“You want to stay here?”

“Well I don’t have anywhere else to stay, do I?” she retorts, her North Coast accent thick and heavy. “I became human two days ago. I’m skint. I hitchhiked from Mab and came here directly.”

There are no words that can express how little I want a stranger lurking around my flat — especially a stranger who is apparently best friends with my homicidal, insane ex-boyfriend. But she seems more determined than dangerous, so I nod anyway. My head is pounding out a fucking mariachi and I don’t have the energy for an argument. I’m so nauseated I could vomit.

But I don’t think she’s likely to kill me. She needs me.

“I’ll get you some blankets then,” I mumble, heading to the closet in the hall where I keep the spare bits of bedding. I don’t have much; my life in Glasgow has been sparse, designed to be packed up and left at a moment’s notice.

“Oi, can I have some of this?” Isla calls from my small galley kitchen. When I appear, bedding in arm, she’s leaning over the ceramic container of food that Fadwa left behind. She’s already discovered my utensil drawer, and is digging into the food even as she asks.

“Uh, I suppose so.”

I drop the bedding on the sofa and lean back against the wall to watch Isla.

“I’ve never been wild on humans,” she sighs, all previous animosity gone, “but I absolutely love their food.”

She looks almost blissful, her eyes closed as she delights over Fadwa’s shitty cooking, and I can’t imagine for a moment how someone so forceful and vibrant could care for a man as quiet and sharp as Kit.

“If you don’t like humans, why did you become one?” I ask, curious despite myself. I’ve always wondered. If you could live in the sea, away from the horrors of human nature, why would you give that up?

Isla’s fork pauses in the air before her and she stares at me.

“Kit was missing,” she says, her voice slow, as if I’m stupid. “Someone had to find him.”

Anxiety raises its hand again to squeeze at my chest. I’ve no idea what Isla’s story is or how she knows Kit, but I hate the idea that there’s someone out there who loves him enough to come to shore and change their entire life for him.

Once upon a time that person would have been me.

“Right, well.” I push off the wall, my body unsteady and shaky. “I’m going to bed. Don’t rob me.”

“What would I even steal?” Isla asks, raising an eyebrow as she glances around my empty flat. “And where would I put it?”

It’s a good question, and one I don’t have an answer for. So I take refuge in my room like the coward I am.

The migraine that has been humming along cheerily in the background of my day bursts to life as soon as I’m alone and free of distractions, and it’s almost more than I can handle to kick off my shoes and trousers and fall into bed.