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Mother's eyes drop to them. Her face changes. Melida notices too.

“What is that?”

I look down. The sparks are brighter today.

Stronger. They wind between Damian's fingers and mine before crawling up my wrist.

“That? That is mine.”

Mother takes a step toward me.

“Belinda, let me see.”

I step back.

“No.”

Her face hardens.

“I am the head of the Ramos Coven.”

“And? You tossed me out, remember?”

Her mouth falls open. That might be the first time anyone in our family has ever responded to that particular declaration like that.

It feels fucking fantastic.

“You have no idea what you're dealing with.”

“Maybe not.”

I release Damian's hand. Not because I don't want him. Because I need to stand on my own for this.

He understands—another reason I am head over heels. And he just drops his hand to his side. But he stays close enough that I can feel the heat from his body.

“I went through some of Aunt Margarita's stores.”

Mother pales. Melida's eyes widen.

“You what?”

“They were left to me. Why wouldn't I?”

“You shouldn't touch anything until I can assess it.”

“No.”

“Belinda—”

“I said no.”

The word pulses with magic. The porch lights flicker. Somewhere behind us, a ghost whoops. Damian coughs into his fist. I refuse to look at him because I know the bastard is grinning. Mother stares at me.

“There are generations of accumulated magical stores in that collection.”

“I know.”

“You couldn't possibly use them.”