The Haunted Sultan (Skeleton Key) (2 page)

The feeling of change, of something in the air, washed over Sierra again. She didn’t want to go into the store.

S
ierra held back
, holding her breath, unsure about the unique store. There was an odd feel to it. It was almost as if the place was waiting for something. Anticipation or dread crept across Sierra’s skin and she rubbed her arms, staring at Cecilia’s back, hoping her friend would give some indication that she felt it too. That Sierra wasn’t crazy.

If Cecilia felt anything, she didn’t let on. Cecilia turned and beckoned impatiently. Sierra had no other choice. She crossed the threshold and the moment of doubt left her. She felt at home. She felt at peace. She felt comfortable.

Weird,
she thought and wondered why she had been so ill at ease.

“
Bienvenue
,” greeted a tall woman, dressed in a beautiful Victorian style dress. She walked with confidence across an uncluttered shop floor toward the girls. Only a few costumes lined the walls and they were all exquisite, the attention to detail had dollar signs going off in Sierra's head. Most of them looked to be stage costumes, or vintage attire that would be used in movies. A flowing Marie Antoinette get-up adorned an overburden mannequin, positioned next to a Sherlock Holmes costumed mannequin. All of the costumes looked to be way out of Sierra’s price range. She had a strict budget for the trip and she wasn’t about to blow it on a costume no matter how pretty it looked on her.

“Hi,” Cecilia said to the striking shopkeeper. “My friend Sierra needs a costume for tonight and the clerk at the Monteleone told us to come here. He said to tell you Beau sent us.”

“
Merveilleux
!” The shopkeeper clapped her hands and looked at the two girls with a wide smile. Sierra couldn’t help but stare at the woman. She was stunning, her skin was a beautiful cocoa and her hair was thick and black, pulled off her face and hanging in rivulets down her back. The dress she wore was corseted and her voluptuous chest bulged enticingly from the tight piece. The skirt plumed out and away from her body, hanging in thick ruffles around her legs. The material was a rich magenta and accentuated her skin beautifully.

“I love Beau. He is such a wonderful man, always sending me such charming and
magnifique
customers from around the world. I do hate to assume, you are not from New Orleans,
tu n'es pas
?”

“N-No, we’re tourists,” Sierra stuttered in response when the woman’s eyes caught hers. She found the woman’s stare nerve racking. It felt like she could see inside of Sierra, reading her thoughts, cracking her open and peering around to see what made her tick.

“
C'est bien!
And you,
ma belle fleur
, you need a costume?” She looked at Sierra appraisingly, walking around her and taking in every inch of her.

“Yes, um,
oui.
” Sierra had taken a year of French in high school and was barely competent, but she knew a bit of what the woman was saying. The woman had called Sierra a flower, or maybe a cup.

The woman chuckled and her laugh was like warm honey over Sierra’s body. It washed over her and caused a smile to spring to her lips. Sierra was suddenly comfortable and relaxed again, the nervousness faded, replaced with confidence. There was something about this woman. Something ethereal and unsettling, but at the moment Sierra was along for the ride.

“I sense
le Moyen-Orient
in you child, am I right?” She spoke in a purr. Sierra didn’t know what she meant. Orient, was that Asian? Maybe she was asking if Sierra was Asian?

“Well, my dad. He’s Persian, not Oriental.” Sierra answered.

“Yes! That is what I said. Persian.” She elongated the word making it sound almost naughty. “How traditional.” The woman walked around Sierra again, her skirts swishing around her legs, the silk fabric rubbing against Sierra’s calves in a decadent caress.

“I have just the costume for you,” she said after a few moments of circling. “
Suis moi
,” she beckoned with her hands and the girls followed her to the back of the store.

There was one rack of clothing at the very back of the store and the clerk went to the middle of the mass of colors without any hesitation. She moved aside a few lengths of clothing and pulled out a gold and red shimmering outfit, the jingle of bells tinkled as she held it up. Light glistened off beads and mirror-like discs that hung from a revealing bra-like bodice.

“This attire is yours,
aller parfaitement
,” she said and handed Sierra the costume. “
Aller
!” She shooed Sierra further into the shop and down a hallway to a lavishly decorated room with a wide antique sofa and end table.

“I will wait, but this is the one,” she said with authority to Sierra and Cecilia.

Sierra closed the door behind her and Cecilia helped her change into the costume. The thin fabric didn’t leave much to the imagination and it revealed most of Sierra’s tattoos. She was proud of her ink, but she only showcased her artwork if she was wearing a bikini and sitting poolside, not walking down a street with a drink in her hand.

Her tats were a colorful story that flowed across her skin, but they were an intimate look at what made Sierra tick. She had designed them herself and found the perfect artist to implement the art for her. She had saved up her money for over a year and it took almost ten sessions to finish. The intricate combination of hibiscus and Middle Eastern inspired montage that went from her hip to underneath her left breast was on full display and her sleeve, full of pin-ups and swirling patterns, was enhanced by the fall of the thin fabric and hanging metal straps of the costume. Looking in the mirror, the costume enhanced her art, as if it was designed for her and her look. The shopkeeper was right; this was the one for her, eerily so.

The costume was made for her. The bodice fit perfectly, something that surprised Sierra. It was technically a bra and it was quite a feat to get the exact cup size for this kind of fit perfection. She wished she had this kind of fit from one of her everyday bras. The bodice pushed up her tatas, showing off cleavage she didn’t know she had.

Aside from the bodice, embellished with twisted wire pieces and shiny mirror beads, there was a filmy, opaque skirt held together with a wide belt. The belt was beaded to match the bodice and barely covered her underwear. By some act of luck she hadn’t worn a thong, going for a wide bottomed pair of red bikinis. She couldn’t have worn a better pair of undergarments to match the outfit. It was again almost too convenient.

“Wow, you’ve got to get this one. It’s like it was made for you,” Cecilia breathed checking out her friend.

“Does it have a price tag?” Sierra whispered but Cecilia shook her head and shrugged.

“It’ll probably cost a fortune.” Sierra went to slip her tie up wedges back on her feet, but realized they would look out of place, so she walked out of the changing room barefoot.

“
C'est magnifique!
” the shopkeeper exclaimed when Sierra shyly crept back into the shop. The woman handed her a pair of gold sandals. Sierra slipped them onto her feet, and what would you know, they fit perfectly.

How does she know my size?
Sierra thought looking at the woman warily.

“Yes, it’s wonderful, but how much?” Sierra asked the woman, cringing at her tactless words. They were rather rude but she was waiting for the big
oh shit
price. This costume was like a work of art.

“This piece was made for you,
ma douce papillon!
I could no sooner charge you for it, than charge myself. You take it and wear it and you pay me with one favor. A tiny little favor. Nothing more.”

“A favor? What do you mean?” Sierra asked guardedly.

“Just a simple little promise, nothing more. Then the costume is yours,” she said, her smile never wavering.

“Okay, but what is the promise? I don’t know if I can do anything for you, I’m just a college student, I don’t have much…”

“Nothing really.” She spread her hands in an ‘it’s nothing’ manner. “Just simply help someone who asks. You’ll hear a plea for help. If you accept the exchange, I will ask that you respond. Do not walk away. Go with the one who hears it with you and you two shall surely succeed.”

“What do you mean?” Sierra asked the woman, confusion apparent on her face.

The shopkeeper frowned and looked down at Sierra, who now looked like an Arabian princess in her new costume.

“
Bah
,
ça va bien aller.
Simply respond to a plea of help. Nothing more. Nothing less.” She patted Sierra on the arm as if to reinforce her words, even though Sierra was still trying to translate the French.
It is good?
Is that what she said? Her French was pathetic.

“How do you know someone will ask for my help?” Sierra asked, deciding to go with it. How else would she get a free costume that looked so hot? She had the worrying thought that this might be a scam. Would someone later approach her and ask for her help and then she would wake up in a bathtub missing a kidney?

How would this woman even know if she responded to a cry for help? If whoever called for help looked sketchy, she would say she didn’t hear them.

“A woman in my position,
un vendeur d' articles de fantaisie et de magie
, knows things. I hear things. The city speaks and I listen.”

“How can you know what is going to happen to her, though? You can’t possibly know that.” Cecilia finally spoke up, on the same train of thought as Sierra. Thinking it might be a scam. Sierra was relieved that her friend finally spoke up. She had begun to wonder if Cecilia had gone daft or just didn't care.

“
Fais gaffe à la marche, jeune fille
. From the past springs the present and subsequently the future. One with
un esprit ouvert
knows things, even things that have to do with two silly girls,” she smiled benignly and looked down at the two girls in question, who both frowned at the insult.

Sierra hadn’t notice before, but the woman was so much taller than the two of them. She towered over the two petite girls like a giant. Before she had seemed elegant and a beauty, now she loomed like an Amazon warrior. That feeling of unease crept over Sierra again.

She felt like she was a few steps from center, but this whole costume experience was confusing and unsettling. She wanted to get the hell out of here. She hadn’t been thrilled about the ghost tour, but now she was dying to get there. Anything to get her away from this woman that raised the hair on the back of her neck. She loved the costume, but she didn’t want the price to be too high.

“Now, run along. I’ll have your clothes sent to your hotel. You two have a tour to catch.”

Before Sierra could ask how she knew they were going on a ghost tour, or how she knew what hotel they were staying in, the woman was pushing them out of the store and into the alley.

Right before Sierra crossed the threshold there was a hand on her arm and she turned to look at the woman.

“
Un moment, s’il te plaît.
” The woman slipped a necklace over her head and touched Sierra’s face lightly.

“You’ll need this to succeed. If all goes right, you shall find your c
oup de foudre.
” Then she pushed Sierra out of the shop with a light shove from the back.

Sierra stumbled out of the store, her thin new sandals making her unsteady on her feet as she turned to say thank you. As soon as she faced the door, the gentle whoosh of wind in her face was the only indication that anything had happened. The door was closed. The sign on the door now read, Closed.

“That was so odd,” Sierra said.

“Bizarre with a capitol B,” Cecilia agreed. “What is that?” She reached out to touch the necklace draped around Sierra’s neck but pulled her hand back at the last moment as if stung.

“I don’t know.” Sierra lifted the heavy object off her chest and peered down at it. From the light of the flickering gas lamps the object twinkled between her fingers. It was a skeleton key, long and old fashion, with two keys fashioned at the end of it to open a door. The bow of the key was actually fashioned into the shape of a skull and was made of a heavy crystal or glass. The skull grinned at her, the lights glinting off the teeth making it look as if it were alive. It looked old and there was something about it that made her shiver.

She dropped the key, letting it fall between her breasts, not wanting to touch it. She had the urge to pull it off, to throw it aside, but a niggling in her gut cautioned her against that. The key felt important. Very important.

“Well, it looks cool and goes with the costume in a weird way. By the way, chick, that costume is hot, you are on fire. And you got it for free, so cool.”

“For a favor,” Sierra frowned.

“Whatever that means, it’ll probably be nothing. Oh shit,” Cecilia glanced down at her phone and looked up with panicked eyes at Sierra.

“What?” Sierra asked worried.

“We’ve got fifteen minutes to get our ass to the bar and pick up our tour tickets! It’s five blocks away. Get your butt in gear!” Cecilia took off in a fast walk in the opposite direction, leaving Sierra to hurry after her. Sierra felt like she was going to spend this entire trip chasing after Cecilia. Not a fun place to be.

S
ierra had hardly
any time to check out the sights of the bustling French Quarter as she raced along with Cecilia to find the bar where it was supposed to all begin. They raced down Royal, past street musicians belting out tunes and kids with bottle caps affixed to their shoes tap dancing for tips. Many an appreciative cat-call was shouted as the girls rushed past.

“Oh man, genie, grant me a wish,” one man called as he fell to his knees by Sierra. She giggled but rushed along behind Cecilia.

Along the way they passed wooden boards with arrows affixed to street signs and lights that read, “This Way to a Good Haunt,” so they knew they were going in the right direction.

The more they passed, the more everything blurred together. The vintage buildings all began to look the same and Sierra didn’t know which way she ran, North, South, East or West. A girl could get easily turned around in this place, even though it was basically a large rectangle. If they weren’t careful, they could end up in an area of the French Quarter that wasn’t so pleasant to visit.

They rounded a corner and a large sign proclaimed, “Your Good Haunt Awaits,” with another arrow pointing to a bar with a flashing neon sign in the big window.

“That’s the place,” Cecilia said with a huff. They were both wheezing and a little sweaty from their mad dash through the French Quarter.

“The Spotted Octopus? Really?” Sierra laughed.

“And look!” Cecilia pointed to another sign that read, “Free Hurricanes if you take a tour.” “I told you,” she smiled back at Sierra.

“I heard they are super sweet drinks,” Sierra frowned at the sign.

“Stop being negative, it’s a free drink.” Cecilia tugged on Sierra’s arm and led her into the dark bar. Dark metal music hit them full force in the face, but Sierra was pleasantly surprised to find that it smelled nice, almost aromatic.

“They passed a smoking ban in New Orleans. I wish they would do that in our town. So much nicer to be able to breathe,” Cecilia wove her way through the crowd, calling over her shoulder.

“I know, this is nice,” Sierra agreed. Going to a bar wasn’t a favorite of hers. The smell of smoke, mixed with sweaty bodies and spilled alcohol, wasn’t what she considered a good time. She liked going out with her friends but they usually ended up sitting at a restaurant and paying for overpriced drinks instead of hitting the bar scene.

The place was dark, dim track lighting set at the lowest setting lined the middle of the big room, squatting over a bulky U-shaped bar that took up a fourth of the space. The bar was made of wood and copper and it gleamed, welcoming patrons to pull up a chair and order a drink. Liquors of every flavor and brand lined the middle cabinets, along with large bins filled to the top with colorful flavored mixtures.

Two men tended bar, both were dressed in half put together costumes. They rushed back and forth serving the large crowd, but would occasionally stop and banter with guests and flip bottles in the air in a showy fashion.

On both sides of the room dark booths lined the walls and couples and groups crowded around low tables sipping beers and talking excitedly. There wasn’t an open table to be seen. Sierra expected to find a dance floor as they walked deeper into the place, but instead they came to an open area with long tables set up like you would find in a school cafeteria.

Different card games and board games were being played around the tables. There were even consoles set up where patrons could play vintage video games. It was an interesting place. But it continued to get weirder the further they went.

As they neared the final area of the bar, the room opened up to an area that at the center had a stripper’s pole. Two rather large girls were trying their damnedest to get up the pole and do a spin, but it only ended with them sliding down and flashing everyone their cookies.

Another set of girls waited in the wings to get their turn on the pole and in the meantime did some weird interpretive dance that didn’t match the music that was blasting loudly over the speakers.

“Curiouser and curiouser,” Sierra gawked.

“Isn’t this crazy?”

“Crazy is a way to describe it.” Sierra took in the sights, cringing as one of the girls on the pole did a head dive and her legs flew over her head and spread wide, revealing her tragically misaligned underwear. “Ouch.” Sierra shook her head in pity.

“OMG,” Cecilia covered her eyes dramatically. “I can honestly say I’ve never seen anything like that before.”

“Hopefully never again.”

“That looks like the ticket booth.” Cecilia pointed to a hole in the wall. It was literally a hole in the wall. Someone had cut a square out of the sheetrock to reveal the room behind it.

“Is everything we do in this city going to be this weird?”

“At least we’ll have something to talk about when we get home,” Cecilia laughed, shouldering her way through a group that was ogling the girls on the pole and walked up to the hole in the wall.

“Will call for Billings,” she said.

Cecilia smiled big at the girl stuck in the hole like a goth Jack in the Box waiting to pop out. She got that impression because the girl was dressed in white and black stripes from head to foot and had a funny jester hat perched on top of her head. She was pierced in every way imaginable, it was a wonder she could open her mouth.

She handed over the tickets with a smirk and thrust two paper fans with the tour company’s logo printed on them at Cecilia.

“Have a hauntingly good time,” the girl said in a monotone voice that negated the nice sentiments her words were supposed to impart.

“We’re going to have so much fun!” Cecilia squealed fanning herself with the paper fan. She pushed Sierra’s fan into her hand and did a crazy little jig of excitement.

“Contain yourself,” the goth chick said in that creepy monotonous voice, which might have been meant as a joke. Sierra was unsure.

“Never!” Cecilia fired back with a big grin and she spontaneously hugged Sierra. “Thanks for doing this with me!”

“No problem.” Sierra felt bad for plotting out ways to get Cecilia plowed before the tour started so they wouldn’t have to do this.

A few emos sipping beers at the bar turned around and glanced at the two girls and scowled. Obviously they were being too perky for this environment. At first Sierra thought they were in costume, but on closer inspection she realized they weren’t trying to look like anything. Their look must be their normal tragic every day wear. She wanted to slap some hot pink on them to snap them out of their monotone funk.

Cecilia held up two printed pieces of paper that read, “hurricane ticket” across them horizontally and pointed to the bar. The bartender was much friendlier than the ticket lady. He leered at the girls and made his pecs jump in his tight black shirt. He had a black skull mask that covered his chin and mouth, making his smile look predatory.

He filled up two large plastic cups from a container loaded with the premade liquid. Three containers sat huddled on the bar, proof that they must go through a lot of the stuff. He handed over the plastic cups with a wink and moved on to the next customer. They were the biggest drinks the girls had ever seen. The cup was like something from a gas station, sixty-four ounces of rum mixed with sugar. Everyone was sure to see ghosts after ingesting these alcoholic Big Gulps.

“Wow, this’ll last us the whole tour,” Cecilia said taking a big pull on her straw and grimacing after. The liquid was bright red and looked like Kool-Aid. She pulled her face back to the normal position, smiled and said, “Yum.”

Sierra took a tentative sip. She was ready to get a load of sweet but was still shocked by how sugary the concoction was. She couldn’t even taste the liquor in the mix. That didn’t bode well. If you couldn’t taste it, it went down a lot easier. This had drunk girl on a stripper pole written all over it.

“They said to meet the tour guy on the street outside,” Cecilia called over the music and motioned to the front door.

They wound their way through the crowd until they made it to the door and the outside world.

“Tour Group Ghoul, over here.” A tall man dressed in black with a top hat and cape gestured to the crowd.

“That’s us!” Cecilia waved the fan in Sierra’s face, the word GHOUL was hand-written across the top.

“Why can’t we get the one dressed like a zombie?” Sierra looked at the perky tour guide with pigtails and splattered in blood, her face painted green, who was calling out, “Team Undead over here!”

“We get the traditional guy. He’s the one on the advertisement. That’s so awesome!” Cecilia exclaimed excitedly. Sierra wasn’t feeling the excitement. Grown man in cape with vampire teeth, not for her.

“Traditional, ridiculously stereotypical, you say tomato.” She shrugged when Cecilia glared at her.

“You will have fun!” Cecilia said threateningly through clenched lips. She grabbed Sierra’s arm and pulled her to the group of about fifteen people.

Sierra tried not to drag her feet like a toddler. She tried not to pout. She tried not to notice that her group was not made up of mainly geriatrics sporting fanny packs.

“Huh,” she said under her breath when she realized that the majority of the group was about her age.

“See, not so bad. You’ll be having fun before you know it,” Cecilia hissed under her breath.

“You can’t make me have fun,” Sierra said, but her frown had morphed to a smile and she laughed when Cecilia tried to pinch her in response. When Cecilia landed a good one right on Sierra’s forearm, the girls squealed and broke into a fit of laughter.

Sierra jumped away from Cecilia when she tried again and carelessly bumped into the man in front of her.

“Excuse me,” she giggled and looked up to see a group of three very attractive men looking back at her with varying looks of amusement. This wasn’t expected at all. Not good looking men touring on their own, sans dates. Her cheeks flamed red and she stepped back quickly, grabbing for Cecilia’s hand.

“Damn,” she whispered and Cecilia nodded in agreement with wide eyes.

One of the men, the tallest of the three, stared unabashedly at Sierra. His eyes lingered on her, trailing up and down her body and making her blush deepen and her breaths hitch in her chest. She managed to pull it together and deliver a flirty smile in return. She was here to have fun.

He looked Sierra over without shame. His look penetrated her and she could feel each place his eyes touched her exposed body. Since he was undressing her with his eyes, she decided to return the favor. She wasn’t going to stand here and blush like some virgin, even though that was exactly what she was doing. She looked back, her eyes widening as she took in all of him. He was yummy. Off the charts yummy. He wasn’t in costume, unless you counted the Batman tee he wore that stretched tight across his chiseled and wide chest. He was dark, tan skin and dark hair with light stubble across his chiseled cheeks. When his eyes trailed up her body and landed on her face in a stare, she couldn’t break the connection. She wanted to go to his side and rub up against him like a dog in heat. If he kept staring at her, she would have no choice.

This wasn’t what she expected at all. He was no geriatric with a fanny pack. Not in the least. Maybe the tour wasn’t going to be that bad. Maybe she would have some fun. But she wouldn’t be focused on ghost stories. If he kept looking at her like that, she would have only one thing on her mind.

“Pull in, people, pull in, we can’t block the sidewalks. Don’t want to end this tour before it starts!” The over-dressed tour guide called in an affected voice, breaking the moment between Sierra and Mr. Yummy. Sierra glanced at Cecilia who was raptly staring at the tour guide, mesmerized by the first story he jumped immediately into. Sierra wanted to poke her friend and talk about Mr. Yummy, but Cecilia put a finger over her lips and pointed to the guide when Sierra opened her mouth to speak.

“Follow me, spooky story seekers!” the tour guide called to the group, leading them down the street and away from the bar. They all dutifully walked toward the spires of the Cathedral that could be seen over the tops of the buildings, following caped wannabe vampire guy like he was the Pied Piper. He led them down the dark streets, winding through revelers and avoiding the mule drawn carriages which came by every five minutes.

The group walked three blocks before stopping in front of a yellow Greek-Revival home with a large portico that had stone steps leading up to the porch. The beautiful wrought iron that was an iconic New Orleans fixture wrapped around the entire front of the house. The house had a strange small door recessed in the front of the house, which Sierra assumed led to the “basement” which was really only a low-ceiling first floor. Sierra could appreciate the beauty of the building; it was unique and stood out from the rest of the structures in the French Quarter. She wondered if the guide would bring them all inside so they could explore.

“We are standing in front of the Le Carpentier House,” the guide called loudly, waving his arms toward the house. “Better known as the Beauregard-Keyes Museum. The house was built in 1827 by Joseph Le Carpentier. During the post war depression, in the winter of 1866 or 67, no one is quite sure. He built it, that’s about what we know. Confederate General Pierre Gustave Toutant Beauregard rented a room in this house while he was looking for a job. You might know of the Confederate General Beauregard, he was one of the greatest rebel generals, but he did lose. The whole war, y’all heard about that one? They call it the Civil War.” A few tour patrons laughed and nodded dutifully.

“After the war he found himself out of work since there weren’t many positions available for unemployed rebel generals.”

The group chuckled at just the right spot and the tour guide smiled broadly, preening under the attention.

“Hey.” Mr. Yummy had maneuvered himself next to Sierra.

“Hey,” she said back in a whisper when Cecilia shot them a look.

“I can’t stop staring at your costume,” he whispered back.

“You’re supposed to be paying attention to the tour guide.” She rolled her eyes, but smiled to show that his charm was acknowledged and accepted.