Sometimes you have to go with what you’ve got.

“Earlier I was feeling like there was something lacking from this divorce,” she croaked as she limped toward him. “Some kind of final conversation, a mutual acknowledgment that this is the end.”

As he lifted his head, he gave her a look filled with wide-eyed dread. She hit him again with magic, hard.

She told him, “I’m not some piece of property to get under control. I’m not obligated to spread my legs just because you happen to want sex. So you had to earn every fuck you got out of me. Cry me a river, asshole.”

The Power was so lovely and light. Wielding it was like wrapping her fingers around the sun. She poured it down her arm and held it in one hand, relishing its warm, radiant glow. When she flung it at his face, it struck him with an audible slap that knocked his head back.

“I’m not someone you can cheat on whenever it suits you while you ignore every promise and vow you ever made to me.”

She struck him again. This time she knocked him onto the street, and as he stumbled and went down, he cried out, a high, thin sound that barely caused a ripple in the air. Collapsing, he lay sprawled on the pavement and didn’t move.

Had she killed him? She hadn’t meant to, but she wasn’t sure.

You don’t want to hurt someone by accident. Everything you do, you want to do with intention.

She should probably stop pounding on him, but she still had so much rage left. The Power told her Austin had tucked a cigarette lighter in his front pocket. Carefully, she bent over to fish it out. Then she turned to regard his beloved BMW. He had always taken take care of that car like it was his own baby.

This time the blast that blew out of her was like a ground-to-air missile, taking with it the last of her strength. The car flipped into the air. With a booming crash that splintered the peaceful night, the BMW landed on its roof and rolled three times before it came to a halt. The smell of spilled gasoline wafted over to her.

She told Austin’s immobile form, “I’m not some possession you can destroy just because I’m no longer convenient.”

In the distance, she heard a shout. Then another. People would be arriving on the scene very soon, but she had one final thing left to do.

Limping over to a wet, spreading stain on the pavement, she squatted, flicked the cigarette lighter, and held the small flame to the liquid. It caught, and a blue flame streaked along the path the liquid had taken, back to the car. Within moments, the BMW was engulfed in flames.