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