Chapter 11: Frost and Stone

"It will take more than a whisk to shift me," the man said. He jumped off the dresser and walked to the pile of glass. He stared at it a second then picked out the sliver Siobhan had pulled from her mother's foot. "This will make a fair curse," he said and licked it.

"You leave Mom alone!" Siobhan said and snatched at him. The man jumped out of her reach.

"We could make her bleed until she was dry, or maybe put fire in the wound and burn her up?"

Siobhan's stomach heaved like she was going to puke, but the awful man would just laugh at her. She focused on the heat in her gut and felt her hair move in a breeze that wasn't there.

"I said," she grabbed him by the throat, "leave my mother alone!"

"You don't have the stone," the man said and stuck his tongue out at her, "you can't make me." He stabbed her in the hand with the sliver, but Siobhan just tightened her grip.

"Ok," the man said, "bring the stone to the standing rock by the dawn of the full moon and she'll be fine."

Siobhan growled and tightened her grip, but the grey man grimaced at her and mouthed his words. Kill me and your mother dies. Siobhan screamed in frustration and threw the man at the window. He vanished before he hit it, but she heard his voice.

"I'll take that as a yes, then."

Siobhan tried to come up with a plan to get the stone back from Riordan, but the only thing she could think of was asking. As much as she loved her mother, Siobhan didn't think she could pay the only price that Riordan would ask of her. It wouldn't be just once either. She'd become little better than a slave.

The glass went into the bucket and she piled the pieces of chair and dresser in a corner. She'd need a box for that. Her clothes were torn and stained so she tossed most of them into a pile with the wood. It looked like she was wearing black for a while.

"Siobhan," her father stood in the door. He'd refused to enter her room as soon as she began puberty, as if he trusted himself so little around her.

"How's Mom?" she asked.

"They're keeping her in," he said. "Her foot wouldn't stop bleeding and they want to do more tests." He sighed, "it's a test, and we'll meet it with prayer.

"Why is everything a test?" Siobhan said. "Why do we have to fight so hard to live so miserably?"

"It is God's way," her father said, "man is made for trouble as sparks fly upward."

"That isn't good enough!" she said. Her father stood up straight like she'd slapped him, but the weight of his life pulled him down again and he left her alone. She scratched her hand absently and came away with her other hand covered in blood. How much blood could she loose through that little stab wound?

"No," Soiban said. She dug down to find the anger that had trashed the room. The power that had twisted Mr. Riordan's hand, the fire that had kept her wandering in a blizzard as if it were a sunny day. It was far, far way, almost beyond reach. Almost. She took hold of it and held it in her hand, then pushed it into the bleeding cut. "Heal," she said, "I'm not going to walk around with a bloody hand." The heat went into her like lightning and sent a shock wave through her system. She staggered and fell on the bed and gasped for air. Her skin was barely able to hold the waves of energy that crashed through her. She lost consciousness without knowing if it had even worked.

Siobhan dreamed she walked through a storm, but instead of snow it was ice that rained down. She couldn't touch anything without hitting the glass like surface of the ice. Her body was naked. It was needful. She wasn't sure what she meant by needful, but she didn't get time to think about it. She saw Pwyll's little brother lying on the black rock with his dog beside him. They were coated with ice. She started banging on the ice trying to break it and crying. Pwyll would never forgive her, but the ice just got thicker. She realized that her tears were making it impenetrable. Siobhan looked at her hands resting on the boy and she could see through them. She was ice, all of her was ice.

Siobhan woke up with a gasp and felt the cold pierce her throat. Her dream was real!

"Wait, wait," Pwyll's voice was in her ear. How would she tell him Pete was frozen in ice?