Galgher and Hayes

  "Oh, oh, what about this one, m'dy?" asked Saoirse, proffering a tome entitled. 'Shardkeepers, the Rise.' It looked new, and fairly glossy, and after a few moments was added to the pile in the rge trolly that belonged to the shop.

  Marci was back in Pandemonium, the demonic city of techno-arcano marvels deep under the surface of the Middle Realms. It was just as concerningly impressive as the first time she'd visited, with its trains and elevators and skyships and massive gss and metal spires that extended upward from the floor and hung down from the ceilings above.

  This time, however, she had a native as a guide, rather than the obsessed Jonda who had never visited before. When Marci had told Saoirse she'd like to go shopping for books, specifically about Shardforts and their origins, the succubus had actually squealed with delight.

  They were at Galgher and Hayes, one of the rgest and most respected book shops in Pandemonium. It had six stories of shopfront, terrifying staircases that moved on their own and weird harsh lights that Marci could feel ran on lightning. Which was insane, but Saoirse had just shrugged when asked and said that 'was becoming normal.'

  Still, despite its strange and terrifying nature, it was undeniably excellent in its range of materials. Marci had needed to all but force herself away from the section on magic theory after picking out a dozen tomes. It even had its own coffee shop on the top floor where you could just read books as if it were a library. Part of her felt that, if the price of excellent book shops was being evil, then it was almost worth it.

  Marci was just considering whether or not to add a book entitled 'The Rift: Infernal Council and the Shardkeepers,' when a nearby demon cleared their throat. Marci gnced up to see a well-dressed wrath demon man standing there.

  "Excuse me, m'dy; might you be Shardkeeper Marci?" he asked.

  "Um… yes?" said Marci, somewhat armed. People had identified her as a Shardkeeper several times on that trip alone, but none of them had tried to approach her. They'd all, in fact, been rather terrified.

  "One moment, please…" said the wrath demon, taking a deep breath.

  "I don't…" began Marci, before trailing off as the wrath demon's eyes began to burn and smoulder with the same terrible ruby red as her own.

  "Ah, wonderful," said the wrath demon, their voice now deep and bassy as they gnced around. "Ah, a bookshop? You do take after Aisling then."

  "Sorry…?" said Marci.

  The wrath demon proffered on of their four, purple-tinged hands. "Shardkeeper Callum," he said with a wide grin. "Not quite in the flesh, but a pleasure to make your acquaintance all the same. I was hoping to find you, and to welcome you into our little club."

  Marci's eyes widened into saucers as she mechanically accepted the demon's grip. Another Shardkeeper. A dread ruler of a section of the North who commanded a different flying fortress. She didn't know much about 'Shardkeeper Callum' specifically, but she had seen the name before. A bloodthirsty tyrant, like all the rest; a sving despot who had subjugated half a continent.

  "Club?" said Marci dumbly, echoing his words for want of anything more intelligent to say.

  "Oh yes, that's how we think of it," nodded the possessed demon. "One big happy family; and we're so excited to be back up to thirteen, let me tell you."

  "I thought… Shardkeepers fought one another?" said Marci.

  "Oh yes," he said, waving a hand absently. "But not here, not in Pandemonium, and not when our interests align. Speaking of which…" he reached into his jacket and pulled out an envelope, which he handed to her. "An invitation, for ter tonight night. The rest of us have regur get-togethers at Hellfire Lounge, and we'd love for you to attend. In person or possessed minion—either is fine."

  Marci stared down at the letter.

  "We understand if you're too busy," he said with an easy smile. "A new Shardkeeper, so much to do, hmm? And we've heard rumour you've already attacked a mortal holding? I suppose being a surfacer yourself would give you a bit of an advantage over us, intelligence wise." The wrath demon smiled toothily. "Something we could make it worth your while to share."

  The Wrath demon gnced up and to the side, burning eyes losing focus slightly.

  "Oh darn, Brigid's raiding one of my eastern holdings, the scamp. I shall have to attend to that," he said, inclining his head. "I hope to see you tonight, my dear."

  Then the light in the demon's burning eyes faded, and the wrath demons bark bck eyes returned to normal. They swayed slightly, before bowing again and moving off, leaving Marci hovering there with a dry mouth, and trembling hands.

  She looked down at the letter, and slipped it open to reveal a high-quality card with golden ink:'

  Dearest Marci,

  We're all ever so looking forward to meeting you and hope you can make our fortnightly cocktail party: which is, as ever, at the Hellfire Lounge from 9pm onwards today, and the first and third Saturdays of the month hereafter.

  Come as you are, and in-person or in-minion. We don't stand on ceremony with one another.

  Ever so hopeful you can attend.

  Hugs and Kisses,

  Shardkeepers Callum, Enya, Calvin, Decn, Fiona, Seamus, Brigid, Deirdre, Angus, Aoife, Conor, and Isolde

  "Huh, I've heard about those," said Saoirse, leaning over and reading the invitation. "Ma was always compining that the Shardkeepers were 'plotting away at the Hellfire.'" She chuckled. "Personally, I always thought she was annoyed they have a standing booking for the top floor half of all the Saturdays."

  "Your mother?" asked Marci weakly.

  "Oh, ah, yes," said Saoirse, blushing and looking away. "That is… well, I'm, um… she's on the Infernal Council, and they don't see eye to eye with Shardkeepers. She, uh… isn't happy that I signed up with you."

  So, Saoirse was also a princess? Did demons have princesses? Perhaps that was why Marci felt a strange affinity for her; both of them lived lives of great disappointment to their mothers. Although Marci suspected that as a Shardkeeper, and thus a 'traitor to mortal kind,' she was probably outdoing Saoirse in the 'who can disappoint their mother more competition.'

  "Why don't they see eye to eye?" asked Marci.

  "Well, uh, the Shardkeepers, um, don't listen to them," said Saoirse. "They, err, did in the beginning, but then, well, they got too powerful to control, and were too important for the economy to cut off. The Shardkeepers I mean, m'dy."

  "Huh," said Marci, staring back at the invitation. "Should I… go? I mean, uh, I don't really want to have anything to do with the others."

  "Really?" said Saoirse in an interested voice. "Why not?"

  Marci winced. She'd forgotten, for a moment, that she wasn't speaking to one of her friends. Saoirse was very pleasant to be around, if one forgot the whole 'demon necromancer' thing, which wasn't actually that hard since the succubus dressed nothing like stereotypes of succubi, and only occasionally said totally unhinged things.

  Remember, you're supposed to act like a tyrannical monster, Marci reminded herself.

  "Err, well, I just like being independent," said Marci. "To… do tyranny my own way, you know?"

  "Oh, right," said Saoirse, almost disappointed. "Well, um, you should probably go anyway. If you're not with the other Shardkeepers, that makes you vulnerable, politically I mean. And, well, it isn't like they can actually do anything to you. They don't fight at all in Pandemonium, and even if they killed you here, they can't kill you permanently. I'd say you've got nothing to lose."

  Marci gnced back at the invitation. Nothing to lose? It didn't feel like that. It felt like, day by day, inch by inch, her desire to not become a terrible, Dread Shardkeeper was getting ground down by the expedient voice in her head telling her 'go on, do it, give in, you need to become powerful to defend yourself.'

  Still, it was just a party. What was the worst that could happen?