Dead Lines

16: Test of Durability

Unedited.

Chapter Sixteen

I’ve been slammed up against things a lot recently. Mostly in thanks to my training with Kells but there was something to be said about being pinned to the table by the God of War. Especially since he was livid, pissed beyond belief, and calling for my head. I’d always read he was a hot head but didn’t really believe it until now.

The edge of the table was biting into my lower back as he had me bent over backwards, his hand around my throat. He’d managed to shove Andrzej so hard that the wolf had flown back and disappeared into the stacks. I was probably the calmest one of the bunch as the other Gods were arguing and several were attempting to come to my aid.

I was just about out of air, feeling very light headed, when a long unseen blue path floated into existence for me to follow. With more skill than I knew I had, I broke Ares’ hold on my throat by slamming my solid and unbreakable elbow down on his arm. I’m pretty sure he released me out of surprise and was even more startled when I slammed both of my feet into his chest. Just like Andrzej, the God of War flew back but didn’t make it as far as the stacks. He had too much control for that.

Ares wasn’t a talker when he fought, which worked out well for me since I didn’t like yapping either. I flipped up on the table as he regained his footing. I was standing on the hardwood and he sneered at me from where he’d righted himself. A strange sort of calm had settled into me even as he started towards me. My heartbeat didn’t rise, panic didn’t fill my mind, and my body moved on instinct and intuition, my Particular guiding it.

He’d unsheathed his sword before coming forward and as he slashed it parallel with the table, a blow that would’ve cut my calves in half, I jumped and flipped through the air. My feet slammed against the floor behind him and I shoved at his back with both hands.

His feet were as sure as mine, only giving enough ground so he could turn and take another swipe at me with his blade. I would’ve been able to get out of the way again but I wanted to take a more direct route. I grabbed his wrist right before his sword would’ve cut into me and I turned my body so I could slam my open palm against his locked elbow.

We were both pretty damn durable but I put a lot of power behind that blow. The sound of bone and tendons snapping reverberated through the room and was only punctuated by the sound of his sword clattering to the ground as his hand released it.

And only because he wasn’t going to admit defeat yet, I twisted his injured arm behind his back, more things popping and breaking, and pulled up. If he still had any motor skills, Ares would’ve been able to grab his hair. His arm was completely dislocated from his shoulder, however, and only then did he make a sound.

But it wasn’t over.

With the God of War you had to make your point very clear.

I forcefully shoved him forward by placing my hand between his shoulder blades. His chest slammed down on the table and I kept my hand where it was so he wouldn’t even try to get up.

“Are you finished?” I asked, my voice revealing how calm I was.

“Definitely a demigod,” someone muttered from across the table.

The one eye I could see swiveled in my direction and I knew if he didn’t before, Ares hated me now. But paired with that hate was also a bit of respect. This, apparently, was the only way to gain it. Violence. Destruction. Death. If I killed him, he’d probably trust me into eternity.

His head jerked down and then up, a very unhappy nod if I’d ever seen one. Ares wasn’t used to being bested and when he was, a begrudged kicked puppy is what he resembled. I let him up slowly and took several steps back just in case. He rose up off the table like a storm coming in from off shore. As if he hadn’t been bested by a girl, he popped his neck and then with a simple shrug of his shoulders, his arm popped back into place. When he snapped his arm in front of him, the previously broken bones righted themselves.