Unsteady

Uno

I sat up in my bed, just having woke up from a horrible dream about my most recent hunt, I suck a deep breath of much needed air, filling my lungs before exhaling and trying to calm my racing heart. Nightmares were a nightly occurrence, but it came with the job, or so the two hunters I've actually talked to claim.

I'd been on my own for about three years now, hunting monsters and running from most hunters. Turns out, a lot of them aren't too psyched about having a half angel running around, even if I'm on their side.

Carefully making my way out of bed, I felt my wings twitch. They couldn't be seen by the human eye or most supernaturals, which gave me an advantage.

However it was always fun to play the game of 'can you see my wings and do you eat angels?"

Some monsters, I've discovered, just want to live a normal life, so as long as they stay clean, they're under my protection.

A fact that a lot of hunters disagree with.

I pulled a mug out of the cabinet, filling it with cool water from the tap in my apartment. It was well hidden and warded, no one would find me if I didn't want to be found, and it allowed me to have a home.

Taking one more deep breath, I exhaled slowly, mentally erasing what I'd just witnessed in my dreams. Now was not the time I wanted to processes what they could mean.

Carefully setting the ceramic mug into the near-empty sink, I gently pulled my wings toward myself.

They were a little grimy along the veins, especially near where the long primary feathers met the wing itself.

Walking to my bathroom, I stripped, stepping under the warm water of my shower soon after. It soothed my already aching muscles and I ran my fingers through my beautiful wings as gently as I could, freeing them of grime.

My wings were susceptible to getting dirty just like the rest of my body, however, they passed through most solid objects. I could touch them, other angels as well as demons could touch them, and powerful supernaturals such as an alpha vampire or a pure-bred werewolf could touch them. As if I'd allow that to happen.

The wings themselves were gorgeous, starting at the base they were a midnight blue and as you got further toward the primaries they became black as night.

With most angels, their wings started out pure white, but as they get older, they grow into their colored wings. It was kind of like angelic puberty.

Archangels were born with pitch black wings, it was a symbol of their power. In the 'pecking order' of heaven, there are relatively six groups.

The archangels are the oldest and most powerful, this is a role you're created into, you can't just become an archangel.

Next is a Seraphim, these are the second most powerful after the archangels and the ones who command the parts of heaven under the archangels.

After them are the Cherubims, they manage a smaller group than the first two. Then the Thrones who have ten groups of dominions to their command, and the dominions who have rank over a group of five each. Lastly are the virtues, they are the lowest ranking and they are the guardians of earth and humans.

Apparently my father had told my mother stories about heaven, how it worked in rank. He said he loved my mother and that he loved me.

Despite that, He abandoned us, abandoned me. Even after my mother's death it wasn't enough to draw him out. My father claimed to care but never really did because if he ever had he would have come back long ago.

Or he would have at least tried to fight off heaven.

Realizing the water had turned cold, I turned it off, briefly taking a moment to shake the water from my wings so they could dry before wrapping a towel around myself.

Tomorrow I was going to track down a lead on a hunt, and hopefully this time it'll be a good one. I've had the itch to kill lately, something that probably isn't right, and I hold back until it's a deserving monster, but still the kill was something I wanted.