Page 45 of Out of the Blue
Allie stares at me, her eyes wide. I wait for a barrage of questions to come, but instead she just holds my hand a little tighter. We watch as a short, fat woman with lank black hair slowly climbs to the spire at the top of the building. Clutching the barrier, she fumbles with the button on the loudspeaker and begins to speak into it.
‘Sinners! For eight months now, angels have fallen from the skies. Not for two millennia has the Creator . . .’
Her voice shakes as she stumbles through the speech. I search the members on the roof: the young boy and girl I saw the night we arrived in Edinburgh are up there, but the bearded man who leads the chapter isn’t. I think back to the Standing Fallen displays that I’ve seen on TV. It’s always the same person who gives the speech, and it’s almost always a man. Today, for some reason, they’re using a stand-in.
Allie’s fingers press into the back of my hand. ‘Oh my god.’
I follow her gaze, towards the Duke of Wellington statue on the other side of the road. Standing beneath it, looking up at the Standing Fallen with his arms crossed tight over his chest, is Calum. He blinks and glances around, that way you do when you feel you’re being watched. His eyes meet his sister’s.
After that, I don’t need an explanation. The look on his face is enough to tell me what happened.
Allie drops my hand and pushes through the crowd. I run after her, shoving people out of the way, red spots of anger blurring my vision. Calum backs up against the wall, shaking his head. I could hit him. I actually want to punch him in the face, but Allie gets there first. She storms up to him and whacks him over the head with her satchel.
‘What the hell did you do?’ she screams. ‘Where is she? What did you do with her?’
Calum cowers, his arms wrapped over his head. ‘I didn’t mean to! Allie, just listen!’
Tears are pouring down her cheeks. Seeing her so upset stills my own anger, at least for a moment. I catch her wrists and gently lead her behind the statue, away from the onlookers staring at us. Calum follows, his hands held palms up.
‘I swear it was a mistake.’ His voice breaks. ‘I never meant for them to take her . . . I just showed him the photos . . .’
‘You showed someonephotosof her? How bloody stupid are you?’
‘Who?’ I ask. ‘Who did you show?’
He looks up at the roof of the Balmoral. My insides lurch. The inkling I had back on Cockburn Street becomes a full image. I was right. The Standing Fallen have Teacake. The Standing Fallen: the people who think the Falls are a sign of their god’s wrath, who probably think Teacake is some demon, something tainted and unworthy of heaven. Only it wasn’t their horde of volunteers who handed her over – it was Calum.
His voice is trembling. ‘It was after Jaya mentioned someone had found Teacake’s feathers. I looked it up online and saw they were offering a reward for more information. I emailed the guy asking how much he’d pay for some photos.’ He looks at his feet, wincing. ‘He said he’d give me ten grand for them. I didn’t realize it was them, I swear – I thought it was just some random rich Wingding.’
A blast of a horn makes us all jump. Two fire engines are trying to edge towards the building, but the crowd is moving too slowly for them to get through. I try to focus on Calum’s voice, but my attention keeps being drawn to the people standing on the roof.
‘The guy didn’t believe they were real. So yesterday I sent them a video.’ He wrings his hands together, as if he could squeeze the guilt out of his skin. ‘I was so stupid I didn’t think how easy it would be to find her. But they came this morning, and there were three of them . . . There was nothing I could do.’
On top of the hotel, the leader continues her rant. Leah stares straight ahead, over the rooftops and towards the horizon. On one side of her, her mother is chanting along with the leader’s speech; on the other, the tall man bows his bald head in prayer.
‘So that’s it,’ Allie spits. ‘You sold her for ten grand.’
‘Not even that.’ Calum’s voice breaks. ‘They never gave me any money. They just took her and left.’
The black-haired woman is reaching the part in the speech about redemption and responsibility, usually the point where the speaker’s voice swells, rising in a thundering crescendo, though this time the words are stilted and unsure. Allie starts to pace, her hands balled into fists.
‘I can’t believe this. I can’t believe this.’ She spins back to face Calum. ‘What the hell do you need that much money for, anyway?’
Calum’s eyes flit to me then drop to the ground. ‘For you,’ he says. ‘For stem-cell treatment.’
All the anger drains out of Allie’s face. She puts her face in her hands and groans. ‘Oh, Calum. You idiot.’
His lower lip is wobbling. He opens his mouth to say something, but a squeal from the loudspeaker cuts him off. The firefighters’ ladders have finally reached the roof of the building. Some of the members scurry away, slipping into open windows or lowering each other towards the balconies.
But not Leah.
Leah is still standing beside the bald man, at the very edge of the roof. Her mother has climbed up to the gable; she’s screaming at her to hurry, but Leah doesn’t listen.
Leah takes another step forward.
Screams explode into my head, but when I open my mouth, no sound comes out.
I can’t see this again . . . This can’t be happening again –
