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I was five years old when I realized I was different from other children. Other children couldn’t conjure fire in their palms, or make teddy bears dance without touching them, or turn brussels sprouts into cheese balls. I’d been able to do all those things by the time I was two and never realized it was weird. That is, until I went to kindergarten.

Nobody wanted to play with me. They looked at me like I was an alien. When I spoke, they whispered behind their hands and giggled at me. Even my teacher didn’t seem to like me much. After a long day of rejection, I went home and let my tears fall.

My mother sat me down and explained that we came from a long line of witches going back hundreds of years, and that me and my three year old sister, Primrose, had powers that others didn’t possess. 

“But why don’t the kids in my class like me, then? Aren’t powers fun?”

She tugged on one of my braids lightly. “Not everyone feels that way, sweetie. People are often scared of things they can’t understand.”

My lips drooped into a watery frown, so pathetic that my father handed me two cookies instead of my usual limit of one. He rubbed my back until I finished, then scooped me up and tickled me so ferociously I forgot why I was so sad.

I idolized my father. My mother was more of a disciplinarian, forcing me to do my homework and chores and practice my magic every day. My father would fall victim to my puppy-dog eyes and sneak me out the back door. He didn’t have magical powers, so our time together was often spent in our garden or the woods behind our house. He was very knowledgeable about the outdoors. When we’d take walks, he would point out flora and fauna that went into specific potions, things he’d learned from my mother. When we’d garden together, he’d choose plants he knew my mother could use. My favorite times spent with him were in that backyard, where he taught me all of his favorite songs. We would sing and work simultaneously, and it made me feel special when he’d call me his songbird. At that time, Primrose was too little to join. But I was five and I was smart and strong and my father never let me forget it.

So it didn’t really matter if I didn’t have friends, because I had him. He was my best friend. And he said no matter what, he would be there for me. And I believed him.

I was eleven years old when my father died. A heart attack. Dropped dead in the middle of buying groceries. Nothing anybody could do. At least that’s what they said. But they didn’t know how magic worked. I did, and I was sure that wasn’t true.

I searched every single spellbook we owned, looking for any kind of solution that could bring him back. And I found one.

My mother hadn’t left her bed since she heard the news. When I rushed to her room and pointed out the spell I’d found, she shot straight up. Her blonde hair was matted and wild, eyes bloodshot, and for one moment I was genuinely frightened of her. She grabbed my shoulders and shook me.

“Katniss. Whatever you do, you can never, ever use that spell.”

I cried out and tried to slip from her grasp, but she held on tighter. “You have to understand. Whatever you summon would not be your father. It would be something evil, something far worse than you can ever imagine.”

“I don’t care!” I jerked away hard, screaming in her face. “I want him back!”

“It doesn’t matter,” she choked out. “He’s never coming back, ever.” And then she turned away from me and made horrible, painful sounds of distress that I couldn’t stand to hear. 

The spellbook was utterly useless, so I shoved it back on the shelf in our living room and rushed to the bedroom I shared with Prim. Her tiny body was curled in the corner of our bed, chest rising and falling with steady breaths. I slid in beside her, carefully so I didn’t disturb her, and tried to keep from crying. It didn’t work. I sobbed silently long into the night thinking of my father. Of his warm embrace, of his love, of his kindness. The way he understood me, how he always seemed to know what I needed. 

But he was never coming back. Ever. And from the moment I realized that, from the moment the truth sank into my bones, everything changed.

Our house had once been full of love and joy. Overnight, it became a place of grief, gray and dull. Our garden, once so lovingly tended, withered. Dust gathered on every surface. There was no music, no singing. My mother hardly left her bed, growing thin and hollow. She was too lost in her suffering to care for her daughters. This was fine for me, as my resentment for her and need for independence was growing each day. However, it was not fine for Prim.

I took over caring for my little sister. I made sure she did her homework, washed her hair, and ate whatever I could purchase from the general store in town. Luckily, I knew where my parents kept their money stashed, but I was afraid that someone would grow suspicious if I was the one buying groceries for my family every week. If anyone found out our mother was essentially comatose, I was sure they’d take us away. I’d heard of children who were taken from their homes and sent to shelters. Eventually they’d go to a foster house, but there was no guarantee that they’d go to the same place as their siblings. I needed to stay with Prim. I wouldn’t let anyone separate us.

My best idea was a levitation spell. I snuck food from the store and made sure the proper amount of money was placed in the register in exchange. I was many things, but I wasn’t a thief. That was the first time I’d been really proud of myself, my magic, and my ability to keep us out of trouble. Until the money started to run out.

I was only eleven and felt years older. I couldn’t get a job. My mother was a shell of a person, even months later. Prim held out hope that she would come back. I was under no such illusions. Truthfully, I wasn’t even sure I wanted my mother back. I was a child. I had lost my father. Why was it up to me to take care of myself and Prim? I wanted a mother desperately, but I didn’t want mine. Not anymore.

Sometimes I thought about giving up. Turning us in. I was so tired, so stressed, and so unhappy. But I’d see Prim’s smile across the room, or hear her laugh, and I’d remember who I was doing this for. Her, and only her. My sweet, sensitive, lovely little sister. I would do anything for her. No matter how alone I felt, I always had Prim, and I needed to be there for her. For the rest of my life, I vowed I would do anything to protect Prim, no matter the costs.

I was twelve when my mother died. It was a long time coming. I couldn’t get myself to shed a tear for the woman who’d all but abandoned her daughters. Instead, I stared at her casket blankly while Prim sobbed. When the short service was over, I walked us home. Or what used to be home.

Since my father died, it was no longer a place of comfort. It was a suffocating structure of painful memories and unbearable emotions. Moving on was easier than expected. Aunt Effie tried to make the transition as smooth as possible.

I’d been unaware we had an aunt. Well, we called her an aunt, but she was something more of a distant cousin. She was a witch, too. She’d never been close to our mother, she explained. Still, she didn’t hesitate to take us in when given the opportunity. Aunt Effie was mid-thirties, loved wearing wigs, and had a closet full of clothes that looked like they belonged in a high-end fashion magazine — not always in a good way.

Her house was bigger than our previous one. It was old, white, and Victorian with vines creeping up the railing of the porch. There was a greenhouse on one end, a tower at the very top, and a small balcony off the room that Prim and I chose to share. The day we moved, her yard was filled with dandelions. The sight of the yellow, resilient flowers made something bloom in my stomach. Something hopeful. But I wouldn’t dare let the feeling spread for fear of being disappointed.

Life was easier at Aunt Effie’s. I didn’t have to cut mold off the bread to make it last longer, or do the laundry, or pay bills. That was fine. The jarring part was how Prim needed me far less than before.

I didn’t want to make her entirely dependent on me, not by any means. I just didn’t know who I was if not her caretaker. When she struggled with homework problems, she asked Aunt Effie for help. If she needed assistance on a potion, she called for Aunt Effie. It made me feel useless, so it took me a long time to warm up to Effie.

My feelings simmered until one evening, when I made Prim’s favorite dinner and went to arrange her plate.

“Oh, Katniss, darling, why don’t you sit down? I’ll serve the two of you,” Aunt Effie trilled, walking over on the crazy high heels she insisted on wearing everywhere. At least she’d taken off the stupid pink wig she’d had on earlier. Her natural blonde hair was wrapped up in a scarf, and I thought it looked much better than any wig.

“No, I made it. I can serve it.”

Aunt Effie tsked. “Well, at least let me help you—”

“No!” I shouted. “I don’t need your help. I can take care of myself and I can take care of Prim and I don’t need you!”

Immediately after I finished saying it, I realized it wasn’t true. Hadn’t I been wishing for a mother for ages now? One who loved me and took care of me and gave equal treatment to Prim? Aunt Effie was all I’d asked for and more. She encouraged our magical studies, made us feel special and smart, gave us all of her love, and let us eat chocolate cake for breakfast sometimes. She was kind, thoughtful, and strange in a way that was endearing. 

Aunt Effie glanced over at Prim, who was frozen at the dinner table. “Primrose, dear, why don’t you go practice that spell we worked on earlier? Katniss and I will call you when the food is all ready. We need a few minutes.”

Prim nodded and left to give us space. I couldn’t bear to look at Aunt Effie, but she gently grabbed my chin and tilted it up, forcing me to meet her gaze.

“I’m so sorry, Katniss. I wish that things had been better for you. I cannot imagine what it must have felt like to be forced to grow up so quickly.”

My eyes stung and a lump grew in my throat. I struggled to give her an apology, which she waved off.

“You have nothing to apologize for, aside from maybe raising your voice. I think we can simply talk about our feelings, rather than shout, don’t you?”

I nodded. She released my chin and wrapped me in a hug, and that was when I began to cry. I hadn’t cried since my father died. I almost thought I was out of tears for good. But in Aunt Effie’s embrace, I let out all of the pent-up feelings I’d kept locked down.

“Primrose doesn’t need you any less than she did before. She will always want, love, and prioritize her big sister. You are safe here to give yourself a break, darling.”

I allowed myself to feel hopeful once more, picturing those dandelions on the lawn. The beginning of something new. After that, it was easier to build a relationship with Aunt Effie. She gave me the space I needed to learn to be Katniss, the big sister and not Katniss, the fill-in mother. But she also gave me the support I needed to trust her. 

She loved to celebrate our accomplishments, no matter how little they seemed to us. One evening, I made a pumpkin disappear and reappear for the first time. I didn’t think it was a big deal, but Aunt Effie squealed in delight.

“Oh, Katniss, you are so advanced for your age! Every time I watch you make a potion or conduct a spell, I am in such awe of your powers.” She kissed the top of my head.

Prim smiled at me. “You’re the best witch ever, Katniss.”

The doorbell rang before I could respond, and Aunt Effie rushed to get it. It was already dark out, but she conducted business at any time of day and never seemed to mind late calls. Prim and I exchanged a glance, one that meant we would certainly be eavesdropping. We were fascinated with Aunt Effie’s work, but she hadn’t yet let us get involved. Typically, she took the customer into the living room and cast a silencing spell around them so we couldn’t hear what was going on, but I’d recently learned a spell that helped us overcome that. That was the first night we tried it out, and it worked like a charm. Literally.

Whoever her customer was had a high, shrill voice that was laced in pain. “I’m so sorry to drop by so late. I just need something, anything, to get rid of this feeling. You must have a potion or a spell, right?”

We couldn’t see Aunt Effie, but we heard her clear as day. “I’m not sure. It’s part of the human experience to feel emotions, even when they are unpleasant. Tampering with that is not advised.”

“Please!” The woman was clearly desperate. “Please, I don’t—I can’t—I know your sister died of a broken heart, and I don’t want to—”

I waved my hand suddenly and ended the effects of the spell, silencing the remainder of their conversation. Aunt Effie didn’t have a sister, so the only person that woman could’ve been talking about was my mother.

My weak, selfish mother.

In the back of my mind, I think I’d known that she’d died from a broken heart. But to hear it confirmed, to hear a woman beg frantically for Aunt Effie to take away her heartbreak, was an entirely different matter. It was confirmation that love had undone my mother. Love had taken her away from us. 

The thought burned in my chest, making heat rise to my cheeks. I wanted nothing to do with romantic love, ever. I would never be heartbroken, never become my mother. But I needed a way to ensure that, without a doubt, I would never fall in love.

That night, after Aunt Effie and Prim had gone to bed, I scoured the spellbooks. There was nothing for avoiding love, nothing for closing your heart off, nothing at all. It was all about falling in love!

When one spell required a list of characteristics for the partner of your dreams, an idea sprung in my head. I pulled together everything I needed to conduct the spell, quickly getting to work.

Prim walked in just as I was beginning to list out traits. “He will have the deepest blue eyes, with ridiculously long eyelashes.”

“Katniss?” Prim said, rubbing her eyes. “What are you doing?”

I considered lying to her, but she read the spellbook before I could close it. “A love spell? Why?”

“I’m asking for a man who can’t possibly exist. That way, I’ll never fall in love.”

Prim’s face fell. I had to look away. “Oh, Katniss. Is this about what we overheard earlier?”

For being ten years old, Prim was awfully astute. I shifted my weight from one foot to the other.

“Not entirely. It’s just better for me this way, okay?”

Prim wanted to argue. I don’t know what she saw in my expression that made her soften, but she gestured for me to go ahead. I hesitated only a moment before diving back in.

“His favorite color,” I said, running my fingers down the plants in the greenhouse. I plucked a small orange flower and studied it for a moment. “Will be orange.”

“Well, I’m sure someone out there enjoys orange,” Prim argued. She was right. I had to come up with more abstract traits. But what? My eyes roamed around the room until they settled on a daisy, one that was missing a few petals.

“He’ll only have one whole leg,” I declared. “And… and he will be able to paint anything, with complete ease and accuracy.”

“Katniss—”

“And his favorite animal,” I continued, ignoring Prim. “Will be a mockingjay.”

That surely sealed it. Mockingjays were incredibly rare, not often talked about, and I had never met anyone who knew about them. The only reason I was aware of those elusive birds was because my father would tell me bedtime stories about mockingjays, how they can replicate melodies they hear perfectly. Prim pursed her lips but said nothing. I finished the spell with a flourish, feeling triumphant. 

“You ought to write it down,” Prim said. I glanced at her.

“Write what down?”

“Everything you just said. Some day, some man might come along with all of those traits. You won’t want to forget.”

I scoffed. “No man will come along. It’s impossible. He doesn’t exist.”

Prim’s look of disappointment was all it took for me to give in. I sighed heavily, holding out my hand.

“Give me a pen.”

On a piece of parchment paper, I scrawled out the list of qualities I’d made up to immortalize my imaginary man in writing. Prim was satisfied, grinning as I shoved the paper into the spellbook and shut it.

“We’d better get to bed before Aunt Effie yells at us for interrupting her beauty sleep,” I said, poking Prim lightly in the stomach. 

It took a while, longer than I’d like to admit, but I did eventually forget about the piece of paper. I advanced my magic, started high school, and let the silly little spell I’d done when I was twelve slip from my mind.

I was fourteen when I made my first real friends.

In our old town, people shied away from us. They sneered at us and called us “those Everdeen sisters” with an air of disdain. I hadn’t made a single friend in the twelve years we lived there. Befriending didn’t exactly come quickly to me after our move, but it was easier. I was no longer considered “strange” or “abnormal” or “threatening” because of my magic. They were used to that with Aunt Effie and her parents, who’d passed years ago. No, if anyone in our new town felt that way about me, it was solely due to my personality. 

Unsurprisingly, everyone adored Prim. She made friends easily and spent most of her time with them as she got older. I struggled a bit more to socialize. I’d never really done it before, so rather than try, I just kept my head down during school and went straight home afterwards. 

It took being paired up with two girls I’d never formally met in biology class for me to finally make friends.

Johanna Mason had short, spiky brown hair and big brown eyes that would look downright sweet if they weren’t so full of mischief. She allowed me to take the reins in dissecting the frog, but she let me know anytime she thought I was doing something wrong. Which was often.

“Why did you make the incision there? Seriously, is there anything going on between your ears? Might as well call you brainless.”

My nostrils flared, but before I could respond, Annie Cresta interjected.

“Johanna, I’m not sure you have the right to talk like that. I know you’ve smoked enough weed to completely fry your brain. You could serve it on a platter with a side of barbecue sauce.”

I was sure this would start an all-out brawl between the two, but Johanna just snorted. “I guess you’ve got a point, but my brain has got to be one of the far less delightful organs to eat.”

Annie rolled her eyes. Despite her intervention, it was easy to tell she was slightly less ferocious than Johanna. She had flowing brown hair and sharp sea-green eyes with a calm disposition, but she was quick-witted and funnier than anyone I knew. 

“Aren’t you a witch? Can’t you just snap your finger and finish this stupid thing in two seconds?” Johanna asked, nudging me. 

I scowled. “That’s not how magic works. I don’t just use it for any little thing.”

“I would,” said Johanna. “I’d use it for everything. Maybe you’re just not talented enough to pull it off?”

“Knock it off, Jo,” Annie frowned.

“What? I’m just being honest. Doesn’t everyone want to know how it works? She could be a really terrible witch and we’d never know. I just want to see some proof.”

It was irritating that Johanna seemed to know exactly what to say to push my buttons. I was actually a very powerful witch, but because of that, my magic could get a little wild on occasion. So, in my defense, what happened wasn’t totally my fault. Or maybe it was, but I was certainly provoked.

I’d meant to finish the dissection with a simple spell. That was all. I had no idea that the frog would explode.

The sound of the frog expanding and popping was so loud, other students in the room shrieked in surprise. Johanna, Annie, and I were covered in frog goo and gore, with me getting the worst of it. My new white sweater was dotted in red and pink, splattered with disgusting frog bits I didn’t want to name.

Luckily for me, there wasn’t a way to prove it had been my fault once I denied any wrongdoing. I breathed a sigh of relief when the biology teacher just flared his nostrils and told us to wash up before continuing the lesson.

I followed Johanna and Annie to the wash station, avoiding their attempts at eye contact. Humiliation coursed through me. It was a simple spell, but I’d let my emotions get the best of me. Aunt Effie always had to tell me to watch out for that. I should’ve known better. 

A hand on my shoulder interrupted my increasingly dour thoughts. I braced myself for the name-calling that was sure to ensue. The only question was whether they’d call me a freak or make fun of how bad I was at magic.

“That was you?” Johanna asked, her expression unreadable.

I nodded, mouth downturned. Rather than berate me, though, she grinned in admiration. “That was so cool. Way better than a dissection! You can do other stuff like that?”

I flicked my eyes from Johanna to Annie, who also looked intrigued. “I—yeah, I can. I can do a lot of stuff.”

“You’ve got to show us sometime. Hey, you should eat lunch with us! Although, I’m not sure how much eating I’ll feel like doing today.” Annie wrinkled her nose and gestured to the lingering frog guts. Well, that was easy enough to solve. With a wave of my hand, I cleared off the remnants of the explosion. Johanna looked utterly delighted.

“Wow! You might be brainless, but maybe you’re not a bad witch after all.”

No one could accuse Johanna of having any tact. I rolled my eyes to hide the slight vindication I felt at her words. At the end of class, Annie linked her arm through mine and guided me to their usual lunch table. I’d never noticed them before, probably because I rarely paid attention to those around me. I thought I’d get through my high school career all by myself, and I was fine with that. But as the two girls from biology class continued to invite me to hang out with them, I realized that having friends wasn’t such a bad thing. 

I was twenty when I sent Prim off to college. I had never had any particular career ambitions. For a long while, I spent all my free time practicing my magic and tending the garden in the backyard that Aunt Effie had plotted out for me. Then, when I was seventeen, Aunt Effie decided I was a mature, capable witch and ready to join her business. Demand for her services had increased and I was already helping by growing the plants for our potions, so it made sense. I decided that was enough for me. Magic was my favorite pastime and I was good at it, so I didn’t see any need for a college education. 

Prim, on the other hand, had always expressed her desire to become a doctor. And if Primrose Everdeen wanted to be a doctor, then I was going to do whatever I needed to help her achieve her goal.

When I wasn’t helping Aunt Effie, I waited tables at Greasy Sae’s Diner in town. It was fun to work there with Annie our senior year of high school. She decided to go to college a few states over, but she came home for breaks, and she always had an apron ready for her at Sae’s when she arrived. I was worried Prim might want to go to an out-of-state college like Annie. The amount Aunt Effie and I had set aside for Prim would cover tuition costs no matter what, but I didn’t like the thought of Prim being so far from home. What if she needed me? What would I do without her nearby? 

Of course, I had Johanna, who had stayed in town to work as a mechanic at the local car shop. I had Aunt Effie, who never left me wanting for company. It would be weird, though, without Prim. Ultimately, she decided to go to a school that wasn’t too far away. A three hour drive wasn’t exactly close to home, but Capitol University was what Prim wanted. So that was that.

The day that Prim moved into her dorm, Aunt Effie wept like she was sending Prim off to war. I’d never seen her lose it so much at once, so I sent her outside while I said goodbye to Prim.

“I’ll be home sooner than you think,” said Prim, her chin pressed against my shoulder. I swallowed hard and tried to smile.

“You’re going to have so much fun. I’m so proud of you.”

And I was. Prim was smart, happy, and coming into her own. Over the last few years, she’d advanced as a witch. She’d gone on dates and had a few short-term boyfriends. She’d even gotten a cat, though I wasn’t crazy about that. He was an ugly, smushed, hissy little thing, and he had a connection with Prim that Aunt Effie had squealed about. Something about how rare it was to find a guardian animal. I don’t know. All I knew was Prim and Buttercup could talk to one another, though the rest of us couldn’t tell his meows from a common street cat, and Buttercup didn’t like me. That was fine. I didn’t like him, either.

Prim was taking Buttercup with her, which might have been the only thing I enjoyed about her moving out. I tried to focus on the good things as I stepped back. Prim was happy, Buttercup was no longer living in our house. Good things. I mentally prepared myself to leave without any fanfare. I thought Prim had enough of that with Aunt Effie.

I took one last look around the room. Prim was perfectly settled in, with her clothes put away, her books ready on her desk, and her bed neatly made with Buttercup sat right in the center. He gave me a slight nod that I returned before smiling at Prim and turning to head out.

“Katniss?”

I turned back, looking at my not-so-little sister. “Prim?”

“I love you,” she said, blowing me a little kiss. It sparkled its way across the room, landing on my cheek with a smack. That spell was one of the first Prim had ever mastered. I laughed as the pink glitter rained from the spot it had touched. 

“I love you, too,” I said, blowing her a kiss right back.

Aunt Effie cried nearly the whole way home, blowing her nose loudly into her handkerchief every so often. I couldn’t blame her, because the second we entered the house, it felt so empty that my chest ached. When Prim and I had hit our teenage years, we’d decided to finally move into separate rooms. As I’d looked around the room after she’d taken her belongings across the hall, I’d been surprised by how barren it felt. It was worse with her gone to college.

As most things do, the hollow feeling she left behind eased with time. Prim visited as often as she could and called home once a week with any updates she had. Mostly about difficult classes, or what she and her roommate had done that weekend, or the latest date she’d gone on.

Aunt Effie loved hearing about her dates because I did nothing of the sort and rarely had fun stories to share. I spent most of my time working or hanging out with Johanna, frequenting the bar in town owned by Haymitch Abernathy. He was a grumpy old man with a surly attitude that Johanna found incredibly amusing. She’d sit at the bar with whatever brew he recommended that day and bother him while I sucked down my cherry coke and avoided making eye contact with anyone. 

And no matter how hard Aunt Effie or Johanna or Annie tried, there was nobody in the world they could talk me into going on a date with. I’d made my decision long ago and I stuck by it. I was going to become an old maid, probably alongside my best friends, and that was fine with me.

I was twenty-four when Annie moved back into town. But she didn’t come alone. She brought a man.

I was leery from the beginning. It didn’t hold much weight with Johanna or Annie, though, because I had a reputation for disliking their significant others. Sometimes reputations are exaggerated, sometimes even false. That was not the case with me.

It was twofold. First, I hated change. I had my two friends and I didn’t really want to have to find new ones. Second, I truly cared for Johanna and Annie. I didn’t think anyone was good enough for them. A lot of the time, I turned out to be right. 

There was the girl that Johanna brought home who couldn’t stand when things weren’t perfectly tidy and clean. I’d scoffed at that. Johanna was a mechanic. Of course things would get dirty. They didn’t last long. And Annie once introduced us to a guy she was dating who made his job his entire personality. He bored us to tears with lectures on personal finance. 

So, when it came to meeting Annie’s new man, I was skeptical.

Johanna took to Finnick Odair quickly, whereas I almost immediately disliked him. He was objectively good-looking. Even I could see that. Tall, bronze hair, golden skin, sea green eyes. Whatever. I just didn’t like him. He was an incorrigible flirt with an immense ego. 

That’s probably why he and Johanna got along.

“No sugar for you, sugar?” Finnick asked me the first time we met, the sugar cubes between his fingers threatening to fall in my teacup. I scowled. Annie and Johanna had left me alone with him while they grabbed more hot water and cookies. Did it really need to take so long?

“No. And don’t call me sugar.”

“Darling?”

“No.”

“Honey?”

“No.”

“Angel?”

I glared at him and flicked my index finger in his direction. When Annie and Johanna reentered the room with an extra platter and teapot, they found Finnick clawing at his mouth while I laid back against the coach, relishing the silence.

“What happened?” Annie asked, rushing to his side.

I took a sip of my tea. “I tied his tongue.”

Annie wasn’t pleased with me, but it worked. Finnick never called me any pet names after that.

I couldn’t find it in myself to trust him. Annie wanted so badly for me to get along with Finnick. Honestly, I wanted to, if only for Annie’s sake. It became clear after a while that Finnick was going to stick around whether I liked it or not, so I needed to get used to him, to accept him for who he was. Even if he happened to be a deeply flawed, shifty, slimy human being. 

There were times where I felt that maybe he was wearing a mask, and on those occasions where I saw something shining through the cracks in his veneer, I softened toward him. Still, it wasn’t until there was an accident that I realized how much I’d misjudged Finnick. 

Johanna called one afternoon and explained, with a shaking voice, how a car had hit Annie in the middle of a crosswalk. At the very least, she had fractured her hip and needed surgery. They were running tests to make sure everything was okay internally. I swallowed my fear and headed straight to the hospital. I was certain that this would be the end of Annie and Finnick. She’d be on the mend for months and I doubted he was up to sticking around for her recovery. I mean, the doctors said it could take months, even a year to fully heal. Why would he bother if he wasn’t in the relationship for the right reasons?

But Finnick was there the moment I arrived and he never left her side. He was a mess. It was the worst I’d ever seen him look. His bronze hair stuck up haphazardly and the bags under his eyes grew deeper and darker with each passing day. It got to the point that Johanna and I had to force him to go home and shower or bring him food and make sure he ate it. 

“You need to take care of yourself,” said Johanna, rubbing his back. It was the softest I’d ever heard her speak, the kindest her big brown eyes had ever looked. “How else will you be able to take care of Annie?”

When it came to Annie’s rehabilitation, Finnick was determined to help as much as possible. He learned all the exercises she had to do and would join her, coach her, and cajole her when necessary. She flourished under his attentiveness, healing quicker than expected. It might’ve helped that I made a special cream for her to use that sped up the process, but I had to give most of the credit to Finnick.

One night, after a dinner celebration for Annie’s recovery, Johanna had gone home and an exhausted Annie was sleeping on Finnick’s shoulder. I was just about to excuse myself when Finnick spoke softly.

“I love her, you know.”

I startled, glancing over at him. He looked vulnerable but determined, like this was something he needed to get off his chest.

“I know,” I said. He shook his head.

“I don’t know about that, but I just wanted to tell you. I would do anything for her.”

I bit my lip. As much as Finnick doubted me, I did know. I knew from the long nights in the hospital, from the months spent devoted to her after the accident, from the softness in his gaze when he looked at her. It reminded me of the way my father used to look at my mother. That was more convincing than anything he could say.

Somewhere along the way, Finnick Odair had grown on me. 

“Finnick,” I said, placing one hand over his. “I do know. Really.”

He smiled, just slightly, and gave my hand a small squeeze. Something between us changed. And as quickly as one had become three, three became four.

And then four became five.

I was twenty-five when Dylan Odair was born.

When Annie found out she was pregnant, it was a surprise for both her and Finnick. Johanna claimed she’d known about it all along.

“I’m sorry, did no one else notice how fantastic Annie’s tits have looked lately?”

I rolled my eyes, giving both Annie and Finnick a hug. Since that night so long ago after her accident, he and I had grown closer. Not in the same way that he was close to Johanna—I never really understood their relationship—but in a way that made me learn to appreciate him all the same.

Once I started paying attention, it was hard to miss the pure amount of love that flowed like ocean waves between the couple. The smitten expression on Finnick’s face whenever he looked at Annie. The way Annie seemed to walk on air when he was around. 

Maybe I shouldn’t have been so surprised that Annie was pregnant. They’d wed just a few months ago in a ceremony that made both Prim and Aunt Effie cry relentlessly, and the couple was truly inseparable. They’d purchased a home not far from where I lived with Aunt Effie and stayed with us for a while during renovations. Our close proximity meant I’d accidentally walked in on them in compromising positions far more than I cared to think about. But they were insatiable and clearly in love.

If I’d been the one who had gotten pregnant at twenty-five, I would’ve had a panic attack, but Annie and Finnick were over the moon. They were spoiled rotten by the people in town, their families, and of course, by Johanna and me. 

Finnick worked in the nearby city, often gone for long hours during the day. He’d used up most of his sick days when he was helping Annie recover from the accident and couldn’t be around as much as he’d have liked. Annie had been put on bedrest, especially when her hip started to bother her, so Johanna and I spent a lot of time with her while he was away. We eased her anxiety about becoming a mother, folded an endless amount of onesies, and made her food that satisfied all of her weird cravings. The worst food she requested was sardines and chocolate ice cream, a combination that turned my stomach. Johanna tried it. She said it wasn’t too bad.

I was the third person to hold Dylan Odair after he was born. Leading up to his birth, I’d been so focused on Annie that I forgot there would soon be a whole new person in our lives. And I immediately fell in love with him. 

He was so tiny, and so sweet, and so cute in that squashed-newborn way. I was mesmerized by his tiny little fingers, the shape of his yawn, and the small noises he’d make. There was an ache that bloomed in my chest from the feeling of him in my arms, something I couldn’t name. Something beyond love and heavier than longing, something too complex for me to understand. So I ignored it.

I had Prim. I had Aunt Effie. I had Johanna, Annie, and Finnick. I had Dylan. 

It was enough. 

I was twenty-six when I opened Everdeen Apothecary.

For ages, I’d been helping Aunt Effie make potions and concoctions that our customers requested. Annie was watching me one day, Dylan babbling in her arms, when she suggested making the most popular potions in bulk, and perhaps shaping them into something innocuous, like salves. Just as I’d done when I made the special cream for her hip. Later, Johanna was picking up a lotion I had made when she told me I should put my products in a store.

“People in town go wild for this stuff. I’m sure you could easily sell all of it. And Annie’s been looking for a job. You two could go in on it together.”

When I brought it up to Annie, she squealed with delight. 

“I’d love to! When do we start?”

Finnick helped us find a location. It was in the center of town between the antique shop and the bank, a perfect spot. We called it “Everdeen Apothecary” and got to work putting up the shelves, moving in herbs and plants, and placing the products on the shelves. By the time we got everything together, the townspeople were ready for us to open up.

It turned out Finnick was a natural born salesperson, and it wasn’t long before the books that Annie took care of showed we could afford to hire him. I certainly didn’t mind. I hated having to interact with people all day long, preferring to work behind-the-scenes. It also allowed him to leave his boring office job so far from home and spend more time with Annie and Dylan. Everyone was happy. 

Everdeen Apothecary flourished, and for the first time, I felt confident that I finally had a direction in life. I had all the companionship I could ask for, a roof over my head, and a steady business. Still, that ache returned. I felt it spread from my chest deep in my heart, somewhere not far from my stomach. I was missing something important. At first I thought it was Prim, but that wasn’t it. Even with the distance, we were as close as ever. No, something else was making me feel hollow and I couldn’t figure out exactly what it was. The feeling grew each day; I just got better at ignoring it.

Everything was fine. I was fine. I was well and alive. Maybe not living, like those around me, but doing enough. That's what I'd always done and it's what I planned to do for the rest of my life.

Things didn't quite work out that way.

Chapter Text

I was twenty-eight when everything went to shit.

Prim was a couple months into her residency at Panem Hospital not far from her old college. From every conversation we had, it seemed as though she was content and thriving. I couldn’t understand why I had this nagging feeling of impending doom whenever I thought about her. It got so bad that every call from Prim ended with me feeling nauseous, shivers running down my back. I was so worried, I considered trying to contact Buttercup—the very idea was ridiculous, because I couldn’t understand a word he meowed, but I felt desperate. Maybe just seeing him would help give me an idea of what was going on? But Prim insisted she was fine, everything was fine, so I decided to tamp down my anxiety and take her at her word.

Annie and Finnick dropped Dylan off a few days later for their monthly date night. Aunt Effie was away that evening, having dinner with a few friends, so I got Dylan all to myself. He was nearly four years old and so fun to be around, babbling endlessly about his toys and parents and the bird he’d seen that morning. We played his favorite game, which involved me floating objects above his head while he jumped around to try and catch them. Once it grew dark enough, I bundled him into his coat and took him out into the garden, relishing the feeling of his head resting on my shoulder.

I’d intended to look at the stars, maybe point out some of the constellations that were easiest to spot. Instead, I took one look at the sky and gasped, clutching Dylan tighter to me and rushing back inside. 

“Aunt Kat-Kat,” he complained sleepily. “Stars?”

“Not tonight, honey,” I responded, shedding his coat and laying him down on the couch. “It’s time to get some sleep.”

He pouted, a look so reminiscent of Finnick that I nearly rolled my eyes. It took a few minutes to get him to settle down, his tiny body curled up in my lap. I whispered the story of mockingjays to him, stroking his hair soothingly until he fell asleep. I hoped the motion would calm me as much as it did him, because my nerves were shot.

It was a blood moon. Something terrible was coming.

When Aunt Effie returned, long after Finnick and Annie had picked Dylan up, she looked pale and disheveled.

“You saw the moon?” I asked. She nodded.

“Perhaps I should put off my trip to visit Mags. I don’t want to leave you alone,” she said. 

“No, it’s okay. Mags wouldn’t ask you to visit unless she really needed help.” And it was true. Mags was a mentor of Aunt Effie’s, an elderly woman with an admirable spirit and tough mind. If she needed Aunt Effie’s assistance, most likely to cast some protective spells, it had to take priority over my imaginary problems.

Aunt Effie sighed. “I don’t feel right about it, darling. I leave tomorrow evening and won’t return for a few weeks. Can you handle being alone all that time with this bad omen hanging over our heads?”

“Of course,” I said, feeling far less confident than I sounded. “I’ll be fine. Annie and Finnick are going to run the store by themselves until you return so I can focus on your clients. Mags is expecting you. The time will fly by.”

She shut her eyes briefly before nodding. “Alright, but if anything happens, you must call me.”

I waved her off with my hand, giving her a quick kiss on the cheek before she headed to her bedroom. Once she shut her door, I retired to my own room. As was my usual nighttime routine, I changed into a nightgown and unraveled my braid, combing my fingers through my long, dark hair. I glanced at myself in the mirror and took a long look at the girl gazing back at me. When had I gotten so pale? Had I always boasted such prominent bags under my eyes, eyes that now looked dull and gray rather than a bright silver? No wonder Aunt Effie hesitated to leave. I looked a mess.

For her sake, I tried to cover up any indication that I was feeling drained the next morning. She took things like that very seriously, always concerned about our energy levels. I was certain Mags needed Aunt Effie more than me. I couldn’t keep her from going. I could handle whatever was coming. At least, I hoped I could.

It worked, because Aunt Effie was packed and ready to go as soon as the sun set. Her masses of suitcases lined the front hall. She liked to travel light.

“Are you sure you’ll be okay?” She placed her hands on my cheeks, staring at me intently. I swallowed, trying my best to look nonchalant, praying that the concealer she'd bought me years ago was doing its job.

“Of course. Give Mags a kiss from me,” I said. 

“If you need—”

She was cut off by the shrill sound of ringing. People calling our house wasn’t out of the ordinary, but the moment the phone rang, Aunt Effie and I knew something was wrong. A cold dread slipped down the back of my neck and pooled in the pit of my stomach. 

“Prim,” I whispered. It wasn’t clear how I knew, but I knew. It was Prim and she was in trouble. My hands trembled as I reached for the phone.

“Prim? What’s wrong?”

There was a shaky inhale, and when Prim spoke, her voice was much higher than usual. “Katniss? Can you come get me?”

My heart dropped. I could barely give her an affirmative answer around the lump in my throat, choking out a strained, “Yes.” Rushing past Aunt Effie and her uneasy expression, I grabbed my coat and keys as quickly as I could. 

“I’m coming with you,” said Aunt Effie. I shook my head, struggling to button up with my shaking fingers.

“No, no. Go see Mags. Whatever is wrong with Prim, I can take care of it. I can take care of her.”

“Katniss,” said Aunt Effie. “I know you can. But back-up certainly can’t hurt.”

I took a deep breath. “No. We don’t have time to argue. You’ve got to see Mags. If I need anything, I’ll call you immediately. I promised, remember?”

Aunt Effie’s eyes shone with apprehension, and there was a moment where I was sure she was going to argue with me, but she just sighed. “Alright,” she murmured. “Alright. Promise me you’ll call once you return home with Prim.”

“I promise. Safe travels, Aunt Effie.”

“And you as well, my dear,” Aunt Effie replied, patting my cheek with one of her gloved hands.

I hurried out into the freezing night, not bothering to warm up my car. The driveway was sure to have tire marks from how swiftly I peeled out. I would get a lecture from Aunt Effie later, but I couldn’t bring myself to care. There were bigger problems at hand.

Three hours. Three hours! I thought I might die of a heart attack before I made it to Prim. My mind was consumed with thoughts of my little sister. There were so many possible reasons for her frantic phone call. What had transpired? What was so horrible or scary or dangerous that it had caused Prim to reach out in such a state? I cursed myself for not trusting my intuition. I knew something was amiss. Why hadn’t I gone to her sooner? If anything happened to her, it was my fault. I never should’ve let her move so far away. And where the hell was Buttercup? So much for having a guardian. When I got my hands on that damn cat… 

I groaned, smacking my hand against the steering wheel. What was I supposed to do? Put Prim on a leash so nothing bad happened to her, ever? Maybe. There was surely a spell for that somewhere, right?

My foot never released the gas pedal. That, combined with a little magic and luck, shaved twenty minutes off my drive. I pulled into the parking lot of her apartment complex just two hours and forty minutes later, taking another thirty seconds to get to Prim’s door.

“Prim? Prim?” I smacked my fist against the wood, praying I wouldn’t have to knock it down. 

The door swung open and a blonde blur flung herself into my arms. I held on tightly, willing my heartbeat to relax. Prim was okay. She was safe with me. Everything was okay. She released her hold on me and stepped back slightly, gesturing toward the bag and cat carrier beside her.

“I’m all packed,” Prim sniffed. I scanned her face, looking for any signs of a struggle that might have happened, but her hair was in a flawless braid and her skin was unblemished. The only sign of any distress was her red-rimmed eyes, which just made them appear more blue than usual. Nothing was ever a bad look for Prim. But what was going on? I couldn’t find any clues. “I’ve cleared it with the hospital to come home for a few weeks.”

I furrowed my brow. As far as I was aware, residents didn’t really get time off. Not like that, not for no reason. “How in the world did you manage that?”

Prim bit her lip, holding up her palms and wiggling her fingers. Magic. Of course. The power of persuasion or whatever that spell was called. I bit back a lecture on using such a manipulative spell, knowing that was the last thing Prim needed. Instead, I nodded and grabbed her bag. She could take care of Buttercup. He hissed as I passed him, and I hissed right back. Useless creature.

“I’m parked over there,” I said, pointing in the direction of my car. “Let’s go home.” 

Prim gave me a wobbly smile and picked up Buttercup’s carrier before following me to the parking lot. I’d just shoved her bag in the backseat when she looked up at the night sky.

“The moon,” she gasped. “It has a ring around it. Oh, Katniss, I need to grab my tiger’s eye. I didn’t think—I can’t leave without it—”

She turned to head back to her apartment, stopping when she registered my hand around her forearm. I dismissed the idea immediately, squeezing firmly. “No way. We need to go.”

“Katniss, please, it’ll only take a second!”

Prim sounded so panicked that I couldn’t deny her, not if it would ease her mind. It seemed safe enough for one of us to stay by the car. The lot was empty, no sign of movement anywhere. I sighed heavily and released her arm, holding out one hand. “Fine, give me your keys. I’ll grab it. You stay here.”

With Prim’s purse on my shoulder, I rushed back to her apartment and summoned the tiger’s eye with a quick spell. Once it was in my hand, I jogged back to the car and moved to slide into the driver’s seat.

“Here you g—”

My heart jumped to my throat before sliding down, down, down to the pit of my stomach. My passenger seat held a yowling Buttercup locked in his carrier. Prim was in the backseat. And she wasn’t alone.

I had never seen the old man in my backseat before. He was wearing an impeccable, sleek black suit, so he clearly came from money. He had white hair, beady snakelike eyes, and a distinct scent rolling off of him in waves that made me want to gag. It was bizarre, a smell resembling roses and… blood. His presence made my brain short circuit from panic, mainly because he had one hand on Prim’s throat and the other holding a gun to her temple. I wanted to save her, needed to save her, but I had no idea how. I sat there, stupidly silent, until the old man opened his puffy lips and said, “Drive.”

My hands shook as I inserted the key in the ignition. This was surely why Prim had called me, why I’d been bogged down by impending doom for weeks now. But who was this man? Was following his instructions my best option? 

I heard Prim whimper and immediately pulled my car onto the empty road. 

“It’s been a while since I’ve seen you, Maude Ivory,” he slurred. There was the clink of a bottle, the sound of liquid being chugged, and a long sigh. I clenched my fists around the steering wheel impossibly tight. “But I knew it was you when you came to the hospital. My hospital. Did Lucy Gray put you up to it?”

Prim didn’t answer and I had no clue what he was talking about. I’d never heard of Maude Ivory or Lucy Gray. Prim certainly wasn’t Maude Ivory. Unless it was some kind of stage name. Could it be? I was sure she would’ve told me.

“Nothing to say, Maude Ivory? Tell me this. Where is Lucy Gray?”

Again, Prim was silent. I flinched when the old man leaned forward and tapped my shoulder. “Chauffeur, take a right on Seam.”

I wasn’t sure where this man was living, but Seam wasn’t a street I’d ever heard of. And I wasn't a chauffeur, obviously. I wondered if he was having a mental break of some kind, but then, what did that have to do with Prim?

Prim met my eyes in the rearview mirror. A second later, I hear her voice in my head.

“Katniss, my bag. There is belladonna in my bag.”

Telepathy wasn’t something we used too often, simply because we had never needed to. Still, I was thankful in this moment for Aunt Effie forcing us to practice this spell over and over until we could do it in our sleep. I slowly moved my hand toward the purse beside me, quietly rooting around until I wrapped my fingers around a vial. A quick glance from the corner of my eye confirmed it was the belladonna.

I didn’t have time to wonder why Prim was carrying around the deadly nightshade. No, I needed to focus. How could I get him to ingest it? And ensure I gave him enough to make him pass out?

“The bottle.”

Prim’s voice once again rang in my ears. I’d just registered what she’d said when I heard her cry out, the sound reverberating throughout the car interior.

“I’m not Maude Ivory, please, Mr. Snow, you’re not well—”

I heard the click of the gun and turned my head in time to see the old man aim it.

“No!” I shrieked, throwing my arm back and pushing his hand away from Prim.

I’d momentarily forgotten that I was driving, which caused us to lurch to one side of the road. There was a thunderous gunshot, the sound making my eardrums throb. Everything devolved into chaos as I struggled to regain control of the car. Prim’s frightened screams intermingled with Buttercup’s screeches and the old man’s maniacal laughter. When I righted us, I took a breath and glanced back. Prim was sobbing uncontrollably as the old man stared at the hole he’d made in the roof of the car. 

“Hm,” he said, taking another undignified slurp of his drink. My rage bubbled up.

“Don’t touch her! Do not touch her,” I yelled. The old man chuckled, holding the liquor bottle out near my arm.

“Calm down. Have a drink. It’s an old family recipe. Snow’s Roses. High-grade liquor—”

“Fine!” I snapped, interrupting his sales pitch to grab the bottle. I took a long swig and ignored how badly it burned going down my throat, shoving it between my thighs as the old man distracted himself with Prim once more.

“Don’t lie to me, Maude Ivory. I don’t have time for these games.”

Keeping my eyes trained on the dark, vacant road ahead, I pulled the cork off the vial of belladonna. In my haste to pour it into the liquor bottle, I spilled some on my jeans. Luckily, most of it managed to make its way into the glass, and I pressed my pinky finger into the mouth to shove any leftover bits inside. I waited for it to settle before handing it back to the old man.

“Not my kind of liquor.”

The old man eyed me. “Not everyone has a taste for the finer things in life. I’m not surprised you can’t handle it. It’s designed for high society. Not people like you.”

As if to prove his point, he downed half of the remaining liquor in one gulp. I inwardly sighed, relieved that he’d managed to ingest a great deal of the belladonna. His body couldn’t possibly resist the effects for much longer.

A few minutes passed. Then a few more. Why was he still awake? Had I not given him enough? I tapped my fingers against the steering wheel, wondering what had gone wrong. Buttercup yelped loudly, alerting me to movement in the backseat. I glanced in the rearview mirror just in time to see the old man lean over Prim with a surprising amount of strength and wrap his hands around her neck.

I slammed my foot on the brakes, stopping the car in the middle of the road. I didn’t bother to pull us off to the side—there was no time. I could only think of Prim as I threw the gear into park and climbed into the back, right on top of the old man. White-hot rage coursed through my veins and the adrenaline that was fueling my body made me feral. My nails scratched at any part of him I could reach, my fists occasionally pounding at his neck and back. I yanked his hair and considered hitting him with the bottle, if only I could find it. 

“Katniss.”

Where was it?

“Katniss.”

There was a deafening ringing in my ears, but it was fading.

“Katniss, Katniss. He’s passed out. Stop, get off.”

I paused, my chest heaving up and down at an alarming rate. She was right. The old man was motionless, all of his weight collapsed on Prim. I scrambled off them as quickly as I could, returning to the front seat. From there I curled my fingers into the jacket of his suit and pulled his limp body off Prim, letting him plummet to the floor of my car. Prim gasped out a breath, curling up against one of the corners of the backseat.

There was a long silence as we attempted to recover. I placed my hand against my sternum and willed my heartbeat to slow. The only light streaming through the windows came from the moon, and the slivers that made Prim’s face shine revealed the tear tracks running down her cheeks. I wanted to hold her close to me, to squeeze her until her shaking ceased, but there was a small matter of the unconscious man between us.

“What now?” Prim asked quietly. “A memory spell? To make him think this is all a dream?”

I bit my lip, unsure of the right answer. Aunt Effie would know. But she’d be long gone by the time we arrived home, and I doubted we would be able to contact her before the old man awoke. He was out now, but how long would that last? Surely not hours. I ran my eyes over the length of his body, pausing at his chest. 

Was it the poor lighting, or was he not breathing?

My hand seemed to have a mind of its own as it slowly reached toward the old man. I placed two fingers on his pulse point. Nothing.

“Katniss? What are you doing?”

I moved my fingers toward his parted lips. Nothing.

“Katniss?” Prim’s voice came out timid, tiny, like she was that same little girl who needed her big sister to curl up beside her in bed to ward off the monsters. “Is he…”

My head started to throb. This made everything infinitely more complicated. I was a murderer. I killed a man. I hadn’t meant to, but I did. He was dead. Because of me. That was undeniable. 

I threw open the car door and retched into the road, my body rejecting the swirling emotions of guilt and anxiety and fear that took over every part of my being. Prim burst into tears once more in the backseat and her anguished sobs forced me to turn back to comfort her. The most I could manage to do was open Buttercup’s carrier and toss him in her direction before my stomach lurched again.

“He can’t be dead!” Prim wailed. “We’ll be in so much trouble! We’ll go to prison!”

She wouldn’t. Surely she knew that. I would never let Prim go to prison. The crime had been committed by me, only me. I’d make sure that I went down for it alone. 

The reality check gave me a sense of clarity on the situation, and I returned to the driver’s seat. No matter what happened, Prim would be okay. That was what mattered. 

According to the clock in my car, it was twelve forty-five. I could get us home in probably two and a half hours. Then what? Bury the body somewhere? Go straight to the police and explain it was self-defense? I needed some kind of plan, but nothing made sense. What could I do?

I startled when Prim’s fingers wrapped tightly around my arm. “We have to bring him back.”

She and Buttercup looked at me solemnly, as though they’d already discussed it. Which they probably had. Witches could perform spells to speak telepathically to one another, but with Prim and Buttercup, they didn’t have to bother. Something about their bond. I preferred when they spoke aloud, though. At least I could hear and understand Prim’s side of the conversation when they did that. But… what had they decided?

Bring him back. How could we possibly bring him back? He was dead. He was—oh, no.

“No. No, absolutely not. It wouldn’t be him if we did. It would be something evil, demonic. We can’t.” I shook my head vehemently.

Prim’s blue eyes shone in fear. “We have to. This is Mr. Snow, the president of the hospital. He’s famous, rich, and powerful. If he’s missing, they’ll have people out looking for him, and we have no idea what trail he left behind. It could lead them right to us. We have to.”

She had a good point, but there had to be a better solution. There had to be.

“There’s not,” Prim said, reading my facial expression. “We don’t have another choice. He’s already evil, Katniss. You saw him. What difference would it make to his personality?”

I scanned my mind, trying to think of any other course of action. Any spell, any potion that could somehow help us. But there were too many factors to take into consideration if we did something like disposing of his body. Prim was right; there was no way to make sure nothing led back to us. We had no idea what Snow had done before finding Prim at her apartment. No idea what could implicate us. It might have been self-defense, but we could never go up against someone with resources like Snow and win. No. We didn’t have another choice.

I apologized to my dead mother in my head for going against her wishes. There was no other spell we could use to bring him back, no other spell than the one I’d asked to perform on my father. Hopefully she’d been a little dramatic when she’d told me about the horrors of the spell. Maybe the results wouldn’t be so terrible.

Prim crawled into the passenger seat with Buttercup, clutching him as I started the car. The darkness of the early morning covered our movement, the deserted roads leading us home. I explained Aunt Effie’s absence, but beyond that, there was nothing for us to talk about. For the first time ever, I couldn’t think of a single thing to say to my sister.

When I pulled into the driveway, we glanced at each other before getting out of the car. It took all our combined strength to yank Mr. Snow from the floor of the backseat. We each grabbed a leg and pulled, dragging him to the front door. It took longer than I anticipated. By the time we got him in the house, my arms were burning from the exertion. It was all the more difficult to get him into the greenhouse and up on a table. We banged his head against so many walls and pieces of furniture that I worried we might have given him a concussion, until I remembered he was dead and dead people probably couldn’t get concussions.

“What now?” Prim asked when we finally had him up on the table, her face glistening with sweat. I looked from her to Buttercup, who perched on the table beside Mr. Snow’s inert body, and summoned the particular spellbook we needed. It looked the same as it did the day I took it to my mother and begged for my father’s life. I shoved aside the memory and began to point out what was required to perform the spell correctly.

Each of us, including Buttercup, rushed around in preparation. Once we had the ingredients, the candles lit, and Mr. Snow’s shirt open, we were ready to begin. 

I instructed Prim to follow my lead, my hands hovering over his torso. She followed along as I created a wind with my tongue against my teeth and swayed my hands back and forth. Under my breath, I muttered the next steps.

“I need something white to make the star on his chest.”

Prim rushed around the house looking for anything that might work, eventually returning with a can of whipped cream. I gave her a questioning look.

“That's all I could find!”

I shook my head and sprayed a bit in my mouth before drawing a star on Snow’s chest. “Okay. We’re supposed to say ‘black as night, erase death from our sight. White as light, Mighty Hectate, make it right.’”

“And then what?” asked Prim.

Reading the final step nearly caused another bout of vomiting. “We—we have to poke needles into his eyes.”

Prim blanched. “No. No.” Then she paused. “But no other choice. Right?”

I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath. “No other choice.”

Buttercup carried a couple needles toward us, dropping one in front of me and one in front of Prim. I placed one hand on Snow’s cheek, motioning for Prim to do the same on the other side, and began to chant the spell.

“Black as night, erase death from our sight. White as light, Mighty Hectate, make it right.”

Prim joined in and we repeated the phrase over and over, growing louder as energy coursed through our bodies. Usually when I practiced spells, they left me feeling warm and glowing inside. This spell made my blood run cold like someone had dumped ice directly into my veins. I had to think only of the words to avoid shivering and messing up the rhythm. 

Just as we were about to lift his eyelids and push the needles in, Snow’s eyes snapped open. I swallowed a shriek, the abrupt movement startling me into dropping the needle to the floor.

“Mr. Snow?” said Prim timidly. 

He didn’t answer. His gaze stayed on the ceiling, his filmy red eyes unmoving. He seemed alive and dead all at the same time. Comatose. Maybe he did get a concussion? Or was this what it looked like to bring people back to life? Were they more like shells of their former selves? Curiosity led me to look at him closer, taking a tentative step forward. I hated performing the spell, but it was interesting to see the final product. Prim seemed to have the same idea, shuffling toward Snow.

That was when Snow swung forward, hauling himself off the table. He thrust his arms out at Prim and had her by the neck once more before I could even blink.

“Where is she? WHERE?”

Prim choked and sputtered, her hands clawing in vain, trying to loosen his grip. Buttercup sprung into action and jumped at Snow, only to be tossed aside. I panicked momentarily, my body freezing in place. It took a few seconds for me to pull myself together. I forced my muscles to move and scanned the greenhouse. What could I use for a weapon? We had soil bags, lights, stakes, things that either couldn’t be easily moved or wouldn’t be great for defense. I grew increasingly desperate at the sound of Prim’s distress. What could I do?

Buttercup yowled at me, his tail pointing to a spot in the corner. A shovel! I summoned it and rushed at Snow, gripping the weapon tightly. He didn’t notice my approach until it was too late. I raised the shovel like a baseball bat and swung at the back of his head as hard as I possibly could. It smacked against his skull with a sickening crack. He staggered back, turning to face me with his black, soulless eyes. Pure evil. I didn’t think twice—I swung once more, the metal blade catching the side of his face and rendering him motionless as he collapsed to the ground.

“Prim? Are you okay?” I dropped the shovel and slid an arm around her waist to hold her up. She didn’t speak. Following her gaze, I swallowed hard and took in the sight of Snow’s body.

It was inconceivable that I had done such a thing. There was blood splattered on the floor of the greenhouse, pooling near his head. Maybe I’d broken his nose, maybe I’d done something much worse. I couldn’t tell. Plants nearby were covered in crimson. My clothes, nothing special but certainly something I would never wear again, looked strikingly similar to my attire after I’d caused the frog to explode in biology. The circumstances, however, could not be more different. This time, my actions were far less innocent and the consequences far more severe.

For a second time that night, I had killed Snow.

I forced myself to check and confirm, but it was pretty obvious. The sickening ache in my gut intensified as I waved my hands over the area to vanish the blood. I could get rid of the physical stains, but I wasn’t sure I would ever be able to forget the feeling of the shovel handle reverberating in my hands from the deadly whacks or the sight of his pristine suit covered in grime and blood. His blood. 

Every part of my body begged me to sit, to allow my muscles to calm down, but I was in serious danger of losing my grip on reality. I had to finish what I started. I had to take care of Prim, protect Prim. And that meant disposing of the body.

To keep my sanity in check, I listed the next steps in my head, taking it one at a time. Grab the body. Prim was still shaking, clinging to Buttercup, so I did it by myself. Maybe the adrenaline was helping. It wasn’t so difficult to drag him outside by myself. What next?

Find the best spot for a grave. Drag the body under the terrace. Go back to the greenhouse. Get the shovel. Clean the blood off of it. Take it outside. Dig. Dig. Dig.

Remember that I am a witch and capable of casting spells. Cast a spell to make a grave. Roll the body inside. Cover the body with dirt.

“Let me,” Prim said, grasping my shoulder. Her sudden appearance made me jump, but I didn’t say anything, just stepped aside to allow her to finish the job. She was barefoot in the dirt, murmuring an incantation as she walked over the makeshift grave, forcing the deadened grass I’d strewn aside to return. When she finished, she looked at me. The rising sun bathed her delicate face in golden light, revealing the tears that her eyes were leaking. 

“Oh, Prim,” I said, holding out my arms. She collapsed into them and began to weep uncontrollably.

“It’s—all—my—fault!”

I held on tighter. “No, Prim. It’s not. He attacked you, twice.”

“But—I—brought—him—to you! If it weren’t—for me—you’d be—asleep—totally fine—”

I couldn’t think of an argument to counter that point. I wanted to comfort her, to lift any and all blame she placed on herself, but nothing worked. All I could do was allow her to cry herself out and hope that I’d wake up in the morning and realize everything that had transpired had been a terrible, vivid nightmare.

She sobbed against my shoulder until my shirt was soaked. I was exhausted, aching from head to toe, and I was sure she didn’t feel much better. Normally when Prim spent the night, she and Buttercup took up residence in her old bedroom. Clearly, this wasn’t a normal sleepover. I guided her to my bedroom, Buttercup slinking in behind us. I let her shower first, and then spent nearly an hour in the tub myself, scrubbing my skin raw under the steaming water. I hoped it would make me feel better, cleaner. It didn’t.

Once I finished, we curled onto my bed, so reminiscent of our younger days. Buttercup laid at Prim’s feet, watching her anxiously. He needn’t have worried; Prim fell asleep almost immediately. I stayed awake, staring at the ceiling. Even Prim’s presence couldn’t soothe me to sleep. 

I didn’t necessarily feel bad for Mr. Snow. He had tried to kill Prim twice. He was clearly not a good man, and Prim, who usually only had nice things to say about people, didn’t have a kind word to spare for him. But I had taken his life, and I wasn’t sure there was justification for something like that. Plus, he was buried in my backyard. It seemed inevitable that he would haunt me forever. I couldn’t garden or take a stroll around my plants without thinking of him, of how he was just a few feet away, six feet under. 

And what Prim had said earlier was true. The man was rich and important and he would certainly have people looking for him. Would they find us? Would I go to prison for the rest of my life? Would that be the fate I deserved?

Sleep was elusive, so I slipped away from Prim and headed downstairs toward the living room. I’d forgotten to call Aunt Effie last night, so I needed to get it out of the way. But what could I say to her? Should I tell her what happened? No, I decided. The less people involved, the better.

“Katniss?”

“Aunt Effie,” I said, keeping my voice steady. “I’m sorry I forgot to call you back last night. Everything is fine. Prim is staying here for a few weeks. She just… needed a break for a bit. That’s all.”

I couldn’t tell if she believed me. I wasn’t the best liar, but it helped that we weren’t face-to-face. She asked a few questions to inquire further about Prim’s homecoming but I kept it purposefully vague. Each word she spoke made my guilt climb higher and higher in my body until it felt suffocating. I had to get off the phone or I was sure I’d spill everything to her.

“Okay, Aunt Effie, give Mags my love. We will see you when you get back!”

With that, I hung up and collapsed onto the couch, hoping I’d been convincing enough. Even if Aunt Effie didn’t know now, that was a temporary reassurance. This wasn’t over. Not by a long shot. 

As the days crawled by, there was a constant gnawing sensation in the pit of my stomach. I tried calming solution, herbal teas, and yoga, but nothing helped. With each minute that passed, I only seemed to wind up tighter. Prim laid in bed and refused to leave the house. She wouldn’t use her magic for any reason, under any circumstance. That was particularly worrying, because Prim loved magic. More than me, she tended to use magic on the daily for minute tasks. It seemed like the longer we sat on our secret, the more we were coming apart. I wanted to call Aunt Effie back and beg her to come home, but I couldn’t. I wouldn’t.

I’d never gone longer than a day without talking to Johanna or Annie, so it shouldn’t have been a surprise when they showed up a few days after I buried Snow.

“Finnick is watching the store this morning. I figured we could have breakfast!” Annie beamed, holding up a bag of pastries and takeout cups of coffee. Johanna stood beside her in her mechanic work uniform, holding Dylan in her arms.

“Oh,” I said, allowing them to march through the front door. It was early, not that I’d been sleeping. I was still in my knee-length flannel nightgown and matching robe, though. Not ready for company. “This is a nice surprise.”

“Well, since Effie left you’ve been totally MIA. I heard you turned some clients away. Is everything okay?” Annie asked, arranging the food around the kitchen table. 

I tore off a piece of a croissant and shoved it in my mouth, trying to think of how to respond. Aunt Effie normally helped one client a day at the least. I’d been too overwhelmed to take on her work, feigning an illness that only affected witches. Since no one was any the wiser, they didn’t question it. Except for my friends, who knew there was no such thing.

Johanna hauled Dylan in my lap as I sat, collapsing into the chair beside us. I kissed the top of Dylan’s head and placed a frosted donut in front of him. Finally I could no longer avoid answering.

“Yeah, it’s just,” I hesitated. “Um, Prim is visiting.”

“Prim!” Annie squealed. Even Johanna perked up. “Where is she?”

“Sleeping,” I said quickly. “So, I don’t want to bother her. She’s exhausted, you know.”

“Why’s she here?” Johanna furrowed her brow. “I thought she was just starting her residency.”

I occupied myself by adding lots of cream and sugar to a cup of coffee. Prim and I had barely spoken the past few days with how stressed we were. We certainly hadn’t come up with an excuse for her being here. “Oh, yeah. Um, she was feeling burned out. Just wanted to come home and relax for a bit.”

Neither one of them looked convinced but they didn’t press for more information. Dylan believed me, though I’m not sure he knew what we were talking about. 

“Aunt JoJo gave me a little car!” Dylan exclaimed, pulling a toy car from his pocket. “It goes fast, see?”

“Finnick whined when he found out I didn’t get him one, too,” said Johanna. 

I let out a small laugh and relaxed. It felt good to be around them. Normal. Like nothing life-altering had happened. Dylan climbed off my lap and ran to the windows, using the sills as a racetrack. He squealed when I pointed a finger at the car and made it speed around on its own.

“Volume down a little, Dyl,” said Annie. She shook her head at us. “Finnick wants another.”

“Gross! So what?” said Johanna. “What’s wrong with just one?”

“I think it might be nice for Dylan to have a sibling. I don’t know. We’re just thinking about it.”

“You say that now, and then ten years later you’ve got eight kids and a dog.”

“Eight! No way,” Annie giggled. “Maybe seven.”

Dylan glanced out the window and paused. “Aunt Kat-Kat?”

“Yeah, honey?”

“Who’s the man in your garden?”

I felt the blood drain from my face. Annie and Johanna took one look at me and sprang into action, pulling Dylan away from the windows and peering out themselves. 

“I’ll get rid of—what man, Dyl?” Johanna sounded confused. I joined them and looked out over the garden. Nothing seemed to be amiss. No one was outside. Had the man run?

“That man, right there!” Dylan gestured wildly. 

“I mean, am I crazy or is there no one out there?” said Johanna. 

Annie knelt beside her son. “Dylan, where do you see this man?”

“He’s by the flowers.”

Had I put out any winter flowers? I didn’t think so. “What flowers?”

“Red,” said Dylan.

Red. Red flowers. I scanned the garden. The only red flowers I could see were the roses that were growing up the terrace, but no one was over there. When had I planted those? Roses weren’t supposed to bloom for a few months yet. And why that spot? I didn’t normally spend time in that part of the garden. The last time I’d done any work over there was...

“Oh, shit!” I exclaimed, startling Annie and Johanna. Dylan raised his eyebrows.

“That’s a bad word, Aunt Kat-Kat,” he said. 

“Yeah, Kat-Kat. What’s up?” Johanna crossed her arms. “You’re acting super weird. Like, not your usual weird. Weirder.”

My mind raced. What explanation could I give that would get them out, now? I blocked the window with my body, directing them back toward the front hall. “I am so sorry, but I forgot. Those roses are for a super important ritual I need to conduct. Right now. Anyways, you guys better get to work. I’ll call you later!”

They were not happy with me, I could tell that much. There wasn’t anything I could do about that now. I had bigger problems, ones that were far more pressing. Luckily, they went without complaint, bundling Dylan up and giving me only minorly suspicious looks at they said goodbye. Annie gave me a kiss on the cheek and patted my arm.

“We’ll be expecting that call, Katniss.”

“Yep, got it. Okay, bye!” I ushered them out of the house. Johanna flipped me off as she got into Annie’s car. I would definitely have to give a convincing apology with an indecent amount of groveling. Later.

Once they peeled out of the driveway, I rushed to the greenhouse and grabbed the proper tool for the massacre that was about to occur. Clad in my gumboots, my robe open and askew, hair flying every which way, I carried the pair of shears outside. With a grunt, I pulled them open and began clawing my way through the roses.

Despite the chill in the air, I began to sweat as I attacked the flowers, covering the frost-bitten ground with red petals and little thorns. What would I tell Prim? She felt so guilty and anxious already. She couldn’t even leave the bed. How could I tell her what was happening? I wasn’t even totally sure what was happening, anyway. I just knew it wasn’t good.

As was my habit, I began to sing and hum as I worked. Even under strenuous circumstances, I found it impossible to work in a garden quietly. Learned behavior from my father. I sang songs he taught me ages ago, songs that soothed me. Mostly old folk tunes that sounded much better with a guitar accompaniment. I was halfway through The Valley Song when I heard the grass behind me crunch, then the snap of a twig. I whirled around, holding the shears out like a weapon.

It was a man, but not the man I had anticipated. I’d been sure it was Snow, his mangled body risen from the grave, ready for revenge. No, this man was definitely not Snow.

He was stocky, probably not too far off from six feet tall, and had ashy blonde hair that fell in waves over his forehead. Some sort of professional, I gathered, since he held a briefcase in one hand and a cane in the other. It was an interesting fashion choice. He looked sharp in a button-up shirt covered with a warm woolen jacket, dark jeans, and a practical pair of brown boots, but what really stood out was his eyes. Had I ever seen eyes that color blue? Wow. They were so mesmerizing that I didn’t realize he’d spoken to me until he gave me a little wave.

“Sorry,” I said, trying to figure out if he was a threat or not. It was difficult to tell. “I’m—um, what?”

The man gave me a little half-smirk, a dimple popping out in his cheek. “I said, isn’t it a little early for roses?”

“Oh. Um, yeah. Yes.”

There was a little pause where the man seemed to take in my appearance, making me all too aware of how I must look. Like a mad woman, I was sure. Shears ready for attack. Hair matted down with sweat, dirt on my knees, cuts along my arms from the thorns, nightgown—nightgown! I was standing in front of this strange man in my nightgown. Mortified, I covered up my chest by crossing my arms, giving the man my best scowl.

“Can I help you with something?”

He snapped out of whatever daze he appeared to be in, standing up straight. “I hope so. My name is Peeta Mellark. I’m an investigator from Panem.” At this, he took a few steps toward me to show off his badge, which indeed confirmed what he said. His eyes were even more striking up close.

“Oh,” I said, hoping I sounded indifferent. I felt anything but indifferent. It seemed like Peeta Mellark could tell.

“I was hoping to speak with your sister, Primrose Everdeen, about a case I’m working on. Is she here? Panem Hospital staff told me she was visiting.”

“Oh,” I repeated. I knew I sounded dim, but I was busy trying to scan my brain to think of any way I could keep Prim out of this. In the end, it seemed impossible. But he just wanted to speak with her. He didn’t ask that she come down to a station and he didn’t appear to have handcuffs with him. Maybe it wasn’t such a big deal. God, why couldn’t Aunt Effie be here? She would handle this so much better than me. Right, because I decided not to tell her what was going on. Well, that was stupid.

“Are you okay, ma'am?”

“Fine,” I snapped. “I’m fine. Look, do you have to speak with her? She’s not feeling too well.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, Miss…?”

It took me a moment to realize he was asking for my name. “Everdeen. Katniss Everdeen.”

He smiled at me, a wide, kind smile that was slightly crooked. It would be endearing if he wasn’t irritating me so much.

“Miss Everdeen, I’m sorry to inconvenience you. I’m not here to bother Primrose, but it’s very important that I speak with her regarding this case. I’m sure you can understand.”

No, I did not understand, but I didn’t see a way around it. All the spells I could think of using were sure to be useless. If I made Peeta Mellark forget his purpose for being here, or manipulated his brain to somehow think he’d already talked to us, it wouldn’t matter. I couldn’t give him memories he didn’t have, so he would show up empty-handed to his boss, and someone else would be out here in a second to do what he failed to do. Magic could only get me so far. We were in too deep.

I sighed. “Alright, come in then. I’ll go get her.”

I guided him to the kitchen table, which held the remnants of my short-lived breakfast. He didn’t seem to mind the mess and politely declined when I offered him one of the leftover pastries. Such manners.

“If she’s too ill to come down, I can go to her,” he offered, placing his cane and briefcase down at his feet. 

“That shouldn’t be necessary. I’m sure she’s well enough to come down for a few minutes,” I replied. He smiled at me again, causing my heart to jump in my chest. Reflexively, I scowled. “If you get sick, though, it’s your own fault.”

Instead of growing annoyed with me like I thought he would, he chuckled. What was going on with me? The mere sound of his laugh warmed my body down to my toes, like the feeling of drinking hot chocolate on an icy day. I'd never reacted in such a way to another person and it was making me feel out of sorts. Even more than all the other events of the past few days. If that was possible. I stomped up the stairs, pausing to rip off my boots and toss them down toward the landing when I realized how muddy they were. The noise hardly even startled Peeta Mellark. He just gave me another infuriating little grin.

I huffed and rushed down the hall, flinging open the door to my bedroom. Prim had been spending the night with me since the incident, so I guessed I’d find her there. Sure enough, she was a lump on my bed, lying with her entire body beneath the sheets, blissfully unaware of the turmoil unfolding downstairs. Or so I thought.

“What’s wrong?” asked Prim, her voice muffled by the comforter. “Is someone here? I heard voices.”

I didn’t want to worry her. It was impossible on this occasion, though, when there was a man downstairs looking for Prim herself. To avoid answering for a bit, I took my time changing out of my dirty clothes into a pair of jeans and a green sweater. 

“You’re wearing the jeans.”

I turned to look at Prim, who had peeked out from beneath the covers. “What? Yes, I’m wearing jeans.”

“No,” said Prim, sitting up slowly. “You’re wearing the jeans. The jeans that Johanna told you to buy because they make your butt look great. You never wear them because you think she’s ridiculous and you don’t want anyone looking at your butt. And that sweater! You never leave the top buttons undone. You usually make sure it’s closed tight all the way up to your neck.”

My cheeks flushed as I stared at myself in the mirror. Prim was being silly. I’d just put on the first pair of pants I’d seen, and the sweater… I was in a rush and didn’t feel like fastening all the buttons. No big deal. No deeper meaning. Had my hair looked this awful the entire time I spoke to Peeta Mellark?

I attacked the mess on my head with a brush, further delaying the inevitable. Prim opened her mouth to speak, but paused when the bedroom door creaked open to reveal Buttercup. He quickly jumped on the bed and meowed, nudging Prim’s hand with his head. Her eyes widened comically, and even though I couldn’t understand what Buttercup said, I had a pretty good guess what it might’ve been.

“Who’s here?”

That stupid cat had such a big mouth.

“There’s a man here, an investigator from Panem. He’d like to talk to you. It’s probably nothing!” I rushed to assure Prim, who had turned white with fear. Buttercup meowed again and Prim looked like she might faint, or throw up, or both.

“What’s going on in the garden?”

“Will you shut up already?” I hissed at the cat, who was entirely unamused. 

“Katniss!” Prim snapped. “Tell me exactly what’s going on.”

“I’ve got it under control!”

Buttercup meowed once more, prompting me to grab him and toss him out of the room. I could only assume he’d said something about how I absolutely did not have anything under control. I took a deep breath and explained to Prim what had happened this morning, ending with the arrival of the attractive investigator. 

“Attractive, huh?” 

I sucked in a breath and nearly choked. “What? I didn’t say that.”

Prim’s eyes sparkled. “Yes, you did.”

“No, I didn’t! And even if I did, that’s the least of our problems at the moment, don't you think?”

At that, she deflated. I almost felt sorry for ruining the light-hearted moment. “Look. Let’s just go talk to him, get him off our backs, and we can figure out the Snow stuff after he leaves.”

Prim nodded, slowly getting out of bed. She rummaged through one of her bags. “Should I dress to seduce the investigator, too?”

“Primrose!” I scolded, slamming the door behind me as I headed back toward the kitchen. Even through the thick wood, I could hear her cackles. 

Peeta Mellark wasn’t in the kitchen where I had left him. Instead, he was walking around the greenhouse with his cane, taking in the different bottles and vials on the shelves.

“Just herbs,” I said, leaning against the door frame.

“Sorry?”

“Those are all just herbs that we’ve grown. Nothing nefarious.”

He nodded. “You said ‘we’ve grown.’ By ‘we,’ you mean you and…?”

“Is this part of your investigation, Mr. Mellark?” 

A faint pink flush began to crawl up his neck. He met my gaze, making my breath stutter. When he took a step closer to me, I could swear I felt the heat radiating off of him. “Please, Miss Everdeen, call me Peeta.”

“Well, then, Peeta,” I replied, shocked by how breathy I sounded. “Is this part of your investigation?”

One side of his mouth quirked up. “Isn’t this when you tell me it’s alright to call you Katniss instead of Miss Everdeen?”

“I think we’ve got a ways to go until you can call me Katniss,” I said. “But maybe I’ll consider it after you answer my question.”

His eyes flitted between mine. Now that he was closer, I could see them in greater detail. They were a deep blue with little flecks of indigo, framed by the longest eyelashes I’d ever seen. I must’ve missed them earlier because they’re so blonde, but the rays of sunlight streaming in through the greenhouse windows were hitting them just right for me to examine them and wonder how they managed to keep from getting tangled up. 

“No, Miss Everdeen, it’s not really part of the investigation.”

I blinked, already having forgotten that I’d asked him a question. “Well, then, by ‘we,’ I was referring to me and my Aunt Effie.”

There was a pause as we scrutinized one another. I broke the spell, asking, “Why are you here? Why do you need to speak with Prim?”

Peeta ran a hand through his hair, making his curls poke out in every direction. I had a strange urge to smooth them down for him. “I really should speak with Primrose first, Miss Everdeen.”

“Well, I’m here, so you can go ahead and get started,” Prim called out, rushing down the stairs. “Actually, why don’t you sit down and have some tea with us? Sorry, Katniss didn’t tell me your name.”

We met Prim in the kitchen. She was dressed in a sweatshirt and baggy pants, despite her silly joke. At least I think it was a joke. We sat down at the table and Peeta extended his hand, introducing himself. There was a small twinge in my stomach when she clasped hands with him. I ignored it and focused instead on the way Prim began to make tea. No magic. Was it because of our guest or the incident?

“I’m here to ask you about your relationship with Mr. Coriolanus Snow.”

Prim faltered for a moment but pulled herself together quickly. “Sure. Ask away.”

“Did you know Mr. Snow well?” asked Peeta.

Prim considered his question for a moment. “Not really.”

Good. The less detail, the better.

“Did you two talk often?”

“Only if the work necessitated a conversation.”

“Have you ever been to his office?”

“No.” Prim frowned. “I have not.”

Peeta pursed his lips. “Then, do you know why Mr. Snow might have this in his desk drawer?”

From the briefcase he’d brought in, he pulled out a shimmery black piece of paper. I gasped when I saw it, unable to help my reaction. That was the congratulatory card I’d sent to Prim for starting her residency. It was part of a set of cards Aunt Effie had given me with little gold mockingjays on the front. Aunt Effie had insisted I would need them, but I didn’t write letters to anyone. Plus, I found them to be gaudy. Still, Prim adored the set, which was why I had sent her one with a personal note inside. There was no reason Snow should have had that.

Unfortunately, my reaction did not go unnoticed. Peeta turned, his questioning, probing gaze aimed toward me. I couldn’t stand being under his scrutiny, not when any wrong move I made had the potential to put me in prison. Prim cleared her throat to regain his attention.

“That card was sent to me by my sister at the beginning of my residency. I put it on my locker, on the outside, because it’s tradition for residents at Panem Hospital to decorate the exterior of their lockers. It went missing a few weeks ago and I haven’t seen it since then. I have no idea why it would’ve been in Mr. Snow’s possession.”

I'd never heard Prim speak so eloquently or coolly. It was disconcerting to hear my normally warm and vivacious sister sound so detached and impersonal. It didn’t seem possible that she could be so calm while I was spiraling. If anything, it should’ve been the other way around. How could I protect Prim if I couldn’t understand what was happening?

“The hospital informed me you are taking a leave of absence. I wasn’t aware that they allow residents to take so much time off,” Peeta said, and I was sure I wasn’t mistaking the skepticism in his voice.

“Under extenuating circumstances, they approve extended time off for residents. Mine was a special case, and I’m grateful they allowed me to come home for a few weeks,” Prim answered. Peeta raised an eyebrow.

“What circumstances led to you asking for time off, Miss Everdeen?”

“Our Aunt Effie is sick, very sick,” said Prim. “I’m acting as her caretaker.”

“Oh? Why not have your sister act as caretaker?”

“I’m no good at stuff like that,” I blurted. “Aunt Effie is so… I mean… it was gross, you know? And I… and Prim… there was… she… bodily fluids, right? I… I mean, she… and I said… sick! Very sick. Well, I couldn’t… but, you know…”

I trailed off, wanting to disappear. Peeta and Prim stared at me with twin expressions of perplexion. What was wrong with me? Sure, I couldn’t lie, but I normally didn’t have so much trouble getting words out of my mouth. My cheeks were burning red and it took all of my willpower to remain seated. One quick invisibility spell and I’d be gone. But no, I couldn’t abandon Prim.  

“Um… I think what Katniss was trying to say is that she doesn’t really have the stomach for caretaking or being around sick people,” said Prim. She poured hot water over tea leaves into three mugs, offering up milk and sugar to our guest. He shook his head, thanking her as she slid the cup in front of him.

“I see. Speaking of sick people, are you feeling better, Miss Everdeen?”

Prim paused. “Me?”

“Yes,” said Peeta. “Your sister mentioned you weren’t feeling well.”

I had totally forgotten I’d said that. I didn’t even think to warn Prim. Something was definitely wrong with me. Ever since Peeta Mellark had shown up, my brain had turned to mush.

“Oh,” Prim sighed. “Katniss was just looking out for me when she said that. It’s a little rough taking care of someone you love when they’re sick, so I’ve been feeling a bit down the past few days.” She gave Peeta a rueful smile. “Beyond taking care of Aunt Effie, I haven’t been leaving my bed, really. It’s more of a mental thing than a physical thing.”

Peeta’s face softened. “I’m sorry to hear that. Is your aunt here as well?”

“She’s sleeping right now,” said Prim. “But it’s probably about time for her to take her medicine. Do you have any other questions for me?”

“Not at the moment, Miss Everdeen. Thank you for your time.”

“Sure thing,” she smiled sweetly. “Feel free to sit here and finish your tea with Katniss. I’m going to go check on Aunt Effie.”

I panicked at the thought of being left alone again with Peeta Mellark and grabbed Prim’s arm. “Aunt Effie is sleeping, I’m sure you can stay a bit longer.”

Prim subtly pointed a finger up to the ceiling, causing a bump to come from somewhere above us. “That must be Aunt Effie trying to get up, even though I told her she’s on bed rest. She sure is a stubborn one!”

“Or it’s just Buttercup,” I said through gritted teeth. Of course, since Buttercup is Prim’s partner in crime, he chose that moment to slink into the kitchen and meow loudly. Prim gave a small wave, scooping up her cat and rushing up the stairs. I was so irritated I hardly stopped to think about how that was the first spell Prim had done in days.

The silence that permeated the kitchen after she left was deafening. I took a long sip of tea, looking anywhere but at Peeta Mellark. I was afraid if I opened my mouth again I’d say something incriminating, or worse, plain stupid.

“That was a lovely letter you wrote to your sister, Miss Everdeen,” said Peeta, wrapping his big hands around his mug. It was a ridiculous cup, one that I had bought Prim for her birthday, shaped like a yellow cat that was too adorable to be Buttercup. It made Peeta seem less intimidating, maybe more endearing. I liked the way his fingers curled around the kitten mug, tapping lightly against the surface. Still, his words rubbed me the wrong way.

“You read it?” I scowled.

Peeta removed one of his hands from the mug to scratch at the back of his neck. “I sort of had to, but I thought it was very nice.”

Right. My adoring message to my little sister was probably evidence. Not because of what I’d written, but because of where it had been. If Snow hadn’t already died twice, I’d kill him again for putting us directly in the investigator’s path.

“Thanks, I guess,” I muttered. Peeta drained the remainder of his tea and stood carefully, placing the card back into his briefcase. 

“I’m sorry for disturbing you, Miss Everdeen. Thank you for the tea. I’m sure we’ll be seeing each other again soon.”

I bit my lip anxiously. I’d hoped he’d leave us alone after this. Of course, no such luck. “Will we?”

He met my eyes, and I hated what I saw there. He wasn’t convinced that we were innocent. Prim had done and said everything right, but Peeta was shrewd. Far more than I had anticipated. 

“I believe we will,” he said in a husky voice, one that made my knees weak.

Oh. I was so screwed.