A Darker Past (Entangled Teen) (The Darker Agency) Read Free

talked about a road trip for senior year spring break, but both her mom and mine shot that down before we could even pitch the entire plan. Go figure. I was allowed to face down evil in all its chomptastic forms, but forbidden to leave home for a week of normal partying without parental supervision. Where the hell was the balance in that? I made a mental note to bring it up next time Mom got on one of her normal life kicks.
    I stepped from the closet, trying not to disturb anything. Val had given me instructions on how to collect Fred’s soul. You’d think a process like that would be complicated, but the way the demon described it, the whole thing was scary simple. All I had to do was touch him and shadow us to the Shadow Realm. Wham, bam, enjoy eternity in Hell, ma’am.
    I looked around and cringed. I had no idea what Swain made the deal for, but it sure as hell wasn’t money. The place was a dump. The closet door wobbled on its hinges and didn’t open all the way because a huge part of the floor was peeling up. The walls, probably once white, were a kind of nicotine yellow, and matched the oddly shaped grease stains on the wall above the stove. Even the fridge was beaten up. The handle was missing, and the door was dented like someone had tossed a bowling ball at the center. As for the grout between the floor tiles? I wasn’t even going to speculate what was growing in there. A dark, semi-fuzzy substance snaked between the ceramic, making me wonder when the last time—if ever—the floor had been washed.
    Laughter spilled from the other room, and I tensed for a moment before realizing what it was. The television. I let out a breath and took a step forward, but froze when the floor beneath my feet gave a loud groan.
    “Hello?” came a man’s jittery voice. There was a rustling sound, and a moment later, he appeared in the doorway.
    Fred Swain was a tall, portly man with dark brown hair that spiked in the front à la surfer style, and a wide, angular face. He stood over six feet tall and had a stare that reminded me of the rat Mom caught last summer in the basement. Beady eyes and a long, pointy nose. Obviously the deal he made hadn’t included looks, either. I breathed in and almost gagged. Or personal hygiene.
    Blinking twice, he asked, “Who the hell are you?”
    What was I supposed to do? Introduce myself? Hi, my name is Jessie, and I’m here for your soul , didn’t exactly sound like a good ice breaker. Maybe I should wear a name tag. Or a T-shirt.
    “Um, my name is Jessie. I work for Valefar.”
    Swain blinked again, then backed away two steps. “Please,” he said, clasping both hands together and dropping to his knees. “Give me just a little more time. I’m not finished yet.”
    “Not my call.” I felt sorry for the guy, but it’s not like I could do anything. I was technically just as trapped as he was.
    “Yes.” His head bounced around like a bobblehead. “Yes, you can. Go back and tell him you couldn’t find me. Give me a week.”
    “I think we both know how this goes down if I have to force you…” I took a step forward. All I had to do was touch him and I could bring us both back to the Shadow Realm. He would pay Val the agreed upon price for the deal he’d made—I didn’t know what it was, and didn’t care—and I would be on my way.
    The little hitch about demon deals, though? You had to pay up willingly or you put yourself in an entirely new world of pain and eternal torment. That’s part of the reason I was in this situation, serving a fifty-five year sentence as Val’s go-to girl. Before I was born, Grandpa made a deal with Valefar to save my grandmother from a pretty wicked curse by agreeing to hand over his firstborn daughter. But when the time came, of course he refused. As punishment, he’d gotten dunked . His soul was doomed to spend eternity trapped in the River of Souls in the Shadow Realm.
    “Trust me,” I said. “I’ve seen what happens when you mooch on a