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

in the mud with the rest of us and some of the mud rubs off on them. But you also don’t fuck off to your cloud dimension when shit gets real.”

“Um. Yay?”

Charles laughed again. “Wee’git would be right in my face defending himself.”

“How long have you known him?”

“When was the telegraph invented? Before your gran, anyways. He had girlfriends before her, and a couple pretty serious ones, but she ruined him for everyone else.”

“I’m having trouble seeing them as a couple. Gran’s, uh, not Trickster-friendly.”

“You have a talent for gnarly understatement.”

“She’s coming to Vancouver to visit. I don’t know how she’ll react to the new and improved me.”

“Anita of all people would be able to spot a Trickster. How’d she miss you?”

“She didn’t. Not really. She just thought I was Wee’git. She was pretty pissed.”

Charles sucked air through his teeth as if he’d touched something hot or sharp. “Yeah, things got ugly toward the end. He just couldn’t believe she moved on. And with Albert. That man was stone cold human. Not a lick of magic anywhere.”

“Maybe he was her rebound guy.”

“She had two kids with him. Anita could’ve cut and run any time. She has power. And a mean streak. The first time Albert kicked her around, she waited till he was drunk then beat him with a two-by-four.”

Jared fought the urge to stick his fingers in his ears and sing la la la. He thought he was going to learn about Tricksters and here they were, revisiting his family’s seriously haywire shit. But, yeah, that was probably where his mom got her fightyness. And when he looked at his own temper, here was the DNA, a direct descendant.

“Hungry?” Charles said.

“Not really, but you go ahead.”

“When you’re this drained, you got to treat your body like it has the flu. Liquids, vitamins and bed rest. Come on, I have just the thing.”

Jared had a moment of shy, wishing he’d worn a turtleneck or a scarf to hide the bruises. But maybe Sophia had told Charles about the giant David mess. He didn’t want to ask, not really wanting to know. They passed the kitchen and Charles led them to a staircase that was made of snowboards floating in some kind of clear resin. It spiralled up.

“The downstairs is strictly a Normcore display for the authorities,” Charles said. “We live upstairs and I gotta warn ya, it’s a shit show.”

“Got it,” Jared said.

The top of the stairs had a landing in front of a door tall enough that Charles didn’t have to bend to walk through it. The door required a firm tug, and beyond it was a mud room with boots and sneakers tangled together with an assortment of jackets and sweaters. He could hear music, thumping guitar-heavy action, booming from a stereo system that turned out to be attached to a TV as large as a kitchen table. The screen was filled with quick hits and slo-mo shots of boarders doing tricks.

The upstairs was open-plan, mattresses and cots strewn in a semi-circle around the TV. The air was perfumed with such a skunky odour, Jared felt as if he was getting a contact high. A couple of dudes were heavy-lidded, nodding to the TV, one of them with cheekbones too sharp to be natural. Suitcases were lined against the wall with clothes spilling out. A blond chick with pointy ears was making herself Kraft Dinner with wieners. Her skin shimmered, but not in an obviously magical way. More like makeup. The window walls were frosted. Charles led him to a battered Ikea armchair in cracked black leather and a padded bench that groaned under the Wild Man’s weight as he sat.

“Park yourself,” Charles said. “Hey, Linda, can’t I mooch some of that?”

“Sure.”

“Be right back.”

Jared sat carefully. He tuned out the music, wondering where Sophia was. Charles returned with a plate of KD and a large glass filled with a rust-red liquid. He handed the glass to Jared.

“Alder bark tea,” Charles said. “Particularly good for baby Tricksters.”

Jared sniffed it. “Thanks.”

It tasted sweet but had a bite, an unexpected bitterness. He took another sip, his body suddenly dry as the desert, and then gulped the rest. Charles watched him, shovelling KD into his mouth.

“There’s a jug in the fridge,” Charles said.

“I think I’m good.”

“You’re not. You’re radiating exhaustion, dude, and it’s harshing me out.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be. I’ll get you the jug. Drink as much of it as you need. I harvested the alder bark myself. I’ll show you how to make the tea later.”

“It’s good.”

“You’re a forest creature like me,” Charles said. “The chief tree knew you for one of us.”

Charles went to the kitchen and Jared could feel his insides humming, in a good way. Charles brought a rickety side table and placed the jug beside him. Jared poured himself another glass and drank it. Charles held up a bong about the size of a baseball bat.

“Need a hit?”

“Thanks, man, but I’m on the wagon.”

“Too bad. Sometimes you need to break your mind open to let the magic in. ’Shrooms are the best for that.”

“ ’Shrooms give me super-shitty trips. You can blaze, though.”

“I’ll save it for later. Props, dude.”

Jared shrugged.

Linda dropped onto one of the mattresses in front of the TV, grabbing the remote.

“Do you want to know anything specific?” Charles said.

“My organs are trying to run away. Is that a Trickster thing?”

“That is seriously weird, even for one of your kind. I’ve never heard that before.”

“Really?”

“At a guess, I’d say you burnt off most of your power, which is why you feel like shit right now. You can wait for your batteries to recharge or borrow power to stabilize yourself.”

“What would you do?”

“Going forward, learn your limit, stay within it. How did you max yourself out, anyways?”

He’d brought a family of coy wolves to another universe so they wouldn’t kill the people he loved. He couldn’t say it out loud, though, even though he wanted to. That weird wall was there and just thinking about it threatened a state