You are so strong, she mocked...
Darkness of the night enveloped the town. It was half past one in the morning, and she had taken her last bow at the Danse Hall. There was a carraige to take her home with Jacque, but she waived him off. He took the reins and with a slap on Jujube the horse, he trotted off into the Parisian air. Walking in the pale moonlight she found a church. She came out of the church's alcove with the marble statue of St. Christopher guarding the door. The patron saint of lost things dourfully looked across the courtyard, gazing at some lost soul who sought comfort and refuge. No comfort here, she thought. There will be no comfort for him. I will teach him the meaning of fear if I ever see him again. Elizabeth Anne l'Ittere hiked up her bloomers and after rolling eyes left and right, she urinated on the statue, and imagined it responding with a dourly frozen scowl. She had not forgotten, this insolent man embarrassed Papa and virtually stolen his money from him with an embarrassing tossoff. She could not find him after he tumbled over the bicycles. She hoped Bernard had a pair permanent scrapes, one in his psyche, the other on his shins.
Walking down the Rue de Avignon by herself, she thought to send another note, but...no, that would not be enough. A plan started to formulate in her mind, one that could make Bernard (that stench of a wisp of an old man) go mad. Toy with him, she must, and make him pay dearly for his existance, and soon. The winter's chill was beginning to set in as she turned to her flat, and she turned her collar inward. Perhaps the local house of ill repute, that slur of an establishment, could be used to bring down his reputation, and with no one to trust him, he will be alienated, embarrassed, and perhaps humiliated.
Elizabeth's plan was coming together and she arrived home, opened the flat and went to the bookself where her Necromancing tome was located. Damn! The problem with the black arts is that one needs near proximity to make spells work right. Increasing time and distance weakens in inverse proportion to the target. Perhaps.... perhaps... Elizabeth poured over the evil hate book, forming a new plan to bring down Bernard in his weakness, so to feel big and important and strong. "Youre so strong, Bernard!" she mocked silently to the book. "So much stronger than I..."