Page 52 of Just One Little Bargain

“It’s fine.”

“It’s fine?” She whips toward me. “The car is driving itself, Milo!”

“Technically, I’m doing it.”

“You’re not touching anything!”

“I know.”

The car reverses out of the parking space in a clean, precise arc that I’m honestly a little proud of, then shifts into drive and pulls forward. The steering wheel turns on its own, guiding us toward the lot exit.

“Stop.” Evie grabs my arm, her fingers digging hard into my skin.

“We’re barely moving.” I halt the car at the edge of the lot, the blinker ticking patiently.

Her breath comes fast, chest rising and falling too quickly beneath her cardigan. The collar of it has slipped sideways, baring the curve of her collarbone, and I force my attention back to the windshield. “This is not fine, this is not okay, none of this is remotely normal. I need you to understand that from my perspective. The car is possessed—”

“Evie!”

“How are you doing that?”

“Temptation.” I keep my tone as steady as I can, which is harder than it should be with her hand still clamped around my forearm. “That’s what demons do. We don’t cast spells. We influence and persuade. Show people how simple things could be if they said yes.” I shrug. “This is a sales pitch, Evie. The car already knows how to run; I’m just removing the obstacles between it and where you need to go.”

She finally releases my arm. The pressure of her grip lingers after her hand drops to her lap.

“This is real.”

“Yeah.”

“You’re actually . . .” She swallows. “A demon.”

“I am.”

She lets out a long, shaky laugh. “Okay. Fine. Drive me home.”

“You want me to . . .” I gesture vaguely at the steering wheel.

“Drive the car with your creepy demon persuasion? Yes, Milo. Before I change my mind about all of this.” She puts her hand up. “But slowly. And if anything even remotely feels wrong, I’m opening this door and rolling out. Bad ankle and all.”

“Noted.”

I ease the power back into the car. We merge onto the street at a speed that could charitably be called cautious and more accurately described as glacial. Evie keeps giving me directions: left here, right at the stop sign, stay on this road past the library.

“This is so weird,” she murmurs.

“Which part?”

“All of it.” She tucks the escaped strand of hair behind her ear. “Does it cost you? Using your . . . whatever this is?”

The question surprises me. Most humans don’t ask that.

“A little energy.” I leave out the part where using too much makes my mortal form unstable. Holding this shape takes power, and when that power runs thin, the demon underneath starts winning. But she doesn’t need to know that right now. “Think of it like . . . flexing a muscle. I can hold it for a while, but eventually it gets tiring.”

“So you’re flexing right now?”

“Constantly.” I wink at her. “Impressed?”

Her mouth curves, a hint of a dimple appearing. “I’ll let you know.”