Chapter Three
The difference in Tabitha's old apartment and her new apartment, well, Veronica's
old
apartment that Tabitha now
owned
(along with Veronica herself), wasn't just miles apart, it was light years.
Her old place had been barely little more than a box with a toilet and shower attached. The "bed" if it could be called that, had been an old school Murphy bed that folded down from the wall, and when it was down, there was almost no space to walk about the main room of the apartment. In fact, from bed, Tabitha had been able to make dinner, brush her teeth, wash her face and get dressed without even having to stretch.
Her
new
place, the place she'd taken from Veronica, was the kind of obscenely large New York apartment she'd only heard rumors about, and didn't believe actually existed. It was located at One Hundred Barclay and was only referred to the Penthouse. While her old apartment had been 500 square feet, if she was lucky, Veronica informed her that her new place was over 14,000 square feet, and took up two floors of the building. The living room had 20 foot high ceilings, and when Tabitha had asked how much the place cost, Veronica had only said that the original asking price had been $40 million, and there had been a bidding war that she'd eventually won by paying significantly more over asking price, in addition to intimidating a couple of buyers. Tabitha had wanted to ask exactly how she'd intimidated them, but was afraid that Veronica would've actually answered her.
There was fine art along the walls, and somehow Tabitha suspected none of it was prints or copies, but actual originals. In fact, as she wandered through the place for the first time, she decided that anywhere she stood in the new apartment, if she extended both of her arms out, the value of that area alone was probably worth more than anything she'd ever owned before.
It had been remarkably comforting, learning that she hadn't been going crazy all those years, and now that she knew she was seeing actual things and not hallucinations, she'd thrown her prescriptions into the trash. The drugs had deadened her senses for much of her life, and she hadn't realized how much she'd been living her life like the walking dead until the morning after she'd claimed Veronica, the drugs having flushed out of her system.
That morning, she stood naked at her window, looking out through the tempered glass that prevented anyone from looking into her place, watching the sun rise in the distance, noticing perhaps for the first time that not all the gargoyles that lined the tops of the skyscrapers in New York City stood perfectly still, some of them moving every so often when they thought no one was watching.
It was a weird world she found herself in, but she was going to make the best of it with as little or as much time as she had left, she decided, although she supposed that the amount of sand remaining in her hourglass was completely in her own hands at this point.
Veronica's hand slid across Tabitha's belly as her body pressed against Tabitha's back, the demoness kissing the top of one of Tabitha's shoulders. "You're up early," she purred. "Far earlier than I thought you would be."
"I've been asleep all my life, Roni," Tabitha chuckled. "Why on Heaven and Earth would I want to stay that way any longer than I have to?"
"That's good, Mistress," Veronica replied. "Time and tide wait for no man, or woman in this case. And your clock is ticking, so each and every moment should be precious and never wasted. Thirty days, seven women, well, nephilim that
look
like women. That means you only have a little more than four days each, so speed is of the essence, and idle hands will only cost you."
"Do these women
know
they're nephilim?"
"Generally not, but the angelic blood that runs through their veins has made them all exceptional at whatever they apply themselves to, and to a trained eye, the signs of their nephilimhood are relatively easy to spot."
"Such as?"
Veronica tipped her head up, confused. "Excuse me, Mistress?"
"What sort of signs are easy to spot?"
"Ah," the demoness replied. "Well, to those who can see past The Veil concealing the magic world from the mundane one, at moments when their gifts are in use, their eyes turn gold for the briefest of moments. You and I, for example, would be able to see that, even through a camera or on video, which has been of great aid for me lining up possible targets for you to consider."
"Does the contest specify they have to be nephilim?"
"No, Mistress, but going at full blown angels is very high risk behavior, and certainly should only be a last ditch option," she said, her fingertips toying with one of Tabitha's dark nipples now. "While I have no doubt you might eventually be able to corrupt them, let's wait until you've claimed your mantle from your mother's legacy before you go about wing hunting."
Tabitha smirked, tilting her head to one side. "You're afraid of them."
Veronica frowned in response. "No, Mistress, but I am
respectful
of the level of power they can bring to bear if they decide to. As I once told Alexander Hamilton, respecting one's opponent does not have to entail underestimating one's opponent. The worst can always be right around the corner."
"Fine," Tabitha said. "No angels, only angel spawn. I can manage that, at least while I'm getting a handle on things. Do you have a list I can pick from, or are you going to suggest an order to me?"
"I feel like the first few in the stack should be ones of my recommendation, but beyond that, I think you are free to decide for yourself when and where you want to make your move," Veronica said, kissing Tabitha's neck before pulling away, walking towards the kitchen. "The next one I have a bit of an in with, as we say in the business, so you'll be able to focus on the task at hand, and not be distracted by having to figure out how to make your approach."
Veronica had started coffee before coming over, and now that it was ready, she poured out two cups worth, one for herself and one for Tabitha. "Splash of cream and one sugar, yes?"
"As always, you've done your homework," Tabitha said, strolling over towards the kitchen area, still not having bothered to put clothes on. It helped reinforce her position in her mind, being able to move around naked in such a large area. "Tell me about this first target and how you have an in with her. I can't imagine anyone called AOA for anything good."
"It's not as big a deal as she made it out to be, but I suppose if I hadn't handled it, there was the potential of it turning into a media shitstorm," Veronica said, holding the mug out to Tabitha, arm of the cup towards her. Based on how steaming the coffee was, either it was quite insulated or Veronica had quite the tolerance to heat. Either seemed possible.
"Start with a name."
"Kelly Simone," Veronica responded. "There's a chance you might have heard of her, depending on what hobbies you may have kept hidden from me. As much as I tried, I couldn't learn everything about you while you were growing up. Have you? Heard of her, I mean."
"The name doesn't ring any bells," Tabitha said, lifting the coffee to her lips, taking a sip from it. She wasn't sure what kind of coffee it was, but it was definitely some sort of exotic roast she'd never had before, and the very taste of it felt decadent and sinful on her tongue in the best possible way. "Who is she?"
"She's a soccer player," Veronica said, grabbing a tablet from the countertop, tapping on it to make it spring to life. She touched and swiped at it a few times before finding the app she wanted, opening it and getting some presentation she'd clearly prepared in advance. "This is her."
Veronica laid the table down in front of Tabitha, then spun it around to make sure it was right side up. On the screen was a large image of a soccer player, her long dirty blonde hair held back from her face by a headband, the majority of it drawn into a rather bushy ponytail full of volume. She had a wide smile with perfect white teeth on display. The jersey was a sort of faded powder blue with a big circular logo smack dab in the center of it, the letters Y, C and N visible in that order, although Tabitha realized it must have been for NYC. Her skin was tan, maybe a stripe of Greek or Italian heritage in her or perhaps just a good amount of time spent out in the sun. The expression on her face exuded confidence by the mile.
"She's certainly pretty enough," Tabitha said, pinching her fingers together and then flicking them apart to make the image zoom in on Kelly's face. "How old?"
"19," Veronica replied. "Turns twenty a week or so before Halloween."
"So let me guess," Tabitha said. "She got drunk and trashed her car or something? She strikes me as the sort of girl who would both start drinking early and wouldn't accept that she couldn't hold onto her liquor and insisted on driving herself home from a party when she shouldn't have."
"Zero for one," Veronica chuckled. "Dear little Kelly here is straight edge. No liquor, no cigarettes, no pot, no vaping."