Dean and I burst into the house, startling my mother, Prim, and Haymitch.
"Katniss!" My mother yelps. "Why are you in your underwear?"
I simply sit, frozen, as Dean explains what we've seen. Prim wraps me in a blanket, and Haymitch throws his robe at Dean, unabashed at sitting before us in just his pajama pants.
My mother and Prim sob openly after hearing about Hazelle and the kids.
"What about the older boy, Gale?" Haymitch asks.
Dean and I look at each other.
"I didn't see him," Dean says, "and I checked every inch of that place."
"He may be alive," I whisper. "He and Sam may have gotten away."
"If anyone survived, it would be those two," Haymitch allows.
"Maybe," Dean allows. "Wherever they are, I intend to find them."
"It's not dawn yet," my mother says. "You don't want to be caught out after curfew tonight, you'll be hanged. It's a miracle you made it back unnoticed."
"I can't just do nothing," Dean growls.
"Of course not," Haymitch says, "but you have to look innocent. Here's what you're gonna do. Go back home and change, both of you. We'll start breakfast here. When they come around and investigate for alibis, we'll all be together in a believable situation. Once they give us the bad news, we'll go out and look."
"We'll check Hazelle's house, and your old house, Dean," my mother says. "We have to clean out the house for Hazelle anyway."
My mother is overcome with emotion and begins to cry. Neither Dean nor I can handle it, so we both leave.
We head back to our house, saying nothing as we head to the bedroom and put clothes on.
"Here," Dean says after a moment.
I turn and look. He's holding my pin in his hand. He must have had the good sense to take it from my shirt when he helped me undress from my bloody clothes.
"Thank you," I whisper, pinning it to my shirt before pulling a jacket on over it.
"You should get it tattooed," Dean says.
"We all should," I agree.
"In the meantime, I made you something to help."
Dean reaches around me into the closet and pulls out a belt. A sheathed dagger hangs on either side of the belt, with several small compartments along the front of the belt.
"This compartment has salt," Dean says, showing me. "This is Goofer Dust, this one has a paper inside with the exorcism written on it. This little bottle is supposed to be Holy Water, but we haven't tried it yet."
"How do I use it?"
"Throw it in a demon's face," Dean replies. "it's supposed to burn like acid."
"Thank you," I say as I strap on the belt, hiding the daggers in the waistband of my pants.
"You're welcome, baby," Dean says, pulling my shirt down over the belt and kissing me softly. "I love you."
"I love you, too," I say, taking Dean's hand and allowing him to lead me back to the outside world.
When Dean and I return, we all follow Haymitch's instructions and eat, even though breakfast tastes like cardboard and the small talk is strained. As if on cue, three Peacekeepers interrupt us during breakfast, but the interrogation is halfhearted.
Even the Peacekeepers can sense the grief numbing us.
After we choke down breakfast, we all head to Hazelle's house. My mother and Prim, monitored by Peacekeepers, actually start cleaning it out, saving precious things like baby blankets and Hazelle's favorite dress. They also take all of the food, although it pains them to do so. My mother suggests handing it out to the others who have lost family members, as we have more than enough victor's winnings to support what's left of our family.
Haymitch, Dean, and I scour every inch of Hazelle's house, and find nothing. The Peacekeepers escort my mother and Prim home, laden with the Hawthorns' things.
"My old house," Dean says. "Gale was living there. They might have gone there."
Haymitch and I agree, and follow Dean.
Immediately, we can see that someone has been living there, or has at least been inside. Random belongings are strewn about everywhere, furniture is overturned, salt and Goofer Dust are strewn across the floor.
"What the hell?" Dean whispers, opening cabinets at random.
"What?" I ask.
"It had to be Sam," Dean says. "All our weapons are gone, all the salt and Goofer Dust, all of our protections."
"Gale was living here," I insist desperately. "Sam was teaching him about demons and such, maybe Gale gathered the weapons and left…"
I trail off as Dean removes a loose floorboard to reveal a small hole in the dirt beneath it, obviously empty.
"Not Gale," Dean says tightly.
"What was there?" Haymitch asks.
"A gun," Dean responds. "A very special gun."
"What's so special about it?" Haymitch asks curiously.
"It can kill anything," Dean responds "even things that can't be killed with guns."
"How?" I ask.
"Magic, probably," Dean snorts, "or some ancient runes or spells. The journal led us to it. Well, it led Sam. While we were in the arena, Sammy went and tracked down a few leads from the journal that I hadn't let him go chase while I was here. This gun—the Colt—was one of them."
"Where did he find it?" Haymitch interrupts.
"In the forest," Dean says. "Our dad left very specific instructions to the place where he buried it, and another place where he stashed the bullet. I didn't let Sam go because it was too dangerous, but it figures that he'd go when I wasn't here to watch him."
"Where would he have gone with the gun?" Haymitch asks.
"Away," Dean sighs. "Into hiding somewhere, away from demons, away from innocent people who might get hurt."
"Well, that narrows it down," says Haymitch dryly.
"Hey, I'm trying here," Dean snaps.
"Well, try harder, princess," Haymitch snarls. "I didn't work my ass off in the Capitol for your families to be spared, just to turn around and lose them!"
"We haven't lost Sam," Dean yells, "he's out there, hiding somewhere!"
"And what a great help that is when we don't know where he is," Haymitch says. "He could be hurt, Dean, or dead, or worse."
"You think I don't know that?!" Dean yells, a murderous look on his face. "He's my brother, Haymitch! He's my family."
"You think I didn't have a family once, too?" Haymitch says, his voice deadly quiet. "You think I haven't suffered at the hands of the Capitol? You think I haven't had family members go missing in the middle of the night? You think I don't see their faces every time I close my eyes?"
Dean and I stare at Haymitch in stunned silence.
"Or how about the tributes I've helped over the years?" Haymitch continues. "How many do you think that is, huh? How many innocent children do you think I've watched die, because I didn't train them well enough? How many well-trained tributes do you think I've seen fighting for their lives until the cameras go black, then all of a sudden, their dead body pops up on the screen in front of me? How many, huh? How many do you think I've lost?!"
Haymitch's rant end with a scream, inches from Dean's face.
"Haymitch," Dean begins.
"Forty-six," Haymitch interrupts. "I've seen forty-six kids die, forty-seven if you count my district partner when I competed. So don't get mad at me, boy, when I'm trying to save Sam from being just another kid I've watched die."
Tense silence falls on the room. Dean doesn't apologize, but Haymitch and Dean study one another's unreadable expressions for a while. At once, they both sigh, and look away.
"So," Haymitch says, taking another calming breath. "Where might he have gone? Would he still be in Twelve?"
"Probably not," Dean says. "If he is, he'd be hiding with a friend, and all our friends are either dead, or our roommates."
"I can check the Hob just in case," I say. "I can turn a few tongues loose for the right price."
Haymitch nods. "Good idea. Dean and I can search the forest, then. Do you have the journal?"
Dean shakes his head.
"Looks like we're looking for a pine needle in a forest," Haymitch snorts.
Dean brushes by Haymitch, barely controlled anger dancing in his eyes.
"Be careful," he manages, barely meeting my eyes.
Dean kisses me briefly on the forehead before leading Haymitch across the district and into the forest.
I don't watch them leave. Instead, I head home, my quick pace and set jaw pushing even Peacekeepers' attention from me. I stop by my house, and grab a fistful of money. On my way back out, a small silhouette stops me in my tracks.
"Prim?"
My little sister sits quietly at my kitchen table, staring at me.
"You're going to go find Sam and Gale, aren't you?" She asks.
"Yes. We'll find them, little duck," I say, moving to embrace her.
"Do you know where they are, Katniss?" Prim asks.
"Not yet," I admit, holding Prim at arm's length, "but Haymitch and Dean are searching the woods, and I'm going to bribe some sellers at the Hob. We'll find them."
"Not if we find them first," Prim smiles.
Before I can fully register the contorted smile on Prim's face, her small hands wrap around my throat with inhuman strength. I fall back, Prim on top of me, her small knees pressing into my chest.
As I choke, I look up into Prim's eyes. They flash black.
I wrap my fingers around hers and attempt to loosen her grip, but she's too strong. Frantically, my other hand fumbles at my belt. My hand passes over a dagger, but even as my vision turns fuzzy, I can't bring myself to use it on my little sister. Instead, I unhook and open the Holy Water.
I sprayed some of the water from the small vial in Prim's face. She shrieks, releasing my throat as she recoils. I cough and gulp down air as I sit up, pushing myself away. I wield the Holy Water in one hand as the other fumbles at my belt again, but Prim's face steams from the acidic attack.
Finally, I pull the small, folded paper from my belt and begin to read.
"Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas."
Prim begins to wail, writhing on the floor. I can barely scrape the words from my throat.
"Omnis incursio infernalis adversarii, omnis legio, omnis congregatio et secta diabolica…"
Prim's small voice cries out.
"Katniss, please!"
Her eyes switch back and forth from loveless black to her own baby blue color. I continue chanting as the demon forces guttural screams from Prim's throat.
"…audi nos!" I scream.
A thick column of black smoke expels itself from Prim's mouth and nose, shooting down through the floor. Prim coughed and gagged as the last tendrils of smoke sunk into the floor.
"Prim," I say, crawling to her.
Prim sinks into my arms, trembling against my chest. I hold her, tears coating both of our cheeks.
"Come on, little duck," I say. "We're going to make sure that this never happens again."
"How?" She asks in a painfully small voice.
I half guide, half drag Prim across the street to the house she shares with Sam and my mother.
"Mom," I call as we bust in the front door.
"What happened?"
My mother's eyes and nose glow bright red from recent tears, but new worry stops her sobs.
"Prim was possessed," I say. "We have to go, now. I know how we can protect ourselves against it."
"How?" My mother asks, not protesting as I drag her outside by her arm.
"You're not going to like it," I say.
I take them across Twelve to the Hob. Neither of them have been in the Hob before. We pass Greasy Sae's bar, but I have one goal only in my mind.
We head into Ellen's corner of the Hob. Ellen is a feisty woman, hardened by the loss of her husband and the strict love for her daughter, Jo. She serves hard liquor and deals in the most illegal things, mostly secrets and lies.
"Ellen," I greet her with a nod.
"Katniss," she says, looking up from wiping the bar.
"This is my mother," I say flatly, "and my sister, Prim."
"I can see that," Ellen says curtly. "What makes you bring 'em around here?"
"We need something from you," I say. "And we need it to stay a secret."
"Oh, you do, do you?" Ellen smirks. "You know I got a high price for secrets, Katniss."
"I'll pay it," I say, laying my fistful of money on her bar. "Name your price."
"This oughta do nicely," Ellen says with a smile. "What can I do you for?"
"Tattoos," I say.
"Wow, Katniss," comes a voice from behind us, cutting off my mother's indignant protest. "I never thought you'd get inked."
I turn, and see the blonde curls, tight curves, and surly smile that keeps guys running to the Hob…and the shotgun that keeps them away.
"Jo," I say curtly.
Dean has told me about his past with Jo. She's one of the few rumors that were true. They were together for a time, but he ended it because he didn't want to hurt her. He did have feelings for her once, though. Of course, I can see why, but that doesn't stop a hard, hot discomfort from gripping the middle of my chest and dripping into my stomach. Her steely eyes mirror my feelings.
"Well," Ellen says, snapping us both out of it, "what kind of tattoo?"
I hand her my Mockingjay pin, the back of it face up.
"This symbol," I say. "On all three of us."
Ellen's hands shake as she holds the pin between her fingertips, looking at the symbol in horror.
"Where did you get this?"
"From Sam."
"Winchester?" Ellen asks.
"Yes," I say.
"Honey, you can't go around showing this to just anyone," Ellen says harshly.
"You know what it is?" I ask.
"More and more people do nowadays," Ellen says grimly.
"Dangerous times and all," Jo chimes in. "A girl's gotta protect herself, right, Katniss?"
I nod slowly, but keep my gaze on Ellen.
"Will you help us?" I ask. She nods.
"Lucky for you, I know someone," Ellen says. "Follow me. Watch the bar, Jo."
Jo's shotgun clicks twice in response, audibly shifting into the loaded position. I've never liked the brutality of guns. I usher my mother and Prim ahead of me, warily eyeing Jo as the bar door closes behind me.
Ellen leads us into a small hallway wedged between the edge of the Hob and the fence. I stop to listen, but thankfully, no electricity hums along the metal of the fence. Ellen snakes her body around a tree trunk, slipping between two trees that grow between the Hob and the fence. She bends down and scrapes the leaves and dirt off of what turns out to be a giant piece of circular metal sunk into the grown.
Ellen reaches down, grasps a small handle, and yanks it open. She looks around warily, and gestures up to go in. I head in first, climbing down a rusty metal ladder in the darkness.
"Katniss, this doesn't seem safe—" my mother begins, but I've already reached the bottom.
"Come on, Prim," I call softly.
Despite our mother's protests, Prim follows me down the long ladder. I help her off, then my mother, and wait for Ellen to take the lead again.
She leads us down a dimly lit concrete hallway, and to a dead end. Ellen strides up to the wall, however, and knocks six times: two slow, three fast, and one slow. A woman's voice comes from behind the wall.
"Password?"
"Custos," Ellen says.
After a moment of tense silence, a doorway cracks through the concrete of the wall in front of us, and swings inward. A tall, thin woman with bright red hair and intelligent green eyes surveys us.
"Ellen," she smiles. "Katniss, the girl on fire," she nods, "and who are these two?"
"My mother and sister," I say.
"They want ink," Ellen says. "You up for it?"
"Totally," says the woman. "I'm Charlie, by the way. Come in."
We step inside, treading carefully across a large, red throw rug. Bookcases line every wall, weapons displays dot the large, concrete space. Panels with screens, lights, knobs, and buttons line a back room area. A small kitchen is off to the right, and a hallway gapes on the other side of the kitchen.
"Well come on," Charlie says urgently, "come in."
"God's sakes, Charlie, they're not demons," Ellen huffs as we step down stone stairs toward a long table in the middle of the space.
"Can't be too careful," Charlie winks. "Devil's trap under the rug," she adds to me. "Very clever, I know."
"What is this place?" Prim asks.
"A bunker," Charlie answers. "A Men of Letters bunker, to be precise."
"Men of Letters?" I ask.
"They were an old organization that died out about fifty years into the Hunger Games that were apparently against girls being badass," Charlie says. "They fought demons and the Capitol and the Games in general."
"Do you live here?" My mother asks.
"Yep," Charlie says. "After mom and dad died, Ellen and Greasy Sae looked after me for a bit until we stumbled on this place. I got it up and running, hacked into the Capitol database, and erased myself from existence."
"You can do that?" I ask.
"Yep," Charlie smiles.
"How did your parents die?" Prim asks.
"Prim!"
"No, it's okay," Charlie assures me, kneeling down to meet Prim's eyes. "They tried to take my little brother and me away from this place. We got caught, just outside the fence. They pushed me and my brother into a thicket, and the Peacekeepers caught up to them. My brother ran out before I could stop him, and they killed him too."
"I'm sorry," Prim whispers.
"It's all right," Charlie says. "Now, I get to live for them. I have to."
Prim nods, unsure of what to say. After a moment, Charlie springs back up.
"Well," she sighs, "let's go get you some ink."
We follow Charlie down the hallway to a small room with a bed and what looks like a makeshift tattoo machine.
"Totally safe, I promise," Charlie says, pulling the waistband of her pants down slightly to reveal the anti-possession symbol tattooed on her right hip.
"Oh! Before we start, though," Charlie says, striding back out of the room, "I've got a surprise for you."
She's barely gone for a moment before she comes back, bouncing between her strides, a wide grin spread across her face.
Gale and Sam step into the room behind her.