"Oh . . . oh, my god."
"I told you again and again that you wouldn't want to read it."
Danny dropped the finished book, having read it twice over, still not believing it.
"Well, I hadn't thought it would be quite like this!"
"You never think, that's your problem."
Danny ignored him, his eye twitching, the truth of it finally sinking in. He whirled on Ghost Writer.
"You can't publish this!"
"I could."
"You can't!"
"It just wouldn't be very nice." Ghost Writer thought it over, the options turning over in his head. Finally, he sighed and handed the book back to Danny.
"Fine, then, you keep it. If you keep it in your lair, no one will ever know the difference."
"But they're bound to find it in my room." Danny rubbed the back of his neck.
"Your lair, stupid, not your room. You know, Phantom's Keep?"
"But there is no Phantom's Keep."
"You won Pariah's Keep when you battled him. You also won the crown, but that doesn't matter until you're of age. Put it in the library- I know for a fact it has one- and keep it there. No one will ever know."
"Except me."
"Well, yeah."
"Okay. I'll do it." Danny jumped up, floating in front Ghost Writer and made a face. "Each lair fits the needs of the ghost who owns it, right? So it won't be all deathly and creepy, right? It'll have transformed or something?"
"Hopefully so." The purple ghost pulled up a new file and began typing another story.
"Got it." And with that, the young hero flew off.
~DP~
"Wow."
Wow was right. Pariah's lair had completely transformed from the awful mountain it had been before to a much more fairytale-like castle. Mostly a silvery-gray, it had black flags with the oh-so-famous DP on them in white, resting atop black-shingled, narrow towers. It floated completely alone on a rock, a medium sized courtyard in the front to serve as a receiving pad.
Classy, huh?
"Now to find the library . . . " Danny stuck out his tongue and opened the door. Made expertly of black wood, it had silvery-white knockers and handles, polished by unseen hands to perfection. Kicking off, he pushed off the ground and began to float slowly in, closing the door behind him. The receiving hall was amazing. He hadn't noticed it before, but two large windows on either side of the door were rimmed in the same black wood as the door, with enormous curtains that swept down to brush against the floor. He touched the white material softly, smiling at the softness. What was it . . . silk? Cotton, maybe? Jazz would know. He went back to floating towards the large, doorless frame at the opposite end of the hall, ignoring the enormous silver-gray staircases going up from either side of him to the next floor in his quest. The black frames were intricately carved in silver, filling the void that could've been boring. He stepped into a long gray stoned corridor, tapestries lining the walls. No library in here.
"Hello . . ." he whispered into the empty space. This place wasn't all that creepy, but it would be a bit more tolerable if there were more people than just him. "Hn."
He opened the first door on his left, one of the few in the hallway. The scent of old paper and slightly burnt candles hit him just before the sight of what had to be more than a thousand books did.
It was spectacular- tomes and volumes upon volumes of every subject you could imagine, all contained on enormous wooden shelves- black, unsurprisingly. The floor was suddenly covered in white carpet, and the silver-cushioned armchairs were placed just beneath the candle-holders on the walls, with more in the center clearing of the room. Looking closer, Danny could see that there were ectogreen throw pillows on the chairs. He closed the door lightly behind him and began to look for a place to hide the book he currently held.
History section . . . he stuck out his tongue and walked by.
Fantasy . . . no. A story like this just didn't belong here. He walked on.
Sci-fi, biographies, fiction, he walked past them all. There wasn't really a place to put the book.
"Well, that's just . . ." He trailed off, finally having reached the back corner of the library. There was a window seat stretching across the corner, the glass behind it clear and unperturbed. The ectogreen cushioned seated was large enough to hold two people, either side by side or stretched out. The shelf above it was empty, save a few three-ring binders and books similar to the one he was holding.
". . . great!" Hopping up and floating to the shelf up above, he tucked it in between two binders marked 'Violet Haze' and 'Amethyst Ocean'. At the sight of the word Amethyst, though, he began to blush, remembering a passage of the very book he was trying to get rid of.
"Danny . . ." She whispered, her breath making him shiver, her beautiful amethyst eyes boring into his, reading his soul. He laughed softly.
"Sam . . ." He pressed his lips back onto hers, closing his eyes, their lashes fluttering together. The moon still shone brightly down onto the covers bunched up around them, splattering them with white light. His hands moved down, freeing her arms, his fingers finding her waist and flipping her onto him. He pressed her closer to his body, grinding their waists together, moving his hips to the beat of an unheard tune.
All because of those Amethyst eyes.
Stop it, Mind. You are dredging up memories from-
-From the part of your mind you cherish the most-
- FROM the darkest parts of Hell. Now, Danny thought, what to do. Do I tell Sam? Should I not tell her? Should I lead her to the book- no, lend her the book? Should I forget about it? CAN I forget about it?
While he was fuming, back in Amity Park, a few certain people were getting worried.
"He said he was just going to visit an ally or two!" Jazz slammed her un-read textbook shut in frustration. The younger two sighed.
"Yeah. I mean, what could possibly be happening over there? Nothing's been signifying an attack, and it's not like he'd just forget . . ." Tucker slurped angrily at his slurpie. Sam laughed in her sarcastic way.
"Guys, I'm sure he's fine. He probably just got a little . . . sidetracked!"
"You keep telling yourself that. You just don't want to admit that your boyfriend's gone missing." Tucker chewed a bit on his straw. Her gaze suddenly turned cold, turning the Nasty Burger's booth's atmosphere to hypothermic proportions, though she kept the twisted smile.
"Nonsense, Tucker. Besides," Her face darkened, and Tucker gulped as her hands clenched into fists, "People don't count as missing until their gone for twenty-four hours. Lesse . . . that gives you exactly, hm, twenty-one and a half hours until the police start looking for you when I'm done torturing you."
"Sam, let's be reasonable." Jazz lay her hands atop each other on her textbook. "We all know that Danny can handle himself, so he did probably just get sidetracked. And Lancer said you didn't even need pencils tomorrow, right? He won't be missed. I'd say," She checked her watch, "That we'll all be together, right here in this very booth, at this time tomorrow."
"What time is it, anyway?" Tucker smiled, grateful for the distraction.
"5:30."
"Crud! My parents are gonna kill me! I gotta run!" He chugged the rest of his slurpie and ran out the door. Sam gulped.
"I might not enjoy following my parents orders, but it's Mom's birthday today and she'll kill me if I'm late to dinner. Bye, Jazz!" She sprinted off, following the same smoking track Tucker left. Jazz sighed.
'Come home soon, little brother. I don't think we'll last much longer.'