I knew the S.R.A. would not wait long before she made her attack against Oliver. Two weeks after I gave him the chain, I was woken at dawn with the most awful feeling - I swear I could hear her screams of rage - and I immediately thought of Oliver and that he might be in danger.
And so I rushed down the lane to his home and what did I see? He was prostrate on the ground! I almost fainted myself for fear he was dead, but I ran to him and saw he was breathing - I cried in relief that he was unharmed. Oh thank the blessings of the Earth that I thought to protect him with the periapt.
He awoke and I could not help but smile through the tears. I took his dear precious sensitive hand and kissed it again and again. He looked puzzled and then, in a moment, seeming to remember what had happened, he shuddered. I insisted he get into his bed. Although he swore several times that he was perfectly fine, I could see that he was pale and unnerved, and so with some more insistence, I succeeded in getting him into bed. I made him some tea. I asked him what had happened.
"I don't know, exactly." he replied. "I seem to have a memory of children playing a prank - oh yes - there were two women at the side of the road and I thought they were making a fire. But they were not. And then..." he hesitated and seemed to be working something out... "I must have fallen asleep while reading... and walked in my sleep."
"Have you engaged in somnambulism before?"
"Not so far as I know. And what a dream I had! There was screaming! Such an awful sound - even now, I can hear it."
"Did it say anything?"
"I don't recall now... yes... it said... something about my soul?"
I tried to hide my response, but he read me all too well, as usual.
"What is the matter, Betsy?" he asked.
"Perhaps the dream was an omen." I said. "Did it say anything else?"
"It said a strange word - it sounded like... peregrin? No, precept?"
I could not help but blurt out: "periapt - that is what your chain is called - a periapt. I think the dream was an omen - it is warning you to never ever remove the chain."
"Now Betsy" he scoffed, "enough of your superstitions. I wear this chain because it makes you happy and it is no trouble. I only notice it when bathing. But really, you must not obsess about it so."
He then commenced to lecture me on the absurdity of superstitions, but I did not listen. I am afraid that his mention of bathing provoked unbidden thoughts of his naked body. That image, combined with my gratitude that he was unharmed and consequent deep feeling of tenderness for him, created a hurricane of emotion deep within me, and a wave of intense erotic desire coursed through me. I was sitting on a chair right next to my dear one, and there he lie, in all his masculine splendor, speaking to me in his lovely baritone, and his nakedness covered only by a few layers of fabric. I could think of nothing but disrobing him. Of course I could not have my way with him, even if I should try to force myself upon him - he is not a very large man but I have no doubt he could easily overpower me. There are other ways of swaying a man's will - but I cannot think to use sorcery to make him desire me! Then I would be traveling on the left-hand path - I would become like her.
In any case, I excused myself and immediately went home before I could entertain the idea further. But why must I even think for an instant of using sorcery - why does he not desire me? It is a torment to endure, this indifference.