by Gillian Zane
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.
“I don’t like his costume as much,” he grinned back.
“The General occupied the house for only a short time, but it is said his stay in the house had a lasting impression.” The tour guide wiggled his fingers and eyebrows to elaborate his remark.
“The house is haunted by the ghosts of a great battle which is said to replay within the area of the great room and the garden behind the house. The battle that haunted the General until the day he died. He was so wrought with guilt and suffering that it imprinted on the house and is relived over and over again.”
“I’m Owen,” Mr. Yummy said.
“Sierra,” she responded.
“Come here often?” Sierra barked out a laugh which had everyone turning and staring at her. She shook her head in exasperation at Owen. His smile said he had meant the cheesy line as a joke, at least she hoped that was what it meant.
“The house was also the scene of a grisly murder in 1909 after the General died. The Giacona family moved in and was known to throw lavish parties! During one of these parties, the authorities were called when gunshots were heard. Bam bam bam!” Sierra smiled as the tourist next to her jumped at the guide’s loud exclamation. The guide had his fingers fashioned in a gun and was looking at everyone with a grimace on his face and pointing his “gun” at them. Sierra had to admit he was a good storyteller, even though his choice of attire was questionable.
“When t
he police arrived they found three dead men. The victims were all Mafia. They had come to the house to extort money from the family and when the family refused they tried to murder them! But, the tables were turned and the Giacona family shot the Mafia men and showed them they wouldn’t be bullied by the crime syndicate! It is one of the more triumphant murder tales on this tour, if I do say so myself. If you listen, you might be able to hear cannon fire, or the sound of an old-fashioned gun being discharged. Shhhh, listen.” He dramatically cupped his hand over his ear and leaned toward the house.
A group to the front of the tour jokingly smashed a plastic cup on the ground and everyone jumped and gasped.
“My bad,” the young guy said and laughed while everyone glared at him.
“That was interesting,” Owen remarked.
“Yes, quite spooky.” Sierra rolled her eyes again and did a mental berating to stop doing that.
“Off to the next stop, my ghostly grasshoppers,” the tour guide called and he led them down the street.
Sierra moved forward with the group, but the uneven sidewalk was hell on her fancy sandals so she did a little skip, hop, almost fall that had her pitching forward. Owen swooped in and grabbed her, steadying her with his strong arms.
“Wow, thanks, I’m such a klutz.” She had to place a hand on his bicep to disentangle herself and had the urge to give it a squeeze. Somehow she restrained herself. He was very strong. She liked that in a man.
“My pleasure. It let me show off my manly reflexes and strong arms,” he joked.
“That it did and I have to say, they are quite good manly reflexes,” she flirted.
“What about the strong arms? I work-out occasionally. Do you find that impressive?”
“Are you trying to show off?”
“I’m gauging by your tone that showing off isn’t a good quality in your book.” He looked at her side-long, measuring her reaction.
“Not usually,” she laughed.
“Well, no more showing off. I guess you don’t want to hear about the car I drive, or my occupation,” he said.
“Is that how you impress people?”
“It seems like a prerequisite for some situations,” he said seriously.
“Then you are buzzing around the wrong situations,” she said in the same serious tone.
“Obviously,” he laughed. “I should do more haunted tours then. The situation is already much nicer than my usual.”
“Is that so?” she asked coyly.
“Very much so,” he grinned.
“Oh, I have to take more pictures, maybe I’ll catch a spirit light,” Cecilia interrupted Owen and Sierra’s conversation. At the same time one of Owen’s buddies began to chat him up, so the two drifted away. Sierra trudged along, taking in the sights and trying to stay focused on what the tour guy said.
It didn’t take long for her to become bored. She tried to stifle her yawn, but it was a battle she was going to lose. It was wonderful looking at the beautiful architecture of the French Quarter, but it was now full dark and she couldn’t make out a lot of the details on the houses. She would have liked to see the architecture better, see what the tour guide was talking about. But there wasn’t much to be seen, just one building after another, one wrought iron balcony here and one over there.
They stopped at two more places after the Keyes house and they barely registered on Sierra’s consciousness. One was a drab two story building with a big dump bin in front like it was under construction. The house wasn’t even haunted. It was the location of where they had filmed a famous vampire movie written by a New Orleans writer. No ghosts. Not even a ghoul.
“Boring,” Sierra muttered as the guide recounted the story of the fictitious vampire that everyone knew about.
The next stop on the tour was a house in which a man reportedly committed suicide. The tour guide went into great detail about how the man had pitched himself off the roof and splattered on the cement below. He also told the tour group that he could sometimes be seen on the roof, waiting to jump. Everyone peered up at the roof looking for the pitiful suicide victim. The only thing Sierra saw was a guy in his boxers sitting on the balcony. He waved down at them and then mooned the group. Nothing like swinging balls to ruin a spooky story.
Chapter 4
“This is getting ridiculous,” Sierra half-whispered to Cecilia. She felt eyes on her and looked up to find Owen staring at her again. She wanted to move closer. He had certainly made the tour worthwhile when they had chatted earlier. She moved forward with the intention of striking up conversation again, but Cecilia held her back. She was suddenly willing to talk instead of listening to the tour guide go on a rant about the locals hating the tour groups. Apparently having strangers gawking at one’s house all hours of the day and night wasn’t a favorite for locals, especially for those who lived in the houses on the tour.
“We probably should have gone with the other tour company, the one with the YouTube videos,” Cecilia sighed. “I got this one on Groupon.”
“I thought this was the VIP one?” Sierra pursed her lips and glared at Cecilia who had raved about this tour’s accolades when she talked Sierra into joining her.
“I, uh, it was buy one, get one free,” she shrugged. All the money in the world couldn’t change Cecilia’s love of a good deal.
“Ridiculous is a good description of this tour.” Owen startled Sierra with his remark. He had moved closer to the girls, his deep voice cutting louder than it should. The tour guide frowned at them and continued on with his dramatics.
Owen smiled and Sierra realized his yummy factor went up exponentially when he smiled. Two dimples appeared and he went from hot, dangerous and chiseled, to cute boy next door. It was appealing and Sierra all but sighed, melting from his grin. It had been awhile.
“Me and my buddies were planning on ditching and heading to Lafitte’s Blacksmith, it’s a few blocks away. Wanna come with?” he asked. Sierra wanted to desperately, but she knew that Cecilia wouldn’t be budged, no matter how ridiculous the tour became. She would go down with the ship.
“We paid good money for these tickets. I want to get my money’s worth, it might get better,” Cecilia said. Sierra knew her friend was going to stick with the tour until the bitter end. She was an optimist and held strong in the hopes it would get better.
Owen slowed and walked next to Sierra, their strides falling into step with each other. She figured the offer of Lafitte’s was only a way to invite her to something outside of the tour and not an actual plan. He seemed to be intent on staying with the tour now. Sierra smiled knowingly when one of the guys from his group walked up to Cecilia and tried to engage her in conversation. The wingman.
“You a local?” Owen asked Sierra.
“Nope, Idaho,” she responded.
“I’m from California, here on business.” He smiled showing off his white teeth and dimples again.
“That explains the tan,” Sierra laughed, feeling like an idiot. The tan? Where did that come from? He looked at her funny and she could have hidden in the stinky trash they were passing she felt so embarrassed.
“I like it when you blush,” he said softly.
“Gah, it’s embarrassing.” Her blush deepened as her embarrassment grew.
“It’s endearing. How can a girl in an outfit like this,” he looked her over, “blush like a school girl?”
“I don’t normally dress like this, it’s Halloween.”
“Thank the gods for that,” he said with a nod.
“Gods?” she asked intrigued.
“Just an expression.”
“A California thing?”
“Maybe,” he shrugged.
“So where’s your costume?” Sierra asked.
“The expression is go big or go home, right? Well, I don’t want to go home, so I’m not going for it at all,” he laughed.
“I almost managed that, but my friend dragged me to this crazy little costume shop and the shopkeeper gave me this outfit.”
“Can I get the shopkeeper’s number so I can thank her personally?”
“Stop, you’re going to make me blush again,” Sierra smirked and pushed on his arm.
“No, really, it was like it was meant for you.”
“Yeah, I thought the same thing, but I don’t normally dress like this. If you saw me in regular clothes, you might be disappointed.”
“I don’t think so. He looked her over and that blush crept over Sierra again. “No, I don’t think that will be the case at all.”
“This tour might be ridiculous, but I’m glad I’m on it,” she said.
“Ditto,” he nodded.
They both looked away from each other and realized that the group had stopped. They had stopped in front of a run-down building. It was light pink and four stories high. An ornate wrought-iron balcony traversed two sides of the building on every floor. From the sporadic potted plants and a group of mailboxes near the front door, it was obvious the big place had been converted to a series of low rent apartments.
“My fellow supernatural travelers,” the tour guide called in his strange deep voice that was all for show. “Welcome to the Sultan’s Palace. It might not look like much, but this house is the scene of one of the most brutal mass murders in New Orleans’ history. The home was nicknamed the Sultan’s Palace because in the late 1800’s a mysterious man who claimed to be a Turkish sultan rented the house from the owner Jean Baptist Le Pretre.” The tour guide had Sierra’s attention, finally an interesting story.
“The Turk was very wealthy and had trunks of gold which he used to convert the house into what was described as a ‘pleasure palace.’” The guide paused dramatically and Sierra took the time to observe the house. There weren’t any lights on in any of the windows. It looked abandoned. Dying plants lay scattered on the balcony and one of the windows looked smashed.
“Rumors surrounded the man who rented the house, how he was fleeing his family, or that he had fetishes that weren’t tolerated in his home country.”