come from any municipal tap. “Now, before we get off topic, there are a few more things we need to talk about. Like, how is this dinner going to lead us to my vampire brothers?”
“Oh, someone here will blab,” stated Gene with assurance. “And if the vamps don’t make a move, then we’ll try something bolder. But I’m pretty sure someone will sell them the info. After all, only the blood of a Nephilim can allow a night stalker to walk in daylight.”
“Whoa, stop right there. First of all, I looked up that Nephilim thing and Wiki says they’re the result of an Angel banging a human.”
Gene made a buzzer noise. “Wrong. Angels who mate successfully with humans make incubi and succubi. While demons who mate with humans, without killing them, make vampire babies. Nephilim are a mixture of both angel and demon. Although, you’re the first I’ve heard who started out human.”
“Fine, so the internet was wrong. Now how come only my blood can let the vamps walk in daylight? What about the fairies? Aren’t they like sunshine and stuff? Wouldn’t they make a better choice?” The words popped out of my mouth before I could stop them and I quickly peered around to see if any fairies overheard, but no one seemed to be paying us attention.
“Fairies are pure poison to the dark ones,” Simon answered. “No one knows why the blood of the Nephilim is the only thing that allows vampires to walk during the day. In the old days, before the cleansing, Nephilim used to be little more than blood slaves to the vamps.”
I shuddered. “Okay, change of topic. Let’s say I go along with the plan to be bait. I need to know how to fight.”
“From what I saw, you did a fine job on your own,” said Simon with a creased brow.
“That was hand to hand stuff. I’m talking about learning to use my powers to help me instead of having to use my fists. I mean, I’ve got the wings and learned to kind of fly, but-”
“You have wings?” interjected Gene looking surprised.
“Yeah. Why? Don’t all Nephilim have them?” I looked back and forth between them and tried to hide my shock when I realized the answer. “I’m a freak,” I mumbled slumping forward to hide my face in my hands.
Big hands tugged at mine and I lifted my face reluctantly. Simon peered at me with a quirky smile. “I can turn into a huge dragon and blow ice. Not to mention, grow claws, a tail and cause all objects around me to become layered in frost. Does that make me a freak?”
“No, because that’s part of who you are.”
“And your wings and whatever other secrets you’ve acquired are a part of you. So what if you’re not like the Nephalim of the past? Think of yourself instead as the new and improved model. There’s nothing wrong with being different. Take a look around you. You’re not alone.”
“I’ve got an idea,” Gene announced amidst the seriousness. “We need to give her a name of her own. Since she’s not quite a Nephilim but a new class of being, she deserves the chance to name herself as the first of her line.”
At first I wanted to tell Gene where he could shove his idea-in a place that light didn’t shine-but something about owning who I was, actually appealed. But what could I call myself? “You know what, I like it, but how do I decide on a name. I mean, what if there ends up being others like me in the future? I don’t want to leave them saddled with a name they hate.”
We mulled this together as our monkey server arrived bearing plates piled high with what looked a caesar salad. I’ll admit I was disappointed. I kind of expected blue lettuce and some kind of alternate dimension dressing, but after tasting it, I could at least concede it was the best freaking salad ever.
“Humangon,” said Gene all of a sudden.
I wrinkled my nose. “That is horrible.”
Simon paused eating long enough to say, “Humaneph.”
“Bless you,” I said sarcastically. “Come on, can’t you think of something that describes me, the sexiest hybrid misfit ever?”
“That’s it!” announced Gene.
“What? Sexiest?” I queried.
“Hybrid misfit,” Gene clapped his hands. “It’s perfect.”
I mulled it over and a light bulb went off inside my head, the brightness of it making me blink. “You’re right and it won’t just be for me. I’m not the only one who doesn’t fit in. Look at poor Lana, a siren who can’t change into her fishy self or go near the ocean. She could be a hybrid misfit, too.”
Gene laughed. “And the wood nymph who prefers celibacy, she can be a hybrid misfit as well.”
“Anyone who’s not human and who doesn’t want to conform can belong,” I said getting into it. “We’ll have t- shirts done up. We’ll start a club.”
I giggled, joined by the guys, and even though I knew we were the object of stares all around, I found myself not giving as much of a damn.
Right after the main course, of course. Even I couldn’t resist the mouthwatering aroma of the prime rib placed in front of me, and if the meat wasn’t like any bovine stuff I’d eaten before I ignored it, because it was ambrosia in my mouth. And besides, hybrid misfits weren’t afraid to try new things, say, like, my very first threesome.
Now that we’d tackled the boring stuff, I found myself recapturing the lust from earlier. We made small talk, the conversation and laughter flowing smoothly. Every so often Simon’s hand would slide under the table and squeeze my thigh-after pushing my skirt up first. The heat of his palm resting on my skin made me shiver. I kept hoping he’d move his hand over and dip a finger into my soaking honey pot, but the big tease would rub me for a moment, then move his hand away.
Gene employed a different tactic. He’d cut a prime morsel and then pop it into my mouth-with his fingers. I’d suck them clean and his eyes would glow. I wondered if anyone would notice if we disappeared under the table for a moment.
Looking at the easy camaraderie between them, I suddenly felt a burning need to know. “How did you guys meet and become friends?”
The boys looked at each other and laughed. At my questioning look, Gene, with a sheepish smile, said, “To understand, first I need to admit that I pissed off a powerful sultan. He didn’t take kindly the fact that I seduced and ruined all the women in his harem. ” At my arched brow, he grinned even wider. “All one hundred and forty seven of them. He had a Djinn of his own who lived in a brass lamp. Using one of his wishes, he had me cursed and sealed in the bottle I showed you, then cast into the ocean.”
I leaned forward, rapt. “It’s like something out of
Simon laughed at Gene’s scowl. “Don’t remind me of that tale. Who do you think the Djinn in that story was?”
I giggled. “So how long did you end up swimming around in your bottle?”
“Oh, a thousand years or so.”
That shut me up and wiped away my smile. “Oh, Gene, how awful.”
“Yes, it was,” he replied soberly, only to grin again a moment later. “Actually, it ended up just what I needed. I mostly napped during that time, caught up on some reading and basically relaxed. Until the day a wave tossed me up on the icy shores of the Antarctic, that is, and a covetous dragon stole me and hid me away in his hoard of treasure.”
Simon almost choked on the wine he’d just swallowed. “Stole? Ha, you washed up on my beach and the rule is finders keepers. Besides, your glass bottle was pretty and went well with my collection.”
“You actually have a treasure hoard?” I asked, distracted like a crow by a shiny bauble.
“Oh yes, and if you’re a
“Hello? We were talking about me,” Gene interjected. “And if you want treasure, I can show you things that this here old dragon can only dream of owning.
I giggled as they argued back and forth over who had the most priceless item. Eventually, I waved my hands and declared a draw. “Back to the story, Simon found your bottle and then what? Rubbed it and out you poofed?”
“Ha, I wish. My friend here didn’t even realize I was in there for the first hundred years, and trust me it wasn’t for lack of trying.”
