Chapter 14
Sarai's Secret
During a tense exchange, Sarai Toho lets slip a detail that hints at a deeper, more personal connection to the supernatural underworld than she has ever revealed. Bishop Dark, his instincts honed by years of dealing with deception, suspects she knows far more about Talia's disappearance than she has admitted. He presses her, sensing that her carefully constructed facade is beginning to crack, and that her secrets might hold the key to his sister's whereabouts.
The air in Sarai’s establishment was thick with the scent of exotic incense and something vaguely metallic, like old pennies and spilled blood. Bishop Dark leaned back in a chair that felt suspiciously like it was upholstered in cured snake skin, swirling the amber liquid in his glass. Sarai, perched on a stool across from him, was a study in controlled chaos. Her dark hair was a wild halo, her eyes sharp and assessing, and her fingers, adorned with rings that glinted like trapped fireflies, drummed a restless rhythm on the polished surface of her desk.
"So," Bishop began, his voice a low rumble that seemed to vibrate the very bones of the room, "you've been unusually quiet lately, Sarai. Not like you to miss a good scuttlebutt. You got something brewing, or just enjoying the peace?"
Sarai’s drumming fingers stilled. A faint smile played on her lips, a knowing, dangerous thing. "Peace is a relative term, Bishop. Especially in our line of work. But yes, I’ve heard things. Murmurs. Whispers that make the hairs on my neck stand up, and you know how rarely that happens." She paused, her gaze flicking to a shadowed corner of the room, as if checking for eavesdroppers. "The usual rogue vamps and stray shifters are just background noise. This… this feels different. More coordinated. Like a well-oiled machine of misery."
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