Return of the Trickster Eden Robinson (sight word readers TXT) 📖

had a house in Alta Vista before the first Olympic bid.”

“Charles is a landlord.”

“His properties are in Whistler. He lives in the wilds of Emerald. Lakefront. Lovely, lovely cabin.”

Jared didn’t know what to think about visiting a sasquatch for advice. He also wondered if her version of “cabin” was the same as his or if she meant under five bedrooms and no live-in butler. They turned north, away from Horseshoe Bay, and followed a curvy highway. The ocean whitecapped below a solid-grey sky, reminding him of the Douglas Channel, a fjord-like mix of steep mountains and water. He sipped his drink, not expecting the pulp of fresh orange juice, the burst of citrus and sour tingle of bubbles. Sophia’s message alert started to ping.

“Delightful,” Sophia said, scrolling through her phone. “You’ve annoyed your mother enough that she’s rage-texting me.”

“Her Caps Lock keys are probably stuck. Tell her to jiggle them.”

Sophia smirked. “Tempting, but I have no desire to be cursed.”

“What’s she going on about?”

“Anita Moody is re-entering the arena.”

“Gran’s coming?”

Sophia sucked in a shocked breath. “What an interesting catalyst you’re turning out to be. Mave, Maggie and Anita in one room. I never thought I’d see the day.”

“Mom’s coming back? I thought she went to Winnipeg.”

“Your mother dearest would normally vaporize anyone who irritates her as much as you do. But here you are, the object of her affections. What does that tell you?”

“I don’t want to be like Wee’git, getting people hurt. Playing with them.”

“You’re nothing like Wee’git. Once Wee’git tasted power, he pranked all the people he felt had wronged him until his village got sick of his tricks and sent him into exile.”

“I’m his son.”

“Yes, and given your mother’s history with him, she shouldn’t be ranting at me. Your grandmother shouldn’t be catching a ferry to visit you. I shouldn’t be sitting here beside you, regarding you with this much fondness.”

Ugh, all the feels. Sophia liked him. That bounced around inside and lit up his caution warnings, warming up old scars that ached. His mom. His mom and his gran. His aunt Mave. He’d never experienced them all in the same room. He should be afraid, but he was mostly worried that they’d hurt each other, that the damage was too deep to navigate without trained professionals. The Big Book was full of people-pleasers like him, bending themselves out of shape to make other people happy, willing to compromise everything so that someone would stay fond of them. He wanted to sit someplace quiet and untangle the knots. He didn’t want to go visit another otherworldly being who’d bring their weirdness to his already overflowing smorgasbord of strange. But he didn’t want to be alone either.

“Wee’git told me I’m putting Mave in danger by staying with her,” Jared admitted. “That people would use her to get to me.”

Sophia burst out laughing. “Oh, that raven. Afraid for Mave, a sweet, helpless little battleaxe.”

“Should I tell Mave I’m a Trickster? I tried, but she brushed it off, said it was just Mom and Granny Nita being superstitious.”

“She didn’t believe your mother and your gran, so I doubt she’ll believe you. But work your charms. When it blows up in your face, you can stay with me.”

“That’s not confidence-inspiring.”

“Isn’t this the day we spit truth at each other?”

“I’m putting my cards on the table.”

“All of them?”

The limo began an endless climb, the engine effortlessly shifting. Eventually, they passed through Squamish.

“That was unfair of me,” Sophia said. “If I can’t tell you everything, I shouldn’t expect you to tell me everything.”

—

They parked in front of a big square house on a street with mansion-sized houses overlooking a lake. He’d been expecting a cabin of some sort and what he got was glass and concrete shot through with decorative wood beams in a muted green, brick red and slate grey. The lot was large and private, filled with old western hemlocks and a type of spruce Jared wasn’t familiar with. Beneath the trees, the yard featured ferns in artful circles, shrubs cut into woodland creature shapes and a pond surrounded by tall grass. Jared noticed something sparkling in the trees. He heard an unmistakable thrum of power.

“Wait here,” Sophia said, hopping out. “I want to make sure he remembers our visit.”

That did not sound promising. “ ’Kay.”

The driver lowered the privacy screen once Sophia was far enough down the brick walkway. He didn’t look much older than Jared.

“Her tips are loco,” the driver said.

“Yeah?” Jared said.

“Dude, she’s loaded. Seriously loaded. Word to the wise? Stop trying to piss her off.”

“Got it,” Jared said.

“Need anything? The car’s got snacks if you’re hungry.”

“I’m good. I think I’m going to stretch my legs.”

The driver jumped out of the car and opened the door.

“Thanks,” Jared said.

“I’ll be in the car if you need me.”

The wind picked up. Jared heard a tinkling sound, like delicate wind chimes, but not just one. A tree near the back of the lot shimmered. He left the driveway, following the sound. Sophia said wait, so he should wait, his logical brain told him, but he was drawn to the young red cedar, a warm presence on a chilly day. He stopped a few feet from it, looking up. The crown radiated sparkling light like a spinning crystal hung in a sunny window.

“Hey,” he said. “I’m Jared.”

It wasn’t music or language. Whatever it was trying to communicate, he couldn’t understand. But when he touched the bark, he felt welcome, and then a flood of other sensations—the slowness of sap as the tree prepared for winter, the rumble of traffic in its roots, the play of different winds in its branches. Then Jared was on the ground, lying on the roots looking up. He could see other worlds, other Earths, in the flickering light. Something watched him from the top of the tree, curious. Jared’s back grew wet from the moss and the slick roots, and rain dripped on his face, but he felt calm here, peaceful. No, his fear was gone. It