Bisexual Demons in Love

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.

Lauren Bryn and I had a whirlwind romance. She was a lot of fun. The kind of gal who loved comic books, action movies and video games more than most guys I knew. Yeah, I was in love. She had super powers, too. She could move objects with her mind, what scientists and Sci-Fi Channel nerds call Telekinesis. Any objects, from a pencil to a multi-ton truck, or even a bridge! Plus, she could also control the weather and even fly, though only for short distances. I thought that was a pretty cool power. True to my demon heritage, I was a virtual powerhouse. On top of having superhuman strength and durability, I can control fire. Both natural and supernatural flames respond to my commands. Fire can't hurt me. I am also impervious to just about every weapon I can think of, mostly because I got attacked by men and women wielding all kinds of weapons while growing up in my Dorchester neighborhood.

Yeah, I felt that I met a gal I could finally be myself around. I had seen half-breeds date ordinary humans and those romances seldom lasted. Lauren and I had fun together. Unfortunately, she forgot to tell me that her father was a Fallen Angel named Gaelfriel, who got banished to Earth after a failed uprising against Prince Lucifer himself. Fallen Angels really don't like half-demons. And vice versa. If you ask me, those winged freaks are racist. They resent my fellow half-breeds for our humanity. You see, angels, both fallen and faithful, got no souls. God never gave them one. As a half-human, I got some rights and privileges no angel can ever have. Like, I can do all kinds of evil stuff and still get into Heaven scot-free if I repent at the last minute before I croak. No fallen angel has ever been forgiven by Yahweh for their transgressions.

I was beginning to wonder why Lauren never wanted to introduce me to her parents. She had two collegiate older brothers, Lawrence and William, and like her they were Nephilim. Their mother was deceased. And their father was a domestic tyrant hiding behind an angelic façade. Yeah, that's the kind of mess I walked into. When the fallen angel Gaelfriel found out his daughter was involved with a half-demon, he went bananas. When we last spoke, he unleashed an expletive-laden barrage on me. And so I went to confront him. And got my ass thoroughly kicked. I guess I possessed the overconfidence of youth. He robbed me of it. I had never felt so humiliated in my entire life.

Yeah, that's what it's like to be me, folks. I tried to be a good guy, and the world kicked me in the ass. So I said to Hell with the Purebreds and their high-and-mighty attitude. I embraced my demon heritage. I began working for the Arch-Demon Astaroth, one of the most powerful demon lords whom Lucifer assigned dominion over this world. I had a lot of fun working for him. He was a cool guy. He introduced me to the guy who would later become an important part of my life, college professor and amateur magician Nigel Geralds. One of Astaroth's many minions in this mundane world.

Nigel and I were friends at first. We had a lot in common. His mother, Elisabeth Geralds was a powerful Witch and a descendant of a half-demon. From her, he inherited a high aptitude for magic. He could cast spells, display feats of strength, summon magical objects from beyond, and even travel anywhere in the world via teleportation. Astaroth used him as a Tracker. A Tracker is a man, woman, creature, spirit, demon or monster in the employ of a Demon Lord. What they do is they track down lost or misplaced entities, objects and other precious things. Astaroth gave me management of his Trackers, which included a black female werewolf, a thousand-year-old vampire prince, and a shape-shifter. I loved my job. You see, Astaroth was constantly at odds with some of the biggest troublemakers in this world, such as renegade fallen angels who refused to bow to Lucifer and the Nephilim. I did enjoy bringing about the demise of many a Nephilim. I've grown to hate the breed. They think they're better than everybody. What a bunch of fools.

As time went by, Nigel and I bonded. I've been aware of my bisexuality my entire life. I find both men and women appealing. For some reason, I found myself drawn to Nigel. This surprised me. He's not really my type. Usually, I like tall, busty, voluptuous, big-booty women, preferably black or Hispanic. When I find myself drawn to men, it's usually to tough-looking, burly black or Hispanic studs. Yet somehow, I fell in love with an openly gay white nerd who practiced witchcraft and played Dungeons & Dragons along with World of Warcraft in his spare time. Isn't life strange? Astaroth didn't frown on romance among his employees, not even same-sex romance. He's a free-spirited bisexual who's very tolerant. I once watched him preside over the wedding of a deranged vampire militiaman and a mass-murdering mermaid. Is the guy open-minded or what?

After dating for a few months, Nigel and I decided to move in together. We found a nice apartment in Brighton, Massachusetts. Not far from downtown Boston. Life was okay. I took the green line train to Emerson College in the mornings, and he went to teach at Greater Boston Community College. I had finally found love, and it was with the most unlikely person I knew. In this world of super-powered men and women, demons, angels, gods, monsters and otherworldly creatures, who would have thought I'd fall in love with a regular Joe? I guess the heart wants what the heart wants. My misadventure with the female Nephilim and her narrow-minded father are but a distant memory. I love my Nigel. He loves me. We both enjoy working for the Devil's right-hand man. Life is good.