Dark Visions

Chapter 2-1

Chapter 2Normally watching Ronan sleep would relax Dustin, but over halfway through their flight to New Orleans, Ronan’s snoring gently in his chair beside Dustin, and Dustin is awake and anything but relaxed. He’d taken Xanax before the flight, and it helped a little with things like take off, which always makes him feel a little sick. Ronan held his hand all through that part of the flight, but now tension is starting to build, and Dustin isn’t sure what to do.

He feels stupid being afraid of flying, especially when he’s done far more dangerous things, especially since he met Ronan and started working for the agency. Dustin had used his powers before to help with police cases, but he hadn’t known the supernatural existed beyond him. He’s gone into demons’ lairs, tracked ghouls and ghosts, things that he could feel wanted to kill him. He does that without hesitation. He thinks it’s because he’s helping people when he does that. He’s so focused on the case, he forgets the danger.

But here on this plane, all he can feel is his worry. He knows flying isn’t that dangerous, but he also knows people do die flying. He’s seen crashes on the news. Dustin takes another deep breath, but it’s hard to clear his mind when he’s wrapped in a small space with so many people, all the energy they radiate. He’s not the only one who’s anxious about flying, which doesn’t help. Dustin’s sensitive to other people’s emotions at the best of times. Right now, he feels like he’s coming out of his own skin. It goes in a loop: his own nerves, and everyone else’s jumbled feelings.

Dustin rubs his head, feeling a slight headache forming, and he really hopes it doesn’t get bad. He doesn’t want to literally worry himself sick, not with a case to work, and not when they’re supposed to be having their first vacation.

“Hey,” Ronan says sleepily, and he reaches for Dustin, pulling him close, till Dustin’s head is on Ronan’s firm chest, with one of Ronan’s arm around him. The other up higher, petting his hair and rubbing his temples gently.

Dustin relaxes into the touch. Not completely. It’s not like a magic cure. But he feels safer, warmer, kind of cozy on the chilly air conditioned plane.

“How did you know I needed this? You were asleep,” Dustin mumbles, pressing his face close to Ronan’s neck and the soft toasty warm skin there.

“Your brain was talking so loud, it woke me up,” Ronan says, a smile in his voice.

“I didn’t mean to wake you up. I’m sorry. I’m not like in full blown panic attack territory, but I am stressing,” Dustin replies. He really hopes he doesn’t have a panic attack. He’s had one in front of Ronan before, and he’d been so embarrassed, despite Ronan telling him not to be. Dustin hated the total lack of control over his mind and feelings. Ronan was the guy who was always in control of every situation. It had upset Dustin to feel like his control was unravelling in front of Ronan.

“Don’t be sorry. You haven’t done anything wrong. Try and let go of some of the tension you’re holding, or you’ll need a massage before we work the case. Just focus on us instead of flying.” Ronan sounds concerned, and Dustin lets himself cuddle a little closer. He focuses on Ronan’s breathing, which is much steadier than his own right now and soothing to listen to.

“Ever consider joining the mile high club?” Dustin jokes, because he’s enjoying cuddling with Ronan and always enjoys s*x with him, but he’s not sure he could even convince himself to stand up and sneak to the bathroom right now, let alone get it up.

“Jerk. Don’t say stuff like that. People might hear you. I don’t want to get arrested. Chris and every cop I ever knew would find out. Harry would find out and tell everyone. I’d never live it down. I thought you agreed to try and obey the law now that you work for my detective agency?” Ronan sounds a little horrified at the idea of being charged with something illegal, but then, he’s always been a pretty law-abiding guy.

“I don’t break the law; I bend it,” Dustin defends with a small smile, letting his fingers run back and forth over the raised threads of Ronan’s T-shirt. The soft feel under his finger tips and the repetitive motion makes Dustin feel a little calmer.

“Your arrest record says different,” Ronan teases.

“One assault charge. The other stuff never stuck,” Dustin replies. He’d gotten in trouble a few times for being places he wasn’t supposed to be when he was looking into things he’d seen in his visions. As for the assault charge, that had been against an anti-gay protester who’d been upsetting a young couple. He’s not often violent, but he’d lost his temper.

“Can’t believe I hooked up with a delinquent.” Ronan shakes his head, but the corners of his mouth are turning up in a smile.

“I make up for the trouble I cause, though.” Dustin smirks, and glancing around to make sure no one is watching them, he tweaks Ronan’s n****e and makes him yelp a little. Dustin doesn’t bother to hide his laugh.

“Brat.” Ronan tugs Dustin’s hair firmly but not enough to hurt.

“You like it,” Dustin accuses.

“I do,” Ronan admits.

Dustin smiles and gets comfortable, and actually falls into a little doze as Ronan plays with his hair. He has a few moments when his chest feels tight again, but between the meds in his system, and Ronan so solid and close, he makes it through the rest of the flight. Before he knows it, they’re back on the ground and getting off the plane.

They go and collect their suitcases and head out of the airport. Ronan was right that spring here would be hotter—and more humid—than it in California. It hadn’t been bad weather in Cali, but the mornings still had a chill to them.

Ronan leads the way out of the airport, and together they find the taxi rank, flagging one down to take them to the apartment Harry arranged for them. It’s near the French Quarter, a few rooms above a shop that the owner rents out. Harry had texted that it would probably give them more privacy than a hotel with other guests, and when working cases, they sometimes need more privacy than regular people.

The driver isn’t too chatty but is pleasantly talkative. He does ask what brings them to New Orleans, and they say vacation, even though they need to work first before they can relax. The driver is nice enough to help them get their bags out of his trunk before he leaves them.

“Are you sure this is the right place?” Dustin asks, raising an eyebrow. The shop is called Madam Scarlet’s, and it appears to be a s*x shop. Expensive-looking lingerie fills the front window.

“Of course it is. Harry booked it for us. He probably thought it would be funny to put us up here.” Ronan groans, and he looks a little horrified.

“Have you ever been in a s*x shop before?” Dustin asks, messing his hair up a little, worried about what it looks like after lying on Ronan and letting Ronan play with it.

“For work,” Ronan admits, and he blushes a little.

“Well, don’t worry, baby. They won’t bite. I’ll protect you.” Dustin grins, picking up his suitcase and bag and pushing the door open.

“I thought that was my line.” Ronan groans, picking his stuff up and following Dustin.

“You protect me from things that actually might bite. I’ll protect you from the rest of the world.” Dustin smiles, and he means it, even though it comes out as a joke. He would protect Ronan from anything he could.

He walks into the shop, which is darker than the sunny street outside and full of unusual displays. Some things Dustin recognizes, others not so much. The whole room has a rich, spicy scent, and the air is heavy and warm, incense burning on the counter. There’s a corner full of books and a few people looking around.

Dustin heads to the counter, leaving Ronan to follow. Dustin can’t help grinning, as he rings the bell on the counter, at how out of place Ronan looks. He’s not in a suit, like he often is. He’s in tailored gray shorts that match his eyes and a light blue shirt. He looks very neat and put together, his short blond hair all in place. And the look on his face shows he’s not comfortable.

After a moment a tall, graceful African American woman in a gorgeous, long purple dress walks through a beaded curtain. She’s beautiful, perfect makeup, and long, lovely braids. She looks sexy and confident, and smiles when she sees them.

“Well, hello. I’m Madam Scarlet. What can I do for you boys? A whip? How about a leather collar? Flavored lube? Anything your heart desires, I can provide.” She has a thick New Orleans drawl, and Dustin likes it. He can’t help but smile back at her.

“Our friend booked us the apartment upstairs? Probably under Ronan Bayne or Dustin McPherson,” Dustin says, trying to pay attention to Madam Scarlet and not be distracted by the various s*x toys. He doesn’t consider himself that kinky, but he’s played with toys before. If he were ever going to wear a collar for anyone, it would be Ronan.

“Ah, yes. I’ve been expecting you both. Marcus, cover the shop,” Madam Scarlet yells. A dark skinned young man reading in the book corner looks up long enough to nod.

“Come this way.” Madam Scarlet lifts up a section of the counter and leads the way to a staircase in the back. “The apartment is up here. There’s a second staircase at the back of the building, if you want to come and go when the shop is closed, or without going through the shop. I’ll give you two sets of keys. I have no rules, really apart from your agreement to leave the apartment as close to the way you found it as you can. No curfew. I’m your landlady, not your mama. There’s a small kitchen, nice sized bathroom, lounge room, and bedroom.” Madam Scarlet reaches the top of the long staircase, opens a door, and walks into the apartment.

Dustin follows, glancing back to make sure Ronan is following, which he is. The apartment is nicely decorated, lots of art, which appeals to the artist inside of Dustin. It reminds him of the shop below, dark and moody, with lamps with scarves draped over them. There are no s*x toys lying around, although Dustin does wonder what kinds of books he’ll find on the bookshelf along one wall.

“So, what do you think?” Madam Scarlet asks.

“I love it,” Dustin says, putting down his bags and moving further into the room.

“It’s very nice. Harry booked for a week, with the possibility of extending our stay?” Ronan asks.

“Yes, he explained in his email that you weren’t sure how long you’d be able to stay, which did make me curious. That’s your business, but it better be legal. I don’t want no trouble from the law. They can be bad enough about my little den of kink.” Madam Scarlet sighs.

“We won’t be any trouble. Ronan is practically a choir boy, and we’re here for work and then a vacation. Nothing illegal,” Dustin promises.

“A choir boy? Well, I…Really? I can’t picture that. Can’t be too innocent, booking a room with a four poster king bed for two people.” Madam Scarlet raises an eyebrow, but it seems teasing, not judgmental, and Dustin’s senses aren’t picking up any negative energy.

“Don’t listen to him. I was never in choir. I was a cop, and now I’m the owner of a private detective agency, so you don’t have to worry about us causing trouble. You may have heard a local man, Jim Davis, has gone missing? We’re here to find him,” Ronan says. It’s better to be open with people, is what Ronan always tells him. Unless you suspect the person of something, there’s no reason to lie about everything. Ronan just doesn’t tell everyone he specializes in the supernatural.

“Oh yes, that poor man. I heard about that. You’re not local. Why did they call you in?” Madam Scarlet asks.

“We’re good at finding missing people. The family heard of us, and they didn’t want to leave it to the police,” Ronan says, which is mostly the truth.