Bait and Switch: The Final Chapter Part Two

To my readers

Thank you for allowing me to end Part One on a cliffhanger. It has long been a dream of mine to attempt this, and I’m told it was a good one.

Ten

Sometimes it’s tough to tell if the sky’s falling on your head, or if you’re falling backward.

Nieve

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One moment I’d kicked a rapier out of an old man’s hand, the next I got sucked into a spinning portal, a violet-and-green inferno of ghostly apparitions.

Gripping tightly, I pushed my hanbo out in front of me with both hands. But there were no walls to catch me and no floor to stop my descent. Round and round I went, entirely at the mercy of whatever force drove this hurricane into the unknown. The kaleidoscopic onslaught rolled my stomach, physically hurt my eyes, without even the faintest promise of relief.

This couldn’t be happening. I had to find my way back to the bright office inside the think tank’s building. Had to turn around, retrace my path to the entrance, because if not me, who’d protect Lea? She’d been knocked unconscious. Her form had lain sprawled against the wall underneath the broken window, defenseless. The people who’d attacked her wouldn’t hesitate to kill her.

Was she even still alive?

None of my magic spells connected with the air, not even the forbidden ones Lea had taught me. Deserted by my powers, I thrashed around with my feet, jerked my shoulders this way and that, and still my course didn’t change.

Slice it!

If I’d been careful, this mess could have been avoided.

From the start, my performance had been amateur hour. Badly out of practice, I’d failed to consider my entire battle range and misjudged the striking angles of my hanbo. Rather than take out a bunch of barely armed men, I’d allowed myself to get too close to the portal.

A sickening feeling climbed up my stomach lining, flattening my breaths until my vision fogged up. How long could a person withstand the never-ending pirouettes until they died of a heart attack?

Among the blurry blaze of colors, a dot in the distance became larger, morphing into the outline of a figure with flailing arms. Their long hair flowed in graceful strands around their head as if buoyed by water. Her robe—for it was clear now that she was a woman—fluttered around the ankles.

She rushed toward me with bared teeth, her squint shadowed by pronounced brows.

Catch my stick, I shouted at her once she was within range.

If she was coming from my destination, she’d have vital information. Maybe she’d even know the way out.

Who are you? she yelled back, her voice at once rough and melodious. Why are you here?

Good question.

I braced myself for the impact of her weight as she soared through the thick swirl—yet her outstretched hands missed my hanbo by several inches.

She let out a bone-rattling scream of frustration that didn’t fade for many seconds.

The vortex’s pull denied me the ability to track her path. Only occasionally, when my body was flipped around, did I spy her form as she sped away. Was she falling toward the other side of the portal? Would she land in the middle of the cult that had conjured it?

I closed my eyes to escape the nausea twisting my stomach, or at least to alleviate it. Being helpless didn’t become me, and neither did giving up, but I’d exhausted my options. My one hope was that I’d reach an end soon. After all, the woman I’d passed had to have come from somewhere.

After a few minutes, my urge to throw up eased, and I opened my eyes.

I was no longer falling.

Four walls surrounded me, complete with a desk and chair, woven carpet, and a luxurious bed. Two glittering chandeliers emitted a soft glow, bright enough to light the corners of the room. Despite this, nothing seemed real, but rather insubstantial as if everything was made of dirty clouds and smoke.

A loud noise caused me to wheel around. The crimson door at the far end appeared closed, but someone could have snuck out while my back was turned. I ran after them. Maybe they could tell me where I was?

The second I stepped outside the room, blackness enveloped me. Whoever had occupied the room when I arrived was gone. Maybe a search of their home would give me a clue.

But the door was gone now, too, swallowed by the darkness. I slapped the air, failing to connect with anything solid. With my hands outstretched, even my fingertips seemed to disappear. I snapped back my arms tight against my body and engaged my luster, the natural glow all Elonians possessed. Either it failed me, or its light couldn’t penetrate the permanent night.

Was this Balor?

Lea had portrayed the mythical place as a dark desert, without distance or time. From where I stood, the description seemed about right.

Balor was where Lea had met her father, the powerful Orrin, leader of the Old Ones. While Lea had described him as a kind man with a beard and a full belly-laugh, Kieran’s view of him was the stark opposite. After Kieran’s mother, Derinda, had suffered the worst kind of abuse at the hands of the Shade king, she returned to Balor a broken woman. Yet despite her frail state, her husband—Orrin—had shown her only scorn and cruelty.

Hello? My voice didn’t echo but rather faded bluntly on the spot. Can anyone hear me?

The lack of a reply could be good—after all, who knew what dangers lurked in this apparent nothingness—but in fact it left me feeling terribly lonely. Even a lost spirit on its way to the Afterlife would have made for glad company.

I retrieved my phone, but couldn’t even make that thing light up. So much for technology being better than magic! Whatever suppressed my powers had also put a null shield over my phone.

‘Null shield’ was a word I’d picked up from one of Lea’s picture books. These five-minute reads had seemed like a waste of trees to me initially, but Lea had made me understand their meaning as metaphors. They were aspirational. In her books, ordinary Kindred became capable of incredible feats, often more outrageous than those of which Elonians were capable.

Without access to magic, I was like one of those unassuming Kindreds. Well, a Kindred with a hanbo. Lea would probably call me ‘Stick Woman" and insist I wear a cape.

Old Ones, please let her be okay.

Keeping my fighting stick at the ready, I inched through the pitch-black space, unable to tell whether my footsteps even propelled me to a different location. At least this way I had a shot at someone finding me. Maybe Orrin would. Maybe Derinda would. Neither being’s reputation filled me with confidence, but if anyone could tell me how to get back home, it would be an Old One.

Unless I was already dead.

Balor wasn’t just the home of the Old Ones but also a sort of limbo, a place between the world of the living and the Afterlife. A closer inventory of my body revealed no wounds, which, for the moment at least, I interpreted to mean I was alive. And yet, with each step, my self-imposed calm frayed. For strength, I reached to my neck for my champion’s pendant.

It wasn’t there.

The surging wind tunnel could have ripped it off my body. If so, it would be forever lost to this barren place. To be on the safe side, I checked around my collar, inside my jacket, even felt the folds of my pants, but I came up empty. Not that the pendant ever truly defined me as a royal champion. I wouldn’t give it that power. Yet without it, I was just plain me. A chicken keeper dressed in black leather.

Slowing my pace, I retrieved Lea’s necklace from my pocket and fastened it around my neck. It would be my placeholder until I’d arranged for a new one. No. It would be more than a placeholder. I gripped it firmly in my hand and took a deep breath. Maybe Lea’s strength would seep out of it and into me, because I surely could use some.

After some time, walking became a thing I did. Whether I was treading on the spot or hiking over a great distance became unimportant. I kept moving, because standing still in this place came too close to death for my liking.

The clap of a foot against ground reached my ears. Maybe it was a chesty cough.

Hello? I shouted, keeping my hanbo at the ready.

Hello? a man shouted back.

I headed toward the voice. Where are you?

Is that a trick question? The man sounded muffled. "Where are you?"

Head straight ahead and then left. If I couldn’t find humor in this bizarre situation, there’d be something very wrong with me.

A figure detached itself from the darkness and came toward me. The man’s hair was short, his skin darker than my sun-kissed tan, and his eyes—

Markus? I halted my steps. Is that you?

Angel! He approached me, arms wide. What a pleasant surprise.

He wore beige pants and a bright white shirt, which almost fluoresced against the dark backdrop.

I bore his inevitable hug with my usual stiffness before extricating myself. Where are we?

Balor, I think. His eyes darted without focus. There are no place signs or maps with you-are-here arrows, but it’s dark and exactly like Lea described, so...

Are we dead? I leaned forward, pinching his arm. You feel real.

He glanced at my fingers and made a non-specific noise. I don’t think you meant to do that.

What happened to you? I withdrew my hand, because nothing could make me forget his easy ruthlessness. Lea said you were following her professor, and then the phone went dead.

It’s a little embarrassing, but the professor’s friends, who Lea and her scientist buddies call ‘management,’ overpowered me with magic.

Are they Shades? I touched my throat. Or Elonian?

That might explain how they managed to open a portal into another realm.

No. He stuffed both hands into his pockets. That’s the embarrassing part. They just had a really good spell I’d never heard of. It didn’t call on the wind or the light, nor on the earth or the darkness, which makes me think it was Old magic.

How would Kindreds access Old magic? I frowned.

Sparks like you probably don’t know a lot about the origins of magic, given how secretive and peculiar you lot are with your spells.

I lifted my chin. I prefer being called Elonian, not Spark.

Who was he calling secretive anyway? On a topic other than himself, he saw the opening to a long story, but ask a simple question like ‘what happened to you,’ and it gets a three-word reply. Still, if he had information about management, I needed to know. They’d hurt Lea, and I wouldn’t let them get away without making them understand the severity of their mistake.

As soon as I got out of Balor, of course.

I once preferred being called Torren and not Shade, too, but I gave up the fight a long time ago, Markus said. Anyway, real magic is external. Its origin lies in nature, and we make it happen through spells, either spoken out loud or thought of in our heads. Even Kindreds, if taught right, are capable of using these spells. It so happens that the Old Ones were unusually good at that stuff. Over millennia, they created new spells, developed their powers, until magic became internalized.

How did he know so much about magic and I knew so little?

His remark about Elonians being secretive may have been more on point than I’d like. Tristan doggedly followed the old rules and laws, which had kept us safe for decades and more. Tried and tested spells to be used only in defense of life or country. But the downside of his caution was this—being shown up by Markus of all people.

Lea had rebelled against Tristan’s outdated views and championed transparency from day one. Maybe she truly was the wisest of us all.

Still, I knew a little about history. Not enough to compete with Markus, but maybe enough to not look like a complete nincompoop.

One day, the Old Ones imbued their favorite Kindreds with some of that internal magic. I rested the end of my hanbo on the ground, which—like everything else—appeared to consist only of darkness.

Yes. One group, favored by Derinda, received powers over the dark and earth, and Orrin’s group, that would be you lot, got light and wind. He gestured vaguely around us. But the external magic is still there, free to be accessed by anyone who understands these spells.

And this is what management did? They used an Old spell?

Guess so. He licked his lips, which appeared quite pale in the absence of sunlight. "Anyway. That’s why I’m in Balor. What are you doing here?"

Management opened a portal using Lea’s blood after her professor stabbed her.

Shit. Markus gripped my sleeve. Tell me she’s okay.

My mouth twisted for only a second before I regained control over my features. "I don’t know. She got knocked out, and somehow, I was pushed into the Gate. I landed in a bedroom of