rapidly, trying to keep her vision clear. He positioned himself so that he was behind her. “Get up. Don’t turn around or else I’ll be carrying you out of here. Got it?”
“Yeah,” she gasped.
He let go, and Gigi got to her feet, holding her arm against her middle. He’d yanked it so hard that she had no doubt it would be bruised.
“Now walk just in front of me.”
Gigi started to go back the way she’d come, but he barked, “The other way. Down the beach away from prying eyes.”
Swallowing hard, Gigi glanced one last time at Sebastian and then did as she was told.
“That’s a good girl. Now—”
Gigi clasped both hands together and spun with her arms out, aiming for his head. Her hands connected just as she’d hoped, but he dodged to the side, avoiding most of the blow, and Gigi stumbled to the sand. “Shit!”
“I told you not to—"
She reached out and grabbed his neck, her hands suddenly glowing with raw magic. Her eyes widened in amazement when she saw the energy flowing from her. She’d only seen this happen once before, and that was when Grace had attacked James on the day he’d assaulted Gigi and tried to stop her from buying her house. She’d been certain that raw power had come from the Hannigan sisters who haunted Gigi’s house, but now she wasn’t so sure. Was it something all witches could tap but didn’t realize it? Did they have to be pushed to a breaking point? Maybe. She didn’t have time to think it over in that moment, but it was what she needed to defend herself and get back to Sebastian. “Take that, you utter piece of shit. You will not lay hands on me again.”
James’s eyes bugged out of his head, and his mouth opened, showing his teeth as he growled, “Fucking whore!” His veins popped out all over his skin as his muscles flexed beneath her grip. She held on tighter, determined to use as much of the raw magic as it took until she choked the evil right out of him.
“You can’t do anything right, can you?” another male voice said from behind her just as something jabbed into her neck and her world went black.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Gigi’s body felt like it was buried in sand. Her limbs were heavy, and her eyes were gritty when she tried to open them.
“Good afternoon, Clarity,” a husky male voice said, making Gigi’s ears ache.
She blinked again, trying to clear the grain from her eyes, and she squinted when the harsh light tried to blind her. “Where am I?’ she asked in a raspy voice she didn’t recognize.
“The headquarters for Mystical Finds of Avalon.”
The words sent a shockwave through her, and she bolted upright, or at least tried to bolt upright. In reality, she pushed herself into a sitting position while gritting her teeth through the aches and pains that throbbed in her head, shoulder, and back. She felt like she’d been in a hit and run accident and left for dead. “Who are you? Emerson Sanders?”
The man chuckled. “Your mother would be so proud. You’re smart, just like her.”
“You knew my mother?” she asked with a gasp as her eyes started to finally focus on the older man who was lounging in a red velvet armchair that matched the couch she was currently occupying. He was wearing a gray pin-striped suit and had jet-black hair that was obviously dyed. A person didn’t acquire that many wrinkles and keep his natural hair color.
He let out a low chuckle, but didn’t answer. Let’s talk about you for a minute, Clarity Benson. Do you know why you’re here?”
“No. And I go by Gigi now. Stop calling me Clarity,” she ordered, acting as if she wasn’t completely freaking out.
“Why? Clarity is a family name.”
No it wasn’t. At least not on her mother’s side. She wasn’t in the mood to argue with him. Nor did she care to tell him that her mother was the one who called her Gigi when she was little. After her mother’s death, she took it on as a way to feel closer to her. “Because I like it better.”
“I don’t. You’re still Clarity to me.” He held up an art deco sapphire-and-diamond ring that looked exactly like her mother’s.
Gigi glanced down at her naked finger and swallowed a cry of distress. He had her mother’s ring. Likely, he knew what had happened to her mother. Fear and the instinct to flee warred with the