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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

What about it, Daniel? he thought. What was so fucking interesting to you?

He looked again. The mark was quite distinct when you looked for it. He pulled at his mouth.

Why would it have left a mark like that? The pathologist hadn’t even mentioned it in the report. No way now of knowing whether it was a burn or some skin pigmentation disorder caused by an irritant. And what was there about it that had made a RCMP constable steal the photo and write himself a note?

Craig sighed and touched the yellow note again. It was written hastily in scribbled letters. He could read it, but he was damned if he could pronounce what it said. It made him remember Katie Hunt, how important it was to get there soon.

Craig got up and put the photo in his drawer, but he pocketed the yellow paper. Maybe Mrs Hunt would not only know how to say it, but could tell him what the hell Daniel Hawk meant by Isksaksin.

He was careful this time. They could be just sitting in their fat car on their fat asses in the street, or maybe they could be hiding from him somewhere smarter. That would be more likely, now that they knew he could shake them off. So Sam crouched under the car for what seemed like an age, until the kitchen light went off and gave him a dark cloak of blackness to move under and reach the back door. He hoped it would be open like it always was. Why would you lock your door in Silver? No reason at all. Well at least it used to be that way, although maybe folks would start to turn their keys, now that human guts were starting to outnumber dog turds as a sidewalk hazard.

It had wrecked him, the wait to get into his house. He’d watched Katie move around the kitchen like a delicate little animal in its den, and he longed to hold her and tell her he was here in the dark loving her. Once, she’d come to the window and gazed out into the snow as if looking for him, and he prayed she would feel his presence there in the yard, and willed her not to worry.

The bite in his shoulder throbbed as if to remind him that things were tougher than that. After last night, she might not be that glad to see him burst through the door, mad-eyed again, with tales of the dead living, demon paintings and animals that ate their young.