4.

"Can you exercise it? If it's made of ghosts or ghostlike energy or whatever, we should be able to get rid of it the same way." Haymitch asked and, Effie supposed, it was a reasonable question.

She nervously rolled the hilt of the knife she had grabbed out of her trunk between her palms. A pale blue blade had appeared the moment her fingers had closed around it. It was long and curved like a flower blossom. "A standard exorcism would never work…"

"Alright." he accepted without question, his grey eyes searching hers. "Do you know one that's not standard?"

There was a touch of impatience in his voice but also something that sounded like respect. Magic wasn't his area of expertise, he had told her as much, so he was willing to defer to her. It should have warmed her, made her proud perhaps, but at that moment she wouldn't have minded simply following orders.

She was not a warrior.

She would have made a pitiful Slayer.

She had become a Watcher because Watchers weren't supposed to see a lot of combat…

The coffee table flew over their heads, crashed against the wall behind them with so much force that pieces of woods and glass were projected everywhere like tiny missiles. Haymitch immediately leaped on her, forced her body closer to the floor, bowing over her to shield her with his body.

She couldn't swallow back the frightened squeak.

"Trinket." he said. "Focus."

Focus.

How many times had Caesar requested it?

How many times had her mother demanded it?

She had disappointed them both. She refused to disappoint Haymitch Abernathy.

"There is an old Sumerian one." she recalled although she wouldn't have been able to say how if pressed. "It is used for poltergeists. It might work."

If she tricked a few things… If she managed to keep her magic steady… If…

"Good." he praised. "Then, that's the new plan."

His hands were gripping her arms tight and it was a little painful but she didn't say anything.

"No." she objected, shaking her head. "It is not good. I will need supplies, a book and time." She licked her lips and briefly closed her eyes when she heard something else being flung at the other side of the living-room. The TV maybe. "I have supplies and I have the book." Although how she would find them in this mess… It looked like a tornado had destroyed the penthouse. "But time…"

His grey eyes dulled a little and an odd sort of calm washed over his face. "I'm gonna buy you time. Can you force it to manifest?"

"You… You cannot mean to fight it!" she gasped. "It is a job for a Slayer not…"

"Trinket." he cut her off. "I've been fighting demons since I could walk." Another man might have said it with pride or arrogance – and he certainly didn't lack the two traits – but the way he said it… It was tired, bitter and a little disgusted. It was also very true. "I buy you time. You exorcise it before it kills me. I protect you and you've got my back, yeah? Make him manifest."

There was no trace of hesitation on his face. None at all.

She doubted the expression on her own face was as confident.

And yet she couldn't think of a better plan.

She forced the hilt of the knife in his right hand.

"Vapor blade." she explained. "It's…"

"Incorporeal." he finished for her. "Works well on spirits. Good thinking grabbing that up."

A Slayer should always listen to her instincts, Caesar had drilled into her head. Called or not, some things had stuck.

The couch they were hiding behind started shaking.

"Make him manifest. Now." Haymitch ordered, letting go of her arm.

Her own hand shot out and coiled around his nape before she could overthink it.

Instincts, she told herself. It was all about instincts.

She pulled him toward her until their noses bumped and their mouths were brushing. She could feel the itch of his stubble against the soft skin of her chin.

"May the odds be ever in your favor." she mouthed directly against his lips.

He sucked in a breath when the magic rippled on him. The good luck charm wouldn't save him, it was but a child's trick, a heartfelt wish… But it might be enough protection, however small, to give him an edge.

She drew back, intending to summon the angry entity before their fragile shelter was torn away from them but he didn't let her go very far. The kiss he planted on her lips was angry, rough. His tongue forced its way into her mouth only long enough to poke at the inside of her teeth, then he was moving away.

His own brand of a luck spell, perhaps.

She closed her eyes and forced herself to calm down, to find that inner peace she had so much trouble ever achieving… "In the name of the goddess, I command thee. Reveal yourself."

At first, she didn't think she had made it.

The couch was flung aside and both Haymitch and she were tossed on opposite sides of the room. She took a second to recover after she landed, her thigh was smarting and she was pretty sure the slice on her palm had started bleeding again. Then, she lifted her head and she saw it.

It was standing there, in the middle of the destroyed living-room, not too far from the shattered bay windows and the golden curtains that were flapping in the wind. Thunder boomed outside and the lights flickered, as if they had needed more dramatic effects.

The lights didn't matter though. The entity would have been a beacon in the darkness. It shone blue, the very same blue as the incorporeal blade in Haymitch's hand. It was humanoid-shaped but tall, so tall its head was brushing the ceiling. Faces kept stretching out of his torso, sometimes followed by a neck and shoulders, only to snap back inside as if the ghosts were trapped in it.

"Trinket." Haymitch reminded her. "Now ain't a good time to slack."

She rushed toward the bedroom, her heels crushing wayward shards of glass under her feet. It was lucky her bedroom was the least damaged room. She tossed herself on the bed to grab the Ipad she had left charging the morning before and scrolled through the books selection until she found what she was looking for. She looked the list of ingredients over and the particular ritual twice, trying to commit the steps to memory and ignore the noises of fighting coming from the next room.

She kept her supplies in the closet, away from maids' prying eyes. She grabbed what she needed and rushed back to the destroyed living-room, her arms full of jars and clutching her Ipad close to her chest. She sat down in the corner and started tracing the symbols around her, mixing the herbs, glancing at the tablet for references when she wasn't tossing desperate looks at Haymitch.

He wasn't faring really well. He was dodging and insulting the entity more than he was actually engaging it. At some point, the knife sliced through its arm and it recoiled with a guttural pained noise. Tendrils of mist rose from the wound…

It soon riposted by hurling Haymitch half across the room. Was it her lucky charm? He landed on the cushions of the half-broken couch.

He still lost the knife.

Effie started reading the incantation. Her Sumerian was a bit rusty and she tripped over a couple of words but she kept the flow, she didn't stop, not even when the entity turned toward her as if it knew what she was doing, not even when Haymitch blocked its path, weaponless and bleeding from deep gashes on his arms, not even when it swept him out of the way as if he didn't weight anything… She kept the rhythm, she kept reading, she gave in to that warm tingling inside her…

She should have been terrified but she was calm. She could feel the magic swelling around her.

The entity was a foot away when she finished the spell in a triumphant shout.

The whine was like nothing she had ever heard, a drum piercing screech that made her cover her ears… But when she looked up, the entity was gone and the cold that had fallen on the penthouse while she was on the phone with her mother had dissipated. Although the broken window weren't exactly keeping the place warm…

She got to her feet, a little dizzy from the major magic use, and stumbled to where Haymitch's form laid on his front apparently unconscious. She fell more than she sat down, her head too light for her to keep her balance. Her fingers were shaking when she reached for his shoulder.

"Please, do not be dead." she begged, pushing so he would roll on his back. "Please, do not be dead."

"If I'm dead, you're gonna give me the kiss of life?" he muttered, slowly opening his eyes. His eyelids fluttered open and closed a few times before his gaze finally met hers. She had never though grey could have so many shades to it. He let out a long groan. "I'm too old for this shit."

"You are the one who always kisses me first." she huffed,

"Not true." he denied, slowly sitting up. She reached out because he swayed a little left and right and he blindly grabbed at her shoulder. "You're the one who started it tonight."

"That was not a kiss, that was a luck spell." she argued. "Are you alright?"

"Lips on lips, I call that a kiss, sweetheart." he snorted and then winced. "Like I said. I'm getting old." He looked around, taking the surrounding destruction and lifted his eyebrows. "Hope they're insured."

"I will blame the storm." she decided, choosing to abandon the kiss conversation for now.

"Better pretend it was a tiny tornado." he advised, rotating his shoulder a few times. "I need to go and help Katniss."

"I will come with you." she offered even though she didn't think she would be able to do much more magic tonight. At least, nothing on the scale she had just done.

"Can you even stand?" he mocked.

"Can you?" she retorted.

He hadn't tried to stand up yet. He was still clutching her shoulder as if he wasn't certain he could remain upright by himself. It suited her because she was still holding onto his arm. The room wasn't spinning around her anymore but it wasn't yet entirely steady.

His chuckles were half covered by the boom of thunder. "Point. No way you can give us a magic boost?"

She wrinkled her nose. "There won't be any magic tricks for a few hours."

"And yet you wanna come and fight vampires and possibly an old god." he taunted. "What are you gonna fight with? Your stilettos?"

"They are not stilettos, they are Jimmy Choo." she scoffed. "The blasphemy." It earned her more chuckles. He patted his pants pocket and pulled out a silver flask. He took a long mouthful and offered it to her. She hesitated. "A flask. How charming."

She snatched it before he could take it away and took a long mouthful. It was whiskey, not her alcohol of choice, but it burned her throat and, given the lingering cold that left goosebumps on her arms, it wasn't unwelcomed.

When she handed it back, he put it away and sighed. "I really need to go."

He used her shoulder as a lever to get back to his feet and let out a long breath once he was upright again. She grabbed the hand he offered and let him haul her up too.

"You shouldn't go alone." she insisted. "I am not a skilled fighter but I can probably handle a few vampires."

He opened his mouth but before he could accept her offer or decline it again, a cheerful ringtone echoed from the pocket of his jacket. It took her a few seconds to place it and, when she did, she lifted her eyebrows, her lips pursed in a small smile. Scooby Doo.

"Great fan of cartoons, are you?" she teased.

"That's Peeta." he rolled his eyes.

"Peeta is a great fan of cartoons?" she frowned. Was Peeta with Katniss? That was not protocol at all and they would need to discuss it at some point soon.

"That too." he mysteriously replied and answered the phone, his face once again closed in worry.

We're back in business! So did you like this chapter? Let me know!