Hammered

them ,‹ « he boasted, assuming the part of Ligarius from Julius Caesar .
    The Roman reference reminded me of the perfect line from Antony and Cleopatra . » › Come, thou monarch of the vine, plumpy Bacchus with pink eyne !‹ « I said, and that made Leif wince, acknowledging that I’d bested him with that one. He was cursing himself for not thinking of it first—if he ever knew it at all. I’d scored a palpable hit—a plumpy one, even—and he’d have a tough time answering it.
    We were having a tough time pulling away from Bacchus too. Every time we slowed beneath 50 mph, his leopards tried to claw their way through the roof. He’s not a particularly martial god; the thyrsus he carries is topped with a pinecone, and that wasn’t going to smash through much besides toilet paper. Still, his raw strength was well known, a trait he shared with his Bacchants, and if he could once grapple with us, we’d be hard pressed to come away with all our limbs still attached. A red light was coming up at the freeway on-ramp. Cars were stacked up four deep in every lane, and Leif wouldn’t be able to weave through them.
    The vampire gestured to the obstacle ahead of us and said, » That could be trouble. Should we split up, « he said to me, » get out of the car and let him go after you, then Gunnar and I will fall on him from behind? «
    I twisted in my seat to view our pursuit. The leopards were partially obscuring Bacchus, but that obstruction gave me an idea. » No, I think I might be able to slow him down. « Concentrating on the pinecone of the god’s thyrsus—which he was brandishing high above his head—I constructed a binding between it and the narrow patch of fur betwixt the eyes of one of his leopards. It would do the beast no harm, but it would be sorely distracted. When I completed the binding, Bacchus became distracted too, for he never expected his thyrsus to fly out of his hand and land precisely between the eyes of his leopard. He cursed as one leopard yowled and started batting at its head while the other continued running, causing the chariot to spin in midair. To deal with it properly he’d have to descend to the ground, and he sank to street level behind us even as we slowed for the stoplight.
    Leif and Gunnar craned their heads around once we were stopped and saw Bacchus trying to deal with a very annoyed pair of large cats.
    » Oh noes, kitteh haz major angriez! « I said. I turned around to share a laugh with my companions and found them glaring at me. » What? « I asked.
    Leif shook a finger and said in a low, menacing tone, » If you tell me I have to talk like an illiterate halfwit to fit into this society, I will punch you. «
    » And I’ll pull out your goatee, « Gunnar added.
    » Lolcat iz new happeh wai 2 talk, « I explained to them. » U doan haz 2 be kitteh 2 speek it. «
    Leif cocked his fist and I held up my hands. » Okay, okay, I’ll stop! Light’s green, by the way. «
    He shook his head and faced forward, stepping on the accelerator. » How you can go from Shakespeare to that meaningless babble is beyond me. «
    I made no answer, because I was actually worried about the leopard. It was clawing at Bacchus, who had taken firm hold on the pinecone, and he looked mad enough to yank it free forcibly, tearing the fur out in the process. So while they were still in sight, I changed the binding: I loosed the knots to the leopard and instead bound the pinecone between the eyes of Bacchus himself. He could tear off his own skin if he wanted. His barbaric yawp shook our windows as we disappeared from sight, zipping down the on-ramp to U.S. 60.
    » Is that it, then? « Gunnar asked. » Did we lose him? «
    » Not for good, « I said. » He’s probably sharp enough to know where we’re headed; he’s dealt with Druids before. He can fly in a straight line and shave a lot of time off his trip. «
    » So what I am hearing you say, « Leif said, already weaving past human motorists at dangerous speeds, » is that I should go a bit faster. «
    » Right. But with the proviso that we need to remain alive and uninjured at the end of the journey. «
    We tried to relax as we drove out to Superior and then took Highway 177 south toward a small town called Winkelman. When one is being pursued by a god, it’s extremely difficult to pretend that nothing is amiss, but we tried because machismo demanded it. We spoke of other things, as if we were out cruising instead of fleeing. Leif amused us