Chapter 10: Frost and Stone

"We will start with the rock you used to smash my hand," Riordan said and put his good hand out. She saw the same look in his eyes as she did just before he took her into his office. Desire, she knew now. Barely controlled and overwhelming his fear. He desired that stone the same way he desired power over her. If she gave it to him, he might leave her alone. She didn't really want it. Now that it was absent, the power the stone had given her made her uncomfortable, embarrassed. She pulled it out of her pocket. It sat ice cold and inert in her hand. She could have hit him with it, but nothing else.

It isn't fair. I am not even sure what it is or what it does. My aunt's letter is gone and now the rock is gone. She put it into his hand and felt a snap like a spark from a too dry carpet. She lost her focus on the chair and fell to the floor. The room whirled for a bit, while Riordan talked some blather about the rock being possessed. Cursed, he said, like the rock that Cain used against Abel. But she was freed from its power. Now that he had the stone, he couldn't get out of the house fast enough.

"I'll leave whatever other punishment you deem suitable to you as parents," he said as he put the stone in his suit pocket and showed himself out.

"Go to your room," her mother said. "I can't believe what you've done. Don't think by washing the stain from your hair that you've washed it from your soul." She pointed up the stairs as if Siobhan might have forgotten the path to her own room.

"It might have been better if they had fired me," her father was saying as she left, "how will I face them tomorrow?" Siobhan fled before either of them thought to ask her the question. Her parents had cleaned up the glass from the mirror in the hall, but they hadn't touched her room.

She walked into her room and the destruction hit her like a blow. It felt like something evil had happened. For a second she thought about Riordan saying that the stone was cursed, but then she remembered the feel of his hands and the taste of him trying to force his kisses on her and pushed the idea from her head. What is his excuse? she wondered as she snuck down the stairs to find a broom and cleaning supplies. She heard her parents talking and made sure she didn't interrupt.

The broom was an old one from the basement and the bristles made a scratching sound on the floor that spoke to her of cleansing. She used the dustpan to scrape glass into the garbage.

"You'd be better spending the time in contemplation of your sin," her mother said from the doorway.

"If I'm not going to track bloody footprints through the house, I need to sweep up the glass. 'sides, cleaning up the mess is contemplative enough, and it doesn't hurt my knees."

"What is a little pain when it comes to your soul?"

"Why would God want me to spend so much time on my knees that I can't do anything else? Knees were made for more than kneeling."

Her mother started to walk into the room, but Siobhan stopped her.

"I haven't swept there yet, and I don't want your blood in my room. I will make you a deal, Mom." Siobhan said as she swept the room a second time. "I will keep my questions about God to myself, and you can keep your answers to yourself."

"What?" her mother stepped forward, then stopped and winced. Siobhan sighed.

"I'll help you to the bed," she said, "then get the glass out."

She found a pair of tweezers in the bathroom and returned to find her mother peering at the bottom of her foot while blood dripped to the floor.

"It just started bleeding," her mother said, "I didn't do anything."

"You stepped on glass, Mom." Siobhan said. "That counts as something."

She knelt in front of her mother and took her foot in her hands. She had to feel around for the glass while her mother moaned and said some words in Irish for which Siobhan was certain she was never getting a translation. When she found the glass, it was hard to get a good grip on the sliver.

Come on, she thought from habit, a little help here? Then she shook her head. She was so done with that. Siobhan set her jaw and fished in until her mother almost screamed, then pulled the sliver out. She put the sliver on the pile of glass that hadn't made it to the garbage can yet and found her old first aid kit from camp. A gauze pad and some tape made her mom's foot stop bleeding, but Siobhan was worried.

"That's deep, Mom," she said, "You should go to emerge and get it looked at."

"I'll take you, Marion," her dad said from the door. His voice sounded like it was the hardest thing imaginable for him to do so. Maybe it is, it can't be easy trying to be perfect for everyone.

"Thanks, Dad," she said and helped her mother over to where her father could take over. To her surprise, he lifted her mother easily and carried her away down the hall.

Siobhan went back to cleaning.

"I get the feeling that if I was waiting for you to undress, I'd be waiting a while." The little grey man stood on the wreck of the dresser and leered at her. For someone who wouldn't stand higher than her waist, he looked very threatening. Siobhan swiped at him with the broom but he didn't budge.