Trapped

away, he managed to clap a hand around my ankle and haul me toward him. I twisted around and aimed a kick at his head. It rocked his neck back and he lost teeth, but he shook it off and grinned bloodily.
    » No, you’re not getting away now that I have you. «
    He aimed a vengeful punch at my groin, but I turned in time to take it on the thigh instead. That would be a nice bruise. I kicked him in the face again, and the fucker laughed. Apparently he could turn off pain much like I could, but, unlike me, he found physical punishment amusing. I tried to make him laugh harder by kicking him some more.
    Bacchus tired of it after all and slapped my leg down on the next kick, then leapfrogged on top of my knees, pinning them. I bucked, crunched up, and landed a solid blow on his temple, but this failed to dislodge him. He grabbed my shoulders and slammed me back to the ground. Against a normal opponent, that would have been a stupid move because I could still deliver rib-cracking blows to his body, but Bacchus simply didn’t care. He wanted to taunt me and he was saying something in Latin, but I ignored this and crafted a binding in Old Irish between his toga and the dryad’s tree. The binding worked, but this also failed to dislodge Bacchus. He lunged forward, bore down, and let the toga tear away from him rather than let me go. His strength was such that I began to doubt I could match him. I reached for power, felt that it was abnormally low, and remembered that Granuaile had left the portal open. I was going to need her help to get out of this—though she might very well be thinking she’d need my help to escape the Bacchants at this point.
    I shouted for help in Russian and added that she should break the wine god’s elbow. I kept shouting it in a loop.
    » What is it you say? « Bacchus said. » Some pithy insult? «
    His fingers dug into my shoulders painfully, until his thumbs ground into bone. My blows were having no effect. He merely pushed down on my right shoulder and began to pull on my left one, and soon enough he had torn my arm loose from its socket. He kept pulling; he really did mean to tear me apart, limb from limb.
    He never saw what hit him, and neither did I. But I saw—and he definitely felt—his left arm bending the wrong way, heard the crack and tearing of tissue, marveled at the white bone splinters shredding the inside of his arm. He collapsed on top of me in shock, and I was finally able to dislodge him; a few Bacchants trailed by, seeking an invisible Granuaile.
    I got to my feet and put a bit of distance between Bacchus and me. We both had useless left arms, but only one of us now had a clear plan of how to proceed. Bacchus was howling over his shredded arm and spurting what passed for blood among the Olympians—ichor, I think they called it. He’d heal up far faster than I would with a similar injury, but he was seriously jacked up for the present and kneeling only ten feet or so in front of the still-open portal. He’d probably never even seen it, since he’d originally approached me perpendicular to it. I walked toward him coolly, right side first, and he staggered to his feet once he saw this. He backed up as he did so, putting himself closer to the portal. Bacchants streamed between us, still pursuing Granuaile, mindlessly obeying the last order they were given when they could have easily taken me out. Bacchus roared and waved me forward with his right hand, daring me to charge. I chose my spot carefully, waiting for two Bacchants to pass between us before I shot toward him with juiced speed and planted a swift kick to his chest. He tried to grab my foot with his right hand, but he wasn’t quick enough. He staggered back and through the portal, realizing too late that there was no ground underneath him anymore.
    I grinned as I closed the portal on his bellow of rage. » It’s going to take him a thousand years to finish falling on his ass, « I said.

Chapter 26
    Abruptly cut off from Bacchus, the maenads stopped caring about Granuaile and began wondering where the hell they were and why they were wearing white nighties.
    » Oh, my God, what happened to your teeth? « one said.
    » My teeth? What’s up with yours ? «
    » My teeth are fine! Wait. « She put fingers with torn nails up to her lips and discovered she had a mouthful of fangs. » Oh, Jesus, they’re all pointy and shit! «
    The screams, once they began, were contagious. Part of it was the terror of sheer