Del:

“You wanted to see me, Sir?” Del asked as he entered Riordan’s office. Riordan was sitting behind his monstrously huge desk, every inch of it covered with neat piles of paper. Del did not envy the huge amounts of paperwork that came with being the leader of the largest Caul compound in the United Kingdom.

“Yes,” the older man answered, not looking up from his paperwork. “I have an assignment for you.” Del straightened, his already formal posture stiffening. Del was one of the youngest graduates currently on active duty in the Caul’s London compound. Usually, graduates would spend their first few years backing up older, more experienced Caul on their assignments. For Del to be assigned his own mission was unusual.

“Thank you, Sir.”

Riordan was an older man, pushing fifty with salt and pepper hair and a neatly cropped goatee. He had been transferred to London almost twenty years ago and promoted to compound director almost immediately after that. Despite the long years in Britain, he still retained the slight burr of a Northern Irish accent.

“There's been reports of a wild talent operating out of Liverpool.”

That was not what Del was expecting. A wild talent meant that one of their own had been misplaced. The Caul was more than just a community, it was an extended family, an entire race living, training and working under the same roof. It wasn’t often that a young Caul gets separated from the main community. It was dangerous when it did occur and most often the wild talent was tracked down and adopted by one of the compounds to be properly trained.

“I know it is unusual putting you in charge of your own operation so soon after you’ve completed your training,” Riordan continued. “I thought you would be particularly committed to bringing this young one to be properly trained, given your,” he hesitated, trying to find a delicate way of phrasing it, “situation.”

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

Del managed not to flinch at the implication. Riordan either didn’t notice or chose to ignore Del’s discomfort, breezing right along with the briefing.

“All the information regarding this case is here,” Riordan handed Del a thin file. “All that is left is the actual extraction. You will report to Vaughn at each stage of the mission but it will be up to you to determine what resources will be necessary. Good luck, my boy.”

Del touched his forehead in an informal salute, scooped up the file and left Riordan's office. There wasn’t much information about the wild talent, only that he or she was using their psychic abilities liberally, with little discretion. A imp well known as being a thief had been tracked down and captured after stealing from a herd of pixies in Cornwall. The Imp claimed to have had his memories of the actual capture stolen from him. A goblin in Manchester reported an unknown Person using his locked offices as a stopover. He’d witnessed someone popping in and out of thin air. After investigation of the office, the Caul discovered a strong layline by the watercooler.

Page after page of unsolved reports from all over England. There was even some reports from as far north as Scotland.

Most of the events were one off, but there was some suggestion the unknown wild talent frequented a small Real World occult shop in the heart of Liverpool. Del snapped the file shut.

That is where he would start.