The next morning, we prepare to leave Tigris's shop. The plan is straightforward. Tigris will camouflage us in Capitol garb and make-up, and we will slip into the crowd of refugees. Pollux will take the lead and act as a guide once again, just as he did in the sewers. Peeta, Gale and I will follow. Cressida will bring up the rear and watch our backs for as long as she can manage. Once inside the President's mansion, Peeta will lead us to Snow's office and I will kill him. It's practically guaranteed to go wrong at some point, but we have to try. We didn't lose Finnick and Boggs and everyone else just to give up. I look in the mirror and hardly recognize myself under the cloaks and paint on my face.
"Never underestimate the power of a brilliant stylist," says Peeta."You don't even look like you, Katniss." It's hard to tell, but I think Tigris might actually blush under her stripes.My heart aches for a moment - for Cinna, for Portia. For the fire they lit in my heart and hearts around the nation when they set Peeta and me ablaze that night. I am going to do this. Today either Snow dies or I do.
Pollux pulls me into his arms and squeezes me tight. His embrace is full of emotions words could not capture and we hold each other for a moment in silence. He kisses my cheek and then slips out into the street.
"Any last advice?" I turn and ask Peeta. I mean about the mansion, the route, the plan, but instead he just smirks at me.
"Stay alive."
I squeeze his hand in mine. I notice Gale shifting his weight from one foot to another, but I just lock eyes with Peeta. "One last time. One more Arena. One more time. You and me."
"Together?" he asks.
"Together," I reply.
I look at my hunting partner and my district partner and know that if I had to do this again, I wouldn't choose anyone else to be by my side. Gale, who can predict my every move and wordlessly knows exactly what I need him to do; and Peeta, whose strength and sureness has pulled me through my darkest moments.
I pull Gale into my arms and he whispers in my ear, "I got you, Catnip."
It's now or never.
"Let's go," I say, and we duck out of Tigris's shop and into the street. The sharpness of the crisp, cold air bites my cheeks. Peeta and Gale flank me on either side as we join the mass of refugees pulling their way toward the City Circle. The sky is overcast and the grayness that envelops the city makes everyone look the same. I try to keep my face down to the ground, but I can't help but take in the people around me.
I spent years nurturing resentment toward the people of the Capitol. It was by no means the hate that burns in Gale, but I couldn't help but feel animosity toward those that cheer on the deaths of children in the Hunger Games. Generation after generation of Capitol citizens imparted prejudice to their children. There is no difference between a Capitol child and a child starving in the Seam other than the luck of where they were born. They are taught the Games are fair and necessary - and that the Tributes aren't like them. The people in the Districts are sub-human. Seeing their desperation now makes me wonder if they've finally realized, whether born in the Capitol or 12, we all bleed the same. Their children don't deserve to die on this street any more than ours deserved to be reaped.
I shake the thought from my mind. I need to focus. I kill Snow.
We turn a corner and see Peacekeepers dispersed throughout the crowd, barking orders and directing the mob. Snowflakes begin to spit from the sky and cling to the hair of a little girl wearing a yellow coat and being carried by her mother. Our eyes meet and I worry the girl, barely older than a toddler, might recognize me. I pull my hood further down my face and feel Peeta squeeze my left hand. Suddenly bullets begin to rip through the crowd. My hands shoot instinctively to cover my head.
"Who is it?" I look to Gale, who is scanning the rooftops. "Can you see?" My voice is barely audible over the pop of gunfire. I look ahead to see the Peacekeepers raise their weapons and fire back, confirming my suspicions. The rebels have entered the square. Gale grabs my arm and pulls me to an alley. Peeta's hands press into my back, pushing me forward. I look to my right and see the girl in the lemon yellow coat, covered in blood and screaming at her motionless mother lying on the ground. I reach out for her and Gale pulls me forward.
"We have to go back!" I scream.
"You need to focus!" Gale asserts. I know he's right, but I can't help but think how the yellow of her dress reminds me of a duckling, my duckling, my little duck. I inhale slowly. She is safe in 13. Focus.
"You're right. We've got to get to Snow," I say. I'm not sure how we will retain our cover, but when we jump into the next intersection it is clear it doesn't matter. No one is looking at faces anymore. The rebels have overwhelmed the street and are in active combat with the troops of Peacekeepers trying to batter them back. Caught in the crossfire are refugees, unarmed, disoriented, many wounded.
Suddenly, a pod opens up in front of us and a gush of steam consumes everyone in its path. It doesn't discriminate between rebel, Peacekeeper, or refugee - everyone in the radius of the cloud is boiled away. Chaos ensues. Everyone is my enemy - everyone except the men flanking my sides.
"This way!" Peeta screams, grabbing my wrist and pulling me forward. Gale takes up the rear and shoots erratically back toward the crowd with a gun he confiscated from a dead Peacekeeper. An arrow would be too risky. An arrow would announce I'm here. I keep moving forward. We hurdle and step over dead people, wounded people, screaming people everywhere we look. We reach the next block in time to see it light up with a blinding purple glow. We instinctively fall back, not knowing what comes of the glow and in no hurry to find out. Peeta diverts us down a side street, still pushing toward the mansion. "GET DOWN!" Peeta screams as a squadron of Peacekeepers make their way toward us. He throws me to the ground and plasters his body on top of mine. I feel Gale's weight top our piggy pile, and the Peacekeepers ignore us and charge forward, before evaporating in the purple glow.
We pull into the next block and naively think maybe we caught a break. The street seems to be mostly refugees with few soldiers mulling about. Suddenly, I hear a crack like the whip that sliced Gale's back, only magnified so it echoes throughout the square. My feet begin to tilt forward and I realize the street is folding in onto itself. The three of us pull an immediate about face, reaching for the windowsills of the buildings that line the street while we feel our feet slipping beneath us. I grab a marble sill and feel Peeta pull up next to me. I'm grateful now that Coin forced him into training, as most of his muscular form has returned. Gale, on the other hand, is slipping away from us.
"Gale!" I scream as a vile stench invades my nostrils from the pit below. I look over my shoulder and see him slipping, trying to scale the tiled street and finding no purchase on the slick, bloody tiles. Behind Gale is a deep crevice, maybe 50 feet down, lined with shadowy black creatures. I reach out my bow and he grabs it. Peeta frees a hand and joins in the struggle as Gale climbs my bow to the street. He pulls himself up and out of danger and turns to offer me a hand when he is flooded with Peacekeepers. He elbows one in the face and blood spurts from under his helmet. He stomps the foot of another and hurls a third off his back. Suddenly a swarm of Peacekeepers emerge and he is quickly overwhelmed. I watch in horror as they load him into the back of a van. I can see him reaching for one of his explosive arrows, which he is certain to detonate and take out himself and half the block along with him, when a Peacekeeper smashes the butt of a gun into his temple and he loses consciousness.
Peeta and I hang over the edge, hoping not to be seen. Our eyes meet and I silently sob out Gale's name. The van pulls away and Peeta pulls himself up onto the ledge and then effortlessly pulls me out beside him. I try not to focus on Gale, but I can't do this again. I can't lose another person I love to Snow's chamber of horrors. I kill Snow.
"I know where we are. I recognized those creatures. They were in the underground passageway that connects the mansion to the Tribute Center. That's how they moved me back and forth from my cell for my interviews with Caesar," Peeta exclaims. The thought of going back underground brings my mind to Finnick and I start to shake. "It's just another Arena, Katniss. You and I can take an Arena, if we are together." I shake my head feverishly, my jaw chattering and shivers running uncontrollably up and down my spine. "I'm going down there," he says, "and I don't want to do this alone." I meet his gaze. "Stay with me, Katniss."
My body stops shaking. "Always." We move up a block, past the pit of shadowy creatures, and Peeta lifts a pothole cover. He climbs down blindly, I follow. We drop into a tunnel lined with electric torches on the marble walls. It all seems too pristine and elegant for a secret passage. "They even flee in style," I say to Peeta and he grins weakly. The tunnel is narrow, but we manage to fit through side-by-side. I can tell Peeta is fighting with himself. The tunnel is familiar, and it's bringing back too many memories, both shiny and real, of his time in captivity. We hear a sound, an awful lot like my voice, echoing in the distance. A jabberjay? In a tunnel? That can't be right.
It's my voice alright, but this Muttation is directed at Peeta. They are trying to trigger him while he's down here with me. They are trying to set him off. He looks back at me desperately, his pupils dilating and retracting constantly. That's when I see him. Snow comes around the corner of the tunnel, which opens into a larger space. He is surrounded by a mix of Peacekeepers and Avoxes, armed and huddled around him. Perched on his shoulder sits a jabberjay, cackling in my voice - spitting out hateful vicissitudes and mimicking my inflection perfectly.
Peeta drops to his knees and Snow laughs. He has the last laugh. He will watch me die. He'll watch Peeta do it. I drop down beside him. "Peeta, look at me," I coo into his ear. His body convulsing, but his eyes lock on mine.
"It's not helping. You don't even look like you."
"I know, this makeup is silly." Something clicks in my head. "Peeta, I need you to do something for me." He stares me, straining, fighting against the Mutt that is trying to burst free.
"I'll try," he chokes out, grunting as the convulsions overtake him.
"I need you to let go."
"What?" he cries out, looking at me again.
"I need you to let go, Peeta. Go Mutt for me. Let go." His eyes meet mine, but they aren't mine. He can't latch onto me and hold himself here. My eyes aren't gray. Tigris gave me contacts and the irises blinking back at him are bright green. "Let go," I whisper and his pupils disappear. His eyes turn into a stormy blackish blue and the shaking stops. His muscle bulge and he hears my voice echoing the tunnels behind him. He disregards me entirely, a stranger, and turns to face President Snow.
Peeta's body bulks considerably, like a dog bristling. The Peacekeepers take a step back. They know they can't fire their guns in here - the bullets would ricochet uncontrollably. I see fear take over their faces as Peeta lets out a scream that reverberates so infinitely my ears begin to ring. He charges toward the sounds of my voice, toward Snow.
The dozen or so Peacekeepers form a V around Peeta, surrounding him. It's as if he feels no pain. The first takes a step forward and he slams his false leg into the back of their knee, shattering their femur. From there it is all out chaos. I pull an arrow but I can't shoot the Peacekeepers without risking Peeta. He grabs another and snaps his neck as if he were as thin as a wishbone. I think of Cato. How bloodthirsty he was. His temper. I see Peeta with two Peacekeepers on his back and he heaves upward, sending them flying to the ground. The Avoxes join Peeta, but are quickly disabled by the Peacekeepers. A few Peacekeepers manage to get in blows with their batons or fists that would flatten a normal man, but Peeta is no normal man. He is a Mutt who has been enduring pain since boyhood. He can take a blow, and another, and another. One by one, until he is surrounded by a dozen bodies on the floor, Mutt Peeta eviscerates the men until they each lay before him, broken and maimed. I can tell my Peeta is fighting his way back, and he drops to his knees and cries out to the jabberjay, still screeching on Snow's shoulder.
I take my arrow and shoot the jabberjay from its perch. The viciousness of my fake voice ceases as Peeta collapses to the floor, a puddle of exhaustion and pain overwhelming him. I load another arrow and point it directly at Snow's heart.
"I think we've both known for a long time it would end like this," his voice slips out through his serpentine, puffy lips. "Either you in my sight, or me in yours."
"Shut up!" I scream at him, drawing my arrow back further. I hear Peeta moaning on the ground next to me.
"You can end things now, Miss Everdeen. You can send an arrow through my body, the same way you've killed so many others. The way you killed Marvel. He was only 15, you know. Big for his age. The way you killed Cato. The way you killed Gloss. The way you killed that poor woman, hiding in her home. She wasn't even a real threat to you, but you didn't hesitate, did you? Not my Mockingjay." Bile rises from my stomach and burns the back of my throat. "I made you what you are. I made you who you were always meant to be. You're not some poor, helpless girl from the Seam. You aren't a martyr. You aren't a leader, like Coin fears. You, my dear, are a killer. Now, show me what you are made of."
I can't figure it out. Why is he baiting me? Why is he trying to get me to put an end to this? I want to. I want to send my arrow flying and plunge it into his ruthless, unfeeling heart, but not like this. Not with him practically begging for it.
"I'm still surveilling the City, you know. I saw her, right before I came down here. The other Miss Everdeen." A slippery smile spread its way across his face. Prim? He saw Prim? "She was always meant to be a healer, the same way you were always meant to be a murderer. She was dressed in a white medic's uniform, pushing her way into the square."
Coin wouldn't do that. Children are too precious to 13. Coin wouldn't send a child into combat… unless… "Prim." Her name escapes my mouth like water being pulled down a drain. "She's up there?"
"Last I saw, she was about to enter the square. She was helping the refugees," I pull back my arrow and let it fly. It punctures through Snow's hand and hammers it to the wall behind him. He screams out in pain and reaches for his hand. I shoot another and pin his jacket. Another pierces through his foot and nails it to the floor. I reach him and pull his belt from around his waist. I wrap it around his neck and tie his throat to a pipe.
"I'm not done with you," I practically spit in his face. "I have a list of my own. Cinna. Finnick. Mags. Rue. Boggs." I stare him down as I throw out the names of Tributes, rebels, children, that he is responsible for. I start walking backwards away from him, and the stench that filled my nose earlier invades my senses once more. I'm getting closer. "Wiress. Maysilee. Madge. All the Mellarks." Peeta has finally risen to his feet and senses what I am about to do. He makes his way to the exit, his hand on a rung of the ladder. When I reach the latch to the door that holds back the shadowy Mutts, I take one last look at Snow. He stands there, surrounded by the bodies of fallen Peacekeepers and Avoxes. Blood drips from his hand and pools at his foot. He stares me down. He smiles.
"My father," I say, and I unlatch the door. The swarm of Mutts rush out, smelling his blood and charging for Snow. Peeta sweeps an arm behind my waist and pulls me up the ladder with him. I hear Snow scream just before we reach the surface.
Cold invades my nostrils as we rejoin the fight on the street. The rebels don't know Snow is finished and neither do the Peacekeepers. They are locked in deadly battle. We rush toward the City Circle where I think Prim must be. We reach the square in time to see a group of children huddled at the gates of the mansion. Parents are lifting their kids in the air, pushing them forward to the closest thing they've seen to salvation since the fighting reached the city streets. Children from toddler to teenager cling to one another, crying and screaming for their parents, still locked on the other side of the gate.
Suddenly, a Capitol hovercraft appears overhead, raining silver parachutes down on the throng of children. Even in the chaos, the children know what silver parachutes contain. Food. Medicine. Their tiny hands reach up, eager with hunger and want. Just as the parachutes descend upon them, we all feel a moment of respite. Parents watch as their children struggle with the strings, their fingers frozen and sloppy. And then it happens.
Half the parachutes explode and the children are engulfed in flames. Those that didn't immediately perish are screaming and clutching at severed limbs, rolling in agony to stop the fire. That's when I see her. A blonde braid draped across a white uniform with a red cross on her back. Rebel medics. They push through to children, shouting at one another and tossing supplies and bandages as they try desperately to heal the wounded and comfort the helpless. I see Prim as she strokes the face of a small girl, pulling pieces of shrapnel from her arm. I scream her name and for a second, Prim looks up at me. I see my sister's face and she smiles back at me. I run toward her. Then the rest of the parachutes explode.
I feel the weight of Peeta's body hit me and we are both on fire. Real or not real? He is on top of me, taking the brunt of the explosion. I see him lying there while the two of us are aflame. It seems fitting, that we started on fire, and that we should end this way. My ears are ringing, my sister is gone. I already know that. I reach out and take Peeta's hand in my own. The layers of cloaks are quickly engulfed and we just look at one another. We are both Mutts now. A fire Mutt only knows one thing: agony. We are in and out of the reality of our flesh burning. I can feel Peeta trying to beat the flames away from my body, rolling on top of his own. I am Cinna's bird, ignited.