Aedan Calahan and the Silver Hand

Chapter 4

Aedan snuck out the front and only door after tucking his mom in for the night. Sneaking away was more of a habit than honest goodbyes.

His plans had suddenly changed and now more than ever time was of the essence. He had to spy on Father Andrews to collect enough information that he could conjure a lie that had so many weavings of truth, not even Cheddar could call his bluff.

Aedan was aware of the connection between the twinge of guilt that resided in his lower stomach and the whispering voice in his head, telling him he was wrong, immoral, and that it wasn't too late to change his mind. Normally that would irritate Aedan greatly—a spirited conscious was one of a thieves greatest enemies—but his mission to protect his mum unburdened him from any of that.

He walked the dusk-covered roads, thankful for the full moon, only because it was pretty, not because he needed the light. Aedan knew every street, route, and crevice in Dublin that he perhaps didn't need his eyes to navigate.

Aedan took the back route: directly east then north. He kept to the slums because most of the occupants were occupied at the various pubs. It was quieter and safer this way, but only at this time of day. The irony of the most dangerous streets of Dublin was that it was safer at night than day.

Father Andrews was the priest of one of the many cathedrals dedicated to Saint Mary. His cathedral, however, was the only one within proximity to the docks.

He ran parallel to Dublin Bay. The ocean was special for innumerable reasons, but specifically because it was one of the few things in the world that didn't have to change its essence to take on new beauty. Dusk or dawn, placid waters or raging waves, winter grey or summer sun, Aedan knew the ocean would always be the ocean. He could not say that about many things in his life.

Aedan crept in the shadows as if he was surrounded by bear traps. People would recognize him here. Not always by name, but certainly by face. And even worse—

occupation and association. The people here knew he was in Cheddar's thrall, which normally meant he could walk the concrete without a single fear. Who would dare risk hurting Cheddar's property? But this day was different because today he lied to Cheddar. This day was different because today he stole from a man that knew his name. And more sinister of all, today was different because he involved an innocent priest in a selfish lie.

He approached the grey stone building from the east because that's where the elderly oak tree was. The branches of oak trees were like serpentine ladders and were practically effortless to climb for a young thief.

He spied inside Father Andrews's window from a concealed branch. There were six pillar candles lit on Father Andrews's wooden desk, surrounded by a litter of papers. The only sound around were the echo of men yelling and birds alighting and chirping. Aedan quickly prayed that the bats would stay away from him.

Aedan waited for at least twenty minutes, long enough for him to realize that he should get an Irish Wolfhound and name him Aedan Jr. once he could afford one, anyway. Then he heard door hinges creak, followed by the slow, insouciant steps only a person confident in their faith could make. Father Andrews appeared in his office the next second, shutting the door behind him. He was bald by choice and his face was completely bare of any hair, aside from his eyebrows.

He sat and began writing with his quill. Aedan studied Father Andrews copy scripture until a knock came at the door. Aedan had been studying Father Andrews for nearly a decade and never did the priest receive a knock at the door during this hour. Father Andrews, however, seemed to expect the knock because he continued his work for a few more seconds before finally dropping his quill. He pushed his chair back and opened the door. At Father's ushering, a man with an inconspicuous black cloak walked in and carefully removed his hood.