Page 1 of Daemon Master
one
New Assignment
Adrian crept up theSerene Hall’s worn stone steps, cursing his rotten luck. Ofcourse,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 anesteemeddaemon 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 hadknownhis 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,someonehas 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 rowof 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.
