Myra:

Myra waited in the alley with her team. She only brought a small group for the extraction. All her recon had suggested that the wild talent she needed to bring in was a young teenager, living mostly on the streets. A huge team would draw too much attention and Myra didn’t want to spook the kid.

There was no need to brief her team, she’d already done so back at the compound. In the wake of Del’s failure, Myra didn’t want to make the same mistakes. She wasn’t going to assume the target would come willingly and she planned for every possible response. If worst came to worse, she would force the kid to come with her for his own good.

There would be no mistakes.

She gestured for her teammate to follow her and entered the building where the kid was squatting. The rest of the team waited outside, monitoring the possible exit points just in case the kid took flight.

The smell of mould wafted up from the rotting carpet and most of wallpaper was pealing off the walls. The hallways were narrow and filled with rubbish and old bits of wood. Myra and her backup, Oliver, picked their way through the derelict building. Myra was stepping over a door that had been taken off its hinges and propped over the walkway when Oliver touched her arm. He nodded towards a bundle of cloth, just visible through a hole punched through the plaster. It looked like just another mound of rubbish, abandoned in the corner. Then it moved.

The dirty blanket was shivering. Myra kicked aside a bit of rubbish and entered the room. The dirty blanket turned out to be a boy of about fourteen, dressed very poorly for a brisk London afternoon. Myra recognised his dirty face from the photos in her file.

“Hey, kid,” Myra called from the doorway. She didn’t want to frighten him so she gestured for Oliver to stay just outside the door. “Are you alright?”

He didn’t say anything. He uncurled from the tight ball he huddled in and stared at her with serious eyes. The blue of his eyes caught her off guard, bright against his dirt-streaked face and gaunt cheeks. Eyes much too serious for a child.

“What’s your name, kid?” she asked in a low voice. No one had been able to find anything on the boy. At best guess, he was a runaway or had been abandoned and had been living on the streets ever since. He wasn’t in any missing persons database or in the fostering system as far as she - or anyone else at the compound - could tell.

“Who are you?” he asked eventually, his voice steady.

“My name is Myra,” she said in a low voice. She reach out her hand, palm down and stepped towards him slowly. The boy was frightened, and Myra thought he might bolt like a scared animal.

“Who are you?” he asked again, staring at her feet as she moved. She stopped walking towards him.

“I’m Myra,” she said again. The kid frowned.

“I didn’t ask your name, I asked who you were.”

Myra lowered her hand. This wasn’t how she wanted to approach the situation. She wanted the kid safely back at the compound, tucked up in the west wing before she started explaining about the Caul. The poor thing was probably frightened enough without learning about the existence of others like him.

Except, he didn’t look very frightened. He looked as if he were studying her.

“I’m here to help you,” Myra said, keeping her tone low and steady. “My friends and I are like you.” She gestured at Oliver who stepped out from behind the door jam. “We want to take you somewhere you can be safe.”

“Safe from those other things?” He cocked his head to the side and his blanket slipped off one shoulder. “The things that normal people don't seem to notice?”

“Yes.” Myra walked forward again. “We will keep you safe from those things and teach you how to use your abilities.”

The boy stared for a moment longer, his face expressionless.

“My name is Robert.” He stood, the blanket slid off his thin frame and puddled on the floor. Myra smiled at him.

“Can I call you Bobby?” she asked. He seemed to deliberate a moment before giving her a small, sharp nod. “Will you come with me, Bobby?” Another nod. This surprised her. She didn’t expect him to be so willing, not without knowing more about where she was taking him. Then again, what could be worse than living in a damp, condemned building?

Myra lead the way out of the building, Bobby walking behind her and Oliver taking up the rear. Oliver slipped out of his thick coat and hung it off the boy’s malnourished frame. Bobby probably hadn’t had a good meal in days.

Myra gently scanned the boy, poking and prodding at his thoughts, trying to get an idea of where he came from. She wasn’t having much luck. His mental defenses were very strong for someone so young. Actually, they were strong for anyone, especially someone without any training. Bobby was either very strong or very determined to keep people out. Myra tried a different tactic.

“Where do you come from, Bobby?” He shrugged. “Do you remember your parents?” Another shrug. “What’s your last name?” Her only stared at her, expressionless.

Jeez, it’s harder to get information from this kid than it is from Del.