Pieces of Autumn by Mara Black Page A

Tate rapidly disappeared up the spiral staircase. "If you have any kind of influence - any at all - please try to get him to talk to us. It's very important."
    The woman was nodding in agreement.
    "We need him," said Joshua. His voice became low, urgent. "We need him to take down Stoker."
    My head swam. I wanted to snap, to lose my composure and warn him that Tate wasn't who he thought he was - there was no way he possibly could be. A man who would help dismantle Stoker, brick my brick - or preferably with a wrecking ball, or TNT - would never treat another human being like this.
    But I still didn't know if I could trust Joshua, trust this woman. I didn't know if I could trust anyone.
    "I don't," I said, finally. "He does what he wants. But maybe I could help you."
    Joshua shook his head. "Trust me. We're in a bunch of tents in the wilderness right now. We're hardly better off than you were in whatever shantytown I dragged you out of. You'll be much better off here. Much safer."
    I don't know about that.
    But maybe he had a point. And really, the last thing I needed to do was bring a man like Birdy in the midst of the only people who were actually trying to bring about real change.  
    Joshua was frowning at me. "You are all right, aren't you? He's..." Suddenly, he cleared his throat, glancing at the woman. "Would you leave us alone for a minute, Mary?"
    Mary nodded, obliging. I felt a cold grip of fear for reasons I didn't understand.
    Joshua's eyes pierced me, and goosebumps rose when I remembered the way he'd looked at me in that little bedroom at Stoker. But this wasn't quite the same. He'd been playing a role then, and he wasn't playing one now - I thought. Or maybe it was the other way around.
    I couldn't be sure. If there was one thing I'd learned in my twenty years of life, it was that you could never be sure. Not about people. Never .
    "I've been a mole in Stoker for a long time," he said, finally. "I've had to play the part to the fullest extent, including many, many things I'm not proud of - I tried to stay away from the worst of it, but it wasn't always possible. Whatever you think Stoker is doing, I promise you the reality is much worse. You're very lucky to have escaped like you did."
    Am I?
    "We've always known Stoker had a weakness. Somebody who understood them better than anybody. Somebody who'd been to the bowels of hell under that billion-dollar skyscraper, and seen it all. Someone with a grudge. He's a legend. They called him Tate the Viper. But we just call him Tate."
    Tate the Viper.  
    My goosebumps weren't going anywhere.
    "Did..." He hesitated, gathering his thoughts. "Did Tate tell you anything about his history with Stoker?"
    Shaking my head, I looked down at the floor. "I get the feeling he doesn't like them."
    He let out a soft bark of laughter. "Yeah. You might say that." I finally looked back up at him, and his eyes were warm. I wanted to believe it was real, I wanted so badly, but I could feel Tate's shadow on me, even from many rooms away, and I was afraid. But I couldn't show it. What if Joshua did mean well, and what if he found out what was happening? What would happen to me?  
    "Tell me," I said, finally. "Please."
    The more I knew about Tate, the more complete my picture, the more I could work this situation to my advantage. Supposing Joshua was honest, this might be one of my only chances to really learn about what kind of person my master was.
    His eyes flickered. "I know the story," he said. "Whether it's true or not, I couldn't say."
    "Tell me." I leaned forward. " Please ."
    "Tate used to be one of the headhunters," he said. "Like me. Well - like I pretended to be. He was one of the first."
    Headhunters . I'd never heard the term before, but I instantly understood - or thought I did. But then, the driver went on.
    "I don't know how he came to be with them. Or when. But I've talked to the other men there, heard their stories. Stoker finds them huddled in cardboard boxes, under