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“Belinda—”

“Nope.”

“I'm serious.”

“So am I. We're done.”

I turn back to the mirror.

“Done with what?”

“This conversation.”

Chapter 15

Belinda

If I thought Clarissa was just going to walk away, well, I was wrong.

The little Sprite has gumption.

I like it.

Most of the time.

Right now?

Not so much.

“You can't just end the conversation because you don't like what I'm saying, Belinda!”

“Watch me.”

I pick up mascara. My magic crackles.

Not metaphorically.

Actual golden sparks burst from my fingertips. I shriek and drop the tube.

Clarissa shrieks too.

The mascara hits the floor. We both stare at my hand.

Tiny golden sparks that seem red around the edges dance across my fingertips, wind around my wrist, and disappear beneath my sleeve.

Well.

Fuck.

Clarissa points.

“Like that.”

“No.”

“Belinda.”

“No.”