Jini - Character Sketch

Having decided this will not become part of the eventual story, here's how Jini introduced herself to me....

Half-demons aren’t common on Earth, but Earth is the only place you’ll find them. They couldn’t live anywhere else. Hell wasn’t created for nurturing life. It was built full of challenges for creating strong soldiers and tougher armies. Babies had survived there, but not many and not very often – and not without sacrifices from their caretakers, their parents, and occasionally the community nearby. After all, something had to protect their soft infant flesh from acid lakes and random wildfires.

Heaven wasn’t any better. While it may have been intended to be the place of love and peace, it had a long memory and more pride than it liked to admit. They did not provide succor to the enemy, and there was no enemy more hated than the demons, except perhaps those who helped them. Oh, they’d forgive, of course. That was sort of their deal. But they’d have to be asked for forgiveness first. Possibly even begged.

They’d been at war a long time.

Forever long.

Full demons were created with the beginning of the universe, like full angels. Some might say that they were created to be partners, since all demons are female and all angels are male, but I wouldn’t say that to one of them. In the forever they’ve existed, they’ve never created a couple.

They’ve never created a child.

Not that anyone has ever found, that is. That seems to be what the middle races are for. Humans and fairies fill world between, making babies, living and dying. While angels and demons live forever, faeries and humans have more limited life spans. Humans get one century and faeries get three. Still short of the forever the angels and demons get, except when they died in battle, but the rest of us get sex. Who wouldn’t give up eternity for sex?

They have to give up their place, their immortality, their souls and their battle before they can have sex. Even then it’s only ever with a mortal; someone who will die long before them, even after they’ve given up their immortality. It’s a fucked up world. Seriously.

The Big Bang, the magic hand, don’t ask me what started it all. I’m a baby, comparatively. No one’s ever found a god, or not one who admits to being a god, at least, but there’s no solid proof the other way either. I stopped looking a long time ago when one of the Servants of God killed my father.

You see, I’m half-demon.

Guessed that already, did you? What gave it away? The glowing eyes? They’re nearly human. Human blue eyes come pale like mine, but green? OK, they’re a little off. I could hide it if I wanted. Contacts. Shades. I’ve done both and I didn’t want to start with a lie.

The horns though. They don’t hide. They’re either too low or too pointy to hide under hats, tipping up fedoras and shaped hats, ripping through the longer knits. Two inches long, just under my hairline, I’ve seen other halfs create intricate hairdos to hide them, but I never bothered. Most humans ignore them. It’s just the Servants of God that we have to worry about.

I was only born fifty-two years ago so I’m still young for a Half, not even fully into my powers yet. My mother was killed when I was too young to remember so I don’t even know what I’ll be getting. I don’t remember her at all, though I do get smells on occasion. Brimstone. Really, that’s how she smelled. At least that’s what I remember. Burning. Coffee beans, campfires. Anything fiery, but the chemical smell of cigarettes, make me think warmth and comfort.

My father took care of me after that. He was human, of course. You’d think he’d be safe.

He did too.

Someone followed me home from school one day. I brought his killer right to him and I didn’t notice him at all. Kill the demon and the demon sympathizers. That’s their motto. The Servants of God.

It didn’t matter that my father was a good man, that he gave everything extra he ever earned to charity. Maybe he had his own guilt complex about my mother. Humans are odd that way, taking sides in a battle that had nothing to do with them. If that was true, he never told me.

It didn’t matter to those Servants of God that I never hurt anyone in my life until that day. All he cared about was that I had horns. I was evil just by existing.

He shot my father.

He shot me.

Then I burned him alive.

I suppose that’s a good reason to hate us. I mean other than my horns. We’re good at fire. It’s our thing. Fighting. Toughness. Fire.

That’s it. That’s my strengths. My weakness too. All tied up in one happy little story. Can you use someone who has killed before? A half-demon?

Crap, did I really just say all that?

And that? Crap on crackers. I’ll just shut up now.