Flameborn. Corinna Rogers

If there is such a thing as extermination magic, he’s never heard of it, but maybe simple energy will work just as well. He invests it with a hint of force, and that’s the easy part. Briefly, he remembers how easy something like this would have been back when he’d had a boost from the Ice King. He’d remade his own hand, once, and hardly blinked at the power it had taken.

      The trail of ants recoils slightly from his prod, and Shane takes that as a good sign. “Uh…” Mentally, he tallies up the utility bill and a few bucks for food. “Two hundred.” He’ll just hope Father Aaron doesn’t skim off the collection plate or they won’t make rent.

      “Do I have to move out for a week?”

      “You can stay on the couch for all I care.”

      That seems to satisfy the man, and he flops immediately down onto the couch, turning his attention back to the TV. “Go for it.”

      Shane raises an eyebrow. “You’re gonna pay me first, Philb.”

      The man looks like he’s about to argue, but Shane’s hand is already tingling with power and that usually goes a long way towards convincing people to do as he says. Knowing he’s got the cash for the bill in hand is a nice motivation, and it takes an hour, maybe two, before the kitchen is, if not spotless, at least ant-free.