Legerdemain

"No way. I don't believe you."
"I can," she said, raising her eyebrows, her eyes ablaze.
"Uh-uh," he nodded incredulously. He absolutely refused to believe
her. She had to show him. So, she did.
He was in front of her, his bare back to her as they conversed. With
one reedy little index finger she began to draw a picture on his
backside. The image was something more than diabolic, perhaps the face
of one of the hundreds of demons that haunted her. She moved quickly,
her mind possessed. He was not afraid, as he had no idea of what was to
come of this.
Picture complete, albeit invisible, she stood back and lifted her hand
in front of her lips, palm up and facing out. She took one shallow
breath in, then, without any warning, blew a breath out. The image
before her ignited and was suddenly orange and aglow, just like a
cigarette burns brightest as you breathe in its fumes. He jumped
forward, startled, and in certain agony, but it was over as quickly as
it had begun. He was hurting, yes, although essentially unharmed. He
had become in one instant a believer.
He turned to look at her - she was new in his eyes. "What else can you
do?" he asked. One of his eyebrows arched upwards in expectation of her
answer.
"I don't know," she said as frankly as she could. She smiled. "I never
know until I try."