Spellbound 8
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.
You may read on AO3 or below the cut.
Part 8
~~ Peeta ~~
I can’t remember the last time I touched another human being.
The cat staring back at me with enormous silver eyes doesn’t know that, and surprisingly stops struggling the second I pick her up. But the thought hits me hard that other than a handshake here and there, this cat’s soft fur is the most intimate contact I’ve had with another living being in months. I don’t count the snake that was hiding behind my toilet just a few weeks ago, although it did coil itself pretty tight around my arm.
“Now who do you belong to?” I ask. In return, I receive the ultimate feline scowl of disdain. She’s still not struggling, seemingly content to remain cradled in my arms. Buttercup paws at my leg. “Well I know who you belong to, so let’s take you to Prim and we’ll see if maybe she knows who your friend is.”
The cat in my arms squirms and I just manage to hold onto her. Buttercup heads straight down the stairs towards the door, as though he knows exactly what I said.
“It’s okay,” I try to soothe the agitated cat. “We’ll get you taken care of.”
When we reach the fresh air of the outdoors, she stops squirming and makes a sad noise.
I knock on their door and Buttercup sits next to me, patiently waiting. I take the chance to look over the second cat in my arms. Her pearly gray fur is clean and free of any distinguishing marks. Those wide gray eyes stare up at me as though trying to divine my soul. It’s disconcerting, but she remains still in my arms.
“Hi, Peeta!” Primrose greets as soon as the door opens. As usual, she steps through and shuts it right behind her. Her eyes drop to the cat in my arms and then she laughs a few short notes.
“Hi, so Buttercup and this cat appear to have gotten into a little fight in my house. I didn’t get a chance to look him over but this one appears uninjured. I was wondering if maybe you knew who she belonged to.”
Prim reaches for the cat and I hand her over. She’s limp in my hold and tolerates the transfer but makes an angry noise at Prim as she cuddles the cat close and taps one finger on the feline’s nose.
“This one doesn’t belong to anyone. I’ve seen her around, but she’s just a stray.”
“Are you sure? She’s beautiful...I mean she’s awfully well groomed and fed for a stray.”
“Oh I’m guessing she’s a skilled hunter,” Prim says and examines one of the cat’s paws. “I’ll see if she’s hungry, though.”
Prim moves to go inside and sudden panic rises in me.
“Wait.” She stops with her hand on the knob and looks back at me. I feel so foolish and search for an excuse. I don’t know why I’ve formed this sudden attachment to a stray cat I found in my house five seconds ago, but I’m afraid to let her out of my sight. “Should we maybe take her to a vet? Make sure she’s healthy and has her shots?”
The cat squirms madly and leaps out of Prim’s arms, disappears into the bushes before I can even react. Prim sighs.
“Sorry,” I say and she shakes her head.
“It’s fine, Peeta. Buttercup has an excellent vet in town, but they’re closed for the night. If I see the gray cat again, I’ll take her in and get her checked out.”
“Okay,” I say and hesitate. “You think she’ll be back?”
“I’m sure she will. Too much good food in the woods around us to resist.”
“Right. Well, good night,” I say and turn to leave. Prim and Buttercup disappear inside, and just for good measure, I scan the bushes where the cat disappeared. I can’t see anything, though. It’s too dark.
So I go back home to clean up the paint and mess in my house.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~ Katniss ~~
“We agreed to no more tricks. Control your cat.”
“I wonder if getting actual cat shots would have an adverse effect on your human form. We’ve never really explored the possibility. I mean, you’ve received human vaccinations and that hasn’t affected your ability to function as a cat.”
“Primrose--”
“Save the lecture and admit that it’s actually a great idea. Really it was your idea not mine. I just gave you the perfect opening to enact it.”
“What are you talking about?” I ask in exasperation. She whistles a short tune and grins at me over her cauldron.
“You said you wanted to observe Peeta. And that we lie to literally everyone in our lives and that got me thinking...you’re absolutely right. Don’t we all act different when we’re around other people? As opposed to how we act when there’s no one we have to guard ourselves from. Even people who aren’t witches do that.”
“You’re not making sense.”
“I’m making perfect sense,” she says and feeds Buttercup some tidbits of frog. “By day, you’re Katniss. Gardner and owner of a small shop in town. Surly but trying to get along with her new neighbor. Maybe you could even be a friend to Peeta. And by night...by night you’re Cat-Kat, or better yet! Kitty Kat! Stray cat who’s discovered a honey of a deal with a certain, lonely blue eyed man who wants to feed you and pamper you. You’ll get to see all there is to who Peeta is deep down inside about five times faster than you would just being Katniss around him.”
“How would you know if Peeta’s lonely?”
“How would you know that he’s not? You barely know the man.” I scowl at her and her smile only widens. “Oh that look is perfect! Can you do that as a cat? As in when you’ve got fur and whiskers cat.”
“We said no magic in front of him.”
“Technically only the transformation phase is magic.” I want to throw something at her or argue. The problem is, she is making a lot of sense. “I’ll tell him you’re good to go with your shots tomorrow afternoon, that way you don’t have to worry about him trying to take you to the vet.”
“Fine,” I spit out the word. “But don’t you ever cuddle me or boop my nose in front of him like that again.”
I spin on my heel to head back out the front door and ignore the next thing she shouts at my back
“Oh you’re good. Perfect amount of righteous drama. But maybe watch Buttercup for a few days to figure out how to pull it off without words!” I throw open the front door. “Hey! Where are you going?”
“To help our neighbor clean up the mess your damn cat made.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~ Peeta ~~
“Shit!” I lose my grip on the trunk and it clatters down the attic steps. The latch snaps open and the contents spill across the floor. I hold perfectly still for about thirty seconds, waiting for some kind of spiritual retribution. Howling, moaning, blood gushing down the walls...
When it doesn’t come, I glance up at the ceiling. “That was an accident. I promise I’ll put everything back.”
I take careful steps and then right the trunk. Gather the scattered letters, newspaper clippings, and photographs, yellowed and brittle with age. A few books. There’s a satin pouch that makes a slight clink noise with movement. The final piece is a large, soft packet wrapped in tissue paper and tied with a blue bow. The light catches on something through the thin paper material, illuminating pinpoint sparkles. I pause and stare, tilt the thing. It looks like intricate beading. Maybe on a dress. Carefully setting the package on top, I grasp the trunk lid.
But I can’t quite bring myself to close it.
I tilt my head and stare at the letters. The slanting and narrow handwriting. I glance back at the tissue paper package. Curiosity is winning and I slowly sit, retrieve the tissue wrapped thing and squeeze it lightly.
“Would you…?” I look around me at the walls, at the silence. “Would it bother you if I just...took a peek?”
There’s no answer. So I put the package back, but then some of the words on the top letter catch my eye.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~ Haymitch ~~
The door creaks open and I sigh, my rest -- such as it is -- once more disturbed. “What do you want now, sweetheart?”
I rise from my resting spot where I’ve been contemplating the decaying roof and watch as the boy gingerly steps inside, carrying what looks like a machete. He would have needed it to cut through the overgrowth to get here. I’m a little surprised and impressed that he’s braving this place.
He looks around, curious and unafraid. I could fix that easily, but I’m not sure it’s worth my time.
“Time, huh,” I scoff to myself. I’ve got nothing but time.
He pauses and picks up the old dress the witch next door uses when she deigns to grace me with her presence. Little minx can’t talk to me as a cat, can’t get here with the state of the backyard as a human unless she cleared a path, but neither can she stand even a dead guy seeing her nude. The boy examines the thing as he walks further inside, a slight limp to his gait.
“What’s with the leg, kid?” He can’t hear me, so I’m wasting my metaphoric breath. I sigh again and lay back on the shelf where I usually spend my days. “Just don’t drink my booze.”
Then I laugh. He stops moving and shivers.
“Hello?” I glance back at him and watch as he examines my chess set, lays the dress over the back of one chair. He shouldn’t have heard me. I’m not even sure he did. I guess a mortal could be more sensitive to shifts of spirits, though. “I just wanted to thank you. For letting me sleep the past few nights. I’m glad we could reach a compromise.”
That makes me pause. “A compromise, huh? So you beat sweetheart at her own game. Bet that pissed her off. How’d you do it?”
He can’t answer because he can’t hear.
“Thought this was a distillery. Shouldn’t there be something other than gardening tools? Tanks for fermenting? I actually know nothing about making moonshine.” He lifts a rake off the wall and spins it in his grip before putting it back. His eyes roam all over the place, but he seems drawn to the chess game frozen in time. “You uh...mind if I make a move?”
He’s polite, I’ll give him that. He waits for some kind of sign that I don’t give him. Guess he takes the silence for consent because he pulls out the chair and sits, hand on his chin to contemplate the game.
After a few minutes, he moves the knight, careful no to disturb the dust on the board. Then he looks up, eyes roaming around the shed once more.
“If you’re here, I’m guessing you won’t make your moves in front of me. So I’ll just leave it for you. I’m not even sure if you can move the pieces. Please don’t be offended,” he says, holding up his hands. “I’m new to this whole living with ghosts thing. I can learn pretty quick, though. Well, my mother would disagree but that’s neither here nor there.”
I snort and play with the air around me. “You too, huh kid? My pops didn’t think much of me either.”
“Anyways. I’m Peeta Mellark. I know I should have introduced myself sooner. Seeing as how we’re neighbors now, and I apologize for that.” I turn to look at him again.
“Man, no wonder sweetheart’s been in such a tizzy. You ain’t easy to scare are you?” Just to test, I focus and kick a jug off the shelf. He jumps and looks over at the sound, but doesn’t run in terror. Doesn’t grab the machete again. “Huh. Not sure if you’re brave or dumb, kid. Either way, it’ll be entertaining.”
“I’ll be back tomorrow, if that’s okay with you,” he says and then smiles for a second. “Haymitch.”
I wait until he’s gone, wondering how the hell he figured out my name. Where the hell he gets off sauntering in here. And if he knows what sweetheart really is. I move to the board and examine the pieces.
“Damn. That’s a good move, kid.” I sit down to contemplate how I’d counter it. If I were going to play.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~ Katniss ~~
The bakery isn’t busy. Not surprising given how warm it’s been lately. Summer is in full swing and soon we’ll be in the midst of the hot days of ice cream and kids playing in sprinklers.
I pause just inside the door, waving tentatively at Leevy, her sister, and her niece. They’re the only patrons today.
“What can I get you?” Jackson asks me when I step up to the counter.
“Maybe the chicken salad today? And is Peeta here?”
Jackson gives me an odd look and then turns to shout through the open door into the back rooms. “Hey, Peeta! Visitor for you!”
“Be right there!”
A rock on my feet as I wait for Peeta and my sandwich. Peeta arrives first, a smile on his face and colored frosting smeared on his apron. “Hey!” he greets me with a bright smile that makes me feel warm.
“I wanted to bring these to you. Took another look and found them,” I say and shove the handful of file folders across the counter. All of my dad’s records from when we first purchased and refurbished the house. I had to work some magic on the timelines since Peeta won’t be able to work as fast as we did. Not unless I somehow pull off certain spells without him noticing and pass them off as miracles. But I told Prim no magic in front of him and Peeta’s not dumb enough to buy that anyways.
He’s confused about the files at first, brow furrowing until he opens them and his smile breaks free again.
“This is...wow, thanks, Katniss. This is great.” He’s careful with the pages and I try to explain why I didn’t find them the first time. My excuses sound flimsy even to me, but Peeta doesn’t seem to notice. Or at least, he doesn’t comment. “I really appreciate this. I’ll get them back to you as soon as I can, I promise.”
I shrug. “Why?”
“Oh well...because they were your dad’s?” he coughs and scratches the back of his neck and I glance down into the glass case.
“It’s fine. It’s not like I’m loaning you his leather jacket or his bow.”
“His bow?” Peeta asks curiously and I play with the tail of my shirt, debating what to tell him. My father wasn’t magical, not in the sense that my mother was at least, so I guess there’s no harm in telling Peeta a little about him.
“My dad used to hunt in the woods. Bow hunting. Meant that we’d have fresh meat most nights. Deer, wild pig, turkey. Anyways, he taught me most of what I know about finding my way in the woods, surviving off the land as much as possible, hunting, foraging for plants. All the ways they could be used.”
“That book you told me about. The plant book,” Peeta says, surprising me that he actually remembers. He’s paused in his perusal of the files to watch me and for a few seconds, I’m unwilling to break our staring contest.
I had fun the other night. Actually had fun while cleaning up the mess Buttercup and I had made in his house. It felt good, not just because it was the least I could do after how much damage I caused him, but it was him. He made me...laugh. Something I’ve never gotten a chance to do with anyone close to my age. Not regularly. Other than Prim, that’s is. But this felt...different.
“Katniss, orders ready!” Jackson shouts, making us both jump.
“I’ll take good care of these anyways,” he says, lifting the folders. Then I have no choice but to walk away and get my food. I take a few steps and then turn back.
“Peeta, what’s dessert today?”
“Lemonade meringue cremes,” he says without missing a beat and scoops one into a bag before handing it over.
“Sounds delicious. Oh and I was wondering what you’re planning on working on tonight. In the house. Maybe I could help.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~ Peeta ~~
I wave as Katniss leaves my house, a strange lightness in my limbs. Shutting the door, I’m almost giddy as I jog up the stairs.
The work tonight seemed to go faster with two sets of hands. Even with us talking most of the time. Mainly about the house itself and my plans for it, but I was also able to glean some tidbits about Katniss herself and Prim as well.
There’s just something about her that intrigues me. There’s a softness, a kindness, and a vulnerability beneath a tough exterior. She’s protective of Prim and of herself too, I think. Most of the time she’s almost aloof and unreachable, which makes every morsel I get that much sweeter.
Maybe I’m reading too much into her, but she’s offered to come over and help with the kitchen for the next few weeks and she even brought dinner tonight. I’ve missed being able to cook my own meals and am getting tired of campout type food cooked in the back, so tonight was a real treat. Not just because of the delicious meal, either. Spending time with Katniss was...alright, I really enjoy being around her. I just hope I don’t mess this up.
I take my time with my shower and dress for bed. When I’m done, I remember that I left my bag with my sketchbook and the folders from Katniss downstairs. She came over so quick after I got home from work that I didn’t get a chance to bring it up.
I flip on the lights downstairs and smile at the work we accomplished today.
My next big task is the kitchen. The floors are still rough in every room. I’ve finished the walls and the windows in the rooms I’ll probably use the most and was finally able to move myself into the master bedroom to sleep. Not sure I’ll sleep well since the tree where I often see the creepy ravens is right up against those windows, but I’ll give it a try.
For the kitchen, I’ve got appliances on order. They’re saying the stove won’t be here for three months, though, and while that’s unacceptable, I plan to keep going until I can’t. For now, I’m working on the cabinets and counter space. Racks for hanging pots and pans over the stove once it finally arrives. I knew this would be a lot of work. I keep telling myself that once the kitchen is done I can pause. At least for a little while. I’ll have to since the kitchen will suck up the rest of what I have set aside for this.
I find my bag, but as I’m on my way back up, a soft sound catches my ear. Slowly, I scan the room, looking for the threat.
She prowls out of the shadows near the stairs, silver eyes wide and questioning. I can feel my lips twitch in a smile that I push back down, unsure what will startle her. It’s been several days since I caught her upstairs with Buttercup. I’m almost glad it tool her this long to wander back because it gave me time to look up cat safe treats I could make at the bakery.
Gently, so as to not disturb her, I set my bag down and sit on the floor. She sits as well, regal and imperious. Now I really do smile.
“Hello there,” I say softly and her tail swishes around to the front then back. I keep my eyes on her as I search my bag until I find the plastic tub with the cat treats. “I’m sorry about the shots. Prim said the vet declares you to be in excellent health. So I hope you like these. They’ve got cheese, chicken, and wheat. Little bit of sage for flavor.”
She rises a little when I open the container and pluck out one treat. I’m not sure if I’ll have better luck feeding her from hand or setting it on the floor. I hold it out in my open palm to start with. The cat approaches cautiously, shoulders visible as she stalks towards me. I remain completely still as she sniffs. Then she sits and looks up at me. I blink, uncertain what happened. She bats at my hand with her paw and makes a disgruntled noise.
“Oh! Right,” I break the cookie into four smaller pieces and offer them up. Her tongue scrapes my palm and her whiskers tickle as she eats. I smile at the satisfied crunching. When she’s done, she butts her head into my hand. I scratch behind her ears. It startles her and she retreats.
“Sorry! You wanted more, didn’t you? And here I thought…” I break up another cookie and offer it to her. She eyes me, tail flicking. “I promise not to pet you again.”
Another few seconds pass before she lowers her head and nibbles on the biscuit. I’m inordinately pleased that she seems to like them and make a note to set up a dish with cat food and water. I’ve got no good place to keep cream cold for long periods of time or I’d get some of that for her too. I’ve been keeping cold foods in a cooler and replenishing the ice in town every day, but I’m not sure that cream won’t spoil in there.
The cat finishes the second treat and demands a third. “Okay, but no more. I’m not sure how many of these your little tummy can take.”
She eats the third one with gusto and I smile. “I’m really glad you stopped by again. I get the feeling you’re something special. Aren’t you?”
When she’s scraped every crumb out of my palm, she lifts her head and stares at me with those disconcerting silver eyes. I grab my bag and stand, careful not to startle her. “I’m going upstairs. It’s the only spot in the house with a comfortable place to sit right now. You can come too it if you want.”
Halfway up the steps, I glance back, surprised to see her following me. I settle on the bed with my sketchbook and stare at the drawing I started a few days ago.
I’ve been meaning to stop by the library. What I found in that trunk has me curious, and I’ve been back to the distillery every day since. Not sure what I’m expecting or why. The chess pieces haven’t budged. If what I suspect is right, the ghosts have been here for over seventy years already. They’re not going anywhere soon. Plus, the kitchen has taken precedence for now.
The cat leaps nimbly onto my mattress and paws around for a moment before finally settling in a loaf shape. I bite back a smile and concentrate on my drawing. At one point, the cat wanders over and nudges my arm out of the way.
“What do you think?” I ask her as I tilt the page for her to inspect. She blinks and then curls up again, closer this time. Her eyes droop and wobble before finally closing. I leave her to nap and go back to drawing a dead girl. Every now and then, I glance back over at the sleeping cat beside me.