles, I roughly pushed her thighs apart and buried my tongue inside her. Licking, tasting, suckling and stroking, I relished her cries, the way she gripped my hair and thrust against my face. With total abandon, she came.

  Her knees were weak, but she held herself upright on my shoulders. I rose, and lifted her up with me, sinking into her velvet heat as she locked her ankles around my waist.

  God, she felt perfect. She always felt perfect. My feet slipped in the water and her spine must hurt, flat against the wall, but all she did was urge me on, her fingernails digging into my back, her cunt clenching around me. I couldn't make it last. It was too hot and reckless and fueled by bloodlust, but I felt her inner muscles quiver and release one more time, her eyes rolling back in bliss, before I lost myself and spilled inside her.

  Panting, cursing, I let her down.

  She laughed.

  She laughed, and I laughed too.

  It came from deep inside, a part of me that had been dead and quiet for a long time. I really laughed. For the first time in so many years, I felt a lightness inside.

  And then, I realized.

  It crept in like a slow horror, the darkness I'd never seen until just now.

  With perfect clarity, I finally understood. How long had I been living in the fog of Holland's lies? I'd prided myself on destroying his influence, as much as I could, partitioning the part of my mind that he'd created so that I always knew the difference. But there was one final lie I'd clung to. Because I needed it.