The Art of Lying

Part I - Chapter 4: Poisoned Fangs

"They call me 'The Snake'." The Pale Man told me. "I'm guessing you can see why." I suppose I could see the reptile nature in his face, though his pale eyes were the most striking feature. "I'm not well-liked, James. I'm like you." He smiled, as if he'd forgotten himself. "Oh, of course. I'd forgotten." He walked over to me, and I closed my eyes, fearful of my impending death, before the pressure of the gag was removed from my mouth. I stretched my mouth open and closed it tightly. The Snake sat back down.

"I doubt that." I answered, after a second's thought. My mask had returned, not hiding sadness this time, hiding fear.

"I don't." Was all the Snake answered. The man's look... Scared me. It wasn't perverse, though it had a malicious intent. He seemed to be weighing up how the blood from my throat would stain his shirt. I shuddered softly. "Cold?" The Snake asked, chuckling softly. "Well... I'm afraid I'm not willing to fix that."

We sat in silence for a while, the Snake seeming to study my features. "You know, there's something strange about you. About both of us. Something that sets us apart from everyone else." He chuckled. "Nothing supernatural, you understand. Slightly superhuman, but nothing more." He looked at me again, with a close, observing eye.

"What?" I asked, still managing to hide my fear.

"You're doing it now." He chuckled. "It's not a power or hereditary. It's an art." He smiled softly at his own wording. "The art of lying." He continued smiling though in silence. This was the first time I'd ever heard it called an art and, as you've seen, I've taken to the habit myself. "Not everyone can do it. Everybody else has... Gives. Weaknesses in their facial structure." He laughed softly, seeming to have finally worked out what he was trying to say. "Not everyone can trick their subconscious like we can." He paused, appearing to study me again. All the studying, it made me... Nervous, but not scared. "But I can see through yours." I blinked and instantly, fear crept up my throat. "I can see the fear, past the mask." He laughed. "I'm not going to hurt you, James." In contrast to his words, out of his jacket pocket came a small pistol, a Beretta from the looks of it. How I knew this? Well... I do research on things, anything really (In other words, he's highly trivial.). The Beretta wasn't aimed at me, it simply laid on his knee. I didn't know my way around a gun, but I knew the trigger. His finger teased it, and I gulped involuntarily.

Somewhere outside, sirens passed the outside world. "Ooh... They've noticed you've gone." He smiled softly. "Ah well... I'll let you go soon enough." He shrugged, and stood. I looked up at him, and saw light reflected in his pale eyes. He was looking down at me, this time seeming to weigh up his options for me. "I'm afraid, James... That we have a problem." He said softly, and I felt fear once again scrawl up my throat. "I'm a reasonable man... But some people aren't. I'm hoping to be part of a very select group soon, you see... These men, they're like us... More like me, though. And they don't like you. I like you, James, but they don't. These men want you dead. That's my initiation."

"Wh-What?" I croaked. I felt like screaming, though I know I'd only get myself killed quicker. "Why me?"

"Not you, James... Your family." He smiled, speaking in a comforting matter.

"My family?" I blinked, completely taken aback by this development. "My family are normal... They haven't done anything."

"They aren't your family, James... Your real family are dead. I killed them." He chuckled softly, and seemed to savour the taste of these words. "It was a pity. But they had to die." Again, he shrugged.

"Wh-What?" I managed.

"Your real family... Not the Levians or the Smiths (Smith being his father's name). When you were a baby, your parents were killed. I did the killings. Not of my own accord, you understand. But I have people I answer to, and they wanted them dead. I think you can find out the rest yourself, don't you?" He smiled at me, and, within a second, all was blackness.

I awoke some time later, on a street not too far from my house. I groaned, and tried to get up. My arms were too weak, and I fell back on the pavement. I'd been injected with something, as a sharp pain in my neck told me. I rolled on to my back, and looked up at the black sky. Suddenly, a sharp pain fired up on my back. I seethed, and put a hand there, which felt wet and sticky. I gasped, already knowing what the moisture was due to. Blood. It hurt like hell, and, for the first time in my memory, I screamed. I screamed for what felt like hours, but must only have been seconds. Soon enough, there was someone by my side. "Good God almighty!" The person exclaimed, seeing the blood on the back of my shirt. "Have you been stabbed?" They asked, obviously confused.

"Call 999." I managed, before blacking out again.

When I woke up, I was in a hospital bed. My head was pounding, and there was an odd tightness around my torso. Slowly, as my eyes adjusted to the new light, I saw my mother and brother beside my bed. "What happened?" I asked, rather quietly, though it sounded like I was shouting through a megaphone in my own head.

"We don't know... You were found in a street, bleeding. We found traces of a sedative in your bloodstream." A doctor, stood on the other side of my bed told me. "Do you remember anything?"

"Yeah... I was... Being held in the warehouse in Lowesbury Street. Some maniac tied me to a chair..." I decided not to mention what he'd told me about my 'real' family. No-one needed to know about that... Soon they would, though. Soon everyone would.