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Back The Trickster Save as PDF
Chapters (74)
  1. The Trickster
  2. Copyright
  3. Dedication
  4. Contents
  5. Preface to the 20th anniversary edition
  6. Introduction
  7. 1
  8. 2
  9. 3
  10. 4
  11. 5
  12. 6
  13. 7
  14. 8
  15. 9
  16. 10
  17. 11
  18. 12
  19. 13
  20. 14
  21. 15
  22. 16
  23. 17
  24. 18
  25. 19
  26. 20
  27. 21
  28. 22
  29. 23
  30. 24
  31. 25
  32. 26
  33. 27
  34. 28
  35. 29
  36. 30
  37. 31
  38. 32
  39. 33
  40. 34
  41. 35
  42. 36
  43. 37
  44. 38
  45. 39
  46. 40
  47. 41
  48. 42
  49. 43
  50. 44
  51. 45
  52. 46
  53. 47
  54. 48
  55. 49
  56. 50
  57. 51
  58. 52
  59. 53
  60. 54
  61. 55
  62. 56
  63. 57
  64. 58
  65. 59
  66. 60
  67. 61
  68. 62
  69. Keep Reading
  70. FURNACE
  71. Acknowledgements
  72. About the Author
  73. ALSO BY THE AUTHOR
  74. About the Publisher

He didn’t tell the small boy that the contraption had groaned and creaked under his weight, or that the height was terrifying once you pulled yourself up onto the back of the redundant red metal monster. He didn’t say any of that. He wanted Sandy to find it out for himself. He wanted him to suffer. And he did. He watched as Alexander weighed up the height of the chain and jumped five or six times until he finally caught hold of the metal link. He listened as his young brother whimpered with effort and fear as he pulled himself up onto the back of the plough, conquering his fear purely for the admiration and attention of his older brother. And then that adored older brother watched as those chains broke, tipping Alexander onto the floor below before following him with half a ton of plough which sliced away half of his head as it fell. If he had only fallen a few feet away. Just a few feet and that rusty blade would have missed him. But he fell as if landing on a target, and James had watched as the metal clipped off the side of his brother’s head as neatly as the grocer pulled wire through cheese.

He watched it all. And it was all his doing. And now Sandy was here to implore him to fetch their mother again. A mother who had died seven years ago, silently blaming James for the death of her son as James himself did to this day. Henderson would surely go mad if this apparition stayed to torment him.

‘It hurts.’

The figure lifted its hand again and turned its head, so that James could see the quivering grey of the brain that was somehow continuing to function as its body died beneath it. It was Alexander. And he must go to him, try to keep him warm and safe.

Henderson stood up and walked towards his tiny imp of fun. He knelt before the boy and breathed his name. ‘Sandy?’

He looked back at him for a moment and then a smile played across those pink lips. Sandy’s eyes seemed less imploring. They glittered in the light of the lamp. But it was Alexander’s voice that spoke.

‘You murdered me.’

Henderson stopped breathing, his terror pressing on his chest like a vice. This had to stop. Please sweet Jesus, let it end.

‘Would you like to see what it’s like to be murdered, you cunt?’