Virtually Yours: A Virtual Match Anthology

by Kait Nolan

  He ducked his head to his chest. “I know. So we’re divorced. Why are you here?”

  The ‘love’ word had her freaked out. And so far she had no reason to believe he had any idea what she’d faced since he signed her up for that stupid service.

  But if it wasn’t Shaun harassing her, then who?

  Delia returned to her car, leaving a completely mystified Shaun staring after her.

  She dialed Calla.

  Her cousin picked up after two rings. “Hey. What do we know?” she asked with no preamble.

  “Shaun’s aura was yellow and pink. What the fuck does that mean? Did he do it, or not?”

  “Was it a light yellow, or a bright yellow? And same for the pink.”

  “Bright yellow and dark pink.”

  “But not red?”

  “Not red,” Delia confirmed.

  “I’m not an expert, but yellow could be either his innate playfulness and youthfulness—which we know for a fact—or a major life change, which is also relevant. And dark pink points to dishonesty and immaturity.”

  “Exactly what I saw, exactly what I felt.” Delia sighed. “And exactly what I would expect.”

  “So he’s not the guy.”

  Delia closed her eyes. Who in the world else would have reason to treat her this way?

  Chapter Thirteen

  Delia’s thoughts spun around in a wild loop in her mind. She could not comprehend the why behind all this. Why was this Craig familiar with her? And if they knew each other, why would he treat her this way?

  “Where are you now?” Calla asked.

  “On my way home. I’m going to lock the door and be alone with all the thoughts bouncing around in my head.”

  “That doesn’t sound pleasant,” Calla stated. “Where’s the fella?”

  Delia had an odd urge to lie—to tell her cousin Cole had gone back to work or something, instead of the truth.

  She frowned at the thought, and chose the truth.

  “We went to lunch but then...I decided we’d better take a step back.”

  “Huh,” Calla grunted.

  Delia didn’t want to ask what that reaction was about, but she could probably count on Calla to fill her in anyway.

  But she didn’t. Instead she asked, “Do you want me to come over? I’m just hanging out in a hotel room, watching bad TV.”

  “Nah. Like I said, I need to be alone with all the thoughts.”

  Brief pause. “Okay. Make sure you lock that door.”

  “I will.”

  ~*~

  Delia did lock the door—and deadbolt it—right when she got home. She let out a long sigh and headed to her room to shower. She left the garnet on her nightstand, and felt curiously exposed without it.

  The cascade of hot water felt better than she’d hoped. She bent her neck so it could pound the tension out of her shoulders. She was tired, but she was also wound up. Now that she was alone, thinking didn’t sound as attractive.

  She started to drift as her body relaxed under the steamy shower.

  With another sigh, Delia turned off the water.

  In the other room, she heard the phone ringing.

  “Dang it. Worst timing!” she shouted uselessly.

  She toweled off and was just in time to catch the next round of ringing.

  It was the front desk calling. “Hello?” she answered breathlessly.

  “Mrs. Scott? This is Tom, at reception.” Tom had a pleasant southern accent. She hadn’t met him before. He must be new.

  Delia didn’t bother to correct him about her last name. “Hello, Tom. What can I help you with?”

  “There’s been a problem with the natural gas in your neighbor’s unit. A fellow from the gas company is here, and he’s wondering if you wouldn’t mind him checking on your unit as well while he’s here.”

  Delia frowned. “I don’t think there’s any problem.”

  “Just a safety check, ma’am.”

  He waited while she considered it. She looked down at herself. She wasn’t even dressed from her shower yet. It seemed the universe had other plans instead of alone time.

  “If it isn’t going to take long, he can come up.”

  “Okay, I’ll send him up. His name is Charlie.”

  “Thanks,” Delia said, though thanking him for the interruption was the last thing she wanted to do.

  She hung up and ran for her bedroom to put on some clothes. A sports bra and tank plus yoga pants later, she heard a knock at the door. She ran her fingers through her freshly showered hair quickly while she went to answer it.

  Delia had barely turned the knob when the whole door crashed into her. It caught her at the cheekbone, shoulder and hip—hard. She stumbled back, the breath huffing out of her lungs as adrenaline shot through her system.

  What was happening?

  Jeff stepped around the door, closing it swiftly and turning the latch.

  For a moment Delia’s mind refused to believe the sight. What was Jeff, her pesky coworker from the newspaper, doing here?

  His aura was a dark, brownish burgundy. Tendrils of it reached and swirled. It stank of hate and cruelty. It looked like madness taken physical form. It was nothing like what she would have expected from what she knew of him at the paper.

  Her eyes went wide as comprehension dawned.

  It was Jeff.

  Craig.

  Craig was Jeff.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “What do you want?” Delia demanded. Her voice sounded calm, firm. A pleasant surprise. She stood straighter. “Get out of my house.”

  Jeff turned toward her, a vicious grin plastered on his normally friendly features. He wore a shirt and cap with a gas company logo, the shirt tucked into dark blue jeans, but he failed to pass as a gas company impostor. His lanky, pale form didn’t seem built for a life in the trades, but at the computer he was used to sitting behind.

  “Get out of my house,” Delia repeated.

  “No, Delia. I won’t go so easily this time. You see, you’ve left me no other option.”

  He reached around his back and pulled out a revolver. The black metal stared at her ominously.

  What was Jeff doing with a gun?

  And suddenly, ridiculously, Delia realized she wasn’t wearing the pendant. One part of her mind called her a child—like the pendant could help her in this situation? But she remembered what Grandma Elle had said.

  Trust the stone.

  The door to her bedroom was the first on the right, but still a good ten steps from where she stood facing her attacker.

  “Don’t you dare scream,” Jeff started.

  Good idea!

  Delia screamed at the top of her lungs. “Help! Help me! Help!”

  Jeff dashed forward and raised the gun, bashing it against Delia’s head. He was probably hoping to knock her out or something but she ducked and he hit the crown of her head and not her temple.

  Delia shoved her knee up with as much intensity as she could muster, and felt the connection as Jeff’s breath whooshed out of his lungs.

  Pay dirt.

  Jeff hunched over his bruised manhood, gulping in air like it could save him from the pain.

  She scrambled away, stumbling into the wall and shoving off from it, toward her room.

  She made it. Her hands shook as she locked the bedroom door behind her. She went straight to the bedside table and lifted the pendant, feeling it tingle against her palms. She put it on, and instantly felt calmer.

  The doorknob turned as much as the lock would allow, a slight click betraying Jeff’s attempt at sneaking around on the other side.

  Rage slithered hot and heavy through Delia’s veins. Who did this guy think he was?

  She ran to the bathroom, and came out with two sharp metal nail files. Her best bet for a weapon in her room, unless she got a chance to hit him with the ceramic lamp on the bedside table, or one of the heavy bookends from a shelf on the other side of the room.

  Jesus, what was she thinking? Th
e man had a gun.

  The bedroom door rattled in its hinges as Jeff gave it a kick.

  Shit. Not good.

  With the second kick the door splintered in the middle, shards of its innards beginning to show.

  Another knock sounded at the front door, and Delia heard faintly, “Hey! Everything alright in there?” It was ninety-year-old Mr. Crester, from the condo next door. Not likely to be much help in a fight, but if he took her call for help seriously, maybe he’d raise the alarm?

  Jeff paused on the other side of the door, and Delia hid the nail files under the coverlet of her bed.

  Jeff’s third kick busted through the door, and it took him a couple more targeted kicks to rip it open. He was stronger than he looked.

  “I’m not going to let you just walk away from me, Delia,” Jeff said, his voice and accent now reminiscent of Tom, who had called from the front desk.

  Delia whimpered. There was no Tom at all. That was Jeff calling from the front desk. He was crazy, and he was in her home where she stood facing him and it was too, too much.

  The garnet at her breastbone trembled and warmed.

  Jeff advanced, but Delia stood her ground. She would kick him again if she had to—gun or no, but she was not going to be backed into a corner.

  Suddenly, a buzzing feeling passed over Delia’s skin, spreading out from her breastbone where the garnet pendant rested.

  Jeff reached for her, and a sizzle of red energy dashed out to stop his hand. He yelped and retreated a pace, holding his hand and grimacing.

  “What was that?” he asked softly, as if she wasn’t even in the room.

  Delia could still feel the energy buzzing over her skin. It turned out Calla knew what she was doing. The protection spell worked!

  Armed with the spell, Delia took a chance and darted to go around Jeff and out the door.

  But despite the burn to his hand, Jeff wasn’t letting her pass. He shoved into her and sizzle after sizzle zapped him as he tried to hold her. He jolted back and broke contact as welts rose all over his exposed skin.

  That’s when he raised the gun.

  He shook his head. “I don’t know how you did that. But I don’t think it’s going to help against bullets, is it?” The maniacal grin he’d worn when he first shoved his way into her home was back. Despite obvious pain, Jeff still felt he had the upper hand.

  And with the gun, he did.

  “I don’t think you understand how disappointing this all was, Delia. All of those times I tried to get your attention, and you didn’t have the time of day for me. What, am I not special enough for you? Maybe it’s my looks. I’m not like pretty boy who was here this morning?” Jeff raved.

  He was losing control and Delia was scared.

  Had Mr. Crester at least called the front desk? She couldn’t count on anyone coming to help her.

  She was going to have to help herself.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Jeff kept up his lunatic spiel. “I figured the texts would be a fresh start for us. A new way for you to see past what you thought you knew about me.”

  She hadn’t even considered Jeff that way, except to hope that he never tried to act on his crush. Of course she’d known about that. She would have had to be blind not to see the puppy dog eyes he gave her every time a group from work went out.

  Jeff laughed, his eyes bugging out of his head. The welts on his skin must be painful, but he seemed entirely focused on her. “Your husband was such an idiot. It was easy enough to convince Shaun to sign you up for Virtual Match as a little payback, a little knife between the ribs, so to speak,” he said, the gun in his hand waving with emphasis.

  Delia’s heart pounded and she fought the instinct to dive for cover. He was going to shoot her by accident if he didn’t quit moving around.

  “How the hell do you know my husband...I mean my ex-husband?” She had to keep him talking, so he didn’t have a chance to use that gun.

  “You brought him to that charity function for Alzheimer’s a couple of months ago. I was intrigued. I would have pegged you for marrying someone smarter, with more to offer.” His eyes alight, he seemed to be making fun of her, trying to get a reaction. “Shaun got a little drunk and told me the two of you were getting divorced. And that’s when I mentioned helping you with your social skills through Virtual Match. He liked the idea, and we had a great laugh at your expense. I hate that fucker, to be honest.”

  Delia grunted a response because she had nothing. Jeff had apparently been planning to somehow seduce her for a while. And his social skills were so beyond the pale, the whole joke was a juxtaposition that made her head spin.

  “I’ve been moonlighting with Virtual Match since it launched. I love the idea. You’re not supposed to use it to find dates, but I will tell you I’ve found it to be quite a useful tool.”

  He’d done this before? God, what a creep.

  “And then I just picked up your account and took the gamble. I knew you’d give me a chance if I hid for just a little while behind this secret identity. Once you wanted to meet me, we would meet and you would completely understand how you’d overlooked the best catch of your life.”

  “Let me guess. Then we’d live happily ever after.”

  He just stared at her.

  “Okay, and now you’re holding me at gunpoint. You really think this is going well?”

  “It’s not going like I planned,” he said petulantly. He frowned, his agitation growing perceptibly by the minute.

  This was the grand finale of a show he’d lived in his mind too many times. But she wasn’t supposed to be a real participant. He couldn’t account for her actions and what they were doing to his storyline.

  The guy was loony.

  Delia stepped toward him, adrenaline pumping hard, demanding action. “Jeff. Put down the gun.”

  “No,” he scoffed. He raised it to point the muzzle directly at Delia’s chest. His hand shook, and he was looking at the gun, not at her.

  “Put the gun down, Jeff,” Delia said softly, but firmly. She took another step closer, leaving just a few feet between them. “You don’t want this to get out of hand.”

  “If I can’t have you, no one is going to have you,” he ground out from between clenched teeth.

  Ah, the words every girl was terrified of hearing. She shook her head and took another step forward. Her stare was steely with resolve. “You can’t have me. You won’t ever have me.”

  He groaned and his hand shook as he kept the gun pointed at her chest. He retreated a step, but she matched it with another move toward him.

  “Are you going to shoot me, Jeff?”

  His chest rose and fell rapidly as he started to panic. Good, maybe he was finally going to give in. Sure, she’d press charges and hopefully see him behind bars for a good number of years, but nobody had to get shot.

  Jeff swung the muzzle of the gun that had been staring point blank at her to point it at his temple. He blinked, trying to muster the nerve and Delia jumped at him.

  She knocked into his arm, and the still-activated spell shot sparks at the connection. He jerked as she shocked him relentlessly. The gun fell from his hand and Jeff screamed a curse as he tried to extricate himself from her grip.

  He fell to his knees and she finally broke contact, breathing hard.

  The gun had slid across the floor to rest near her dresser. She dove for it, scooped it up, and slammed the bedroom door behind her as she ran to the front door.

  Just as she neared it, it swung inward.

  “Delia? Delia are you okay?”

  She crashed into Cole, squeaking an incoherent warning about the gun.

  He stumbled back a step at the force of her embrace, and unwound her fingers from where they clung to the gun. “Shh. It’s okay, Delia. You’re okay.”

  Unconvinced, she clung to him. She heard him speaking but didn’t want to think about his words. She didn’t want to think about anything. She wanted to submerge herself in a cocoon of Cole, to sink d
own into nothingness, as long as he held her.

  She realized he wasn’t alone. He was talking to Dan, the young guy that Delia knew from day shift at the front desk.

  She was safe.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Delia crumbled into a shaking mess. “He’s in my bedroom. I hurt him...I hurt him.”

  “Delia, you go with Dan. I’ll make sure Jeff doesn’t go anywhere until the police are here.”

  “No! I’m staying with you. I can’t—”

  “You have to keep it together. We already called the police. They’ll be here any minute.” He shrugged out of his jacket and put it around her shoulders. His gentleness moved her to sobs.

  She let Dan lead her out of her condo, and stared at her feet as he guided her to the room behind the front desk—the one staff used for their breakroom.

  She sat on a small, firm-seated couch there, her back ramrod straight.

  Sirens wailed closer and closer.

  The door crashed open and in came Calla, and suddenly she was in her cousin’s arms. She cried out about the spell, worried it would shock her, but Calla hushed her. The spell didn’t spark a single time. Still, Delia could feel it, like a barrier between her and the world.

  Calla said, “Repeat after me.”

  “Horned God of the green spaces, hear me.”

  Delia blinked and repeated Calla’s words, relief flooding her. She just wanted to feel normal again, whatever that meant.

  “Beloved Mother of the deepest springs.

  We thank you, eternal ones. You have answered our call.

  And as our spell has served our need,

  Let it be, in thankfulness, released.”

  A sigh shuddered through Delia as she spoke the last words, and she felt the barrier fizzle to leave her exposed, tired, and hurting from wounds that were just now making themselves known.

  A clatter of activity in the lobby alerted them to the presence of the police, and the wail of another siren meant firefighters. Delia groaned in disbelief at the sorry state she was in.

  Calla hugged her tighter. “Come now. Let’s get you fixed up.”