I balk: “What doesthatmean?”
“Magickal power-ups.” Baz sits down at Simon’s other side. “Like Super Mario mushrooms. He’s promised to turn my stepmother into Baba Yaga.”
“Well,” I say, “that can’t be real.” Baz’s stepmum couldn’t spell her way out of a wet paper bag.
“We’ve seen him cast it,” Simon insists. “It works.”
“Yeah, but . . .”
Simon huffs so hard he nearly spills his tea. “Why is this so difficult for you guys to accept? You all believed I was the Greatest Mage when I showed up out of nowhere!”
“You grew on us.” Baz lays a hand on Simon’s shoulder. “Snow—what happened tonight, after I left?”
Simon looks into his cup. “I went out for a pint. With Smith.”
“With Smith,” Baz repeats.
“And he . . . Well, he offered to fix my magic.”
Baz shoves Simon’s shoulder back, splashing his tea all over. “Hewhat?”
“Great snakes,” I say, mopping at my knees. “Could that work? Would you evenwantit to, Simon? He could fix you right back into Humdrum territory!”
“Which is why you said no,” Baz says. “Correct?”
“I . . .” Simon looks at Baz’s face, then at mine, then back at his lap. He sets down his half-empty cup. “It doesn’t matter. It didn’t work.”
Baz is livid. I think his fangs may have popped. “Are you telling us he tried it?!”
I’m livid, too; I let Simon out of my sight fora week,and—“You allowed someone to cast an experimental spell on you!?”
“It doesn’t matter!” Simon not-quite-shouts. He’s tearful again. “It didn’t do anything! I’m not a mage! Smith couldn’t fix me because there’s nothing to fix!”
That shuts us up for a minute. I look at Baz, and Baz looks at me. I’m not sure what we’re trying to tell each other. Maybe just,Well, fuck.
I look back at Simon and try to be gentle. “How do you know? Have you tried casting a spell?”
“Yeah . . .”
“With whose wand?” Baz wants to know.
“With Smith’s.”
“WithSmith’s.” Baz is rubbing his forehead. “I’m going to eviscerate him.”
Simon shakes his head. “Smith didn’t do anythingwrong.His spell didn’t hurt me, Baz—it just confirms what I’ve known all along. I think I knew it even when I was full of magic. I’m a Normal. I’m nothing . . .”
As soon as he says it, his head jerks up to Shepard, who’s been sitting quietly beside me. “Oh God, Shepard, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean . . .” Simon’s eyes get wide. He sits up straight. “Shepard . . . your tattoos!”
Shepard looks, for once, like he doesn’t want to interfere. He smiles and holds out his arms. “Yeah,” he says softly. “Gone.”
“But what about the curse?”
“What curse?” Baz asks.
“Shepard’s cursed,” Simon says. “He made a deal with the devil.”
“It wasn’t exactly adeal—” Shepard says.
