Spellbound
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Katniss and Primrose Everdeen lead a simple life, sustained by a shop in a small town and a thriving online business that sells herbal remedies they concoct themselves. They share a lovely home in the woods, isolated from others, where they can be safe, only a cat and a cranky ghost living in the shed behind the abandoned house next door as company. Until a young man moves in next door, intending to restore it and live in it. Primrose just wants a friend and her sister’s happiness. Haymitch just wants to live his afterlife in peace. Katniss wants to get rid of the intruder and keep her sister and herself safe from anyone who might fear what they really are. Witches.
RATED E for sexual content, voyeurism, cats behaving badly, mild language, witches & witchcraft, dead characters, ghosts, mild creep factor, mild gore, discussions of attempted suicide, PTSD.
As part of @everlarkprompts Octoberlark Celebration!
You may read on AO3 or below the cut. Happy Halloween!
Part 6
~~ Katniss ~~
The book hovers in front of me. With a flick of fingers, I turn the pages, searching for what I need. It’s no use. I’ve searched a dozen times already. This book is useless to me.
Spells for helping mortals commune with the dead, which would be promising if I could Haymitch into the house or Peeta into the shed, but I have to hold his hand to make that one work. No good.
Spells for summoning an army of corpses. Which I considered for maybe a minute because that would certainly scare Peeta out of the house, but the margins were filled with dire warnings about the millions of way that particular spell could backfire. The dead are not easy to control.
Tell me about it. If they were, Haymitch would have already gotten rid of Peeta for me.
Also that spell could easily have put Prim at risk, an unacceptable solution.
Spells for helping souls cross the veil between planes of existence. That one’s extremely complex and involves months of work. It’s also only designed to move a caught spirit fully into the realm of the dead. There is a page for a spell to summon a dead spirit back to this plane and essentially turning them into a ghost, but the spell itself was written over and made unreadable by a warning in massive lettering:
Know not ye what soul thou summons forth. Cursed be the living what rends the spirit from rest.
At first I rolled my eyes at that, especially the overly dramatic language, but then it occured to me that perhaps the warning means that I can’t control which ghost I’d be calling up. I might call up my father...or I might call up Hitler.
There’s pages upon pages about the boundaries between the planes of existence and the veils that separate them. Theories on why I can hear and see Haymitch but a mortal like Peeta can’t. Explanations for how a ghost’s spirit can be tied to one location, which explains what Haymitch meant when he told me he couldn’t haunt the house proper. He literally cannot leave the shed because his spirit is tied to it.
All of which is fascinating, but does nothing to solve my pesky neighborly plague.
With a huff, I slam the book shut and call it back into my hand. I sniff at the acrid smoke scent and glance at my other hand on the ground, the area surrounding it singed.
“No,” I groan out loud. I keep losing control.
Taking a few deep breaths, I mutter the incantation and repair the damage I inadvertently wrought. I came out here to the woods not just to hunt and gather but also to think. Normally the fresh, piney air would help clear my head, but today it’s done nothing.
I stand and gather my things to head home. Perhaps another search of the library will yield a more helpful book.
As I’m crossing the stream, something in the muddy banks catches my eyes. I stare at it and smile as an idea takes form in my mind.
A few hours later, I prance across the tree branches, happy with my work tonight. Normally I’d stick around to see the results, but I’m tired. Haunting a house takes a lot of effort. I don’t even bother scaring away the meddlesome ravens perched in my tree. I’m feeling downright charitable towards them tonight.
In the safety of my bathroom, I shift back and don a nightdress, humming to myself and brushing my teeth quickly. Maybe I’ll be able to hear his reaction even from here.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~ Peeta ~~
Trudging up the stairs, I pause on the landing and stare at the glistening dark footprints that lead from somewhere upstairs down to the window. Handprints in all the right places for someone to have opened the window. An eerie breeze whistles in through the opening.
“I thought you tried to hang yourself, not jump from a window,” I say to no one in particular and tap a finger in the dark goo. My finger comes back black and I rub the stuff between two fingers. “Tar...blood would have been creepier.”
Leaning out the window, I judge the distance and shake my head. “That’d maybe break a leg. No one’s dying from this height unless you swan dive.”
I sigh and shut the window, make a note on my phone to look up how to remove tar tomorrow. Right now I just want to go to bed. I wound up staying late at the bakery working on a wedding cake and then got lost in the lumber yards, searching for the right planks I’ll need to finish the exterior of the house. A late dinner and then the day was gone.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~ Katniss ~~
Nothing. Not even a shout from the house next door.
I am not dealing with an ordinary human here. I grumble and sigh, flopping over in my bed and punching my pillow to get more comfortable and take out some of my frustration. As I settle in again, the scents hit my nostrils and my eyes fly open. I shift to my cat form just to be sure and yell as soon as the scents register.
Yeast, sugar, cinnamon, dill, lemon, and under them all, the one unique to a certain human scent I do not want in my bed. Back to human, I sit up and yank back covers until I find it. A light green shirt with the Three J Bakery logo on it.
“What the hell?!” I shout. How did this thing wind up in my bed?!
I hide the thing in the back of my closet and pace my room. I didn’t bring it with me. Is it possible I conjured it? But why his shirt and why under my pillow?
~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~ Peeta ~~
“Bloody footprints this time. How original.” I sigh and stare up at the ceiling, waiting for something to crawl through and devour my spirit. Might be a relief. When nothing happens, I add bleach and maybe oxyclean to my shopping list on my phone. I don’t know if it’s real blood or just some kind of prank, but I’m not taking any chances.
I grab a flashlight and follow the footsteps to where they start. Up into the attic. With a sigh, I push open the creaky door to see if I can locate the source. I sweep the light back and forth. There’s no sign of blood up here. Just a bunch of spiders, what looks like an old bird’s nest, some small rodent bones, and a dusty old trunk. Since I’m up here, I haul the trunk back down the stairs. Drop it on the floor and shove it to the room I’ve been sleeping in. I need it out of the way so I can finish some of the wiring and the insulation up there anyways.
Once that’s done, I strip down to my shorts and get ready for bed. As I sit on the air mattress, I tip the pills into my palm and stare at them. Shuffle them for just a second before tossing them back dry. I should probably find a doctor around here who’s willing to refill my prescriptions. Otherwise I’ll have to find time to make my way back into the city. I really don’t want to do that and risk running into my mother.
It’s probably a bad sign that I’m using the sleeping pills again. Probably means that my mother and brother are right about me buying this place. The past week, the nights have been long and arduous. The strange noises, the moaning that seems to emanate from the walls as though the house itself is in pain have made sleep difficult or even impossible, not mention all the other things I keep finding.
But since I’m stubborn and refuse to go down without a fight or admit to my family that I have yet again made another stupendously dumb decision, I turned to the sleeping pills. They’ve been working for the most part. I get more sleep with them than I do without them at least.
I cap and toss aside the bottle, extinguish my lanterns before falling back in bed. The days and nights are warm now, although I’ve left the window open to allow in a breeze. Had to cover it with netting after the first night ended with my skin peppered with bug bites.
As I lay there, the moaning begins anew and I lift a middle finger to the walls.
“Fuck you, angry spirits.”
If there are ghosts in this house, then they’re not malevolent. They’ve had more than enough opportunities to decapitate, disembowel, or otherwise destroy me. Although the bloody footprints are new, I’m just dumb enough to stay put for one more night. I’d be dead if I took to the roads now anyways. Too tired to drive. I figure the ghosts here can’t do much more damage than I would myself by plowing my truck into a ditch.
Besides, a little tortured moaning in the night is nothing I haven’t dealt with before. The only downside to the pills is that with them keeping me asleep, there’s no escape from the other ghosts in my life.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~ Katniss ~~
“What am I doing wrong?” I wonder out loud as I stare through the tree branches into the still vacant room across the way. It’s the master suite in his house so I imagine that once he’s gotten enough work done on it, he’ll move into it. For now though, he seems immune to all the ghostly, grisly obstacles I’m throwing at him. He flipped me off tonight.
Not me exactly, but the ghosts that I’m attempting to recreate. He didn’t even flinch at the bloody footprints! My only glimmer of hope right now is that he is getting frustrated and angry. It’s not as good as scared witless, but it will have to do.
With a groan, I find a nightdress, brush my teeth and fall into bed. I take a deep breath and listen to the fruits of my labors next door. He’s dead to the world right now anyways so I end the connection and the moaning sounds cease.
“Dumbass, stubborn human,” I grumble and turn over to punch my pillow. As I settle, a scent hits my nostrils and I groan as I feel under the sheets and find another one of his shirts. “Not again.”
Now I’ll be dreaming of him naked instead of planning more ways to get him out of town.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~ Peeta ~~
I search through the bottom of my bags and curse. I hadn’t realized how close I was to needing to do laundry. I’ve got no clean work shirts. Guess I’ll just have to wear one that’s dirty. The one from yesterday isn’t too bad.
I’m sluggish this morning, no doubt an effect from another night kept partially awake by the moaning walls and then having to drag myself out of sleeping pill induced stupors. The more I do to the house, the less considerate the ghosts in the walls get. I guess it makes sense. If someone were tearing through my house, I’d want to know why.
Upending my laundry bag, I search the pile. Again. And again.
Zero work shirts. I have zero work shirts in my dirty laundry. How is that even possible? I know I haven’t done laundry this week.
I spend so much time searching the house that by the time I shower and dress, I’m late getting into the bakery. I feel even more ridiculous trying to explain why I’m late and why I’m wearing a plain white t-shirt to Jackson. She stares at me like I’m losing it. Maybe I am.
“Maybe you should...take a day off tomorrow,” she suggests. “I’ll call Kaitlin and see if she can swap with you.”
I agree and set to work. Today it’s another wedding cake, but summer is wedding season.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~ Katniss ~~
I groan and stretch as I wake. This isn’t working. I need to step up my game even more, but how do I do that without risking serious bodily harm to Peeta? I roll over and my hand flops onto the sheets. Not my sheets. The fabric is too coarse for that. Slowly I open my eyes and shout, leaping from my bed with my heart pounding.
I only just catch a flash of yellow fur darting out my bedroom door and down the hall.
“Buttercup!” I bellow and charge after him, carefully holding the offending article of clothing in my fingers. I find him in the kitchen, cowering in Prim’s arms. “I will flay you alive and feed you piece by piece to the leeches in the lake!”
“Katniss, you’re scaring him!”
I brandish the pilfered clothing accusingly and Prim snorts in laughter. “This isn’t funny, Primrose! His work shirts are one thing, but his underwear!?”
She laughs again and I glare at her cat. Sometimes it’s annoying how they can communicate without words. A connection of mind and spirit that drives me crazy.
“What does the thief have to say for himself?”
“Only that he’s bringing you items that you desire.”
“No! I do not desire Peeta! And I’m going to prove it. Tonight, I am not holding back. He’s getting the life scared out of him and we’re getting our privacy back!”
~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~ Primrose ~~
Katniss storms from the room and I continue to pet Buttercup and send him silent praise. I wait until she’s dressed and left the house before I smile at him and feed him an entire dish of his favorite salmon.
“Good boy,” I tell him as he eats.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~ Peeta ~~
The morning flies by, and I’m so engrossed in frosting this cake that Jackson has to come remind me to help out with the lunch rush. Then I’m absorbed in that to the point that I startle when I hear her voice talking to Jackson.
“Actually, I needed to um speak with Peeta about something. I can wait.”
I turn my head and give her a weak smile. Katniss bites her lip and looks at the floor. Odd.
Jackson moves on to the next customer in line and I finish with my current one before shifting to stand in front of Katniss.
“Hey,” I greet her. “Soup and a dessert?”
“Yes, please. Actually I -- that’s not why I came in here. This is so embarrassing but,” she doesn't finish and instead hands me a brown paper grocery sack. “My sister’s cat is apparently a kleptomaniac.”
I glance down at the contents and laugh. She stares at me like I’m crazy, and maybe I am, but I’m actually just relieved that there’s a logical explanation for one part of the insanity in my life right now. I pull out one of my work shirts and call over to Jackson.
“Friendly neighborhood cat burglar,” I explain and she laughs.
“At least it’s not a ghost burglar.”
Katniss makes a strange noise and I set the bag aside. “Thanks for returning them, Katniss. I was starting to think I was going insane.”
“Not this time,” she says and toys with the end of her braid.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~ Primrose ~~
Mistress. Look.
I pause and look across the street. Through the front window of the bakery, I can just make them out sitting across from one another at a table. Katniss laughs at something Peeta says to her and he smiles. The expression so joyful and relieved that I almost sigh out loud.
“Oh my.”
Perhaps she will not be trying to scare him away tonight.
“No, she probably will.” I say but then grin when Peeta offers her a plate and she takes a cookie off of it. Katniss takes a bite and shakes her head, holding a hand over her mouth as she speaks and this time, Peeta’s laughing. They’ve both been looking so worn out lately that I’m glad to see them enjoying themselves. “But I have a feeling she’s going to fail.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~ Peeta ~~
“We can fit you in two weeks from now. Will that be acceptable?”
Probably not, I want to say. I’ll bet that if I told her I’m hearing ghosts in my house she’ll get me seen real fast. It’s my own fault for procrastinating so long, but after my experiences with the army, I’m a little leery of seeing any doctors. But I think I probably need it right now.
“That’s fine,” I say as I park my truck in front of my house, because what other choice do I have. She rattles off the date and time of their next available appointment and suggests I visit their website in advance to fill out the patient paperwork.
Heading inside, I pause and then flip the switch just inside the door, groaning when nothing happens. Before I start plastering the walls back up, I need to make sure the electric is all working and I can’t seem to find the mistake that’s keeping it from functioning.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~ Katniss ~~
Everything is ready.
I wait in the attic and watch the moon rise over the trees. Tonight, I get rid of Peeta Mellark once and for all. He’s already frustrated and angry. All I need to do now is give him a slight nudge towards terrified and he’ll give up. Tomorrow, he’ll be out of our lives for good.
For one moment, I am actually sad. Then I think of the last town my family and I fled. The all encompassing fear as Dad packed our bags and Mom disappeared for hours to lay spellwork to protect our retreat into the mountains. The uncertainty that she might not have made it back to us before we needed to leave. I won’t make Prim do that. We have a good thing here in this town where people appreciate a homemade remedy and don’t look too closely at the ingredients. Where they look the other way when strange things happen near our house because of its proximity to one they already believe is haunted.
No it’s better this way.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~ Peeta ~~
“It’s almost two in the morning! Don’t you spirits have some kind of ghostly gathering to go to? A bonfire to dance around? Or are you waiting for me to go to sleep so you can bring my brains as part of the banquet? Because if that’s the case...you have to actually let me go to sleep first,” I shout at the moaning air. For one moment, all is blissfully silent.
Then there's the sound of metal clanking. Once.
Clank.
Then silence.
I close my eyes.
Clank.
The lights flicker overhead then go out. Cracking one eye open, I glare at the ceiling.
Clank.
“What else you got?”
I’m almost sorry I asked. Between the pull of the sleeping pills and the slowly building creep factor, I’m already on edge. Hair stands on end all over my body as cold air trickles over me. Almost like a caress. The lights flicker again. Then I hear something ignite out in the hallway and lift my head. Just enough to watch as the door creaks slowly open.
I hold my breath and watch as a glowing figure walks by the door. A woman in a white wedding dress, fire trailing down her back. It’s not real fire, though. They’re unearthly. The flames are pure white and seem to move as part of her dress.
Now I know I must be dreaming. Trapped in nightmares as she turns towards me, her face obscured by a veil. She gets closer and my heart pounds loudly, but I can’t seem to move my legs. The sheets twist around my ankle and wrists, holding me down.
Just as a scream is forming in my throat, she vanishes. The house goes silent. I can’t even hear the crickets outside. It’s broken by a soft sigh, right in my ear.
Almost an erotic noise. And gooseflesh erupts almost painfully over my skin.
And then...clank.
“Okay fine! You win!” I say and swing my leg over the side of the bed, grumbling as I attach my prosthesis and grab a flashlight. I stand and pause. When did the sheets let me go? There hasn’t been another sound since I spoke. Very slowly, I sit back down on the bed.
Clank! Clank!
“Oh for fuck’s sake! I haven’t really slept in four nights!” I stand back up and move to the hallway. My entire body is sluggish and heavy, being pulled under as I fight against the drugs.
I look one way and then the other, shining the flashlight in all corners and waiting for some telltale movement.
“You remember what sleep is? What the lack of it does to a body? Look, I’ll make a deal with you. I work baker’s hours. Know what that means? It means I am out of this house at four thirty in the morning, six days a week! It’s still dark out then. Even during summer. So if you let me sleep in peace until four in the morning, you can haunt to your heart’s content until the sun comes up. I really don’t want to call an exorcist or a priest on your ectoplasmic ass, because honestly that’ll just hurt us both. I know it’s technically your house first and the fact that I’ve got a mortgage on this place and sunk everything that I’ve got into it means jack shit to you, but I’ve got nowhere else to go.” My voice cracks and I clear my throat, feeling pathetic whining to a bunch of ghosts.
“You understand that, right? It’s why you’re still here, isn’t it? There’s nowhere else to go.” Nothing. No response. I’m probably crazy, but I’ve started this, might as well end it. “Look we can share this house and everyone can be mostly content. If you just let me get some sleep at night. Do we have a deal?”
Silence. Of course. I scrub a hand over my face and sigh.
“I’m just...so tired. It’s hard enough getting sleep after...just clank once for ‘no’ and twice for ‘yes,’ okay?”
I wait for a few seconds and am about to give up and have myself committed when I hear it.
Clank. Clank.
“Thank you,” I breathe out the phrase in relief and trudge back to bed. I sink onto the mattress and remove my prosthetic before sprawling back.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~ Katniss ~~
At the first loud snore, I move into the cracked ajar doorway and stare at him. He negotiated with ghosts for peace and household sharing. Even in his exhaustion, anger, and frustration, he attempted diplomacy. Compromise. If he’s willing to do that, maybe Prim was right. Maybe he wouldn’t be bothered by having a pair of witches as neighbors. Perhaps he can be trusted.
I paw the ground and shift restlessly. Guilt. I feel guilty.
Of course just because he made such a deal, doesn’t mean he’ll keep it. And how was I supposed to know how he’d react? It’s not like I can just ask him how he feels about living with witches and ghosts.
Padding over to his mattress, I crawl over the twisted sheets and examine his features in sleep. Relaxed and kind. My gaze is drawn to his eyelashes, so long and blonde. How do those things not get tangled when he blinks? Through a cat’s eyes, they appear almost silver in the moonlight.
I imagine that everyone looks innocent and trustworthy in their dreaming state. But for some reason, I curl up on his pillow next to his head. I just need a moment to think. And he smells even better than his shirts up close like this.
It’s the last thought I have before sleep claims me.