“You're just naturally not as awesome as us.”

“Go screw yourself, you Wesley Snipes wannabe."

"God, will someone shut those two up?" said Professor Olsen, walking into the room.

“Alex, you're done. Get up and Let Jen put some gray into Dartanon's beard."

"I don't like it," the soon-to-be Othello grumbled, sitting in the vacated chair.

“It makes me look Like my grandfather."

“A sexy grandfather," Jen said, leaning down and kissing his cheek.

"Jesus, get a room," Frank said, eying Jen's lush curves admiringly

The remark won him a slap on the back of the head. Other actors and actresses drifted in, the byplay catching their attention. Professor

Olsen eyed them, his habitual nervousness matching the mood of the room.

“ALL right," he said, clapping his hands twice for attention.

“I know it's our first night. And it's the first play for a lot of you." His voice firmed, his stance becoming, for once, commanding. "Relax. I've been doing this for nearly forty years, off and on, and there is literally nothing I haven't seen. There is no screw-up so massive that would come as a surprise to me. I've had actors break down in hysterics on stage. I've had an entire production canceled due to ane coli outbreak after a bad trip to a taco truck in El Paso. I've had lighting fail, sets fall apart, and a theater burn down during a showing of Cat On a Hot Tin Roof.

“Now go out there and make me proud. Or I'll pull your Lungs out." seem

Kincaid handed over his ticket, then walked slowly through the Lobby of the theater, avoiding the clumps of stupidly chattering humans. The urge to take his true form and Lay waste to the ignorant sheep milling around him was almost overwhelming.

One more night. Then this exile will be over.

“Can I help you, sir?" The young woman at the refreshment stand looked at him with adoring, bovine eyes, no doubt impressed by his handsome face and expensive clothes.

Throttling his rage, he paused, counted to ten, then ordered a soda and a pack of Twizzlers.

I have to get out of here, he thought feverishly, stalking away and heading towards the restroom. I'm losing control. Becoming one of them.

The lost ones. Before long I'll be nothing but an animal, killing every human I see until one of the accursed succubi put me down like a rabid dog.

It was the curse of his kind. The spawn of a human and demon mating was inherently unstable. With judicious, careful killing to slake their blood-Lust, a demon-spawn could stave off the inevitable deterioration of its psyche for years. Sometimes even decades. But sooner or later they would succumb and go on a murderous rampage, fit only for destruction. And then they would be killed, unable to reason or evade the hunters of God.

Keep it together. Kill the boy. Then the mother. Then the succubus. Go home. Before it's too late.

Pulling out his flaccid penis, he began to urinate. As he did so, he thought back to the vapidly pretty concession-girl. Would his Life be different, he wondered, if he had been able to find humans attractive?

To mate with them, as revolting as the thought might be?

The demon-spawn were the polar opposite of their immortal kindred.

While the succubi and incubi rutted with any human that stood still