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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 tugged harder at the strand of hair and looked away from her, out of his window. Where was she taking this? She was asking him things she didn’t want to know about. The abyss beckoned.

‘It didn’t look like a very happy painting.’ They stopped on a red light and Katie turned to face him, her hands off the wheel reaching to touch his slumped shoulders and the little unoccupied hand that rested limply on one thigh. ‘Talk to me, lamb.’

He looked at his feet, but didn’t shake off his mother’s warm hands. ‘It was a prism. We got taught prisms.’

‘And was the one you painted Dad’s prism?’

He nodded.

‘Why?’

‘Just was.’

She stroked his hand gently. ‘Is my prism like that? All dark, like you painted?’

He shook his head.

‘So why is Dad’s like that then?’

A car hooted behind them. Damn it, the light was green. Katie withdrew her motherly hands, changed into drive and moved off. ‘Huh, sweetheart? Why is it like that?’

Billy’s chest was rising and falling now, as though he were struggling with something. He said nothing for an age until Katie thought of repeating the question. But he beat her to it and replied in a small broken voice. ‘’Cause something big and dark’s got inside my Dad.’

When Katie glanced at him in horror, she saw two huge tears rolling down his brown cheeks. She pulled the car over and grabbed her son in a bear hug. He cried then, sobbing uncontrollably as Katie held his hot woolly head with one hand and circled his body with the other, patting and rubbing his back.

Her own tears were threatening to spill, but she had started down a road from which there was no turning, and she decided she was not going to lose her way.

The engine, as it always did, guttered as though it wanted to cut out, and its labouring, plus the squeaky wipers and the splash of passing cars, made such a normal, everyday aural backdrop to Billy’s sounds of distress that Katie prayed this was not really happening. But it was.

‘Tell me, lamb. Tell me what the dark thing is. Does it make your Daddy hurt you?’ There. She’d said them. Those impossible words of revulsion and horror she’d never even imagined could be formed on her lips. Does it make your Daddy hurt you? How could Sam Hunt hurt anyone?