Chapter 8: Frost and Stone

"You should talk," Pete said. "It's Brac, it's Welsh for free."

"And how would you be knowing that?" Pwyll said.

"Brac told me." Pete tugged on the string and started away out of the park.

"Pete," Pwyll said. His brother stopped and looked at him.

"Now what?"

"Home is this way," Pwyll said.

He led the way through the dark streets to the house with the door flapping open and the hallway full of snow.

"Oh great," Pwyll said, "Mom's going to kill me."

"I'll help you clean it up," Siobhan said. She grabbed a broom and pushed the snow toward the door while Pwyll used a shovel to throw it off the porch. Even Pete helped by mopping the floor clear of the last of the snow. Brac sat and watched for a bit, then went to curl up on a mat in the kitchen.

Pwyll's mother arrived just as they finished.

"Oh," she said, "this your girlfriend? Don't make a mess, condoms in my drawer." She banged through the cupboards. "Why is there never anything to drink in this house?" She tripped over the dog and cursed. "Who let this mangy cur in the house?"

"His name is Brac!" Pete said.

"Yeah," Pwyll's mom said, "who do you think is going to pay for his food?"

"I will," Pwyll said. His mother stared at him for a minute than shrugged and staggered away to fall on the bed. He could hear her snore from where he stood.

Siobhan took his hand and squeezed it.

"I'm sorry," she said.

"It isn't easy living with what she has to live with," Pwyll said. "She just about died protecting us. Now she has to live with what happened."

"What did happen?" Siobhan asked. Pwyll looked at her. Her hair still looked like it was moving on its own. Even through the layers of her black clothes, he could see the shape that haunted his dreams. He didn't have to become his dad.

"Sometimes, I can find a path through a problem," he said, "like I was able to find Pete in the storm. I empty myself and wait for the first step to appear. It isn't like I can see the whole path at once, just one step at at time. My dad was a cop, but he drank after work and would beat up on Mom. I wanted to make it stop. That was the first time I used the path. One step at a time, until I was so far along the path that there was no turning back." He looked to see where Pete curled up beside Brac on the mat. "Did you know that someone under twelve can't be charged for a crime?" He leaned over to whisper in her ear. "Not even for shooting a cop with his own gun?"

"You shot your dad?" She went rigid with shock.

"No," Pwyll said and felt his gut twist, "I gave the gun to Pete. Dad would have killed me, but Pete was just a kid. I used my brother to kill my dad." Tears burned his eyes. Siobhan looked at him, then wiped the tears away.

"You're a good person, Pwyll," she said and hugged him tight.

"Are you going to start kissing again?" Pete asked from the mat.

"No," Pwyll said and stepped away from her.

"No?" Siobhan looked at him with that twist on her lips again.

"When it makes me want to tear my clothes off, or make you fall over?" Pwyll said. "It isn't like I don't want to," his own lips twisted into a grin. "but not until we figure out what it does to us."

"You're too good for your own good," Siobhan said and walked out of the house.

"You're an idiot," Pete said from where he lay on the floor.

"You're not kidding," Pwyll said and gently closed the door.