hand fire

He tried to get his feet back to the ground, and I kicked him lightly in the chest, pushing him back onto the car’s hood. I lifted my right hand into a claw shape, directed my will, and hissed, “Infusiarus!”
Hellish-looking green-white fire, like from Maleficent’s dragon-form, kindled between my fingers, casting unholy light over Tripp Gregory’s wide-eyed visage. I didn’t give him time to think. I’d refined the spell a bit in my spare moments over the past several years, and flickers of not-quite-real fire curled out between my fingers dramatically. I had to be careful with it—even magical fire was still fire. Most of the energy of the spell was used to keep it from burning the crap out of myself, leaving only a fairly small area in the open space at the heel of my palm where the heat could escape.


The Law: A Dresden Files Novella Chapter 5, Page 26