Shadows Ablaze

Chapter 19- Jaxon

Zieb saunters into the room, a manila folder wedged under his arm. "So we ran some fingerprints," he begins. "And lucky you, you're actually already in the system."

Zieb places the folder down on the metal table and takes a seat in the chair across from the dealer. His fingers fiddle with the cover, finally flipping it open to reveal the papers within. His eyes scan, analyzing everything.

"Alright Rik—"

"Tar," the boy interrupts, eyes glistening like the predator he is.

Zieb's attention flashes to the boy before shifting back down to the paper. "It says here your name is Tarrik."

"Exactly," the dealer snarls, annoyed. "If you're trying to play out some nickname, I go by Tar, not Rik."

"Right, okay then Rik," Zieb continues, a blatant attempt to ignore Tarrik's warning. Tar's face grows hard, lips turning white as they form a scowl. "Tell me, which of the drugs that you sell have the quickest turnover?" Zieb questions, kissing his palms together on the table's gleaming surface and staring into Tarrik's black gaze.

"If you know the answer, why ask?" is all Tar says.

Zieb shrugs, as if it's obvious. "We need it for the records."

Tar huffs, annoyed. "Axenil." He pauses. "At least of late. It's picked up momentum."

Zieb nods, not saying anything for a moment, as if he needs to process the statement. Of course, this is all a game. Interrogations always are. It's all about elongating the moment, making the other person question what your next words will be. "Do you know what's been happening with the Axenil lately?

Tarrik cocks his head to the side. "I don't understand the question."

"Oh, come on." Zieb gives him an exaggerated sigh. "You can't be selling this stuff and not realize what it's doing to the kids buying it."

"I know the effects Ax has on the people that take it," Tar states, his expression still confused.

Zieb tosses his head side to side, sending his dark hair in disarray, but he doesn't seem to mind. "No, no, no. We know all about the normal effects." He stops, watching Tarrik to see if he is catching on. But based on the expression on Tar's face, he's still clueless. "Tell me," Zieb rewinds. "These effects—the ones you know of—do they include seizures and death?"

The question is so blunt it sends me stumbling back a step. I regain balance, gripping the windowsill as I brace for the dealer's response.

Tarrik's expression has gone blank. "I have no idea what you're talking about." The words are steady and strong as he speaks them. They're so well spoken; I can't spot if they're a lie or not. It's clear that inside the room, Zieb is contemplating the same thing.

After an uncomfortably long stare-down, Zieb leans forward in his seat. "Don't you? Because I find it hard to believe that you wouldn't know the drugs you are selling are causing people to die. That seems like something dealers would keep track of."

Tarrik doesn't so much as flit an eye at the accusation. He simply shrugs, keeping his gaze on Zieb. "They give me their money, I give them the drug. The exchange is done. I don't keep tabs on clients after they leave. They don't get in my personal life, I don't get in theirs." His words are plain, and he says them as if they should be obvious. It makes me ponder what kind of personal life he has. Does it revolve around his job? Or is it completely different? Does he have a family? A girlfriend? Kids? Friends? Is he an actual person way deep down or just a mindless drone of a drug dealer?

"You don't care if people die while using the drugs you sold to them?" Zieb slouches against the backrest, his arms crossed over his chest.

Tar hesitates, his expression flying through numerous expressions before settling on something similar to disinterest. "People overdose all the time."