Shadows Ablaze

Chapter 15- Jaxon

Sweat dribbles down my back almost instantly when I enter the building. The nights have been hot of late, making it difficult for the building to cool down after the sun dips beneath the horizon. I walk to my desk, which is bare expect for a few scattered pens and my notebook. A large white board has been rolled out into the middle of the room. Zieb stands in front of it, scribbling with a marker before backing away. He scratches the rough, stubbly skin of his chin. It's evident he hasn't shaved in a couple days.

I drop my bag beside my desk before approaching him.

"Hey partner," Zieb greets, his focus not straying from the board.

"What's this?" I ask, eying the words and the minimal amount of lines that connect them.

"My attempt at solving this Axenil thing."

I analyze the board. Twelve names are scratched into its shiny surface. Eleven are in blue, one in red. And all except for one is attached to the others by a series of black lines. At the top of the board is a question mark labeled 'supplier' with no other lines that connect it to the names. I'm assuming that's because we don't know if each of the names got the drug directly from the dealer or if there are middlemen that supply. I know the answer to that, but I'm not willing to explain. Even if I did admit there were middlemen in this operation, I wouldn't know names. I never got their names. I wouldn't know who they were, so it wouldn't be any help.

"Why is this one in red?" I ask, pointing.

Zieb looks at me out of the corner of his eye. "That one, uh, died."

The statement shocks me. The Sheriff had suspected a victim would die eventually, but I hadn't expected it to be so soon. "When?"

"Last night," Zieb announces. "The night of our department meeting."

"How did it happen? Was it directly after taking the drug?" I want all the details. I need to know what we're dealing with.

"He seized while on the drug and came out of it after a couple minutes. An hour later, he had some weird allergic reaction. He passed on the way to the hospital." Zieb shakes his head, as if trying to make sense of it all. "What I don't understand is how this one kid had an allergic reaction, but we haven't had any other reports of this happening. I guess that's a good sign. Maybe it's a freak accident. But I have a feeling he won't be the only one to die from this drug. It's only a matter of time." He pauses, analyzing the board. "And this one. Shyah. I don't know whether her seizure was drug induced or just coincidental." She's the girl I interviewed at the hospital. She told me she hadn't taken any Axenil at the party, yet she had seized when she wasn't otherwise prone them.

I remember her golden eyes and the rose undertone that rushed across her caramel cheeks. She was cute... in an Elite kind of way. Completely out of my league and definitely off limits.

I toss my head, willing myself to compose my thoughts. Shyah isn't the focus of this case. She is a small piece in the machine that we are trying to figure out how to repair. And she is an Elite. She is privileged and sheltered and has no idea what the real world is like. She and all of her classmates and neighbors will one day run our city... yet they don't know the first thing about its inhabitants. And they don't care to learn.

So why is my blood rushing a little faster when I think about her?

Probably because I'm mad at her and the rest of her kind. I'm mad at them for treating us like trash and rats that scour the city when, in reality, we are the backbone on which it runs.

I pull myself back in check, staring at the board in front of us. I'm glad Zieb's eyes are still on the map he's creating so he can't see my reaction. A lump raises in my throat as I stare at the names. There were six people who had seized on this drug yesterday. Now there are twelve, and one of them is dead.

My legs carry me toward the Sheriff's office before I tell them to, making a b-line through the desks scattered about the lobby. My fist collides with the wooden door, thudding as it makes contact.

"Come in," a gruff voice mutters from the other side.

Twisting the knob, I step inside and seal us both in.

"Jaxon," the Sheriff acknowledges. "What brings you here?"

Every inch of my body freezes, nerves suddenly numb. His graying eyebrows lift in curiosity when I don't respond. I don't know what to say. Why did I even come? The names in blue flash across my vision, then, the red name comes into sight and it finally hits me.

"I have some information to share with you."

The Sheriff motions me forward and places his hands on the desk. I don't sit down, even though he invites me to. I don't know if my limbs will let me. My muscles are tight with anticipation.

"What is it?" the Sheriff questions, his voice holding an edge of annoyance.

My focus sharpens on him, eyes locking as the next words find their way to my tongue. "If I tell you, I need to be guaranteed immunity."

The caterpillars on his forehead butt heads, wrinkles crawling over his skin. "Continue." The single word fills the space between us, but it lacks promise.

My jaw sets. "I know where the drug dealers are."

The statement makes the Sheriff sit straighter, ears perking in interest.

"But if I tell you, I need to be guaranteed immunity," I repeat, since obviously he missed the condition the last time I said it.

"You have no place to be demanding such things," the Sheriff replies. The sentence vibrates with anger, but it tastes faintly of desperation too.

"Is that the only way I'm going to get this information?" The Sheriff's voice is rasped and almost breathless as he speaks, as if he's been running a marathon.

I nod. "Yes sir, it is."

The Sheriff examines me, probably to ensure I'm going to tell the truth. "Fine, request approved. What do you know?" The words are pushed off his tongue as if they are stones covered in tar, slow and heavy.

The approval should calm my nerves, but instead they begin to burn as adrenaline pulses through my veins. "I know where the dealers are stationed. They operate out of a place downtown."

The Sheriff's expression contorts as my words settle. I expect him to ask me how I know this, and I think he wants to, but he knows better. He doesn't want to hear the answer just as much as I don't want to tell him. "How many dealers?"

"Three. That I know of."

He nods, processing. "Since you're the only one who seems to know anything about these guys, I'm going to have you be a part of the raid," he finally states. "Afterward, you can stay in the shadows, out of the spotlight to get your immunity." His nose crinkles as he says the word, as if it's some rotten food he wishes he could get out of his sight. I can tell he doesn't want to grant me the safety net, but he has to if he wants my help.

I nod. "When do you want to execute the raid?"

"Tomorrow night," is all he says, making my eyes shoot wide as I stare at him. That's soon. "You can leave. But tell Zieb I need to speak with him. I'm sure he'll come find you when him and I finish... seeing that he'll need your help in orchestrating it."