The first time Michael had been told about the shop, other people had said that word—magic—and so that’s what Michael had gone there expecting, that’s the word that had been used between he and Wolfgang that day. But he’d been distracted and confused by that meeting, unable to absorb that one piece of information, and when the two of them next talked, Wolfgang said they weren’t really sure what they were. He’d struck out what everyone else was saying about them as irrelevant.
But it’s true.
Michael’s expression slowly fills with wonder and amazement until he looks like a little kid who just found out Tinker Bell was real. It’s the best thing he’s ever heard. The most beautiful.
“I always thought magic was real,” he says. “I knew it. God, that’s—why do you even care what I can do? That’s incredible. So what do you call yourself, are you a wizard or a sorcerer or what? Shit, this is so cool.”