Counterpart (Succubi & Incubi Assn.)

by Hunter-Brown, K. J.

  I narrowed my eyes outside. I know they just found the body yesterday, but my angst had grown so much that I was acting like a guard dog.

  “You never know what can happen, Melinda. They could be watching me right now.” A lady and her dog walked past and my eyes narrowed more. “It could be those two.”

  I felt Melinda's presence as she joined me by the window. Her head hovered over my shoulder and she looked down on the poodle—which seemed to be looking for somewhere to shit. “Oh, yeah, they sent an old lady with a dog,” she said dully, heading back to the couch. “Beware of the poodle. They can be vicious with their yelping and shitting.”

  Okay, so maybe I was overreacting a bit, but I still wasn’t moving from the window.

  “You never know, Mel,” I said, watching the lady and her poodle disappear around the corner. “The CIA or the FBI—or whatever other fucking cop things there are out there—could have hidden cameras on me, waiting for me to make my move, expecting me to attack so they can take me away.” It seemed pretty logical in my head.

  She didn't speak for a few seconds but I could feel her eyes on me. And without even turning around, I knew what look I was getting and what she was about to say.

  “The mental ward will take you away before the CIA does, and that, I'm positive about.”

  I soon realized how crazy I had gotten, and obviously I needed to snap out of it. Plus, if I was in trouble, I was sure they would've come by now.

  Melinda had made plans with Stuart today and even asked if I wanted to join, but I declined. I had mentally made plans for myself, so I was heading to the gym to see Tristan.

  I hadn't heard from him since that drunken night, and I desperately wanted to know what the verdict was. If he couldn't fight, I would feel guiltier about that than the guy in the alley.

  And frankly, I needed a distraction.

  It was 12PM. Lunchtime. I knew Tristan wouldn’t be at his house. He never was on a Monday, or a Tuesday, or any other part of the weekday as it is. The gym was his second home. The one place he seemed to always be if he wasn't at campus.

  I held two fruit smoothies in my hands, knowing he could use one. I walked through the automated doors and smiled at the receptionist.

  “Hey Maya,” she said.

  “Hey Sophia, is Tristan in class?” I placed one of the smoothies on the counter and pushed my glasses up to my head, getting a better view of the gorgeous blonde.

  Sophia was always someone who knew how to brighten your day up. We attended the same college, but never had classes together. She wanted to be something in the physical department, while I didn't really care where I ended up. Her platinum blonde hair was pulled up into its usual high ponytail but her brown eyes—which usually crinkled on the sides at the sight of someone walking through—showed no sign of happiness.

  Something was wrong.

  “He's here... but so is Tori.”

  My forehead just wanted to drop on the counter. Talk about a major mood killer. “Perfect,” I mumbled, mentally kicking myself for wanting to come in.

  “I know, right?” She smiled sadly, understanding where I was coming from. “And the whole time, she's been complaining about the heat, and how stuffy it is inside. I don't even know why she's here if she's going to complain.”

  Another reason why I liked Sophia, she understood what most people couldn't see.

  Tori was a bitch.

  “Thanks for the warning. This won't be a long visit.” I may have been eager to see Tristan before, but now, I was contemplating if I wanted to take my time to get there or not.

  I grabbed the smoothie off the counter and lazily headed inside the gym. Tristan trained younger children in Mixed Martial Arts. Some had joined the club to learn from the best, while others were here because their parents wanted them to be able to defend themselves. Either way, Tristan was one of the best trainers there was. If no one could see that, then they were blind.

  When I reached the training room—which was on the opposite side of the building from the reception— my eyes instantly spotted Tristan walking along the outside of a group of about twenty kids.

  “Alright guys, get a pair of gloves and pair up. We'll work on the punching bags.”

  I walked inside and took a seat on a bench by the wall. Children no older than 16 scattered around getting gloves from the shelves—which happened to be opposite me—right where Tori just happened to sit. I didn’t know if she knew I was here. Her phone had her attention and her fingers danced across the screen at an impossible speed.

  She was probably looking up the next screening to 'Let's make PG-13 love', in theaters near you.

  I let out a short laugh at my own thoughts. I could be quite the hilarious person to myself. And no one else was going to laugh at my lame one-liners except for me—oh, and the demon, but she doesn’t really count.

  I watched Tristan as he put his class in their usual routine. I had been here a few times, watching what he did. But not even I could avoid the fact that I could never get tired seeing the ambition some kids have when they walked in here. They all admired Tristan. You could see it in the way they looked at him when he was explaining a new technique.

  Tristan held his hands up in front of him while he talked to one of the kids.

  “You want to be able to get the right height, and when you punch, you want to do it like this.” He showed the boy a right hook to the bag and the kid nodded, determination in his eyes.

  I watched Tristan as he walked from child to child, giving them each personal advice on what they could do to improve.

  If there was one thing I could admire about Tristan, it was his confidence in his students. Not once did he ever let someone give up or quit. Not even me.

  Then there was the obvious thing you could admire—the way he looked in long shorts and a gray tank. His muscles flexed with each step he took, every time his fist clenched so did his chest.

  It was like looking at a God... a God who had a girlfriend that was currently giving me the evils.

  I needed to ignore that she was even here if I wanted to talk to Tristan. I wasn't going to bother retaliating to her stare. I did enough on Friday night when I maneuvered her admirers away.

  The kids were all partnered up and at their own punching bags. Tristan spotted me as he was leaving the last kid, but the smile I received wasn’t one that really was noticeable.

  “Alright, you've each been given something to work on, so you can start on that now.” He waited until every student was doing something and a part of me thought he would walk straight to me, but he didn’t.

  Tori looked up as Tristan walked to her side and kneeled down, retrieving a towel. My eyes refused to move when his back flexed at the movement, and I almost ripped them out when Tori brought her hand up and ran it smoothly down his bicep. There was a quirk in her lip, and I knew she was doing it for show—showing me who had Tristan.

  I’d do anything just to rip that hand off.

  By the time my eyes did manage to move away, Tristan had already straightened back up and slowly made his way to me.

  “Hey,” he said, taking a seat beside me and letting the towel hang loosely from his hands.

  I risked the glance towards the blonde across from me and noticed she was back to looking at her phone. When I came back to Tristan, I turned my body to face him, the smoothies sitting nicely between my legs. “Hey, how’s it going?”

  He wiped the towel across his face and I took this time to let my eyes wander the length of him. His chest that wasn't covered by his tank held a bit of sweat, and my mind could only imagine what was going on under that fabric. It was alright though, the tank was fitted enough to show the slightest outline of the six-pack that I knew he had.

  “Nothing different.” I came back to reality when he shrugged, and I noticed a slight form of distance growing between us. It was a short answer, and somehow, I knew that was all he was giving.

  Actually, now that I think about it, he hadn’t looked a
t me since he sat down. It was like he didn’t want to see me and that bugged the fuck out of me.

  “Tristan, what's going on?” I said, needing to know what the hell happened and if I was drugged when it did. “You've been pretty distant lately.”

  “I've been busy.”

  He was sticking to the simple answer. “Right... okay.” I needed to put this in another direction. “Well, have you received a call from the authorities yet?”

  “Yeah,” he slowly nodded, his narrowed blue eyes still remaining on anywhere but me. “It's a no.”

  “What?” Here comes the guilt. “Tristan, I'm so—”

  “I don't want to talk about it.” He cut me off. His eyes finally connected with mine, but they were hard and cold. “Are we done here?”

  He was mad at me. I knew it. He didn't need to tell me. He didn't even need to look at me. All I could do was take the blame because it was mainly my fault. I shouldn't have sent the scent out to begin with, but my... my...

  I could feel an audible gulp coming... I’m not going to say it... I’m not jealous.

  I have nothing to be jealous over... right?

  But that still didn't distract me from his attitude. “I told you I was sorry, and you didn't have to do what you did.” I was surprised by my own calm voice. “I don’t know what you want me to do, Tristan. But sure, we're done here.” I gave him a few seconds to change his mind, but he was too busy watching the children, and I took that as my queue to go.

  If he thinks for one second that he’s getting a smoothie, he can think again.

  It was an understatement to say that his anger towards me was annoying. Because it was annoying me in ways that made Ryan Smith look like an angel. I was so used to always seeing Tristan smile, joke, hearing how husky his voice got, and now that all felt like it had disappeared because of one stupid mistake.

  Even I had to admit that Tristan and I had started distancing ourselves from one another when Tori came into the picture.

  It was like he was different now, like he didn’t need me anymore. And it sucked.

  “Didn't go well, hey?” Sophia asked as I walked out.

  “I hate people,” I muttered, speaking my own thoughts

  “Sorry to hear.”

  “Don’t worry about it.” I just wanted to get out of the place. “Here, have this.” I left one of the smoothies on the counter and drunk out of the other one, not enjoying the semi-warm liquid as it slid down my throat. “I'll see you around, Soph.”

  ****

  “I knew it was only a matter of time until you realized that you were jealous,” Melinda said, a satisfied look on her face.

  I was so annoyed, that I hunted down Melinda and Stuart to relieve of the tension through retail therapy. I found the pair at a high priced clothing store—which isn’t surprising at the least—and relayed everything onto Melinda.

  “What's Maya jealous of?” Stuart asked, walking up with a pair of slacks on one arm and a nice button up shirt underneath.

  I crossed my legs over the other and watched as he walked into the dressing room. “It's n—”

  “Maya is jealous of Tori and Tristan,” Melinda said, cutting me off.

  “I’m not jealous,” I corrected her, piercing her with a glare.

  “I thought you and Tristan were close,” Stuart said, ignoring mine and Melinda’s disagreement.

  I sighed, giving up. “Yeah, well, apparently not anymore. He completely turned the other cheek when I visited earlier.”

  “Ouch,” he replied, walking out of the dressing room and taking a seat beside me. “Is this because of the brawl at the arena? I saw how disappointed the officials were and we had a hell of a mess to clean up.”

  And to think, I thought Tristan was going to be the only thing I felt guilty about today. “Stu, I'm sorry. I didn't even know something that bad was going to happen.”

  “Girl, it's fine. I don’t even know what happened, but if it caused Tristan to come out, I’m sure it was interesting.” I wouldn’t say interesting. “But hey, let's forget about Tristan, even though he does have a really nice body.” Not helping my situation. “We'll just have a girl’s day out. Try new clothes. Splurge the day away. Sound good?”

  It sounded like something I needed, and if I didn't control my annoyance and frustration, my demon will want to. “Yes, let’s do that.”

  We walked through three different stores. Sadly, my retail therapy wasn’t working, because I just couldn’t find something that was appealing to me, or my demon. That was until I spotted the perfect red and black lace bra with matching panties.

  “Oh,” I said, feeling the fabric between my fingers, “I like this.”

  Stuart looked over my shoulder and his pale hair moved as he nodded in approval. “If I didn't find men much more attractive, I'd definitely pay to see you in that. Actually, I'd probably still pay to see you in that.” His words made me semi-melt inside, only because it was Stuart and he always knew how to do that.

  “Hey Mel, imagine if you were in this when that cute boy stared at us earlier.” Stuart wagged his brows once towards Mel, and she came over to look at the garment.

  “Oh yeah, then I'd understand why he stood there staring.”

  I didn’t understand any of this. “What cute boy?” I asked her with a brow arched.

  “Oh, there was this cute guy earlier on today,” Stuart answered instead of her. “You would have found him cute, Maya. Melinda and I were just walking out of the new store that just opened, I can't remember the name of it, it's really not that great, but they did have this really cute dress that—”

  “You're going off topic.”

  “Oh, right. The guy, he was just staring right at us when we exited. It was weird.”

  “But he was sexy,” Melinda added in.

  “What did he look like?” I asked her.

  “Oh, like my distant vision of an angel. Tall, lean, muscular, cargo pants, a button up shirt.” She leaned against the clothing racks and let out a long sigh. “I wonder if he has a rough side... I'm positive he has a rough side.”

  I rolled my eyes and snapped my fingers, bringing her back to reality. “Did you ask what he wanted?”

  “Well, I would have, but as soon as I saw him, he was gone.” She shrugged.

  It wasn’t abnormal for someone to just randomly stop what they were doing and watch us. Actually, it always happened. Like right now, some guy had brought his girlfriend into the store, but his eyes kept flicking towards us. Then there was a male in his late-twenties taking a good glance everyone now and then from the corner of the store.

  And, don’t even get me started on the workers.

  But still, just knowing someone was watching Melinda brought me on edge. “What if it was the CIA?”

  I heard a groan and I looked over to see her roll her eyes. “Seriously Maya, why would they be following me then?”

  “Maybe they thought I would be with you,” I said matter-of-factly.

  “You're being paranoid again. Stop it before I call the mental institute, and don't think I won't.” She gave me a warning stare and the subject was immediately dropped.

  “You know what?” Stuart said, walking back from somewhere—I didn’t even see him leave us. “I think you should buy this.” He pulled the lingerie set off the rack and held it in front of me. “And if you don't, I will make you.”

  I could always trust Stuart to change the subject, even when it wasn't his intention.

  Seven – My Demons Reflection

  Friday morning. A week had been since the beginning of summer, and several days had passed since Tristan spoke to me.

  I was trying so hard to distract myself from him, but it bugged me how he could just get angry when it was him who decided to punch the guy.

  “You really need to stop looking at your phone. It's making me frustrated just watching you,” Melinda spoke from the bottom of my bed.

  I hadn't been motivated to leave my bed in the past two days. It wasn't beca
use I was drowning in a pool of my own depression, but because I didn't have anything else to do.

  I put my phone down on my bed for the hundredth time this morning. I was expecting Tristan to text, tell me that he was over the stupid tiff he was having, but no. No text, no call, nothing.

  I was starting to miss the old Tristan, the one who would tease me, and try anything to get into my pants. The one that didn't care what Tori did, because he knew she was just a bitch. A bitch he happened to fawn over.

  Here comes the depression pool.

  “He's being a little bitch about this, seriously,” I groaned.

  “Yeah, well so are you if you think about it. Build a bridge, Maya. You can't sink into this mood that you're getting into. You're a succubus. We don't care about others. If you want Tristan back, then actually do something about it.”

  Do something about it...

  She was right. That was probably the best idea I'd received in a really long time. I needed to do something about it.

  “I see the wheels turning in your head. Don't start another brawl. And I'm not even going to bother telling you not to get in trouble, because it seems that when I do, you end up in trouble anyway, so I'm just not going to bother.” She shook her head, but even I knew she was finding it hard to keep it in.

  I waited for her to say it.

  “Just don't do something stupid,” she said and quickly walked out of my room. “And get out of fucking bed. You're going to be alone forever with that mood.”

  “I'm going to be alone forever anyway,” I retaliated, “remember, succubus,” I said, pointing to myself, even though she couldn’t see, “can't romanticize with a human or incubus.”

  Her head popped around the door. “Actually, the rules state that if a human is to find out about us, the SIA will be in charge of what happens, so there.”

  My hand reached for the first thing it could, and I threw it at the door. She was lucky it was a pillow and not something hard, like one of the many encyclopedia-sized books from my floor.

  She disappeared out of my sight and I heard her walk into her temporary bedroom.

  I pushed the blankets down and stared at my bare stomach. I was wearing the new lace bra I brought the other day, and I had fallen in love with it even more when I tried it on.