Smith sees me clapping and smiles at me. “Good night,” he says to the crowd, “and see you tomorrow at Watford!”

He sets down the microphone and hops off the front of stage, reaching for my arm. “Simon, come quick, before I get mobbed.” He pulls me towards the side door. As soon as we’re through, he hugs me with one arm. “You came,” he says.

“Smith, congratulations. This is really exciting.”

He looks almost embarrassed. Nervous. “Yeah, I’ve been working on expanding the spell, and, I don’t know, I’m tired of waiting. People shouldn’t have to wait.”

“It’s so cool, I’m happy for you. Is Jamie meeting us back here?”

“Oh”—Smith’s face falls—“Simon, I’m really sorry. I couldn’t talk him into coming. He’s such an introvert, and he says everyone treats him like a saint now. I told him it will get better after more people have been cured. Then he won’t be such a curiosity.”

I nod. I’m not sure what to say. I wish Baz was here to help me steer the conversation.

“If you want to talk to someone who’s been healed,” Smith says, “I could introduce you to Beth, from last week. I think she’s here.”

“Sure.” I don’t want to seem overly interested in Jamie. “I’d love to talk to Beth.”

“Actually … are you coming tomorrow? I know she’ll be at Watford tomorrow, and you can meet her family, as well.”

I smile at him. “I’m definitely coming tomorrow. I wouldn’t miss it.”

“Cool. I’ll save you seats up front. Simon…” Smith still looks nervous. “Would you mind going for a pint with me? I was hoping we could talk…” He laughs and rolls his eyes. “Chosen One to Chosen One.”

“Smith, I’m not—”

“No. I know. I’d just really like to talk to you.” He gives me the full serving of those blue eyes. “I feel like you’re the only one who understands…”

A half hour later, Smith and I are sitting in a no-nonsense pub across the street from his building. The pub serves food, so I’m happy. (Baz and I were supposed to get dinner. I texted him twice before my phone died. He probably went hunting without me.)

Smith has a thousand questions for me about being the Greatest Mage—about the way people used to treat me, and why the Mage kept me hidden away … “They say that you had so much magic, other magicians would get drunk off it.”

“Sometimes,” I say. “Sometimes it made them puke. It used to give my girlfriend migraines.”

I’ve got a plate of fish and chips with mushy peas. All Smith ordered was a lager. He plays with the glass, watching the bubbles roll around. “I’ve never had that kind of magic,” he says.