Light work, it thought.
Resurrected by the dark soul mere moments previously, the spectre had only one gruesome mission this night. His reviver had tried to use beings in this time but they had failed. Thus, it had been called forward to do again what it had done many years before.
Once the task was complete, it could drift back to its oblivion, a dark oblivion it had occupied for nearly five hundred years.
A dark, wicked oblivion.
The spectre was happy for its task. It needed a break from that place.
* * * * *
In the bedroom, Colin lifted Sibyl up in his arms and he kissed her as he walked toward the bed. Her arms slid around his shoulders, one hand drifting into the hair at the back of his head as she kissed him back.
He stopped at the side of the bed and dropped her legs, allowing her feet to fall slowly toward the floor, all the while her body skimming against his.
“I take it you like the nightie,” she breathed, her eyes liquid.
In answer, his hands glided down her sides and he felt her delicious shiver.
“I’ll count that as a yes,” she whispered.
His hands came forward and he watched them as they moved across her ribcage, up under her br**sts where they stopped.
Oh yes, Colin most definitely liked the nightie.
“Someone told me once,” Sibyl was saying, although he wasn’t listening to her, he was pleasantly contemplating where to put his hands next. Thinking maybe he’d tug the hem up to get a better look at the satin panties of which he could now only see a tantalising glimpse. Or, perhaps, he’d run his palms against her ni**les to see how they looked hardened under that exquisite lace.
She kept talking. “That you should never commit to a man unless you’ve been with him through all four seasons.”
“Mm?” he mumbled as he decided on her ni**les.
Then he heard her breath catch as he carried out his plan.
Her voice continued doggedly (although it was now quivering a little). “We’ve only been through one season and we’re not even through that.”
He decided that, as God saw fit to grant him two hands, he could use them for two splendidly different purposes. He ran one down her side, shifting it to slide down the small of her back to her ass. The other, he kept at her breast and again lightly ran his thumb over her nipple.
That earned him another catch of her breath.
But she kept speaking.
“Colin? Are you listening to me? Maybe we’re being a bit hasty.”
With great reluctance, he lifted his eyes from his fascinated study of what his thumb was doing to her breast. He looked at her face just as his thumb, joined by his finger, became a little more relentless. As she was talking, indeed carrying on what seemed a weighty conversation, he decided he wasn’t doing his job very well.
As his fingers tugged at her, his hand cupped her bottom and pressed it to his rigid groin.
Her eyes grew dazed, her mouth parted and a soft breath escaped.
“Sibyl?” he called.
She nodded. “Unh hunh?”
“Shut up.”
* * * * *
In the gatehouse, another spectre dispatched the watchful guard at the same time the last was felled at the edge of the third terrace of the back garden.