Morning comes. How I loathe that light. I am lying in bed next to my boyfriend Nigel Geralds. Listening to his heartbeat. It is such a comforting sound. Especially given the fact that my own heart doesn't beat. I look at him as he sleeps. He's a really lovely man. Five feet eight nine tall, slender, with bone-white skin, and curly dark brown hair that's slightly receding at the front. He's twenty eight years old, but his stressful life makes him look older. His piercing blue eyes are the most youthful part of them. They're too often hidden by his thick, horn-rimmed reading glasses. When awake, he looks every bit the ingenious community college mathematics professor that he is. Asleep, he seems like something else. An adventurer. A swashbuckler type, the kind commonly found in old novels. He's actually an amateur magician recovering from an addiction to spell-casting under my supervision.
I get up, and begin to pace through the apartment. Outside, it's daylight. It's seven in the morning on a Monday in late September. Soon, Nigel will wake up. He's got a ten o'clock class. He teaches the fundamentals of mathematics at Greater Boston Community College, to young men and women who cannot appreciate the man that he is. These college freshmen act like they're on their fifth year of high school rather than starting their college careers. Often, Nigel tells me all about them. The young men with their pants hanging below the waist. Their durags on. The gold in their teeth. The sunglasses on their eyes even at night. And the young women are even worse. Shirts that are two sizes too small. Skirts so small and cut so low that they are barely more than underwear. Too much makeup. Too much perfume. Oozing sex, attitude, and a quiet kind of despair. I can't tell you how much I mock them. The world is full of them, these foolish mortals.
I look at my reflection on the bathroom mirror. A six-foot-one, broad-shouldered, dark-skinned and sharp-featured, ruggedly handsome young black man stares back at me. That's how I look to the world. Well, when I want to, anyway. You see, I am a half-breed. The offspring of a nonhuman and a human. My father, Jeremiah Greene Sr. is a Boston police officer. One of the few high-ranking African-American officers on the local police force. He calls me Junior, though I hate it. I go by another name. One he couldn't possibly pronounce. A name which cannot be found in any human language. It was the name my mother gave me. My mother Sigris, a shape-shifting demon from Hell. Back in the day, she and my father had a whirlwind romance. He was a rookie cop, investigating a serial killer who was slaughtering men and women in the streets of Boston at night. This was no ordinary serial killer. It was my mother having a bit of fun. Lots of otherworldly immortals enjoy destroying humans while temporarily living on the planet Earth.
Long story short, my mother Sigris assumed the guise of a tall, exquisitely beautiful young black woman and seduced my father. The end result was me. The half-human, half-demon offspring she left in his care. She couldn't take me with her. You see, living half-breeds aren't allowed in Hell. The souls of deceased humans and near-humans were more than welcome into Prince Lucifer's hellish Kingdom but not those who had yet to show allegiance to light or darkness. Yeah, that's the story of my origins. I've never met my mother. I still have some memories of her, though. Strange as it may seem. Must be some kind of genetic memory or something. In any case, I was acutely aware of the fact that the world was far from the simple place ordinary men and women believed it to be.
When you're a half-breed, depending on what you're mixed with, you've got a different heritage. A Nephilim is a creature who's the biological offspring of a Fallen Angel and a human female. They're quite powerful. Only Upper-Level Demons and other kinds of powerful creatures can take them on since they basically have all or most of the angelic power of whatever fallen angel sired them. The only type of half-breed which can rival a Nephilim in power is a demigod. Demigods are basically the offspring of Pagan deities from way back when and whatever mortal woman or man tickled their fancy. Demigods used to be pretty common, but the gods and goddesses of ancient times were driven out of this plane of existence by Yahweh the Most High and His Archangels eons ago in a God War. Most of them are gone now. There are still a few demigods out there. Some of the Pagan gods and goddesses visit our plane of existence from time to time and they tend to leave us with little souvenirs. Half-demons like myself aren't as powerful as Nephilim or Demigod but we can all sense each other. And we don't like each other at all. Then you have those species which are a blend of natural and supernatural breeds. Werewolves, vampires, zombies, ghouls and a few others fall under that category. They've got one foot in each world.
As a half-breed, I can see the supernatural world. I know an angel when I see one, and a demon too. And according to the rules set by both Heaven and Hell, if you see them they see you too. That's just the way it works. Being able to see and interact with this world, I never felt alone. Especially since there were super-people all around me. I mean, lots of genetically enhanced superhumans are evolving naturally right here on Earth. The result of natural evolution, rather than mutation triggered by radiation or some other comic-book shit. I find that comforting. Even though most half-breeds and other superhumans don't get along, we kind of have an understanding. The Purebreds, as the fallen angels, demons, monsters, mermen, mermaids, gods, goddesses, spirits, vampires, werewolves and other species of nonhuman immortals are collectively called, don't much care for half-breeds. They consider us to be too human. That's bullshit if you ask me. If most of them weren't sleeping with random women and men left and right, there wouldn't be so many damn half-breeds.
Anyhow, I try not let that kind of bullshit get to me. I tried to lead as normal a life as possible. I attend Emerson College in downtown Boston. I'm a communications major and someday, I want to work for a major company. There are quite a few nonhumans and superhumans at the school, among both the student body and faculty. I had a relationship with a fellow half-breed last year. Lauren Bryn was her name. She was a petite, busty tomboy of Italian and English descent. The overprotected daughter of a fireman turned mechanic. The first time I met this bronze-skinned, golden-eyed babe, I felt a special connection. I felt like I could totally relate to her, you know. I told her about my dreams of making it into the corporate world. I also told her that I was bisexual, which didn't bother her at all.
