Coal

By Patrick O'Sullivan

Coal

 

A man on the move, without a past, without a future. An unwanted package bearing police reports, disturbing photographs, hints of escalation. And a handwritten plea in a lady's delicate hand, a summoning invocation Merlin Thorn dare not refuse.

 

"Come home."

 

Merlin studied the cracks in the pavement as he made his way back to the family gate. That he still carried the gate key was difficult to explain. It was a convenient size for a paperweight, it doubled as a bottle opener, it could reach that itchy place on his back. He had a hundred excuses to hold onto that burden and a thousand reasons to cast it away, but here it was in his hand, and here was his hand, in front of that shadow-darkened lock.

—Coal, by Patrick O'Sullivan

• Language: English
• Publisher: Dunkerron Press
• Release date: Oct 22, 2020
• ISBN: 9781625600004

Patrick O'Sullivan

PATRICK O'SULLIVAN was the OHL and CHL rookie of the year in 2002 and the AHL rookie of the year in 2005. He remains the all-time leader in games, goals, assists and points for the Mississauga/Niagara franchise in the OHL. He played 334 games over eight seasons with the Los Angeles Kings, Edmonton Oilers, Carolina Hurricanes, Minnesota Wild and Phoenix Coyotes in the NHL. He played in three World Junior Championships and is all-time second in games played for the USA in tournament history. He scored the gold-medal winning goal for the United States team at the world junior championships in 2004, the first gold medal in the team's history. The 30-year-old now lives in southwest Florida with his wife and two sons. GARE JOYCE is a senior writer for Sportsnet Magazine. A former writer for ESPN: The Magazine and The Globe and Mail, Joyce has won four Canadian national magazine awards and been a finalist 21 times. He is author of seven books of sports non-fiction, including When the Lights Went Out, Future Greats and Heartbreaks and The Devil and Bobby Hull. Under the nom de plume G.B. Joyce, he has written two mystery novels, The Code and The Black Ace.

Book preview

COAL

by Patrick O’Sullivan

Coal

MERLIN THORN’S FINGERS BRUSHED against the paper in his pocket, an anonymous note in a woman’s hand, stating simply, Come home. The stack of documents accompanying the note was concealed behind the lining of his suitcase; police reports, juvenile detention papers, disturbing photographs. He’d studied the photographs most closely. The crimes scenes displayed a dreary familiarity, a hint of inevitable escalation.

You don’t want to go in there.

Merlin turned at the scent of liquored breath. A red-nosed Father Christmas held himself upright, his fingers gripping the cold iron of the Thorn Hall family gate.

No, I don’t, Merlin said.

Up the snow-covered hill Thorn Hall crouched behind the oak grove, gothic windows peering through bare branches. Years ago, when Merlin ran away, three of the great oaks crowning the hill were dead or dying. It might be all five were past saving. He fingered the note in his pocket.

Do the Thorns still live there?

Not since the old man died, Father Christmas said. What’s left of ‘em in the gatehouse. He pointed.

Merlin’s memory was not what it used to be, but he recalled the way.

Beware the boy. Father Christmas adjusted his beard. He’s a piece of work. They all are, padre.

I’m not a priest, Merlin said. It was the second time this evening he’d been mistaken for a Christian.

And I’m not Saint Nick, the man said. He uncapped his flask and took a swallow. Mistakes are made, padre. Happy Christmas and a Joyous New Year.

Merlin stared at the man. Right. It was growing dark, and he wanted to see the boy in daylight.

Merlin!

The surprised look on his sister’s face declared her innocence. She stood in the gatehouse door, framed in light, a thin blade of a woman worn sharp with time. When she smiled the years dropped away, and when she pulled him close he was an eldest brother for an instant, a man with responsibilities, a man with strings attached. He patted her once, carefully, and stepped back.

His sister took his hand and refused to let go. Come inside, please.

The gatehouse was of ancient stone, the entrance-wall set even with the iron fence encircling Thorn Hall. It was no small thing his sister asked.

I understand you have a son, Merlin said, his feet firmly planted on neutral ground. He peeled his sister’s fingers free. Strange beeps and clicks sounded from inside the gatehouse.

Elvin! Circe shouted. She called for the boy again but the sounds continued.

Video games, Circe said. Keeps his hands busy.

They stared at each