Perry leaps on to the sofa, curling up on the Being’s lap. Her gaze flickers from Allie to Calum and back to me, her expression a mixture of fear, panic and amusement. The twins stare from the doorway, their faces frozen in shock. I grin and flop on to the sofa beside the Being, like it’s no big deal. Like I’ve been hanging out with angels all my life.
‘You hungry?’ I ask, and her eyes light up when I hand over the box of Tunnock’s Teacakes that I stopped to buy on the way back to Shona’s. ‘Remember to take the wrapper off this time,’ I add, grinning.
Her smile is a little hesitant – but she’s not freaking out and trying to jump through the window, so that’s something. She rips into the cardboard, her audience by the door forgotten, and pulls two biscuits from the packet.
Calum runs his hands through his hair. ‘This is insane.’ His camera hangs heavy around his neck, forgotten. ‘This is in-bloody-sane.’
‘How did she . . . ?’ Allie’s mouth opens and closes, the words snuffed out by shock. Her face has gone from cream to bone white behind her freckles. ‘Where did you – how – what the hell?’
They sit down on the carpet, kneeling in front of the Being and me like little kids at story time. Their expressions rotate between shock and sheer wonder as I tell them the story, but they still look as if they can’t quite believe me – as if they expect the Being to pull off her wings, wipe the metallic sheen from her face and admit that it’s all a hoax. I don’t blame them, really. If I hadn’t seen her tumble from the sky myself, I probably wouldn’t believe it either.
‘What are you going to do?’ Calum asks, once I’ve finished explaining how I smuggled her back to the flat without getting caught. ‘Are you going to hand her over?’
Allie gives him a light punch on the shoulder. ‘Of course she’s not!’
‘I didn’t mean to the Wingdings,’ he snaps, rubbing his arm. ‘I’m not saying you should sell her for her blood or anything, but there are research centres who would take her. Apparently there’s one just outside Edinburgh,’ he adds, looking at me. ‘They could help her. They might be able to work out why they’re falling too.’
‘No one knows who’s running those centres,’ I say. ‘There’s no telling what sort of weird experiments they might do to her; she could end up with ears on her back, or her hands and feet swapped over. Or the cults might be behind them – can you imagine if the Standing Fallen got hold of her?’
Calum shrugs. ‘What other option is there? She can’t stay here forever.’
‘Can we stop talking about her like she’s not here?’ Allie says loudly. She flushes and crosses her arms. ‘Sorry, but I hate it when people do that. Just because she’s not speaking, it doesn’t mean she can’t understand us.’
‘You’re right. Sorry,’ I say. I give the Being an apologetic smile, but she just stares and unwraps another teacake.
‘Do you think she understands you?’ Calum asks me, before quickly turning to the angel. ‘Sorry, I mean, do you understand us?’
The Being wipes the marshmallow from her mouth and reaches for a third biscuit. After a moment, I clear my throat and reply for her.
‘I don’t know. Sometimes I think she does, but other times it’s like she can’t hear me at all. She seems to like the radio though.’
As we talk, Calum’s fingers edge towards the button on the top right of his camera. I promised him a good picture to get them here, and Allie was intrigued enough to go along with it, but looking back I really shouldn’t have: the flash might freak the Being out, and if somebody happened to flick through his camera and see the photos . . . Calum has obviously had the same thought, because instead of framing a shot, he slips it into his backpack without a word.
‘Can I take a look at your wing?’ Allie asks her suddenly. ‘Maybe I can help. I mean, obviously I don’t have any experience in angel anatomy, but, to be fair, neither does anyone else on the planet.’
Playing an awkward game of charades, I gesture at the Being to lean forward. Confusion flashes through her eyes, but she slowly copies my movement, allowing Allie to see the damaged wing. Her face contorts in pain as Allie peels back my shoddy bandage work.
‘This is pretty bad.’ Allie’s face is suddenly serious. ‘It looks like she’s been mauled by something. She must have lost a ton of blood – did she?’
I nod. ‘Perry licked most of it up, and I think the rain must have washed away whatever was on the ground. I didn’t keep any of it for myself.’
Allie gives me an approving nod. ‘How many feathers did she lose?’
My insides jitter at the mention of her feathers. ‘I’m not sure. Maybe a third of them? It looked like a lot, anyway.’
Something begins to buzz. The Being starts, looking around for the noise. Allie reaches into her satchel, pulls out her phone and swipes the call away. Calum begins to say something, but his sister glowers at him and he shuts his mouth with a snap. After putting the phone away, she pulls out a small purple notebook with a pen clipped to the spine.
‘What’s that?’ I ask, as she flicks through the pages.
‘Her oh-so-secret notebook.’ Calum’s voice rises two octaves. ‘Dear Diary, Today I skived off English and made out with Filip Rutkowski behind the Sainsbury’s on Middle Meadow Walk and—’
‘Piss off, Calum. What are you, twelve?’ Allie rolls her eyes, but she’s grinning. ‘It’s not even a diary. I just write stuff in it. Nothing exciting. Anyway –’ she turns back to the Being – ‘what are we going to call you? If you can’t tell us your own name, maybe we should give you a new one.’
I blink. Stupid as it sounds, I hadn’t even thought of naming the Being. It would be like trying to name the rain. ‘Um, I dunno. Any suggestions?’
‘Nothing cheesy,’ Calum says firmly. ‘Nothing like Angelique or Celeste or whatever. Something normal.’
‘Arthur?’ says Allie. ‘She fell on Arthur’s Seat, after all.’
‘That’s a guy’s name, you knob. You might as well call her Gavin, or Steve.’
‘I know, but you could call her, like, Arthurette or whatever. Arthurella. No, Arthurina!’
‘That’s even worse.’ Calum chucks a scrunched-up teacake wrapper at his sister, then pauses. ‘How about Teacake? Seeing as she likes them so much.’
Teacake. It’s the sort of thing that Rani would have suggested, but coming from Calum it sounds quirky rather than twee. I look at the Being: her garnet eyes and the sharp curve of her wings, still regal despite the damage the Fall has caused. Her name should be majestic. Something that soars and sweeps. Something wild. I would have named her after a bird. Goshawk, or Starling, or Kite. This sweet, sugary, artificial word shouldn’t suit her.
But it does.
Somehow, it’s sort of perfect.
‘Teacake,’ I say, looking at her. She licks the last of the marshmallow from the biscuit. ‘That works.’
Allie nods. ‘More of a Caramel Wafer fan, myself, but I like it. Nice one, Calamari.’
She gives him a high five, then holds her hand up for Teacake to slap. She looks at it, her head cocked to one side, then reaches for another biscuit. After a moment, there’s another buzzing sound. This time, it’s Calum who pulls out his phone. He and Allie exchange a look.
‘We really should go, Al,’ he says. ‘It’s late. They’ll be getting worried.’
Allie’s shoulders heave. ‘God’s sake, Calum. We’re not five years old. Besides, I’ve got the car.’
‘I know that, but it’s me who’ll get the—’
‘All right, fine!’ She gives me an apologetic look as they get up to leave. ‘Sorry. Our parents are like something out of a Jane Austen novel. They’d send me out with a chaperone if they could.’
She turns to Teacake, who has picked up one of Shona’s elephants and is turning it around in her hands. She blanches when she notices us looking at her and shoves it back on the mantelpiece.
‘So, what are we going to do?’ Allie asks her, as she slips her feet back into her shoes. ‘You can’t stay here forever. How are we going to help you?’