The Way of the Sea

Chapter Sixteen: The Parting of Ways

Just keep it together right now, and everything will be fine later, he told himself.

He breathed deeply and let the air out slowly, willing his mind to cease it's firing.

He was starting to feel relaxed when he saw movement out of the corner of his eye, and Bonnie barked.

*****

Eden pushed open the restroom door and peeked into the hallway. No one was visible.

It's the middle of the night, she told herself. Everyone's asleep.

She glanced at her bedroom door. It was unlocked - and it was cracked open.

"So far, so good," she whispered to herself. The Leabhar was in there, still lying where she had hidden it after her confrontation with Merida about the photograph. She braced her palms on the carpet and pulled herself through the water-wall and across the hallway. She peeked her head inside her bedroom and looked behind the door. Her eyes could barely make out the faint shape of the Leabhar, leaning against the wall. The loopy design on the cover caught whatever moonlight reached it and tossed it back, creating a soft and hazy glow.

Eden stretched her arm as far as she could, but her hand only touched rough carpet. Nervously, she glanced at the beds where the McMalley siblings lay. Darin's soft, slow breaths accompanied the stillness of the night. Alanna's toes peeked out from beneath her blanket, but she wasn't moving. There was a pile of blankets on the ground beside Alanna's bed, which Eden could only assume was Aidan's sleeping form. Everything was silent and sleepy, but Eden did not relax. She scooted forward and reached again. This time, her fingers caught the spine of the Leabhar. Anxiously, she lifted it from the ground and sat up with it. As she did, she remembered her old, leather backpack next to the door. Slowly, quietly, she emptied it of its contents and shoved the Leabhar inside.

If this book was from Muir, Eden reasoned, then it should be able to survive water.

She shouldered the backpack and closed the door behind her, careful to leave it slightly cracked like it was before.

With as much stealth as she could muster, she pushed herself back into the hallway and braced herself to glide slowly down the staircase. Almost immediately, the scales of her tail scraped sharply against the wood finish of the top step. She gasped through her nose at the sound and froze.

Aye, gliding won't work, she thought. Her next approach was to sit upright and shuffle down like a child who was afraid to walk down the stairs. Gingerly, she leaned back and swung her tail in front of her, pausing inches before her fins thumped against the stairs. Taking a moment to regain her breath, she started down the stairs, holding each rail with white knuckles.

Out of the six squeaky steps that riddled the staircase, Eden avoided five on her way down. The last step was the loudest, and it just happened to be the one she forgot to skip.

Her hand flew to her mouth to stifle her gasp as she landed on the bottom step. Her eyes flicked around in the darkness, searching for any hint of movement. She waited for what seemed the longest minute of her life, yet there was nothing but the ambient light from the water-wall in the bathroom. She let out a silent sigh of relief and continued.

The sky was beginning to light. Before long, the house would be awakening. But for now, the sun had not yet risen, and Eden could barely make out the outlines of the living room furniture.

The clock on the mantle ticked too loudly for comfort as she inched toward the front door. Her eyes ached from straining to see in front of her, and she was dizzy from continually looking back to make sure her tail hit nothing as she passed.