As the dark crimson droplet fell from my split lip. It mimicked the sound of a gunshot when it collided with its fellow fallen comrades onto the cold cement floor. I realize now that this may have not been the best possible choice I made in my life.

Let’s rethink this through Daj, how did we get into this predicament? How could we not have seen this ending coming? The signs were all present from the very start of this adventure. If I had not leaped into the lion’s den and thought it through first, then maybe things would not have been this bad. There could have been a different outcome to this scenario, than bleeding to death in this cold room. But, no, not me, like usual I run headfirst into every situation without thinking it through. God, I am so damn predictable.

As my broken body swayed in the air from the shackles overhead, I started to doze in and out of consciousness yet again. The frigid steel manacles that are restraining my wrists appear to be attached to an old rusty steam pipe high above my head. Preventing my weight from collapsing into a heap on the floor below.

My left eye is now swollen completely shut from either the fourth or fifteenth strike I took to the face. I can't remember where or when this little detour in my life started. All I can see out my right eye is my vital fluids pooling beneath my hunched body and that damn cat.

Don’t get me wrong I love animals, I mean hell some of my best friends are animals, but this one cat is just on that last nerve. Her fluffed calico fur and her nonchalant I am better than you attitude just rub me the wrong way. Even her big black eyes staring deep into my soul is fucking annoying. To top it all off I swear I can hear the thing purring, “Only a stupid human like you would fall into a trap so easily. Even a mouse knows better.” I have no damn clue where the cat came from.

I was receiving my first taste of hospitality here, dodging every question thrown at me that I could dodge. Then after waking up from passing out the first time, there the cat was. Sitting there under the chair in the corner. No one else seemed to have noticed, but the fucking thing was just there. I watched her flip-flop her head from side to side, with the same rhythm and beat as my head. As it was being thrashed back and forth. As if to state that the abuse I was receiving, was utter boredom for the feline. When I was on the receiving end of another dose of sweet southern justice, so to speak, I would almost swear I saw a smug smile come to her face right as I passed out.

As I started to come around once more, the sounds in the distance started coming into recognition. This was about the time I verified that my left eardrum may have ruptured as well. The muffled sounds of the three men arguing on what to do with me next. You could sort of say that my hosts decided to throw me an old-fashioned blanket party. It was nice of them to skip the blanket and the soap in the sock and assault me using whatever was lying around, or maybe they brought some of it with them.

If I had to have guessed, I would surmise that I have been here for at least two days. It could have been even three days that I have had the pleasure of their company. I will say without a shadow of a doubt the pleasure has been all theirs. One of the men must have heard me stirring around because all three of my abusers became silent.

Hard pounding footsteps of someone walking closer to me started to pulsate in what was left of my hearing. I couldn’t make the sound out of where they were coming from, but the hair on the back of my neck started to stand on end. The only time that has ever happened is when I was in the company of, thud. Lights out, whatever they used to hit me with was hard and wooden, like a cane, or a Louisville Slugger.

Once consciousness became more aware, I got a cold and scary chill up my spine. The kind you get when someone says they get that feeling as if someone walked across their grave. Goosebumps rose on my arm, and the hairs on my neck were at full alert. I started hearing something, but I couldn’t make it out.

A very hard and rough tug, on the top of my head, was quickly followed by an extremely hard smack across my face. My right eye rolled all around trying to come into focus, then I heard the same sound again. The top of my head was being raised for what I expected to be another vicious and humiliating slap, so I decided that this one I was going to earn. I mumbled out the first words that would pass my lips.

“Hit me again, Ike. This time put some stank on it.”

I knew it wasn’t a smart thing to say, and I am sure it didn’t come across as smart-ass as I was hoping. But the point came through, nonetheless. I received another fallen blow to the other side of my face and my head went limp, again. This time the liquid in my left ear must have become unlogged because I was able to hear a little better. With my hearing more astute now, I then mouthed off more unlike I should of.

“That’s sweet, now let your boyfriend try.”

A deep and horrifying growl of something fierce echoed in the location of my attacker. Then two solid thuds sounded from a distance and the growling stopped instantly. The thuds sounded like hardwood on the pavement. Much like a gavel in a courtroom but more demanding of attention. The man who was so nice to help me able to hear again stepped to the side; grabbed a chair and pulled it out. He quickly placed the chair in front of me and I watched as a shadowy figure stepped between my broken body and the newfound chair and took a seat.

Unable to look up, I was able to make out what I could in my one decent eye as he passed in front of me. There was a black long coat like that of a duster, a pair of black Doc Marten boots, and a black cane. As the shadow man sat down, I could now see the bottom of his feet. At that moment I knew for the first time since my abduction that my chances of survival went from slim to no chance in hell.

All I could think to myself now was, "Why did I leap into the damn lion’s den, why didn’t plan my everything out first?"

The voice that came from the shadow was that of a New Yorker accent. Not that of a blue-collar worker but the kind of voice you would hear from someone of the upper class. With lots of money and no respect for anyone below his or her social cast. A mundane monotone voice came from the shadows like you would expect to see in an old noir or even a dark horror movie.

If he wanted to audition for the next James Bond villain, he sure had my vote. He stayed calm; never raising a tone or pitch and it was as though he thought of every word before he let it pass his lips. It was as if the words carried a certain serpentine draw to each syllable as well.

“Mr. Hoyle, someone employed you to find the culprit in the Midway Lake killings and deal with them accordingly by the law of the land. I painfully went out of my way to make sure all the evidence that was found pointed you down a certain path and yet you strayed from it time and time again. It was as if you knew that the path you were heading down was not the correct one and kept jumping to a new path. So, we are now at this crossroads. My associates here have ascertained that you have been unwilling to share any information. You have not divulged anything you have on the case. And how you concluded your findings. Is this true?”

As his words rang out in both my one decent ear and even the muffled-up another one, I knew there was no good outcome in this. I will admit I was very scared. I faced a lot of things in this job. I have seen a lot of bad creatures and whatnot that made even your worst nightmares seem like pleasant dreams.

But this man, this man had some sort of connection. His tone and demeanor made me feel like a child, and I walked into a haunted house and a damn clown jumped out at me at the end. The fear washed over me like a flood, and I could tell he sensed it as well. I tried to contain my fear the best I could.

With all that I could muster, I said, “I am sorry for any inconvenience I may have caused to you and your companions. Unfortunately, I cannot in good judgment share any information with you on this case.” I then let my head go limp and waited for a physical retort to befall me.

To my surprise, nothing came. As I hung there, the creek of the chair rang loud in my right ear as the man in the shadows shifted forward. He put down one foot and leaned in to let me see his face. As he was about to come into the light, he stopped.

It was as if he knew that the light would give away any chance of the horror flashing in my mind. But what he did do was even scarier than I could have imagined. He smiled. Not a simple smile, not a cocky smile either. He smiled like a predator seeing wounded prey. He smiled like he knew that he was going to feast on me like no other being ever would or could have. His smile said it all, I see you, and you will satiate my hunger. He just smiled.

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After what felt like an eternity of me staring into that pearly white abyss his smile faded from obscurity. The man took his left gloved hand and reached into the right inside of his open duster. I couldn’t make out what he was doing in his duster. But when his hand reemerged back into the light, I was able to glimpse at what he retrieved. A white envelope with blue metallic writing on it.

The ink looked like a gel and I could see cobalt blue flakes of some kind shimmer within the light. The writing itself reacted as if it danced with the radiance of the beam of light and I knew right away what he held in his hand. He owned a nadder snake.

A nadder snake is a magical paper reptile that a magician by the name of Ruald Nadder created in the 1800s. Ruald believed that everyone had secrets to tell. And if he could take those secrets and own them, he would become the most powerful magician in the world.

In truth, knowledge is power in our world and he wanted to absorb it all. He decided he needed to develop a truth serum so to speak for the individuals who were less than forthcoming with their secrets. One that could cause severe pain if the person lied or refused to give it. Not a little bit but all the information that he asked for.

The nadder snake would bring so much pain that it could kill the interviewee. If the interviewee told the truth, then after twelve hours the serum would leave their system. And no true harm befell them.

After thirty years of trial and error and a lot of deaths, the nadder snake came to be. The concoction is a mixture of sodium pentothal and ricin. As well as a few magical attributes from each element, laced into a piece of paper.

Magicians of all levels and skills tried to recreate Rauld’s work and failed. They then tried to reverse the effect with the same result. Rauld excelled in the world of the supernatural since his work could never be duplicated. A fail-safe is on each nadder snake when it comes into being. When the spell is complete and then sealed with the ink a spoken word is enthralled into the ink. Then whoever wishes to use the nadder snake speaks the word.

Then through the art style of origami, the simple piece of paper will transform into a snake and its fangs will be the deliverer of the toxic potion. Then they release it onto the victim. This means that whatever information Mr. Smiles wants from me, has to be worth killing for. This means I have 12 hours from the time I am bitten to survive if I can go that long without lying. All I can think about right now is two things. The good news is that I have at least another 12 hours before they are going to kill me. The bad news is that this is so going to hurt, a lot.

Mr. Smiles, as I am now going to refer to him, leaned closer to me and in that same tone as earlier started speaking again.

“I am sure you are aware of what I hold here, Mr. Hoyle. I know for a fact that you have used one or two of these in the nine years of your occupation. I will not dull your senses. Or take the effort to explain the ramifications of your failure to converse with me.” He then nods his head and then leans a little closer and says, “Let us begin.”

He then let his voice fall onto the envelope and the magic was released. The folding and unfolding of the envelope took place in mere microseconds. What was once a simple harmless business envelope now was in the form of a white-colored baby copperhead.

It slithered from one gloved palm to another. Its little fangs glistened in the light. I could see the venom trickle from them like the fresh dew of a flower petal.

The nadder is amazing to look upon, it even gives the impression as though it was breathing. The sides of the paper snake inflated and deflated with each action it took. I swear I even saw a small white forked tongue flick in and out of its mouth.

Mr. Smiles leaned over and put the nadder close to my exposed neck, offering it my vein. The paper menace struck me two times in rapid succession. Then like any other time, he balls up and then turned to ashes and drifted away in the air. Mr. Smiles showed those pearly white teeth again and sat back in his chair.

Mr. Smiles then simply stated, “Let’s give it a few minutes to set in then, we will start with some basic questions to break the ice.”

The words poured out of his mouth like he wanted me to bite an apple off a tree. Mr. Smiles kind of gave off the same vibe as that of a slimy used car salesman or maybe he was auditioning to play a certain character and he was trying to make Faust sign a deal with him the way he acted. My head started to become clouded and my mind started to feel a little lost in thought and I could sense already the venom was taking effect.

He was right I had used this same trick to solve a few of my cases. But never have I had the opportunity, so to speak, to have the misfortune of it to befall on me. My head is starting to spin further and further down the rabbit hole, and I can feel the magic wash over my body.

I am not a man of the supernatural world. With that, what I mean is I am not a magician, nor a vampire or werewolf. I am what you would call a commoner. I am a human by standard who just so happens to know a lot about them and their kind. I am nothing of the supernatural, yet I am their arbiter.

An Arbitrator is a third party who helps settle a dispute, a fight, or a wrongdoing that has come up. In doing so, I also am the one who carries out the punishment of said crimes. I am sort of like a private investigator and an executioner all rolled into one.

Unlike a lot of other supernatural individuals in this world, I have never put out an ad in the paper, or on the internet. The roll came about somehow, and I took up the mantle of it. I did find out that I am very good at my job, sometimes I guess I am a little too good at it. You don’t have to believe me, you can ask Mr. Smiles.

As Mr. Smiles sat there in his chair as if taking on the demise of a stone gargoyle. Of the men from earlier who thought I was a punching bag brought him a cup of something hot, like that of a servant. I couldn’t see what was in the cup but the aroma in the air made me think of jasmine. Not only jasmine but cherry blossom and orange peel with a hint of something else. I don’t know why but it had a familiarity about it. I can’t quite remember where I smelt it before, but it seemed to have overtaken my senses. It had to be the venom taking hold of me though.

With each passing second my head gets more and more clouded and the air around me seems to take on a heavier weight. My head swaying from side to side, I know I can’t fight the magic but that doesn’t mean my body wants to give in to it either. When my head drops forward again, I see that damn cat again.

I am starting to think I must have wronged this cat in my previous life. It's staring at me again from underneath Mr. Smiles’ chair. I don’t remember the cat being there when Mr. Smiles showed up, but there it is.

This time it was not alone, now there is something in its mouth and between its paws that it seems to be chewing on. I can’t make out what it is in the dim light, but I can tell it isn’t a mouse or any other animal. It looks to be like a string of some sort. I try to focus my one good eye on it better.

The damn thing must have seen what I was trying to do because I swear it moved a fraction to get the thing into the light. In the cat’s mouth is what looked to be wood-like little figurines. There are a few different figurines and that is when it hit me. The little feline is chewing on my damn necklace.

The same damn necklace that one of the three wannabe boxers ripped from my neck before all this began. I am beginning to hate this furball more and more. As I start to fume from this new invigorating aspect of my life. My angry vision becomes disrupted by the feline when I see a white porcelain cup. The one that was being handled by Mr. Smiles sat down on the floor.

The cat slumped farther back into the darkness under the chair, dragging the only protection I had with her into the darkness. One thing I will give the stupid thing credit for is that unlike me it knew when it wasn’t safe. And like her, I didn’t want to stick around to find out why either.

“The serum has had enough time to run through your system, Mr. Hoyle. Let the catechizing begin,” and with that came the first question.

“Let’s start with a basic question, what is your full name?” he smirked at me.

“Daj Hoyle.” The words poured from my lips like a fountain. I couldn’t answer him quick enough.

His smirk turned into a small disappointing frown. For a quick second, it seemed as though my response confused him. Maybe he was expecting a different answer, but I had none to give. He must have seen it on my face because he quickly recomposed his facial gesture and then asked, “And where do you live, Mr. Hoyle?”

“1328 Kneedeep Rd Zealot, TN.” I then continued to give the basic answers to move this along in a first-date sarcastic tone.

“I work at the Hick Hop Holla bar as a bouncer. Folks around these parts call it The Triple H bar. Been there for about 10 years.

I drive an old Chevy 4-wheel drive truck and my hobbies are drinking moonshine and doing things in the country. I am looking for a country gal who can hunt, fish, and listen to good music. Also, if she can cook, that would be a huge plus.” I then made a small chuckle in self-amusement.

To my surprise, my answers brought a kind of childish smirk across Mr. Smiles’ face. Then it subsided back to the same monotone look. His tone came back with his first breath, like of tired amusement. He let out a deep sigh and said, “Mr. Hoyle, now tell me a lie so I know that the serum has taken effect.”

I took a moment and knew that unless I did what he said this would go a lot worse for me. So, without trying too hard I came up with the quickest lie that I could think of, “I think your three colleagues are straight.” The pain came as quickly as the words passed my lips. It was as if someone took a red-hot poker from a fireplace and inserted it into the back of my head and the searing consumed my brain. I quickly let out a scream of pain and shouted out the best I could, “I’m lying I don’t think they know what a woman is unless it was their mother that brought them into the world!” And like a flip of a switch, the pain quickly vanished. Well, that pain did the severe back smack to my head from one of the men informed me he was not pleased with my statement.

Mr. Smiles just sat there and waved the would-be attacker away. He then leaned forward a little more and said in his monotone voice once more, “Tell me everything that pertains to the case at the Midway Lake killings. I want to know everything from the morning you were brought onto this case to the very moment that my colleagues ascertained you and brought you to me. Have I made myself crystal clear?”

My head shook as if I was part of a marionette and I had no control over what was about to be done.

He then leaned back into the gargoyle-like pose and just simply whispered, “Begin.”

I consciously and of my own free will took a deep breath and felt the magic drown me in a shiver of needles of pain. I then started retelling the last three weeks of events as they happened.