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The Illusion of Secrecy	By : Khaleesi-Of-Dragons Category: S through Z > Thirteen Ghosts Views: 1994 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I don't own anything from 13 Ghosts and I make no profit from this story

Chapter List
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I was in bed the first time I heard the noise; it was nearly ten at night and I was by myself in a big glass house. Curious, I grab my phone and start looking through the house, stopping in front of the stairs that lead down into the basement. Normally there was a pane of glass that kept anyone without a key from going down there, but that panes had slid away as I approached. There was no denying that I was curious, especially since Cyrus is nowhere in sight and wouldn't be back until late. With one last look over my shoulder I start down the stairs towards the screams. Is Cyrus the type to keep people down in his basement? Holy shit, what if he's a serial killer? All the theories run through my head, but none of them was even close to right when I find screams coming from empty glass boxes with Latin embedded in it. I stand in front of one of the boxes that screams were coming from, looking for anything that could cause the noise. "What the hell," I mumble, looking for something to open the door.
"Don't you dare!" I jump at the new voice, spinning on my heel to find a tall man with hair cut close to his head. "Trust me, you don't want to do that." He had glasses on, but not the normal kind like mine, they're made of thick, clear plastic with a small light on either side of them. I back up against the box, wishing I'd have brought a weapon with me, even if it was only something simple like my notebook. The man holds up both hands in a peaceful gesture, his palms facing me. "Look, I'm not gonna hurt you, but that thing in there won't hesitate. Come on, let's go upstairs and wait for Cyrus."
"You know Cyrus?"
"Yeah, he's my boss." The only person I'd seen that works with Cyrus is Ben, other than him no one came to the house that I knew of. "You, uh, you arehis daughter right?" I nod suspiciously, eyeing the man and pressing myself more firmly against the glass. The screams had amplified when the man came in and they were beginning to cause a migraine. "I'm Dennis Rafkin." He extends one of his arms, holding out a hand for me to shake. "Cyrus never told me your name."
"Elizabeth...Follow me." I push past him and up the stairs into a room I discovered last month. Like all the rest of the house, the walls are glass with Latin written on them, but the floor is different colors that form a mosaic of roses. In the far corner of the room is a piano and set against the wall by the door is a sofa where Cyrus and Ben often sit and talk while I played. "We're staying in here until Cyrus and Ben get back." Dennis shrugs, plopping down on the sofa and propping his feet up on the low coffee table. I scowl at his lack of manners, walking over to the piano and beginning to play the first song that came to mind. A song called Simone's Song that Stana Katic sings in a Librarian movie. "I see the sadness in your eyes is more than you let on, they ask where love has gone. Was it some magic or a twist, a spell that crossed the stars? Whatever happened here we are."
"That's enough, Libby." I look at Ben over my shoulder, resting my hands in my lap. Cyrus stands next to him, both of his hands resting on top of the cane he doesn't need, I know that inside is a blade that he practices with every night when he thinks I'm asleep. "Go and put on some of your grunge clothes, we're going on a field trip to your father's work." I bite my lip, wondering whether to ask about the basement or not before deciding it'd be dumb to tell on myself. I move out of the room and up the stairs to my bedroom, pulling on a long-sleeved plaid shirt, a pair of ripped jeans, and red converses. Once back downstairs I notice a whole team of men standing in the living room, all wearing the same strange glasses as Dennis.
"Here, you'll need these," Dennis says, offering me a pair. "They're your prescription, Cyrus and the suit made sure of it." I take them with a soft thank you, replacing my glasses with them. The Latin on the walls glow a bright gold and when I look down I find some more there. That's weird, did he have that written there in invisible ink or something? Dennis has his glasses resting on the top of his head, his hands stuffed in the pockets of his jacket. "Cyrus is waiting for us outside in his car." Dennis and I walk outside with the other men, climbing in with Cyrus while the others get in trucks and follow after us.
/*/The First Spook Hunt—The Jackal/*/
The old hospital we stop in front of sends shivers down my spine; it's badly burned and falling to pieces. Is this really where Cyrus did his work or was Ben just being a sarcastic ass? "Stay close, Elizabeth, I don't need you getting yourself hurt," Cyrus instructs as we exit the car and walk through the doors of the hospital. The plaque beside the door was badly stained and barely readable—Borehamwood Asylum. I did a report over this place last year for my speech class, apparently it housed people no one wanted to take care of, deemed lunatics for having genetic diseases like Down syndrome.
"I know about this place," I say to no one in particular," it housed one of Willow Grove's most dangerous patients, Ryan Kuhn." Dennis nods, keeping an arms distance away from everyone. "From what I read online a girl got lost in here around four years ago and her body was found two weeks later, she has been raped and mutilated. A lot of people blamed it on a ghost since she was found in the basement where Ryan was kept, but the police arrested a crack head that had been hiding nearby."
"The people had it right," Dennis whispers to me, looking around constantly. "You see, Ryan never left the Asylum even after he died; he's here somewhere and we're supposed to find him." My eyebrows scrunch together in confusion at that. Why would we try to find a ghost?
"Shouldn't we call the Ghostbusters?" Dennis scoffs, shaking his head as we follow Cyrus down some rickety stairs that lead into the dark basement. The stairs creak underfoot, one giving way under a man's foot and damn near snapping his ankle. Two men help him back up the stairs and out to the truck before rejoining us, the other guy would be taken to the hospital later on when we're finished. "You're not actually scared of ghosts are you?" Dennis says nothing, slipping his glasses on and pushing mine back up where they're supposed to be instead of on the edge of my nose. "There's no such thing, it's all just stories made up by people—" Suddenly I'm forced against the burnt railing of the stairs, falling through and onto the rough stone ground below. The air is forced out of my lungs and I'm left gasping as a man in a shredded straight jacket drags me through the room by my feet.
The man, if you could call him that, looks exactly as how people described Ryan's ghost; a pale face with straggly black hair, his head trapped inside a metal cage with the front bars of it broken and bent outwards. His arms are deformed from struggling with the jacket and he hops around laughing manically as he drags me, sharp nails biting into the skin of my ankles. When I finally get my breath back I begin to scream and struggle against him, wishing I had just stayed at home instead of agreeing to do this. "Elizabeth," Dennis shouts, jumping through the hole in the railing that I'd made when I fell. Men hold a cube like one of the ones in the basement gently place the cube on the ground well away from where I'm being attacked. "Do your thing!" Shaking and scared, I close my eyes as I feel him crawling up my body, focusing on throwing him across the room into a wall. The resounding crack that follows and the weight lifted from my body tells me that it worked. "Start the spells, you idiots!" Latin echoes through the Asylum in a garbled voice, bouncing off the walls and angering Ryan.
The ghost flickers in and out of my sight, making his way into the cube, the door of it sliding closed and locking behind him. The moment the Latin stopped Ryan attacks the glass with his nail, screeching and shouting. I whimper, reaching out and hugging Dennis with all the strength I had left. The man stiffens, shaking violently and dropping to the floor. "Don't touch him, Elizabeth," Cyrus says in a bored tone, laying a hand on my shoulder. "He's a psychic, the touch of a person could send him into a seizure if he's not careful." I sit next to Dennis on the ground, waiting for him to catch his breath. "Bring the cube up the truck and take it back to the house, I'll be along shortly to pay you once the job is complete." The men nod, struggling to get the large cube back up the stairs and outside. "Don't take too long." And then Cyrus left, too, and it was just Dennis and I left in the dark basement.
"Have you heard about building a wall," I ask after a minute, bringing my knees up to my chest and wrapping my arms around them while Dennis continued to lay on the ground. "I learned to do it when I was little so my parents wouldn't get mad. It's easy for me now, you just close your eyes when you think you're about to have an attack and imagine a brick in your mind, put another brick on top of it and so on until you feel in control. You'll need fewer and fewer brinks every time until you just won't need them anymore."
"How many bricks are you down to," he asks softly, looking at me sadly.
"Twenty-nine and a half." He chuckles dryly, closing his eyes and letting out a deep breath. "You have to relax, don't be so tense." He nods, relaxing slightly, his mouth moving as he silently counts the bricks. "Imagine your ability as a glowing ball trapped behind the bricks and unable to get out." He breathes in and out again, relaxing further. "That's it, Dennis, how many bricks are you up to now?" He holds up his hands and moves each of the fingers ten times to signal one hundred. I nod with a smile, he was getting there and I was sure that my little trick would for him. "I'm gonna touch you, Dennis, but I need you to stay calm for me." He nods, relaxing further and his lips moving faster. Slowly, I reach out a hand and cup his cheek, my thumb rubbing it soothingly back and forth. "Are you cool?"
He opens his eyes, giving me a weak smile. "Never been better." I move my hand form his face to his hand, tugging slightly so he would sit up. "Cyrus won't wait much longer, we better go." He stands and pulls me to my feet, helping me up the stairs, careful not to bump my ankle. I could see myself being friends with Dennis, but it might take some time to get him to relax around people.
/*/First day of Work/*/
I walk into Ben's firm, tugging at my skirt and feeling scared when a few eyes land on my. I had dressed nicely, a black, high-wasted skirt that stopped under my knees, a white shirt tucked into it, and black and white flats that Ben had bought me. One pair of the eyes looking at me belongs to Hannah Manly, her pretty grey eyes narrowed into hateful slits and her full lips twisted into a scowl. I smirk as I walk over to her, taking in the too short pink skirt and the tan shirt she wore with disinterest. She was after Ben, but he paid little attention to her, saying he didn't like women that threw themselves at men. "Hi, sweetie," I greet, giving her a hug," how's your husband?"
"He's fine, taking a ski trip with his secretary," she answers with a fake smile. "I see you're playing secretary today, what a coincidence."
"Not really, Ben's been itching to bend my over a desk for a while now." I walk away from the bimbo into Ben's office with an extra skip in my skip. "Morning, Ben." He smiles at me, holding up a finger as he listens to a client on the other end of the phone. I settle at my little desk, starting up my computer and plugging my phone into the charger as I wait.
"Yes, Mrs. Daniels, your husband will be lucky to get a penny once we get to court. Okay, goodbye." He hangs up the phone and walks over, sitting down on the edge of my desk. "Cyrus told me you were attacked last night..." he trails off, clearly waiting for me to fill him in.
"It was just like he said, I was attacked." Ben continues watching me as I type in my password to the computer and get on Microsoft Word. "I was attacked by a fucking ghost that I threw against a wall before he could do any real damage." I take a shaky breath, waiting for any unimportant calls to type up and send to him after work. "Can we get to work, or are you a therapist now?" My voice has gone cold and I can tell Ben wasn't used to it. I've never used that tone with him before, even when he'd accidentally dropped my phone in the toilet. He sighs, getting off my desk and spinning my chair around so that I'm facing him.
"I may not be a therapist, but I happen to know something that relaxes plenty of people and you look like you could use it," he says, his lips brushing my ear with every word. "I have no appointments today, we could go back to my apartment and spend the rest of the day in bed." I purse my lips, considering his proposal. It had been a while since I'd had sex and I could definitely use it right now as a stress reliever. At my nod, he grins and takes my hand, leading me out the back door to his car.
/*/A Night at Ben's/*/
"I'm not doing it," I state, looking down at the gift he'd given me the first day we'd had sex," have you ever worn a corset before, they're not exactly comfortable." Ben chuckles, pulling me against him and kissing me. "I'm still not doing it."
"I'll give you fifty dollars." I grab the bag out of his hands and walk into the bathroom, his chuckle following after me. The corset is a little tight, but not too terrible that I couldn't stand it long enough for him to tear it off, and the fabric felt nice against my skin. The panties were almost too small, but the stockings fit perfectly. When I walk out of the bathroom back into the bedroom, Ben was lying on his bed and drinking some expensive whisky. He nearly choked on it when he realized I was standing in the room. "Change of plans, I'll give you two hundred dollars if you don't throw that away."
"Hmm," I hum, straddling his hips. His hands run up the backs of my legs until they reach my ass, where they squeeze. I lean forward, biting, sucking, and licking my way down his throat and stomach. He grunts when I take him in my mouth, his hands tangling in my hair.
"What's that for?" I come up for air for a second, flashing him a devious smile before going back to what I was doing. "God, not too much teeth, Libby." I moan around him, making him groan and lean his head back against the wall, the grip he had in my hair tightening. I move further up his hard cock, licking the very tip before going back down again. "Fuck, Libby," he groans, pulling me off of him and throwing me on the bed. He pushes the crotch of my panties to the side and buries himself in me to the hilt. My back arches under him, instinctively wrapping my legs around his waist and making him move deeper in me.
"Ohhh, right there," I moan, digging my fingernails into his shoulders as he moves harder against me. It has been too long since the last time this happened and I really needed the sweet relief it gave me. I raise my hips up to meet him thrust for thrust as the pleasure swells inside me, nearly to my breaking point. He grunts, smothering my moans with a kiss, his tongue dancing with mine as we finish together, and my vision black for a moment as my climax hits me. Afterwards he and I relax in the bed, NCIS playing in the background as we fight sleep. "We need to do that more often." He nods, still breathing hard, holding me close to him and closing his eyes.
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The Illusion of Secrecy