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Back The Trickster
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

Twenty feet behind him a tiny chipmunk, torn violently from its winter slumber, walked equally slowly and even more silently.

He could feel the bone circle pressing against his collarbone. His sweat was making it slide around just as it always had, and Sam clenched his fists, resisting the urge to put his hand in his jacket and rip it from his neck. What if Calvin had gone? What then?

He staggered on through the snow. Headlights lit the sky and he fell to his face between the rails, waiting for the car or truck, or whatever it was crawling through the snow along the Trans-Canada, to roll past and leave him alone. He lay with his face against the stinging cold of the snow and, for a moment, opened his mind again and let the peace that was in those tiny crystals seep into his sore heart. They were part of him, those intricately designed flakes with their points and stars and diamonds. And he was part of them, his spirit remembering that the moisture that made up most of his flesh might once have fallen as a snowflake, perhaps right here or far away in a different part of the world. Maybe the flake that was once flesh had moved in a great ocean, just as the substance of his bones was once the earth the pines grew from. There was purity in that knowledge, and it had kept the Kinchuinicks strong and pious and full of magic for centuries, until the white man came with his corruption and blindness.

He felt the light from the road sweep over him and he stayed on the ground for a few moments, listening to the imagined voices of the snowflakes as he lay there. His prayer was short and fast but it thanked them for their beauty and their coldness and promised them life when it was their turn again to be part of an animal with warm blood and a beating heart. An old Kinchuinick prayer.

He lifted his head and got to his feet, sweeping the snow from his jacket. There was a figure up ahead. Something writhing on the tracks only yards ahead.

Sam swallowed, bracing himself, and walked on.

No. Not a figure. Two figures. Two naked figures having vigorous sex. Sam’s throat was dry as he approached what he knew would be Katie, lying on her back in the snow grunting in pleasure as the man on top drove into her.

They both looked up at him as he passed. Craig McGee had something bloody in his mouth, and he spat it out to speak to Sam.

‘Goes up her ass after we’ve done here, pal.’