Head Over Tentacles

by K. L. Hiers

  Sloane gasped as something cold pushed inside his chest, squeezing down until he could barely breathe. “What, what are you doing?”

  “Hold still,” Alexander snorted. “No one can hear him. No one. How are you doing it?”

  “I, I don’t know!” Sloane wheezed, staring down at the faint vision of tentacles digging into him. Oh, by the gods, it was inside him and pushing so hard and he was feeling faint. “Please… stop….”

  “Tell me how!” Alexander demanded, his eyes bright red and narrowing angrily. “What are you?”

  “I’m… a private… investigator…?” Sloane croaked. He was about to pass out, falling down onto his hands and groaning softly. “Stop….”

  There was suddenly a large flapping of wings and a terrifying roar, and then Sloane heard Loch’s voice screaming, “Prepare to feel my godly wrath!”

  Chapter 9.

  LOCH WAS here in all of his dragon glory, wings outstretched and teeth bared, his long tail furiously whipping around him.

  There was no sign of his human vessel, only his true godly form.

  Sloane gasped as Alexander pulled away. The phantom tentacle left his body, and he could breathe again. He watched as Alexander strolled across the field toward Azaethoth, a tiny mortal and a god about to do battle.

  It was a ridiculous display. It was like watching a lion about to devour a mouse. Alexander was powerful, certainly, but there was no way….

  Sloane looked up.

  And up.

  He stared stupidly upward and onward as he realized he could finally see the monstrous deity attached to Alexander.

  It was like looking at a mirage, the image shimmering and translucent, but it was big. Bigger than even Loch’s magnificent dragon, it was a beast with a huge upper body and massive arms like a gorilla, but there was a thick array of giant spikes cascading down its back from the top of its head.

  It dragged its lower body on the ground, a thick tail made out of spiraling tentacles, and more tentacles hung from its long, jagged snout. It roared in reply, and it swung one of its great arms out at Loch.

  Loch gracefully dodged out of the way, snarling and snapping his teeth at the beast. He missed, diving forward again.

  “Look out!” Sloane screamed, watching the beast’s tail whipping around to strike.

  The mass of tentacles smacked Loch right across his face, sending him off-balance and stumbling back a step with his wings flapping wildly.

  Alexander calmly walked forward, and the mammoth thing connected to him lumbered ahead and hurled itself at Loch again.

  Loch skidded and roared, baring all of his giant teeth and biting at the air around him with a wretched snarl of frustration. He tried lunging down at Alexander’s minute form and got a vicious blow right in his jaw for his efforts.

  He can’t see him, Sloane realized in a panic. Loch was fighting completely blind, and he was losing ground quickly. “Loch! Come on! I can see him, come on!”

  Loch whirled around, bolting toward him and bowing his head. “Get on!”

  “Oh fuck!” Sloane’s stomach lurched as Loch’s giant head dove between his legs, and he fought to wrap himself around Loch’s long neck and hang on tight.

  Loch stretched out his great wings and leaped into the air, flapping them hard as he rose above the fields. He circled Alexander and the ghostly beast, snarling, “If it’s too bloody hot in the kitchen, you need to get the fuck out!”

  “You’ve been watching way too much Gordon Ramsey!” Sloane yelled.

  Loch replied with a roar of flame, flickering streams of magical fire bursting from his mouth and scorching the fields below them. The ground was instantly incinerated, the dry grass catching quickly, and the fire spread in seconds.

  Alexander lifted his hand, deflecting the flames with a glowing shield. The shield was weakening beneath the godly fire, and Alexander’s nose began to bleed. The beast quickly grabbed him around his middle and slithered them both out of the way.

  Sloane tried to squint against the rush of wind and heat. “Left, left, left!”

  Loch turned his head sharply, following Sloane’s directions.

  “No! Too much! Right! Go back right!”

  “You are terrible at this!” Loch complained.

  “Pay attention!” Sloane groaned. “Now, turn around and drop down! Quick! He’s right underneath us!”

  Loch pumped his powerful wings, whirling in the air and tucking them close to his body as he dove. He roared triumphantly, Alexander in his sights and headed right at him.

  The fields were on fire, and there was so much smoke, Sloane coughed hard as he tried to peer around Loch’s head to see what was happening.

  Alexander wasn’t moving, standing among the glittering flames with his shield redirected over himself. When he saw Loch and Sloane coming at him, he didn’t budge. He held his ground with a slight smirk curling his lips.

  All too late, Sloane realized the beast was no longer behind Alexander. It had disappeared! But as Loch let loose another blast of flame, the beast rose out of the very ground where it had been hiding with a fierce snarl.

  “Loch!” Sloane tried to warn him, but the beast struck with enormous strength and knocked Loch right out of the sky.

  Loch landed with a thunderous crash, and Sloane went flying, skidding through some of the burning grass and cursing loudly.

  The beast circled around Loch and began to strike, Loch’s furious roars making the very ground shake as he quickly went on the offensive. At first Loch was able to drive the beast and Alexander back, but his advantage didn’t last.

  The beast lashed out, a powerful blow that made Loch growl furiously. Another hit sent him reeling, and he swung his long tail around to put some distance between them as he backpedaled.

  Sloane raised his hands to throw a magical missile at Alexander to drive him and the beast away, but nothing happened.

  Fuck!

  Alexander’s ward!

  Sloane struggled to stand and desperately clawed at his forehead. He could feel the edge of the ward Alexander had used to silence him. It was magic and very strong, but Sloane was stronger. He dug in his nails, focusing as hard as he could and screaming from his efforts as blood dripped down his face.

  He had to hurry! He had to get to Loch and help him!

  Loch roared again, but this time in pain, dragging Sloane’s attention to the battlefield. Alexander was directing the beast expertly, leaping and flying out of the way every time Loch tried to crush him. After all, Alexander was the only one Loch could see, and the clever little jerk was using himself as bait.

  There was black blood leaking from a gash in Loch’s shoulder, and he was starting to limp.

  Alexander lured him in for another cheap shot, the beast’s clawed hand opening up another tear in Loch’s chest.

  This time, Loch had been expecting it. His jaws snapped down around the beast’s wrist, but his teeth landed on nothing but thin air. He couldn’t hit the beast at all and roared in frustration.

  “Shit! Loch! Hold on!” Sloane closed his eyes, trying to focus again. He scratched and dug, fighting through his fear to find the edge of the ward.

  There.

  There was an explosion of sparkling light as the ward shattered, and he grunted as he leaped to his feet. He took off, running right at Alexander and the beast. He summoned all of his magic, squinting through the blood running down into his face.

  “Mom, Dad, please! Please hear me!” Sloane pleaded, his broken voice turning into a vengeful roar as he screamed, “Great Azaethoth! You listen the fuck up! Help me now! Don’t you dare take Loch away from me!”

  The sky darkened, impossibly bright bolts of lightning crackling all across the swirling clouds. Light flowed between Sloane’s hands, and he dropped them down to his side as he ran. He could feel it, the weight, the familiar shape against his palms.

  A sword of starlight.

  Sloane raised it over his head, aiming for the beast’s massive tail and swi
nging with all of his might. Alexander turned, too slow, and the beast roared in absolute agony as the blade made contact.

  The shimmering image faded in and out, retreating and howling miserably.

  Sloane bared his teeth, rushing to stand between Loch and Alexander, pointing his sword at the awful beast above as he shouted, “My name is Sloane Beaumont, son of Daniel and Pandora Beaumont, betrothed mate of Azaethoth the Lesser! I am a Starkiller amongst mortals, and if you touch him again, there is no power in the universe that can save you from where I’m going to fucking send you!”

  “Wait!” the beast snarled. It sounded different this time, loud and clear. “Starkiller…?”

  “Yes,” Loch growled in reply, bowing his head down next to Sloane as one of his great wings curled protectively around him. “My Starkiller.”

  “I killed Tollmathan, God of Plagues and Poetry!” Sloane yelled back, and he tightened his grip on the brilliant sword. “I don’t know who you are, but I’ll end you too, if you don’t back the fuck off!”

  “Starkiller! I yield!” the beast said, lying down on the ground. He made no other move, except to wind a ghostly tentacle around Alexander’s outstretched hand.

  “Wait, what?” Sloane blinked. He stared stupidly, glancing back at Loch, who seemed equally confused. This didn’t make any sense.

  “What are you doing?” Alexander hissed, apparently in agreement.

  “Trust me,” the beast soothed. His ghostly image became more solid, no longer a clear mirage but a visible creature whose skin was flooded with rich reds and purples.

  “Who are you?” Sloane asked, looking over the spectacular monster.

  “My name is Rota,” the beast said.

  “Rota?” Sloane scoffed. “I don’t know of any god named Rota.”

  “It’s the name I gave myself,” Rota replied. “We have much to discuss, Starkiller. Please. I don’t want to do battle any longer.”

  The sword of starlight began to fade away in Sloane’s hands, which were aching from the strain of trying to hold on to so much magic. He finally let go, and he rubbed his throbbing fingers together as he demanded, “So, out with it. Who are you really?”

  “I don’t know,” Rota said, his colorful image fading. He dissolved until he was nearly invisible, pleading, “Alexander… I….”

  “Rest,” Alexander said, reaching over to pet the shimmering beast. You didn’t have to show yourself… it wears you out.

  I need them to believe us, was Rota’s exhausted reply.

  “They will,” Alexander said, reaching into his coat to retrieve a pack of cigarettes.

  “Will what?” Loch griped.

  “Right now, you will listen.” Alexander held his hand up to the end of the cigarette, and Sloane could see the end of a shivering tentacle sliding up his hand. Together, tentacle and fingers produced a flame to light the cigarette.

  Waiting patiently, Sloane moved closer to Loch to inspect his wounds. While Alexander puffed away, Sloane slid his hands up over Loch’s smooth skin to offer his magic. “How’d you find me? Infinite worlds between worlds, right?”

  “You’re my mate.” Loch’s eyes glittered. “No matter where you are, I will always find you.”

  Just as the first gash in Loch’s skin closed, Alexander spoke again.

  “Neither of us have any memory of who we were before we woke up at Hazel.” Alexander’s bright red eyes glanced back at Sloane and Loch as he exhaled a cloud of smoke through his nose. “I’ve been there for as long as I can remember, but I didn’t meet Rota for a few years. They had to get me ready, you see, to be his conduit.”

  “A conduit?” Sloane asked.

  “That’s what they call me,” Alexander replied. “A mortal body controlling an immortal spirit. I can channel Rota’s energy with my thoughts alone, or I can use my own body to focus his power.”

  “A weapon,” said Sloane, his jaw getting tight. “That’s how they made you into a weapon.”

  “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  “If you really killed Tollmathan, you already know why.” Alexander flicked his cigarette with a roll of his eyes. “There are gods who mean to wake Salgumel and remake the world.”

  “You mean destroy it,” Loch growled.

  “Potato, potahto.” Alexander shrugged. “Look, Tollmathan was far from alone. There’s an entire faction of old gods working together to make it happen.”

  “What?” Sloane’s heart sunk into his stomach. “All the gods are supposed to be asleep! The dreaming—”

  “It only took one,” Alexander cut in. “Once Tollmathan woke up, he started waking up others he knew would be down for the cause. Yeah, some of them went right back to sleep, but they’re ready to rise when the time comes. There’s no telling how many there are now.”

  Sloane’s stomach twisted up in a wretched guilty knot. He was the one who inadvertently woke up Tollmathan with a prayer that was meant to save his parents when he was a child. “Okay, but then why make weapons? Why take all these innocent people?”

  “To fight the other gods.” Alexander used the end of his cigarette to light another. “The faction is strong, but clearly they’re worried about winning the war. That’s why they’re going to all this trouble… to enslave their enemies.”

  “You mean take the gods who actually want to keep Salgumel sleeping and turn them to their cause whether they want to or not,” Sloane clarified, clinging to Loch’s side for comfort. “Fuck.”

  “Now you’re getting the idea.” Alexander leaned back against Rota’s shoulder. He looked as if he was pressed up against nothing, his body cocked at an impossible angle, and it only added to the weirdness of it all.

  “Don’t you still want Jay?”

  “I don’t want him,” Alexander snorted. “He was just the next name on my list, all right?”

  “Then who does?” Sloane pressed.

  “Gronoch. Azaethoth the Lesser’s brother.”

  Loch said nothing, and he curled around Sloane tighter.

  “Toll went to his brothers first,” Alexander said. “Well, all except Azaethoth, obviously. Some sibling rivalry there, eh?”

  Loch bared his teeth.

  “Here’s the million-dollar question.” Sloane took a deep breath. He kept petting Loch’s smooth scales, trying to soothe him as he asked, “Why are you telling us all of this?”

  “Isn’t it obvious?” Alexander cocked his head. He flicked his cigarette ash and took a deep drag. “You are a Starkiller. You kill gods. We’re currently being ‘employed’ by one.” He held up his hands and made little air quotes. “Pffft. You’re supposed to be a detective, right?”

  “Well,” Sloane mumbled indignantly, still not putting the pieces together, “yeah?”

  “We want you to kill a god,” Alexander snapped. “Duh.”

  “Wait, what?”

  “Look, if I’d known you were a Starkiller, I would have never attacked you,” Alexander said dryly. “I knew you were a powerful witch of starlight, but I never thought you’d actually be strong enough to help us.”

  “What is it exactly that you want?” Sloane pressed, his suspicions immediately raised. “Who do you want me to kill?”

  “I want you to kill Gronoch.”

  “I’m not an assassin!” Sloane protested in disgust. “If we could have talked sense into Tollmathan, I wouldn’t have killed him either. There has to be another way to stop Gronoch!”

  “Come on! I don’t want to see the world destroyed any more than you do. Plus, you’ll get the added bonus of keeping little Jay and the other Silenced people of the world safe. If Gronoch is dead, no more conduits, so no more hunting. No more building an army, okay?”

  “And what are you getting out of it? Really?”

  “My freedom isn’t enough?” Alexander challenged.

  “I don’t trust you.” Sloane took a bold step toward him. “If you were so worried about just being free, you would have found a way by now to get away from Gronoch. You
have the power of an old god at your disposal! You could easily escape him into realms like these!”

  Just tell him, Rota urged.

  And risk having someone else trying to hold your body hostage? No fucking way! Alexander’s thoughts were positively volatile, but his expression remained calm.

  “You know I can hear you when you two do that?” Sloane said with an amused smile.

  “What?” Alexander’s eyes widened, anything but calm now. He looked afraid.

  “He’s a Starkiller,” Rota realized out loud. “He’s been touched by Great Azaethoth….”

  “Guess it had some side effects?” Sloane shrugged and scratched the back of his neck.

  “How about we all talk using our outside voices, hmm?” Loch piped up, sitting back on his hind legs, his wounds fully healed now. “I’m getting tired of being left out. It’s boring, not to mention rude.”

  “Yeah, no more secrets,” Sloane agreed. “Tell us, Alexander. What’s this about a body?”

  “Gronoch.” Rota spoke up while Alexander silently stewed. “He has my body. He found a way to put gods to sleep, like in the dreaming, and pull their soul away to bind to a mortal using the magic from Asran bones.”

  “Can’t you just poof back to Zebulon?” Sloane asked.

  “No, my soul is tethered to Alexander,” Rota explained. “I cannot return without first reclaiming my body.”

  “And breaking the bonds?”

  “No,” Rota said firmly. “It would kill Alexander. There are bindings you can’t see. Inside his head, on his heart—”

  “They get the idea,” Alexander cut in with a grimace.

  “Even if breaking the bindings wouldn’t hurt him, I could only return to Zebulon as a spirit,” Rota said, his ghostly tentacles curling around Alexander’s waist. “Unless my body dies or is destroyed, I cannot reincorporate a new one…. And Gronoch has hidden it from me.”

  “And of course, you’re a god,” Loch drawled. “You’re not likely to starve to death anytime soon.”

  “I understand you want your body back, but wouldn’t reuniting with it also break the bindings?” Sloane frowned. “Alexander could still die. Kind of a big risk, don’t you think?”