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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

It laughed then, horribly and disgustingly, and because it was doing it through Sylvia’s beautiful face Craig lunged at it to silence that laugh. Doorframe met skull and there was no more fight in Staff Sergeant McGee. The house was quiet again. But then the house was always quiet these days.

There were only five reporters to meet Del Parkinson’s plane, and it pissed him off. The pilot had been a jerk. Just the two of them all the way from Calgary Airport and all the guy could do was talk to air traffic control. Del kept jawing to him over the headset, but then the fuckwit would break into one of his anecdotes and speak to someone Del couldn’t hear about cloud height or some shit.

It pissed him off. By the time they reached Silver, Del was beginning to suspect this jerk didn’t know who he was. But that would be impossible. He was the Alley Cat. Everyone knew him.

But only five reporters. Big fucking deal.

At least the skirt was there. Pasqual Weaver stood on the edge of the snowy runway with an expression that said she’d suck his dick right now if he wanted. Plenty time.

The ape with the epaulettes shut the engine down, leaned clumsily across Del’s lap and opened his door for him.

‘Thanks, Captain. And listen. Lighten up.’

Del waited for the smile, the knowing bashful punch on the shoulder that meant the guy had just been doing his job and knew all along he had a superstar in his plane.

Nothing. He nodded as though he had just delivered a lunatic and shifted the shades on his stupid nose.

Del glared at him, stepped out the door and went to greet his press.

Such as it was.

51

So familiar, this feeling. It was warm and safe, yet he knew it couldn’t last forever. He would be back in the freezing tunnel soon and this delicious state of elation would merely seem the fancy it was. Calvin was with him, their minds dreaming as one as they had often done back in the sweat-lodges. Back then they had travelled together to understand so much, and though Sam could never have imagined it, here they were, twenty years later, doing it again.

Sam had fought off the first wave of nausea that always accompanied entering the spirit state, and now he was just hanging, waiting for whatever it was Calvin wanted to show him.

At first it was dark. Then gradually Sam saw that he was in a room. The cabin. He waited until Calvin caught up with him and when he felt his presence join him in the dream room, Sam sighed and settled like a floating seed onto this tableau of the past.