The silence pulsed with their emotions as Sabrina and Mark stared at each other. "Just once, I'd like to feel as if I'm the most important thing in your life," she growled. "Maybe it's selfish of me, but wouldn't it be nice if the man who claims to be my husband, told me he could never face giving me up to monsters?"
Some emotion, anguish or desperation or both, flashed in his gaze. "Sabrina, you have no concept of the evil of the drogge. What they will do to this town."
"The drogge are stirring again?" Christopher asked.
"Yes, have you heard about the women disappearing?"
"That's the drogge? I should've known." Christopher swore long and fluently and Sabrina had to admire his inventiveness.
"I heard you'd died. Couldn't find a trace of you," Mark said.
Sabrina heard real emotion, caring. She'd sensed friendship when he dealt with the werewolves, hatred when he talked to the gargoyles. With Christopher, she sensed a strong bond, almost as if they were brothers.