The Haunted Sultan (Skeleton Key) Read Free

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