I do remember my sister, Taylor. She was eleven years older than me, and after we found ourselves orphans, she raised me so I wouldn’t end up in the foster system. She was so much more than a sister to me. She was the mother I didn’t get to have. She was my only family.
“She was also a Changer—a trader, like me. Together with William Roanhorse, she taught me all about our magic. How to use it, how to control it—and most importantly, how to keep it secret, because although it was our greatest gift, it was also our greatest danger.”
Ellery fell silent. She stared at the glass of lemonade; moisture beaded on the outside of the glass and ran down its slick sides, soaking into the cork coaster below. She could still taste the lemonade’s sweetness on her tongue, but a terrible bitterness was rising in the back of her throat.
Hosteen kept silent, but although Ellery couldn’t meet his eye, she could feel sympathy pouring from him in waves—could sense his emotions almost as easily as if she were a fae.
If Taylor and Roanhorse and I had known anyone on the Rez who sympathized with us back then… anybody who had tried to understand us instead of acting out of fear… then everything would have worked out differently .
At length, Ellery drew a shaky breath and continued.
“After a few years, Taylor ran into trouble. I don’t know exactly what happened—maybe she got careless with her shifting, and somebody saw her turn into one of her animals. However it came about, accusations began to roll in. People called her a skinwalker, a witch. They sent us hate mail and vandalized her car and made threatening phone calls. Soon we didn’t feel safe in our own home—not even all the way out in Black Mesa. We always lived as isolated as we could, you know, far away from other houses, other people. But once the rumors started circulating, there was no escape from the persecution, even in the middle of nowhere.”
“Did you ever report the harassment to the police?”
Now Ellery did look at Hosteen, meeting his eye with a hard, condescending glare.
He flinched back from the unveiled anger in her eyes. “Okay,” he amended. “Stupid question.”
“The police wouldn’t have done anything about it. Paras get no love out in the Anglo world, either—did you know there’s an app now that can read our energy and alert Typs to our dangerous presence?”
Hosteen rolled his eyes. “There’s an app for everything these days.”
“Right? But as bad as things are out there, we Paras have it twice as tough in communities like this one, where old traditions paint us as something we’re not. The Diné aren’t the only people in the world who make life extra-hard for shapeshifters and witches and fae. Even when I was just a kid, even when we lived way out in the desert, I heard plenty of stories about Paras being persecuted all around the world. And stories of Paras being blown off by local police, even when death threats were involved. Why do you think I haven’t reported my friend Vivi as missing yet? The police won’t care. They won’t do a thing about it. If you’re a Para in trouble, you’re on your own. It’s do or die; nobody will help you.”
Hosteen pressed his lips together. His face paled, and his eyes were shaded by sadness.
“Anyway,” Ellery said, “we couldn’t get away from the harassment. It grew worse and worse, building up over two, three months. Finally it reached the boiling point. A mob of people came for us—for my sister. They blocked the road from our house so there was no way to escape them, except to run out into the desert. Taylor took me out back and told me to shift and run to Roanhorse for help.
“I knew right then what she intended to do: distract the mob so I could get away. I don’t think any of the people in the mob knew that I was a Changer, too, you see. They were focused on Taylor, and she was willing to stand in their path so I could escape, even if it
“She was also a Changer—a trader, like me. Together with William Roanhorse, she taught me all about our magic. How to use it, how to control it—and most importantly, how to keep it secret, because although it was our greatest gift, it was also our greatest danger.”
Ellery fell silent. She stared at the glass of lemonade; moisture beaded on the outside of the glass and ran down its slick sides, soaking into the cork coaster below. She could still taste the lemonade’s sweetness on her tongue, but a terrible bitterness was rising in the back of her throat.
Hosteen kept silent, but although Ellery couldn’t meet his eye, she could feel sympathy pouring from him in waves—could sense his emotions almost as easily as if she were a fae.
If Taylor and Roanhorse and I had known anyone on the Rez who sympathized with us back then… anybody who had tried to understand us instead of acting out of fear… then everything would have worked out differently .
At length, Ellery drew a shaky breath and continued.
“After a few years, Taylor ran into trouble. I don’t know exactly what happened—maybe she got careless with her shifting, and somebody saw her turn into one of her animals. However it came about, accusations began to roll in. People called her a skinwalker, a witch. They sent us hate mail and vandalized her car and made threatening phone calls. Soon we didn’t feel safe in our own home—not even all the way out in Black Mesa. We always lived as isolated as we could, you know, far away from other houses, other people. But once the rumors started circulating, there was no escape from the persecution, even in the middle of nowhere.”
“Did you ever report the harassment to the police?”
Now Ellery did look at Hosteen, meeting his eye with a hard, condescending glare.
He flinched back from the unveiled anger in her eyes. “Okay,” he amended. “Stupid question.”
“The police wouldn’t have done anything about it. Paras get no love out in the Anglo world, either—did you know there’s an app now that can read our energy and alert Typs to our dangerous presence?”
Hosteen rolled his eyes. “There’s an app for everything these days.”
“Right? But as bad as things are out there, we Paras have it twice as tough in communities like this one, where old traditions paint us as something we’re not. The Diné aren’t the only people in the world who make life extra-hard for shapeshifters and witches and fae. Even when I was just a kid, even when we lived way out in the desert, I heard plenty of stories about Paras being persecuted all around the world. And stories of Paras being blown off by local police, even when death threats were involved. Why do you think I haven’t reported my friend Vivi as missing yet? The police won’t care. They won’t do a thing about it. If you’re a Para in trouble, you’re on your own. It’s do or die; nobody will help you.”
Hosteen pressed his lips together. His face paled, and his eyes were shaded by sadness.
“Anyway,” Ellery said, “we couldn’t get away from the harassment. It grew worse and worse, building up over two, three months. Finally it reached the boiling point. A mob of people came for us—for my sister. They blocked the road from our house so there was no way to escape them, except to run out into the desert. Taylor took me out back and told me to shift and run to Roanhorse for help.
“I knew right then what she intended to do: distract the mob so I could get away. I don’t think any of the people in the mob knew that I was a Changer, too, you see. They were focused on Taylor, and she was willing to stand in their path so I could escape, even if it
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