Chapter 3: Chapter 3: Another Woman
The sound of people talking, the soft chamber music, and their hostess's voice receded until she only saw, through a long dark tunnel, her husband in the arms of another woman. The tunnel evaporated and the scene flashed like garish disco lights in front of her. Sound rushed back, assaulting her ears with the chink of glasses, conversation, music, and the very faint hum of arriving cars.
Sabrina's heart missed a beat when, instead of moving back after a perfunctory kiss, Mark stood staring down at Jo. Big and masculine opposite Jo's slender model-perfect figure, he drew several envious female eyes. Jo's golden hair formed a foil for the darkness of his.
Sabrina stared at her husband. Something was off about the look on his face. She knew what he looked like when he desired her. That was not the way he looked at Jo. Those dark hooded eyes gave the impression of slumbering sensuality. She'd been so shocked by his behavior, it had taken her a few minutes to realize the look on his face wasn't that of a man attracted to a beautiful woman. If Sabrina had to describe it, she'd say it was the look Van Helsing gave Dracula right before he staked him.
Mark gently put Jo away from him and she shook her head, as if she'd been in a trance, golden hair rippling around her face in a beautiful display that made Sabrina check her nails to see if it had actually turned into claws. Jo looked around as if dazed and then visibly shook it off. "Let's move inside. Would you like a drink?" she asked.
Sabrina was left standing there. Humiliation burned in her gut, bubbled into her throat and up, until she feared it would burst through her skull. How could he do this to her? She didn't care if he desired Jo or not. Sabrina was not like her mother, who'd smiled and glossed over Sabrina's father's love of other women.
With great care, Sabrina moved forward on the flat evening slippers, feeling frumpy in her sensible shoes and with her limp next to Jo's feline grace in her elegant high-heeled sandals.
Sabrina was tempted to just leave, to call a taxi, and go back home. She started to carefully turn toward the door and then hesitated. This had something to do with the way he sometimes moved so fast, the way his incisors seemed to lengthen.
The look Mark gave Jo had scared Sabrina. Not hatred precisely, but something akin to it, mixed with pity. If she hadn't seen the speed with which he moved, the way his eyes sometimes glowed, she might've thought he was about to cheat on her with Jo.
At first glance, Jo looked like a woman flirting with a handsome man. The way she watched him without taking her eyes off him reminded Sabrina of a snake mesmerized. Sabrina had the strangest impression that Jo had no choice in what she did, as if drugs or some compulsion drove her.
Jo's mother smiled at Sabrina, clearly uncomfortable at her daughter's behavior. "Welcome, Mrs. Dimir. I'm Joyce Greyling."
Sabrina forced a smile. "Please call me Sabrina."
"Sabrina, what a lovely name," Joyce Greyling said and then seemed at a loss for words.
They both stared at Mark and Jo, who was oblivious of the world around them. When she was a child, Sabrina frequently had the feeling of being an interloper and always had the vague fear that she'd be discovered and sent away from gatherings like these. For the first time in years that same feeling of not belonging settled over her.
"The Bothas have arrived, my dear," James Greyling said pointedly.
He didn't have a kind gaze like his wife.
"Please excuse me, Sabrina. If you need something not served on the trays, a waiter will get what you need from the kitchen." Joyce turned away with a thinly veiled look of relief.
Sabrina walked through the foyer and limped down steps into what looked like a big old-fashioned ballroom. Glittering crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling and marble floors shone with a beautiful rose sheen beneath the expensively shod feet of the guests.
A white clad waiter hurried over to offer her a drink from a gleaming silver tray. Sabrina took a glass and looked around, a little lost. She clenched her hands around the stem of the elegant flute, not caring if she broke it, Mark hadn't even spared her a glance when he went off with Jo.
Sabrina stumbled, and her aching knee gave way under her. Desperate not to fall flat on her face in front of everyone, she grabbed the arm of the waiter next to her. The silver tray and glasses shattered on the floor. Alcohol fumes drifted up from the mess on the floor. Everyone turned to stare while Sabrina desperately clung to the waiter's arm. She swallowed tears of anger and humiliation, wanting to crawl into a deep dark hole and just curl up and cry. "I'm so sorry."
"Not a problem, madam." The waiter was stoic and several of the catering staff quickly cleaned up the mess.
Sabrina closed her eyes, took a deep breath, opened them, and stepped away from the waiter. She stilled, unable to take another step. Cold dread suddenly slithered down her spine. She forgot her embarrassment, even her hurt over Mark's behavior. The awful feeling of dread and evil hung over the large ballroom like a specter hiding in the rafters at a feast.
Gifts
-- Gift
received Weekly Power Status
-- Power
Ranking 
-- Power
stone