Secondhand Garagyre

Chapter 1

Chapter One

LAITHOG

She is back again. The soft sound of a voice pulls at me from the dark depths of unconsciousness. It really shouldn’t surprise me, but after centuries of peaceful solitude, mine is ruined by one incessantly caterwauling human female.

My existence is such a cosmic joke.

I am unsure which deity I pissed off, but I’m not sure how much more of this I can take. I do not even have the option of revealing my fleshly body to rid myself of the irritant before me.

In fact, it is sure to make my life an utter misery…not that it could get much worse than it already is.

The female in question does not come every day, nor is she the only crying woman I have dealt with in my long life, but she is the only one who has penetrated my mind through the depths of my stoneslumber.

It is a concept that does not fill me with any level of comfort. Why did this specific human and her suffering call to me? I have never cared much for her species. I certainly did not before my mates’ death, and my apathy for them has only grown over the centuries.

No one and nothing catches my interest, not anymore.

Except , apparently, this one vexing creature.

Ugh ! Why did she insist on sitting on the bench situated directly below the concrete pedestal my stone-shrouded body sat on?

Surely , there is somewhere else for her to cry out her misery…?

Is there no end to her tears?

A mere human should only possess so many of them before they run out. Only the gods know that I ran out of tears long ago, and the ones etched into my stone face are the last ones I cried before succumbing to my grief.

The sound of sniffing and a nose blowing brings me back to the nuisance before me. It has taken some time for me to care enough to look at the headstone of the grave she lingers at.

The name etched into the stone is a man’s name and after listening to her many, many, MANY one-sided conversations, I have figured out the dead man is her brother. Not that I care or anything absurd like that. My initial annoyance with her is the first conscious thought I’d have in longer than I care to think about. I don’t remember the last time I have been awake for any measurable length of time.

I am sure I should care, but when you have had half of your soul ripped from you, not much matters after that. I have finally been forced to use a small portion of what little magick I have left to perform a translation spell. Listening to a whinging female is one thing; listening to her wail in another language is downright impossible.

I am not sure why the gods have chosen to let me remain while everything I loved is ripped from me. Maybe she would shut up and let me go back to sleep. Softly spoken words ruin that delightful possibility for me.

“ Hey Patrick , I’m back. I told you I would be. Sorry that it took me so long to come visit you this week. Work has been absolutely overwhelming, and I’ve crashed shortly after doing chores every evening. Mom and Dad told me to tell you hello. I know neither of them has been to visit you since the funeral, but I also know you wouldn’t be mad at them. You’re actually probably pretty pissed at me for spending so much time here. You did always want me to be more social.”

The fact that her voice is husky with tears should not have made my long-dead cock twitch deep within my stone casing. My cock hasn’t been hard in millennia. Well , that is to say, my fleshly cock hasn’t been hard in millennia, and I am getting more than a little annoyed with myself. My current situation is untenable and the more interest my body shows in her the worse I feel.

How dare I betray my mate? My beloved Ilayahan , who was the embodiment of everything a Garagyre female should be. We were merciless on the battlefield together and were inseparable. The only thing stronger than our lust for battle was our lust for one another.

We have what the humans call an “ F and F ” relationship, (thanks to the weepy little human, I now know all sorts of new words and terms) with the exception that we fought demons and fucked each other every chance we had. How long has it been since I have allowed myself to think about her name?

The echo of pain that shimmers through the broken bonds of my soul make rage spark within my chest. This soft, weak, whimpering human should not be the one to cause my body to rouse, not that it should have in the first place. It is an insult to the memory of my dead mate and everything I have suffered since she was taken from me. The gods know I long for peace and to be left alone. Surely , that is not too much to ask for…

Determination fills me as I force my mind and body into stillness, then retreat deep within myself, allowing the darkness to claim me.

I would not awake the next time this human visits my corner of the cemetery.

This I vow.