Adrian crept up the Serene Hall’s worn stone steps, cursing his rotten luck. Of course, he’d arrived for his monthly supply run while Watcher Seymour stood outside chatting. Tall and imperious in his spiked golden armor, the guard captain was about the last person Adrian ever wanted to see.

Maybe he won’t notice I’m here?

“You there, halt!”

Adrian’s stomach plummeted at the familiar gruff voice and the childhood memories it never failed to conjure. He and Seymour had been best friends once, darting about the village and staging mock daemon battles. Back then, they’d dreamed of following in Adrian’s parents’ footsteps and joining the Watcher Division together. But those days had long since passed.

Turning, Adrian plastered on what he hoped was a friendly yet submissive smile. “Greetings, Watcher Seymour. What can I do for you?”

With his chiseled jaw, neatly trimmed black hair, and brilliant green eyes, Seymour’s answering grin might’ve been charming had it not dripped cold disdain. “I’ve got a task perfect for your particular level of…talent.”

The two other Watchers with him snickered.

Adrian struggled to keep his voice neutral. “Oh?”

“Old Man Crastley passed away last night, but no one’s sure if he had any active bonds. We figured, why waste our time searching for freed daemons when we have an esteemed daemon catcher to do it for us. If, that is, you think you can handle the responsibility?”

“A routine daemon check?” Adrian replied as his jaw tensed. “Not a problem.”

Seymour widened his emerald eyes in feigned concern. “Are you sure? I wouldn’t want to overtax your aether. No doubt the other children would be happy to help if you asked.”

His companions’ snickers upgraded to outright laughter.

Adrian’s face reddened. “That won’t be necessary.” He turned toward the doorway. “Now, if you’ll excuse me…”

Seymour gave a mocking bow. “Of course, catcher. Don’t let me keep you from your duty. I only wish your parents were still around to witness your grand accomplishments.”

Seymour had known his parents. Spirits below, he’d spent more time at Adrian’s house as a kid than he had his own. Hearing him joke about them now, even indirectly, cracked Adrian’s thin veneer of calm.

“With idiots like you in the Watcher Division, someone has to keep us safe,” he muttered.

The laughter behind him cut off.

Oops.

Swallowing hard, he hurried to the Serene Hall’s arched entrance. They wouldn’t beat him to a pulp in front of dozens of witnesses…would they?

Before he could do more than grasp the door’s handle, a hand tightened on his upper arm and wrenched him around. Seymour’s earlier mirth had vanished, replaced by a deep scowl.

“What did you say to me?”

Adrian glanced longingly at the doors set into the building’s polished stone wall. Swallowing, he returned his attention to the angry Watcher. “Nothing. Just talking to myself.”

Aether enveloped Seymour in an azure haze, its channeled power crackling in the air. For a moment, Adrian feared the Watcher might actually break his arm or sic a daemon on him. Seymour certainly had the strength for it, though he’d have a hard time justifying the use of force against someone as weak as Adrian.

Perhaps coming to the same realization, Seymour grunted and stepped back, his aura retreating. Adrian barely had time to let out a relieved sigh before the Watcher shoved past him.

“We’ll see what the Arbiter has to say about that. With me. Now.”

Adrian hung his head and followed. As a daemon catcher, he was little more than a glorified freelancer, not even part of Serenity Corp’s three main divisions. His best course of action—as usual—was to roll over, take his licks, and hope he escaped relatively unscathed.

The Serene Hall’s interior was anything but peaceful. Wooden dividers separated a central area into makeshift workspaces. Clerks scribbled at desks and bustled about in an atmosphere of barely controlled chaos. But those more mundane trappings weren’t what drew Adrian’s eye.

No matter how many times he came here, seeing so many daemons manifested in one place always filled him with an uneasy awe. One daemon the size of a fist flitted from desk to desk with four wings that moved so quickly they blurred. Another, this one as large as a chair, waddled down a row of desks on two stump-like legs, periodically opening its wide mouth to suck in dirt while the nearest workers covered their papers with practiced ease. Despite their varied forms, each daemon shared the same glowing blue skin—a stark reminder that they were comprised of pure aether rather than flesh or blood or bone.

Adrian picked his way around the office after Seymour, doing his best not to gawk. When the Watcher reached the closed door leading to the Arbiter’s office, Adrian’s stomach clenched. This might not be the heroic destiny he’d envisioned as a kid, but it had been hard enough securing this job as a nineteen-year-old with the aetheric might of someone half his age. If the Arbiter fired him, he didn’t know what he’d do.

“Are you sure this is—” he began, but Seymour cut him off with an irritable wave of his hand. He pounded on the Arbiter’s door, then barged inside without waiting for an answer. Adrian reluctantly followed.

Arbiter Janice sat behind her desk, her face wrinkled in concentration. Aether flared around her in crackling blue waves. On the floor across from her, a squat daemon with six spindly legs and a multitude of glowing eyes pulsed with its own aura.

Adrian had avoided the new arbiter since her assignment to Hillvale several months back, so he’d yet to see her daemons in action. What he gleaned with his aethersense suggested some form of mental projection—perhaps a sending technique for long-distance communication?

Seymour strode right up to the Arbiter’s desk and cleared his throat. The aether suffusing the squat daemon dissipated, followed by the Arbiter’s a few seconds later. She leaned back in her chair, her eyes flicking open. If the interruption irritated her, she didn’t show it.

“Ah, Watcher Seymour. And Catcher Adrian. I apologize for making you wait. You caught me in the middle of my weekly check-in with the regional office.” She glanced toward her daemon. “Whisperwind is useful for many things, but carrying on an intelligent conversation without my direct intervention isn’t one of them. How may I help you?”

So, it had been a sending technique.

Satisfaction surged through Adrian. His aether might be a colossal embarrassment for someone well past puberty, but at least he could take some small comfort in his unusually perceptive aethersense. He suspected it was this knack for detecting aether that had earned him his appointment as Hillvale’s resident daemon catcher in the first place.

“Arbiter Janice.” Seymour gave the barest jerk of his head. “I’m here to report this catcher for insubordination and conduct unbefitting an employee of Serenity Corp.”

The Arbiter steepled her fingers atop her desk. “And what exactly did Catcher Adrian do to warrant such a charge?”

Seymour hesitated, and despite the growing pit in his stomach, Adrian resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Well, you see Arbiter, this catcher had the gall to talk back to me while I was humiliating him. Such impertinence!

After a moment to gather his thoughts, Seymour said, “He insulted the Watcher Division by questioning our capabilities. Our work on behalf of Serenity Corp is critical to the survival of the League, and we will not suffer insults from…from…” He glanced at Adrian, the corner of his lip curling into a sneer. “From any less vital public servants.”

Arbiter Janice nodded, her expression unreadable. “Of course, Watcher Seymour. Rest assured, I will take all necessary disciplinary action.”

That seemed to pacify the irate Watcher. As Seymour turned to leave, he shot Adrian a smug smirk. Adrian didn’t dare react, bowing until the Watcher slammed the office door behind him.

“I-I’m sorry, Arbiter,” he stammered, keeping his gaze down. “I swear, it’ll never happen again. Just please, don’t fire me. Without this job, I’m…”

I’m as much of a failure as Seymour and everyone else in this town already thinks I am.

The Arbiter sighed. “Look at me, Adrian.” He obeyed, forcing his gaze upward. To his surprise, he found her smiling gently at him. “I told that Watcher I’d take all necessary disciplinary action, but I don’t think any is warranted today. Do you?”

“N-no, ma’am.” Was she really going to let him off that easily? “Thank you, ma’am!”

She nodded. “I know we’ve barely spoken since my appointment here, but your work thus far suggests you’re an excellent daemon catcher—which, for the record, is as important a job as any other, no matter what a certain Watcher might think.”

“If you say so, ma’am.” Seymour had been right in at least one thing—the Watchers were the ones out there risking their lives to preserve the League. That was why Adrian had once aspired to join them. But the Watcher Division had no use for a weakling like him. He’d never be able to stand strong against the wild daemon hordes, never live up to what his parents—

He shoved the painful thought aside, forcing his attention back on the Arbiter.

Thankfully, she didn’t seem to have noticed his distraction. She leaned back in her chair, studying him. He resisted the urge to squirm. “If you have any further disputes with Watcher Seymour, or anyone else for that matter, my office door is always open. It’s my job to look after all Serenity Corp personnel, yourself included.”

Unless you can fix my broken aether, I think I’m beyond your help.

“Thank you, ma’am.” He hesitated, torn between his desire to escape and his fear of being rude to the most influential person in town. “Is there anything else I can do for you?”

“No, I suppose not.” Though the Arbiter’s smile remained, her eyes adopted a commiserating cast he’d grown all too used to since his parents’ deaths. “Take care of yourself, Adrian.” He nodded mutely as she turned back to her scattered paperwork and shuffled through the stacks, muttering, “Spirits above! Am I really out of clean paper already?”

Taking that as his cue to leave, he retreated into the main atrium. Behind him, aether flashed. He looked back to see the squat daemon replaced by a vaguely humanoid one about the height of a child. It traced spindly fingers along a log propped in the corner. Strips of wood peeled loose at its touch, the material thinning into a stack of fresh paper one sheet at a time.

He watched the daemon work until the office door clicked shut, then drew in a deep breath to recenter himself as he headed toward the storeroom. Time to pick up his monthly supplies and escape before the spirits devised some other way to ruin his day.