Read The Haunted Sultan (Skeleton Key) for Free Online

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.”
    “Finally, this one sounds interesting, fetishes and family drama,” Owen whispered.
    “Right?” Sierra responded, waiting to hear what the tour guide said next. She happened to glance up at the house and noticed someone standing on the third floor balcony.
    Was he there before? She hadn’t noticed him when they had walked up. But, she was caught up flirting with Owen when they arrived. She looked at the man and touched Cecilia’s shoulder and pointed up to the balcony. Cecilia looked where she was pointing and shrugged.
    It must have been one of the renters. But he looked odd. He stood in the shadows, but it didn’t look right, like it was darker where he stood. He was shirtless, or he wore a tight fitting shirt that was close to his skin color. He also wore loose fitting pants that hung around his legs like a skirt. Then there was the fact that he wasn’t moving. He stood as still as a statue looking down at the tour group, it didn't feel right to Sierra.
    Sierra wondered if there would be a repeat of the suicide house. Nothing like a belligerent resident. Or a random mooning.
    “The Turk was very secretive. He barred the doors and the windows and had armed guards posted at all the entrances and exits. It was said they were scary looking men with scimitars and turbans. In that day, such differences in culture were looked upon with curiosity, but also fear. The Turk was even reported to have his own harem of both men and women and every night it was