Pete entered Davey’s in a dream. He could hardly walk normal, one sneaker in front of the other. As he stepped to the host stand, Maggie looked up, and Pete felt a chill. Eye contact. She could tell, he believed, that he’d studied them.

She knows.

Pete sat at the corner of the counter on a stool. Only ten feet now from Emperor’s back. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the magician’s black hair, his brown vest, and the white long-sleeved shirt beneath it. Emperor looked so strong…so real…so—

“Kid,” a voice said.

“What?” He swiveled on his seat. The waiter tapped his fingers on the counter.

“You want a menu? You know what you want? The Davey P special perhaps?”

“A…a coffee,” he answered.

“Coffee? How old are you?”

Pete turned red. “Is there an age limit?”

The waiter frowned. “Okay, smart-ass. One coffee coming right up. But don’t blame me if it stunts your growth.”

Rain started to fall harder outside the diner.

He looked back toward the pair nervously. Maggie was blocked by the back of Roman’s head.

Okay, Pete thought. This is it. It simply has to be.

His legs trembled.

“Here’s your coffee, kid.”

Okay. Your name is Pete. Three…

“Don’t blame me if you go berserk from the caffeine.”

Two…

“Don’t blame me if you can’t sit still.”

One.

“Don’t blame me if—”

Pete stood up. He walked to their table. Maggie saw him coming and held his gaze. Once he was beside them he stopped and opened his mouth.

But nothing came out.

When Roman turned to face him, Pete felt like he might melt into the diner tiles.

“Hello,” Maggie said.

Up close, Roman did look different in person. To Pete he looked…sad.

“I’m sorry,” Pete said. The words tumbled up his throat, out his mouth. “I’m your biggest fan in Goblin and maybe the whole world, too. I know everything there is to know about you.” He reddened. “I mean…everything you’ve told anyone.”

Roman blinked. His expression did not change. “That’s wonderful,” he said. And Pete thought he saw something young happen to Roman. As if suddenly the Presto legend was a kid himself again.

“Do you practice magic?” Roman asked.

This was too much. A Presto magician…ROMAN EMPEROR…was asking Pete if he practiced magic.

“Yes. I mean, no. Not like you do. But yes. I mean—” Then, without meaning to say it, Pete suddenly said, “Mr. Emperor, I know you’re not into dirty magic. Because…because there’s no such thing. Any magic is…is…clean.”

Pete saw the distant rise of water in Emperor’s eyes.

“Thank you very much,” the magician said quietly.

Maggie leaned forward. “Are you coming to the show tonight?”

“Of course. Half of Goblin Middle is.”