by Marie Dry
Sabrina smiled and carefully turned. She didn’t need to kill any more champagne glasses with sudden movements. “When did you get back?” She hugged Mikaela who pulled a face.
“Yesterday. I was going to phone you, but I fell asleep.”
They’d kept in contact via What’s Up and Skype while Mikaela was abroad, but it was wonderful to have her back.
“I’m just glad you’re back at last, I’ve missed you,” Sabrina told her best friend. She didn’t begrudge her friend the job in London, but her leaving after the accident had felt like a betrayal. Sabrina had to work hard at not resenting her friend going off to London when she needed her the most.
Mikaela rubbed her tired-looking eyes. “I missed you too, I can’t believe I gave up all this sunshine to live in a lonely rainy city for two years.” She didn’t sound happy at all, didn’t look like the optimistic and perpetually smiling woman who left two years ago.
“You sounded as if you enjoyed London when we spoke over the phone.”
Mikaela shrugged, and there was something different in that shrug. Something Sabrina couldn’t put her finger on. “I’m just tired. It was great and good experience for when I start my own business.” Her smile was forced. “Enough about me, you’re married, girl.”
In spite of her words, Sabrina saw the sharp look Mikaela gave her.
“Sometimes I can’t believe I’m actually married.” And sometimes, when she saw Mark move faster than her eyes could follow, when he brought out evil in a young woman, she feared for her marriage. For her very soul.
An uncomfortable silence fell between them. Mikaela must’ve seen Mark hone in on Jo, and Sabrina didn’t know what to say.
“So, what do you think that woman saw that made her scream like that? My mother would kill me if I acted like that,” Mikaela rushed to say, obviously trying to fill the uncomfortable silence, both of them aware of Mark standing much too close to Jo, not far from them.
“Introduce me to your friend,” Mark said and put his arm around Sabrina.
She stiffened, but leaned against him, her knee aching from standing so much. She hated that she enjoyed the feel of him against her when she was so mad.
Mikaela smiled her wide friendly smile. “You must be Mark, I’m glad to meet you at last.”
Did he tense slightly?
He nodded at Mikaela, shook her hand, and gave her a measuring look. The same look he gave every young woman he met. “I’m glad to finally meet the woman who once walked backward with my wife for a whole three months.”
Jo stood looking at Mark, seeming unaware of anyone else in the room.
“We were ten years old, we thought we’d discover the world from a different viewpoint,” Mikaela said. She widened her eyes at Sabrina, the way she always did when she saw a handsome man and couldn’t tell Sabrina in words.
“Instead, we got aching necks from looking over our shoulders to be able to see where we were going,” Sabrina said.
They all laughed while Jo stared up at Mark with an eerie unblinking gaze, not reacting to the conversation. After a while, he and Jo moved away.
“Is it just me or is Jo acting odd,” Sabrina asked her friend.
“I used to go to school with her. She didn’t used to be like this,” Mikaela said.
Sabrina merely shrugged. She used to tell Mikaela everything, but she couldn’t tell Mikaela that she suspected her husband was a vampire, that Jo was probably his next meal, and that he’d hold her in thrall until he’d drunk his fill.
An hour later, her knee aching, Mark found her still chatting with Mikaela. Sabrina expected him to put his arm around her, the way he usually did when he’d been chatting up all the beautiful women in the room. This time, she was ready with her elbow if he tried, but he stood a distance from her.
Mark looked down at Sabrina, his face expressionless. “I won’t come home with you.”
Her heart missed a beat and then she could literally feel the muscles around it contract. Her breath left her with a soft whoosh without her volition. She was so sure he had no interest in Jo. That his actions had something to do with his strange abilities. Never did she think he was capable of humiliating her like this in front of her friend.
“What?” she tried to say, but no sound emerged.
She’d thought they’d go home and have an epic fight they’d tell their grandchildren about one day. He’d apologize and make love to her, and she’d forget that sometimes his eyes glowed and he appeared and reappeared in different places. That he’d looked at Jo with that disturbing mixture of distaste and intent. Deep inside, she’d feared he’d pack his bags and leave.
“You heard me.” No inflection, no guilt or discomfort.
“How can you do this?” The words escaped her before she could stop them. She was relieved to see Mikaela had withdrawn a polite distance.
Ice cold gaze, his face expressionless, Sabrina couldn’t believe this was the same charming man she married.
“Samuel will take you home. He’s waiting for you at the door.”
“How can you do this?” she asked again and blinked angry tears away.
“He’ll stay with you until I’m back.” Again, he ignored he question, the hurt he had to see in her eyes.
She lifted her chin, squared her shoulders, and thought she saw admiration flash briefly in his eyes. She didn’t care. He sent her home alone so that he could be with another woman. “Don’t bother ever coming home,” she said through clenched teeth. Dismissing him, she turned to Mikaela. “I’m going. I’ll phone you tomorrow.”
Ignoring the sympathy in Mikaela’s eyes, Sabrina went in search of her hosts.
She found the Greylings saying goodbye to departing guests and quietly took her leave of them. Samuel waited for her at the door and escorted her to the car parked at the bottom of the imposing stairs. She would’ve preferred not to go home with Mark’s henchman, but she wanted to go home. She needed to be in her workroom, maybe the lingering presence of her Ouma will soothe her.
The pity in Mikaela’s eyes, the concern on the Greylings’ faces, stung her pride.
Samuel held open the car door for her and she got in, her fists balled, jaw clenched so tight her teeth ached. Married three months and it was over already. She hurt so much, it manifested physically. When he got home, she’d have a thing or two to say to him. Before she kicked him out of her house.
Chapter 3
At the house, Samuel walked inside with her and went through the house, while she stood impatiently waiting, tapping her foot, too angry to care that he didn’t talk to her. When he’d gone through every room in the house, he went to stand at the door, silent, his face expressionless.
“I don’t want you inside my house. I’m kicking Mark out, and you and the wolf can go now.” She waited for him to fight back, to say something that would give her an excuse to scream like a demented person.
Instead, he merely stood against the door, staring straight ahead. The dog sat next to him on his haunches and, so help her if that was a smirk on his face, she’d shave him, paint him pink, and put a dress on him.
With a last glare at both of them, she stormed up the stairs to her workroom, her aching knee dragging more than usual. She needed the calm her sewing brought her. Halfway up the stairs, she stopped and took off her shoes. Her knee ached and the shoes made it worse. She couldn’t let her anger and hurt cause her to make her injury worse.
Barefoot, she carefully limped up the stairs to the second floor where the two bedrooms were and up another short flight of stairs to the attic and into her workroom.
Inside the room that spanned the length of the house, she stood against the wall, battling tears, trying to soak up the peace in the room that had been the sewing room of the women in her family for more than a century. This was the one room in the house where she still felt Ouma’s presence. Tonight she needed it as much as she’d needed it after the accident.
Sabrina switched on the light, let the shawl fall on the floor, and limped
to the rocking chair Ouma used to sew in. Sabrina sat down and massaged her aching knee. “How dare he?” She sighed. “Ouma, I wish you were here,” she whispered. Ouma had always know just what to say and do to make everything better.
Sabrina had resisted marrying Mark at first, especially because they knew each other such a short time. She’d still been reeling from the accident and Jennifer’s death. It was as if everyone she dared care for left her, even if they had to die to leave her. As if fate decided to take everything at once, it took her mother then Jennifer. When Mikaela suddenly left to live in London, Sabrina had felt betrayed, but also relieved. If Mikaela was far away from her, maybe she wouldn’t die.
Mark had convinced her, didn’t give up on her, and now she was married to who knows what. A creature that could move like lightning and make his eyes glow like a freak show. Who enthralled young women and left his wife alone to go off and do who knows what?
Sabrina grabbed the measuring tape and threw it against the wall. It plopped down on the red Indonesian kilim before it reached its target. Furious she threw the scissors, and they hit the wall with a satisfying thump. “I’ll show him, I’ll kick him out of my house so fast his evil vampire head will spin.”
She grabbed a spool of thread and threw that as well. Humiliating her in front of her best friend. The thought of him alone somewhere with Jo made her look around for something else to throw. Something that would make a satisfying shattering noise. Maybe then her heart would stop trying to break into a million pieces. Sabrina took a deep breath and picked up the scissors and the measuring tape.
“Deep breaths, Sabrina, sit down and look at the patterns,” she said out loud.
The words Ouma had said to her so many times. Sabrina sat down and picked up the pattern she’d cut earlier.
Was fate telling her she was to be alone for the rest of her life? That she wasn’t meant to have love. Maybe there was a higher purpose waiting for her. She picked up the paper pattern she’d cut the previous day and folded the material that was cut slightly bigger so it would fold over the paper pattern.
Her hands only shook a little. Breathing in and out, focusing only on the texture of the material, she pinned the material to the paper and then threaded her needle. Sewing everything by hand was a long process, but she enjoyed doing it this way. She’d made a name for herself creating handstitched silk quilts with traditional patterns.
Sabrina closed her eyes and forced her breathing to calm even more. This time, she managed to thread the needle with steady hands. Was he kissing Jo? Her hands trembled again and she stuck the needle into her finger. She swore, blinked away tears, and doggedly continued sewing.
The way the pattern came to life piece by piece soothed her.
Maybe she’d call this one blood and tears.
“I thought I’d find you here.”
After one quick glance, she focused on her hands. He leaned a wide shoulder against the door, arms crossed over his powerful chest, not one ounce of guilt or discomfort on his face. The rat.
Sabrina held the needle so tight, it was a miracle it didn’t break. Focusing all her concentration on the material in her hand, she stitched with slow deliberate movements. If she stopped sewing, she’d gibs slap him and, with her luck, his teeth would grow and he’d bite her.
“I didn’t expect you back this soon. Or is cheating on your wife done faster these days?” she sniped.
He sighed, as if he was the wronged person. She had to breathe very deeply for a moment to stop herself from jumping up and pummeling him.
“I didn’t sleep with Jo.”
“I don’t believe you.” Actually she almost did, but wasn’t about to give him the impression he could treat her like dirt and get away with it. She’d seen what it did to her mother. She wanted to know what was going on, exactly what was going on. “I want the truth.” She might sound hoarse, but at least her voice was calm. She’d be dignified through this. No hysterics. No throwing things at him and screaming like a broom seller. “Why did you have me come home alone so that you could stay with Jo? And don’t deny you wanted to be with her.”
“It’s not what you think.”
“So what is it?”
Did he really think there was any way to misinterpret his actions?
He hesitated, a strange way for him to act. “You have to trust me.”
Maybe she’d gibs slap him, after all. He straightened and paced up and down, making her workroom seem small with his towering presence. In a strange way, he also fitted among her grandmother’s antique desk and cutting table, the pieces of their family history displayed. A small silver cup, said to be from Indonesia, a patchwork blanket framed and hung on the wall, made by her great grandmother for her first child.
“Do you believe I didn’t have intercourse with Jo?”
What an old-fashioned way to put it. Sabrina hesitated. Did she believe him, or was she so desperate to believe he wouldn’t do that to her, that she closed her eyes to the truth? And why was she suddenly the one being interrogated?
“Don’t play games with me, Mark. You went off with another woman tonight.” She very carefully stitched a seam into where she’d folded the material over the paper. “If the positions were reversed, would you meekly go home and accept me going off with another man?”
He checked and swung around, fixed her with a ferocious glare. “Don’t you ever dare--” Realization dawned and his shoulders tensed even more. “I can’t tell you what’s going on, but I’m not interested in Jo in any carnal way.”
Her eyes played a terrible trick on her and his skin changed, as if parts of it struggled to stay human. It became like granite, his eyes glowed, long incisors gleamed in the artificial light. She really was going crazy, because, for a fleeing moment, she’d also seen wings.
Sabrina whimpered and pierced her finger instead of the material. She didn’t know if she was turning schizophrenic or if he was a monster. “Please stop.”
As sudden as the illusion started, it disappeared.
Mark prowled to her with an eerie soundless stride, his eyes flashing backlit white. He took the material and needle out of her hand and carefully put them on the little table where she kept the scissors, silver thimble, and other precious items she inherited from Ouma. He kissed her and this time it was more bitter than chocolate.
She drew away from him. “You don’t go off with another woman and then kiss me.”
“Oh, hell.”
Before she realized his intent, he picked her up.
“What are you doing?” She wanted to stay mad at him, not feel a thrill at being carried as if she weighed nothing. Not after he’d changed into something that scared her out of her mind. “Put me down, I’m not done telling you off.” She narrowed her eyes at him. “Are you laughing at me?”
“This room is too small. We’ll talk downstairs.” He carried her to the stairs.
Sabrina glared up at him. “That room is not too small. It runs the length of the house.”
“It’s small and I’m not having this conversation. I’m not fighting with you over the size of a room because you are mad and want to pick a fight.” He reached the bottom of the stairs, walked to the living room, and lowered her carefully down on the couch.
He paced up and own before her, the way he’d done upstairs, acting like a man under a bigger threat than being accused of adultery. Pushing a hand through his short brown hair, he picked up the remote and switched on the large television he’d installed in her cozy living room, even before they got married. Sabrina thought it was more a case of wanting to do something than a need to watch television. She’d never seen him like this.
Her stopped and nailed her with a look that burned. “It’s not what you think. I’m not interested in--” He stiffened and turned towards the television.
A young newscaster gazed at them from the television screen. A picture was shown behind her and Mark stopped and stared at it, his skin paling. “Translate that, now,” he clipped ou
t.
Sabrina listened to the Afrikaans news cast and translated it for him as best she could. “John Chamberlain, the documentary film maker, famous for his work on Pangea, infamous for his claim that intelligent life existed on the first continent, was found dead in his home this morning.”
Mark swore with an inventiveness that made her blink. On the television screen, the newscaster continued in Afrikaans, and Sabrina repeated in English. “Mr. Chamberlain died under gruesome circumstances. His corpse was a dry husk. The coroner is at a lost for an explanation as to the condition of the body.”
Mark watched the whole program, listening to her translation without moving or even blinking. He paced in front of the television, his gaze fixed on the screen. What made her breath catch and induced the desire to whimper like a child, was the way his body changed between human and something else. In her darkest moments, she’d feared vampires existed and she’d married one. Now she wondered if maybe she didn’t marry something worse. She wanted to run but her knee made moving at more than a slow limp impossible. Even if she could run, her legs had gone boneless. They wouldn’t hold her weight.
Mark spat out something in a language she didn’t understand. Lowering the volume on the television, he threw the remote on the couch where it bounced a few times.
“Why are you so upset over his death? Did you know him?” She’d been married to Mark for three months, had made love with him, but at this moment all she wanted to do was run from him. Screaming. Maybe she could sneak out when he wasn’t focused on her.
In the background, the newscaster reported about several young women disappearing in the Cape Town City area. Sabrina’s heart ached for their families. She couldn’t imagine the fear they must feel at this moment.
He stopped pacing, and she could see him gathering his control.
“No, I didn’t know him.”
“Then why are you so upset?” And why was she having this conversation instead of throwing the rat out of her house? She’d promised herself that she would never put up with this kind of nonsense. She and Mikaela had promised each other to be stronger than their mothers. They’d only been twelve when they made that promise, but Sabrina always intended to keep it. Except, how did you throw out a scary-looking creature with wings?
