Bryan O’Teel is the empath who helps Lilith in Tulkan. This occurs sometime before the events in Above Ground.

Bryan O’Teel, Third Rank Initiate, was outwardly a very ordinary fellow. He had a pleasant smile, his smooth features suggestive of a coddled upbringing. His clothes were neat and unassuming, and his dark hair was cropped short in a rather boyish style for a man on the steeper side of his thirties. He still looked boyish, and moved with the spritely step of the young; the only sign of his age was the greying hairs at his temples.

Yet Bryan was no ordinary man. The three tattooed diamonds on his right cheekbone proclaimed his birthright: he was an Affected. Something which his employer seemed to have forgotten.

“I don’t see why we haven’t just called the ewte in first,” his employer grumbled. He was leaning against the desk in the corner of the room, arms crossed, a wizened werefox with a sharp glare. “It’s bound to be him that’s stealing from me.”

“If you were certain about that, I wouldn’t be here.” Bryan kept his hands folded in his lap. Every available surface in the staff room was coated with dust and grease. Assuming the kitchens were in a similar state, it was a wonder the restaurant was still open.

The werefox scowled. “It has to be him. Everyone knows what they say about ewtes.”

Everyone knew what was said about werefoxes, too, but Bryan didn’t mention that. “You’ll have proof of the culprit soon enough.”

A knock on the door. The next employee had arrived.

The werefox straightened. “Come in!”

The door opened slowly. A young woman stood in the doorway, the green cross tattooed on her left cheek marking her as a witch. Even from across the room Bryan could sense her anxiety.

“Sit down, Alice,” the werefox said, pointing to the chair beside Bryan. “The Guild man has a few questions for you.”

She closed the door behind her and sat beside Bryan, her hands tucked into the apron pocket, eyes focused on the tattoos on his face as she tried to judge the extent of his abilities.

“I’ll need your hand,” Bryan said softly.

Alice reluctantly unfolded her arms, placing one hand palm-down on the dirty table. Her fingers tensed when Bryan placed his hand over hers.

He dipped into her mind, testing the waters. Alice was a weak witch, capable of lightning small fires, brewing common cures, and little else. Useful enough skills for a cook, he supposed.

“I’m going to ask you a few questions.”

“Okay.” Inside Alice was thinking it wasn’t okay, that the nice-looking man was going to use his powers and discover that she’d been stealing food from the restaurant, and that it wasn’t fair; how was she meant to feed two kids on her salary? Especially when her eldest—

Bryan’s smile didn’t falter. “Are you embezzling Mr Kitsoon?”

“Embezzling?”

“Stealing money.” He only put the slightest emphasis on the second word, but she picked it up all the same.

“No,” she replied, relief slumping her shoulders. “Never stolen any money in my life.” The food wasn’t money, she reasoned. Business was slow and the food would have gone to waste anyway.

“Do you know who has?”

Alice shook her head.

Bryan took his hand away, breaking the mental connection. He gave her a small nod and dismissed her.

When the door closed behind her, the werefox raised an eyebrow. “Not her, is it? Might as well get the ewte in.”

“No, it’s not her.”

The Guild rules on confidentiality were strict. Bryan had been hired to find one particular culprit; all other misdemeanours were of no consequence. Besides, there was something intriguing about Alice’s eldest child . . .

The next employee knocked on the door. A lizard entered without waiting for a reply, sneering when he spotted the tattoos on Bryan’s face. He nodded at the werefox as if they were friends rather than colleagues, and sat beside Bryan, arm outstretched.

Bryan put his hand on the lizard’s arm without a word of warning.

Not going to work on me, the lizard was thinking. Just keep calm, play innocent. Strongest spell in the kingdom, the woman said. All I’ve gotta do is smile and nod.

“Are you stealing from Mr Kitsoon?” Bryan said.

“Why would I?” The lizard bared his teeth in a smile. If anything Kitsoon’s the thief. Slave driver. Long hours, little pay. Times are hard, he says. Don’t see him washing up the dishes now, do I?

“Are you stealing from Mr Kitsoon?”

“Of course not. I’d lose my job now, wouldn’t I?”

Beneath his words was the glimmer of a lie. Bryan grabbed hold of it, brought the thoughts closer to the surface.

They’ll never find the money. It’s in the kitchen vent. They’ve got no proof I did it. Don’t think about it, the woman said. Gotta stop thinking. Kitsoon will fire the ewte and I’ll lie low. Bastard had it coming anyway.

Bryan let go of the lizard’s arm. He met Kitsoon’s eyes and nodded.

“You can leave, Pi’ton,” the werefox said.

The lizard stood. “Should I send the ewte in? Never did trust him myself.”

“You misunderstand,” Kitsoon replied. “You can leave this restaurant, right now, with your own two feet. Or I can drag you out by the tail myself.”

The lizard whirled to face Bryan. “You fucking liar! You can’t read my mind!”

“The money’s in the kitchen vent,” Bryan replied.

The lizard hissed, tensed for an attack. Kitsoon straightened, his wizened fragility instantly disappearing. He snarled, teeth gleaming, and advanced on Pi’ton, driving him towards the door.

“Don’t you ever come back,” he growled, stepping outside the staff room. He eyed the rest of the staff, huddled in the hallway. “The rest of you, back to work.”

By the time Kitsoon came back into the room, Bryan had written a signed Guild-certified document justifying the lizard’s dismissal. Kitsoon handed the money over grudgingly.

On his way out of the restaurant, Bryan took a detour into the kitchen. Here, at least, order reigned. The kitchen was old and weathered but scrubbed clean. Perhaps he would stop for lunch after all.

Alice was near the back. She’d tied back her hair and was chopping vegetables.

“Hello.”

She froze when she saw him. Alice wiped her hands on her apron, her movements stiff. “Did you tell him?”

“I was only hired to find the embezzler.”

Her relief was palpable. While humanoid Affected were generally easier to read, this woman was a clearer projector than most. She ducked her head. “Thanks.”

“Your eldest son,” Bryan said, watching her stiffen once more. “He’s troublesome, isn’t he?”

“He’s eight.” She shrugged, keeping her eyes averted. “They’re all trouble at that age.”

“But he is more trouble than other children.”

She couldn’t deny it. Bryan fished through his robes and pulled out his card, handing it to the witch. “When the Sweepers make their rounds, make sure they see your son. Give them this.”

Alice cradled the card as if it were priceless. To her, it probably was. Entry into the Guild was seen as a p privilege, a ticket to a life of comfort. Little did they know how hard one had to work for that comfort . . .

“He’s not a witch, then?” she said.

“No.”

Alice tucked the card into her apron pocket. “The Sweepers never check my house. I live far out of town.”

“He’ll need training before he gets much older. You don’t want any accidents to happen.”

Accidents. The word hung between them, heavy, nuanced by years of horror stories before the Guild had been established.

Alice nodded once, slowly, and patted her pocket. “Yes, of course.”

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A common werewolf children’s story, as told to Howl by Fang. The origins of this story are unknown.

Back when the stein hadn’t emerged from the caverns, and the ewtes trembled and hid underwater, the werekin roamed wild and free over all the lands. And of all the werekin, it was the wolves that were the most feared and respected.

Amongst those wolves were many heroes, such as Wawa the Wise, James the Just, and Eric Ironside. But I’m not going to tell you a story about our heroes. This is the story of a wolf led astray by the guiles of a fox.

It is the story of Barke the Betrayer.

Barke’s birth was foretold by our ancestors, whose spirits appeared to his mother and made her promise to consecrate her son to them. In return, Barke was blessed with extraordinary powers—strength, speed, and dominance—and was destined to become one of the greatest alphas, guiding the pack to glory.

And so it was that with every passing year, Barke grew faster and stronger, moving up the pack ranks until he was beta. All of the pack respected him, and it was clear that, when it was time, Barke would take over as alpha.

Now, Barke had a deep, dark secret: he was terrified. All of these high expectations everyone had for his future frightened him immensely, and instead of letting his wolf side take responsibility, he indulged in his human weaknesses. He worried about being a bad alpha and about letting his pack down. Barke told no one of his fears, and it was this fact that ultimately led to his downfall.

One bright summer afternoon, Barke was so weighted by fear that he went alone to a hidden field, so that he could cry without anybody seeing him. He lay in the thick grass, head on his paws, and wept.

“What should I do?” he said to himself. “I wish someone would help me.”

In that moment, the spirits appeared to Barke, for they had been waiting to answer his summons. “Believe in yourself,” they said. “Believe in the pack. You are not alone.”

But Barke didn’t believe them. “I am alone!” he said. “You have made me so. I know what was foretold; I am to lead the pack.”

“You are not alone,” they repeated. “An alpha is never alone.”

Unwilling to listen, Barke changed to human form so the spirits could not reach him. “I’m alone now,” he said angrily, feeling a dark thrill of satisfaction.

But he wasn’t alone. Barke all of a sudden became aware of a faint humming, the soft melody of a mother’s lullaby. He followed that trail of music through to the other side of the field, where there was a small stream.

By the side of that stream was a beautiful female in human form, with the brightest red hair he had ever seen. Her face was narrow and delicate, and when she lifted her head to look at the sky he noticed that the skin of her neck was pale and smooth.

She was surrounded by picked flowers and was taking them one by one and stringing them together to form a long chain. Soon, she was finished, and she wrapped the chain around her neck, laughing prettily as she examined her reflection in the stream.

Barke was captivated. She was the first non-pack female he had seen, and he could not help but feel a stirring in his loins at the sight of her. He followed her, careful to stay hidden, ducking into every shadow. He followed her down a trail leading into a dark part of the woods, far away from his pack. He could tell she used this route often, for the scent of her was thick in the air, a musky sweet smell that was not quite wolf, but similar.

Finally, she stopped by a small den, and sat on the ground amongst the fallen leaves. From the bones in the clearing he could tell this was her home. But where was her pack? He took a step closer, and stepped on a twig.

The snap of the twig frightened the woman. She leapt up, changing to her animal form. She had wiry red fur, small, study legs and a short snout. She was a werefox, and she was looking right at him.

Barke stepped out from behind the tree, hands in the air, and apologised for startling her. “I am just curious,” he said. “I mean you no harm.”

The fox changed back to her human form so they could talk, and he learnt that her name was Delia, and that she lived alone. Barke couldn’t help but feel sorry for her, unable to fathom a life without family. And her voice was so sweet and tender; she clearly wasn’t a loner by choice.

Every day, Barke returned to that small clearing, and he would speak to Delia for hours, about his fears and misgivings, things that he had told no one else. Delia listened, did her utmost to cheer him up, often distracting him into playing games of chase. As time passed Barke grew more and more attached to Delia. If only there was someone like her in the pack, maybe he wouldn’t be so frightened about becoming alpha.

One evening, on his way back to the pack after spending three entire days with Delia, Barke was approached by his alpha. The alpha expressed concern over Barke and Delia’s relationship, and his words instantly sent Barke into a fury. He lashed out.

The alpha had no choice. His heart heavy with the sorrow he had to cause his pack mate, he ordered Barke to avoid Delia.

Barke was furious. He struggled under the weight of the alpha’s orders, trying to force his legs to cooperate so that he could run away and meet Delia. It was no use. There was no way he could disobey his alpha and remain part of the pack. And no wolf in their right mind would abandon the pack, for the pack was family.

But Delia, the wily cunning Delia, snuck over to Barke in the middle of the night and whispered to him lovingly, convincing Barke that he didn’t need the pack. He only needed her.

So Barke renounced the pack and became a loner. He lost the protection and companionship of his family, to marry Delia.

For a time, they were happy.

But soon Barke missed the companionship of his pack and began to pine for his old home. When Delia found him spying on his old pack, she did her utmost to hide her jealousy and fear.

“You don’t need them,” she said. “They abandoned you, remember?” For in her web of lies, Delia had convinced Barke that it was the pack who had rejected him, and not the other way around.

“Yes, yes, you’re right.” Barke turned away and followed Delia back to their den, but she could sense that his heart was still heavy with longing.

“We’ll start our own pack,” Delia said, although she knew it was taboo. She so desperately wanted to keep Barke by her side, that she was willing to risk it all.

Barke was initially reluctant, but he had been lonely for too long, and with a little bit of pressuring he agreed.

Soon Delia’s stomach swelled with the first bloom of motherhood, and then, a few months later, she gave birth.

When the pups were born, they were neither wolf nor fox. They were halfers, failed weres who never managed to gain control of their change. Ashamed of their condition, they quelled their animal side and passed themselves for human.

Desperate, Barke and Delia continued to have children, and their children had children, and their children had children. By then their blood was so diluted they didn’t have the energy to change. And so, over time, they forgot who they were, and came to think that they were simply human.

But in their veins, a trace of were blood remains, a spark of energy begging for release. A great-great-great-grandson of Barke and Delia realised, quite by accident, that if he focused his attention just so, he could use that energy to cast a spell.

And that is how the first witches came to be.

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