The Haunted Sultan (Skeleton Key)

by Gillian Zane

  The Haunted Sultan

  Gillian Zane

  Contents

  Copyright

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  THE GARDETTE-LE PRETRE HOUSE

  Bibliography

  Thank you!

  About the Author

  Books by Gillian Zane

  A PARAJUNKEE PUBLISHING eBOOK

  THE HAUNTED SULTAN. Copyright © 2016 by Gillian Zane. All rights reserved.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  Editing by Raw Books Editing Services

  www.romance.rocks

  gillianzane@gmail.com

  ::: created in the USA :::

  Chapter 1

  It was Sierra’s first night in New Orleans. Her first night in the City That Care Forgot. The first thing she realized about this place was that it was so different from other cities, so unique of a city. Like another country. She felt like she was so far away from her home in Idaho. She wanted to explore every part of the city. She wanted to put on a tight skirt and flirt with a stranger. She wanted to let her hair down and act a little crazy. She had even contemplated flashing someone for a pair of beads, contemplated, she hadn't decided yet. She wasn't denying that it had crossed her mind, though. Would she be up for it? Could she be that bold? Yet, instead of getting a little wild in a city that encouraged reckless behavior, her best friend and travel companion wanted to go on a haunted house tour.

  “It’s New Orleans. We’ve gotta go on a haunted house tour. This is like the most haunted city in the country.” Cecilia tried to pronounce New Orleans like they were instructed in an online video, but her pronunciation made Sierra cringe. Not quite like the locals.

  “Leeanz,” Sierra corrected. “Not or-lee-ands.”

  “Whatever. I want to go on a haunted tour,” Cecilia pouted. Sierra and Cecilia were the best of friends, having being socially engineered as besties before they were born. Their mothers befriended each other in a prenatal class and the rest was history. The same birth date, three schools, a million play dates, a few tragic life choices later, and they were still friends and now celebrating their twenty-first birthdays in a city that never stopped the party.

  A ghost and history tour wasn’t exactly what Sierra considered a party. She didn’t want to spend her twenty-first birthday shuffling around with a bunch of geriatric tourists staring up at houses, listening to the histrionics of a grown man dressed in a cape and pretending to be a vampire.

  “Not my idea of a good time,” Sierra mumbled under her breath. Cecilia either didn’t hear her or pretended to ignore her. Cecilia was good at that. She had been bullying Sierra into doing what she wanted since kindergarten.

  Sierra wanted to be on Bourbon Street drinking her way from Pat O’s to Lafitte’s in the most epic of epic pub crawls. She’d plotted it out, mapped it and even researched each bar's signature drink. She had read countless ‘Best of New Orleans’ lists about the bars in the French Quarter, and documented them all on her phone, in case she went off path. Sierra never did anything half-assed. Unfortunately, Cecilia didn’t think her plan should be implemented.

  “This is the best one they offer. We’re doing the VIP tour. Stop giving me that look, Si, it’ll be fun,” Cecilia continued to plead her case, holding up a pamphlet and doing a little shimmy. “Fun, fun, fun!”

  Cecilia had been obsessed with the paranormal for the last couple of years. It had all started with a binge watching event involving the Ghost Believers show and a week stuck home with the flu. She had come out of it with the firm belief that ghosts existed and a weird obsession with the British host of the show, Marcus Tallon. Sierra, on the other hand, liked a good ghost story, but had no such belief in haunted houses, or an after-life of rattling chains and manifesting spirit orbs. She also thought that grown men who dressed in capes and thought they were vampires shouldn’t be followed around at night while in a strange city. Instead, they should seek psychiatric care. She plucked the pamphlet from Cecilia’s hand and frowned down at the dude on the front.

  A top hat, cape, and vampire teeth appareled man was on the cover with photoshopped spirited lights in the back. Sierra rolled her eyes and handed the pamphlet back. She had called that one.

  “Why’s he dressed as a vampire if he does ghost tours?”

  “They do vampire tours too, vampires aren’t real though.” Cecilia opened the trifold and pointed to an advertisement for the Vamp Special and rolled her eyes. “C’mon Sierra, it’s going to be a blast and then we can head to Bourbon Street and do your mapped drinking thing. The tour ends at a bar. The most haunted place in the French Quarter.” She again pointed to something in the pamphlet.

  “Favorite haunt of the infamous vampire Pierre,” she said in a dramatic voice, rolling her eyes again.

  Sierra couldn’t get into vampires either. She had come to New Orleans for one reason – fun! But, the crux was Cecilia wanted to do this tour thing and what Cecilia wanted, Cecilia got. She also happened to pay for the room and had offered to pay their cab fare and meals while they were here, so how could Sierra complain?

  “Wow, thanks for compromising.” Sierra sat down on the plush sofa in their suite and threw a pair of underwear at Cecilia who stuck her tongue out in response and frowned at the underwear. Cecilia’s family was loaded and she had a pretty fat trust fund that had recently become available to her. She wasn’t holding back for this trip. Sierra should be grateful Cecilia had brought her. Just suck it up and go on the tour with a smile, she thought.

  “Gah! Stop being a downer, Si, it’s gonna be fun. Plus you get a hurricane for the tour. Whose are these?” She kicked at the underwear.

  “Ew, those aren’t yours? And wait, did you say we get a hurricane?” Sierra perked up. Now Cecilia was talking her language. “Really?” She popped up from the sofa and pulled the advertisement out of her friend’s hand again, she had missed that. It was the special October edition, a bloody Hurricane for each tour booked. The city had gone all out for the spookiest month of the year. They had gotten in this afternoon and were overwhelmed by the decorations and festivities happening all over the French Quarter. Everyone was in full Halloween mode.

  Zombies shambled down the street. Ghouls peaked out from behind shutters. Spider webs crisscrossed the ironwork that wrapped around the buildings. It was fabulous to look at and Sierra wanted to be a part of it. But, it wasn’t all spooky. It was also a tad bit sexy too. Women strutted around in barely there costumes, sexy kitties and slutty Snow Whites pranced down the street in four-inch heels. Elaborate fairies in nothing more than bikinis had been twirling in the lobby when they checked in. Sierra had stared in wonder at the intricate detail of the wings, at the women’s perfect make-up and the see through tops they wore displaying their surgically enhanced nipples.

  Sierra regretted her decision to not bring a costume as she watched Cecil
ia slip on a short and tight pirate get-up. She didn’t own anything good enough and hadn’t had the money to buy a nice one. She had blown most of her savings on the airfare to get here. And the rest was her drinking money. Sierra tried to hide the frown that slipped across her face as she watched Cecilia dress, but the girl noticed everything, especially her friend’s moods.

  “Oh wait, those are mine.” She plucked the underwear off the floor and stuffed them into her luggage, then thought better of it and let them dangle off her finger and looked at Sierra. “You can use these as a costume. We can paint little fleur de lis’ on your titties. You’ll be a hit.”

  “Oh bite me, Cee, and I’m not wearing your dirty underwear. I’m going out in my drab jeans and Superman tee, I’ll be a tourist.” She cocked her head to the side trying not to look bitter.

  “Sierra, we have an hour before the tour starts. We can get you a costume. There’s a shop a block down, I saw the advertisement when we came in.”

  “It’s going to cost me a fortune,” Sierra whined taking in Cecilia’s finished look. She was a sexy little pirate. She had on a pair of tight leggings with a faux buckle belt strapped around her waist. Her shirt was a leather half sleeve number with lace cuffs and it exposed her belly. The front was held together only by buckles over her cleavage. She had accessorized the look with a head scarf and sexy buckle boots that went to her knees. Sierra tried not to be jealous of Cecilia’s look, but it was hard to rein it in.

  “We’re in New Orleans during Halloween, you have to have a costume. We’ll find you something inexpensive, it doesn’t have to be fancy,” Cecilia said as she dragged her out of the suite and into the elevator.

  The elevator stunk of cigarettes and beer when the doors closed. It wasn’t pleasant, but couldn’t be avoided. The hotel they were staying in was located directly on Bourbon Street. They knew what they were in for. It was part of the charm.

  When the elevator opened into the bustling lobby, Sierra again took the time to take in everything. The lobby was gorgeous, so different from the ancient elevator and dingy hallways. The place was an expanse of marble with gold touches on every corner and frame, tied together with flowing velvet curtains and plush furniture in the same rich fabric. A fountain bubbled in the center of the lobby and flowers were on every available surface. Guests sat and chatted on expensive looking settees and a jazz band played in the lobby bar.

  Cecilia didn’t let her stop and take in the lavish digs for long. She pulled her out of the lobby and into the cacophony that was Bourbon Street. Sierra wanted to stop and people watch. She had never witnessed anything like this place before.

  The street stretched in both directions. It was paved in old-time paving stones, a testament to the age of the city. Two and three story buildings crowded every available space on either side of the street. There was nothing in-between the buildings, you only knew there was a difference between them because they were painted a different color, or the brick was different. Wrought iron balconies lined most of the buildings and the ones that housed bars or hotels were full of tourists screaming encouragement to the passersby below. Some even had cheap plastic beads in their hands trying to coax a willing victim to show off a body part for a bead.

  The night was cool and crisp, a gorgeous October night that had a twinge of change in the air. The smell of alcohol and incense washed over the girls, an unexpected fragrance that wasn’t unpleasant. They had both heard horror stories about the smell before they came. How Bourbon Street smelled of vomit, piss, and excess. But, the night was young and there was a breeze to wash away the unpleasantness. The only thing Sierra could smell was the incense from the Voodoo shop on the corner and the sweet aroma of the frozen daiquiri shop across the street. Sierra might not be into the paranormal like Cecilia, but the Voodoo shop did pique her interest. She was dying to poke her head in that store, even if it was just another tourist trap.

  The crowd on the street was thick, cars weren’t permitted on Bourbon at night, the pedestrians strode down the middle of the street going from bar to bar or making the sidewalk their hang-out spot. It amazed Sierra to see everyone clutching monster sized drinks in their hands, chugging them down as police officers on the corner watched unfazed. The streets were teaming with costumed and bedazzled revelers, all laughing and carrying on. The men stood on the sidewalks, catcalling at women as they paraded in the middle of the streets in skimpy costumes. There was even a group that had a few hand-lettered signs with numbers on them. They were rating the costumes as the people passed.

  Sierra stared in wonder as a group in matching steampunk attire sashayed down the street and the trio of judges held up their signs and shouted encouraging remarks to the costumed group. They got a 9.3.

  It was quite a sight, bright colors were everywhere and every style and dress was represented. There were cheap costumes, right off the rack of a big box store, and there were raunchy costumes that left nothing to the imagination, women who only used paint to cover their bodies. And then there were elaborate costumes that looked like they had taken months to construct. Sierra watched in fascination as a huge paper mache dragon lumbered down the street.

  All types of people were represented on Bourbon and everyone seemed to be welcome. Strangers stopped and commented on costumes, striking up conversations without a pause. A news crew stood off to the side grabbing party-goers and asking them for interviews. Sierra noticed most of the costumed revelers looked comfortable in their surroundings; they held their heads in confidence and weren’t distracted by all the stimuli around them. They had to be the locals. On the opposite spectrum, it was obvious who the tourists were. They were the ones in the cheap big box costumes standing to the side and gawking. Or wearing street clothes…like Sierra.

  “C’mon,” Cecilia grabbed Sierra’s arm and hurried her down the street. They had to push through the crowd, avoiding elbows, drinks and the wandering hands of frisky men and even some women. She pulled Sierra down a side street like she knew exactly where to go. As they got farther away from Bourbon the hum of the crowd faded and the street got darker.

  “How do you know where to go?” Sierra asked.

  “I asked the desk clerk when we got in. He was very specific,” she said. She looked around to get her bearings and pointed to a cross street that looked like nothing more than an alley.

  “He said it was down there. Exchange Place,” she laughed and did a little shimmy in her pirate costume. “Knew we would find it.”

  The two girls crossed the street and entered the alley. It was a narrow cobblestoned path about two blocks long. A few storefronts lined each side and large cement poles blocked the area from vehicles. A restaurant to the right had tables set up outside and diners sat out in the beautiful weather enjoying a fabulous meal as the waiters hovered to the side making sure their experience was top-notch. Gas lanterns lit the girls’ way as they walked deeper into the alley, passing brightly lit storefronts that led to a darker area that looked to be deliberately doused in shadow.

  “Here it is,” Cecilia cooed looking at the impressive gothic structure squished in the middle of the brightly lit brick structures around it. It looked out of place, but still fit right in. Only a dimly lit glass door with a hand-painted sign attached to the front proclaimed they were in the right spot. The sign proclaimed in script across the door-

  Madame LaRae’s Fine Costumery and Attire

  Cecilia didn’t hesitate, she gripped the door handle and pushed it open. A tiny bell chimed from the top of the door, letting the clerk know that someone was here, to be prepared for customers.

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

  Chapter 2

  Sierra 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?”