#mockingjay manor

“Katniss, I’ve been stung before. Remember? Eleventh grade when you were trying to get rid of that hive.”

The hive had fallen to the ground and we’d both been badly stung. I thought I’d killed Peeta and I kissed him hard on the lips. It was my first kiss. The memory makes me want to blush but instead I grunt, “Yeah, but those were regular wasps.” I gingerly touch a red bump on his neck. “These weren’t ordinary wasps. I couldn’t move.”

“I was knocked out,” Peeta rubs his neck. “Did you find a note or something?”

The discarded note lies at my feet, and I’m fuming once more at the absurdity of the situation. “It says to stay here and that Finnick and Jo are safe.” It’s the last thing I want to do. Fulfilling the will’s requirement to fix up the house has transformed into a personal quest for the truth.  

Peeta frowns. “I know that look on your face.”

“What look?” I try not to appear defensive but my arms are crossed and my face has turned into a scowl.

“That nothing-I-say-will-convince-you-to-give-up-or-leave-this-house face.”

Standing, arms akimbo, I say, “Haymitch might have been an asshole, but he was family. I’ve got to clear his name of whatever is going on here. I want answers! Who is Snow and how can I get rid of him?”

“Not alone you won’t.” Peeta struggles to sit up and I pull him to his feet. “We agreed we’d do this together.”

Peeta leans toward me, his sweet face at once disarming me and stirring my libido. It's been this way since we were kids. I’ve never been able to pinpoint whether it’s his boy-next-door face, his sturdy but welcoming arms, or his good natured soul, but it drives me wild.

His hand slips over my chin and its rough texture causes my heart rate to triple.  Right before he places a chaste kiss upon my lips, his eyes smolder with unfulfilled passion. Instantly, my panties become soaked, and I think, awe hell, I need him.

I nearly lost him tonight and it’s making me desperate. The anger I’d been kindling is quickly replaced by desire, thick pulsing desire that has me panting.

All of the adrenaline flows south to the juncture between my legs; I feel my body pulse there. My arms wind themselves around his neck. The kiss deepens as his sweet tongue invades my mouth. Peeta always tastes of cinnamon and vanilla. It’s addictive and draws me in further. Passionate electrical torrents pass between us and our kisses become rushed. His large hands grip my hips, then my ass.

He’s still aroused and I can feel his hard length pressing against me. My nipples tighten into buds at the thought of having him. We walk backwards into a wall, and I grind against him. My hand gravitates downward and grabs him through his jeans. He is already thick with need and he groans before tearing his mouth away from mine.

Hungrily he pants, “Katniss.”

His blue eyes are the dark like the night sky; his hands desperately skimming over my body. Seeing him so uncontrolled makes me feral for more of his touch and sends dirty thoughts racing through my mind.

His hands make their way to my zipper and I shimmy just enough out of my pants to give his fingers the freedom to find my needy core.

“You’re so wet,” he mutters against my neck where his lips are burning a path to the sensitive spot under my jaw. His fingers part my folds, rubbing my clit in that magical pattern he knows I like so much. Spending so many hours on the edge of danger has done something to me and the need to feel alive, to know that we are both well, stokes the fire within me until I burn out of control.  

“Peeta I neee….” The rest of the words fall away when his thick fingers slip inside of me. It satisfies my cravings for a moment, but soon his fingers aren’t enough.

“Tell me what you want,” he says against my skin.

I am at the summit and I can feel a familiar tightening in my womb. “I need you inside...now!”

He pushes my pants down. I hear the rasp of his zipper and I feel his tip aligned with my entrance.

“NOW,” I urge, as his tongue invades my mouth and his thick member stretches my taught body. My bones melt like ice-cream on a hot pavement.

A muffled groan escapes both of us, his member sliding in and out of my slick, tight walls. Tearing my mouth away from his, I bite his earlobe, causing Peeta to pound into me. My body begins to convulse around him and everything fades to white as we come at the same time.

When I come to, Peeta is softly kissing me. Our bodies slide onto the thick plush rug, somehow I end up lying on top of Peeta. His voice rumbles through his chest, “If the situation weren’t so dire we could play out one of those smutty fanfics you're always reading. Maybe hang from that chandelier.”

My cheeks tinge pink at the mention of my one vice. Fanfic is my one and only guilty pleasure. Peeta happens to be the only person on the planet who knows about it. Playfully I hit him on the arm, “Wiseass.”

Spent, we straighten our clothing. The lightning crackles in the sky and the bright light illuminates the portrait of Maysilee. In the background, I spot white bell flowers cascading from a tree.  “Devil's breath,” I gasp, pointing at the painting.

“What?”

“Those flowers in the background, they’re called Devil’s Breath. It’s a plant my mom uses to calm her patients. She’s always careful about using it, because it can make you incapacitated, almost zombie like. It can erase your memories. If Snow has this, it explains why those wasps affected us the way they did.”

“Note to self, stay away from wasps,” Peeta murmurs to himself.   

“Quick, help me.”

Startled by the voice we spin around. The dumbwaiter is back, and inside we find an exact replica of Maysilee Donner Abernathy, very much alive and definitely not a monster.  “Maysilee?”

“Nope, just her niece, Madge Undersee,” she says, hopping out of the dumbwaiter. “Help me get your friend to the sofa. He was stung pretty badly.” Peeta springs into action, helping maneuver an unconscious Finnick to the couch while Madge disappears in dumbwaiter again to go back for Jo.

“He’s pretty out of it,” Peeta says as he holds Finnick's face in his hands. The dumbwaiter rattles back into the room.

“They need the antidote, Katniss,” says Madge. Together, we move Jo, “Their hearts can stop just like my aunt and your uncle.” Madge takes two syringes from her back pocket.

“Wait, how did you know who we are?” I blanch at the thought of having to administer the antidote. Needles make me squeamish.

Madge rolls up Finnick’s sleeve and administers the antidote as she speaks. “My aunt left me a letter with my mom. After Haymitch died, I did a small inquiry.”

Jo is badly stung and her body is spasming. Rolling up her sleeve, I manage to accomplish what my mother and my sister have tried to instruct me to do a thousand times without success. As the contents of the needle are introduced into her blood system, Jo’s body calms down. “How’s that possible? Your aunt’s been dead for over 25 years?”

Peeta exclaims, “Like in the second Back to the Future when Doc leaves Marty behind in 1955 and writes him a letter from 1855 with instructions to deliver it to Marty in 1955.”

Peeta’s infatuation with Back to the Future could be the only non-attractive thing about him, but I can usually forgive it because that boyish look on his face is yummy.

Madge laughs at his Back to the Future reference. “Sort of,” she agrees. “About six months before I was born, my aunt thought she was going to die and wanted to make sure her killer was brought to justice. She wrote a letter and instructed my mother to give it to me if anything happened to Haymitch. In her letter, my aunt Maysilee wrote that Haymitch wouldn’t rest until he solved her murder, and that if he died, then someone else needed to take up the torch. She also said that if anything happened to her, my mother wouldn’t be emotionally or mentally capable of finding her killer. It’s true, she wasn’t. She still isn’t. She couldn’t even hand me the letter without dissolving to tears.” Madge took out the folded letter from her pocket and held it up. “She died the day she wrote this. As soon as I got her letter, I requested a copy of the coroner's report. It said my aunt died of an overdose. But one of the first things she stated in her letter was that she never took drugs.”

“So that thing in the attic with your aunt’s look, it isn’t her?”

Finnick groans and tries to sit up and Peeta pulls him upright. Clearly, the medication is taking effect. I shudder to think of what could have happened to all of us without Madge’s help. Losing Peeta is my worst nightmare.

“No,” Madge shakes her head, “That thing in the attic isn’t my aunt.”

“Tell me what you know and what’s with that symbol on your locket.” I point to her shirt.

“According to the letter, my family owned Mockingjay Cosmetics. This was the brand symbol. Dr. Snow was in charge of creating and testing out new products. You’ve met his secretary.”

“Effie,” Peeta says as Finnick sits forward. “Haymitch once told me he met her at work. I thought it was at the tech firm he owned.”

Madge pulls out a necklace with a locket. “From what I could find out from the old records my family had, your uncle Haymitch was a genius. He was working with reproducing skin cells, so that they could test the cosmetics without human or animal testing.” She opens the locket to reveal that her aunt and her mother were twins. “When FDA laws became stricter, my family complied, or so we thought. There was an investigation and we lost the company, because of Snow. My aunt believed Haymitch had something on Snow, but she couldn’t prove anything and before she could find out, she died. Your uncle moved to Silicon Valley, where he made his money. My mom has never gotten over the death of her sister.”

“Do you think that beast could have your aunt’s genes?”

“I only know that Snow’s been manipulating the genetic makeup of that mutt. I found some files that seemed to indicate that Effie’s been involved. Snow and Crane experimented on her with the Devil’s Breath, manipulating her memories.”  

Peeta speculates, “He made her into one of his mutts.”

Madge nods,“I’ve been able to grab samples of the vials in his lab and send them out for testing. It’s how I was able to get an antidote.”

“So how do we-” My words were frozen mid-sentence as a piercing howl echoes inside the house. A crashing and thumping noise penetrates the air, followed by the high-pitched, panicked screeching of birds. The chandelier shakes above us, and several crystals fall to the ground like broken stars.

Finnick’s eyes shoot upward. Like me, he’s a hunter and he’s instantly alert.

“He let experiment M loose,” Madge whispers, her face and eyes filled with horror.

Grabbing Madge by the arms, I shake her “Are there any weapons in the house?”

Madge gives me a blank stare right before she nods. She pulls on a wall sconce, “I found this one day by accident.” The picture springs open revealing two automatic crossbows. I’m overjoyed as I load it with arrows. The ceiling above shakes, bits of debris of dried plaster and dust fall on our heads . I hear the birds screech in fear and pain. There is no doubt the ape is killing the birds.

Madge bends down and picks up the forgotten syringe. “Katniss, we can stop that creature with this. There’s enough of the Devil's Breath in here to kill it.”

“We did the mash! We did the monster mash,” Finnick sings, as he checks over the other crossbow.

“Finnick,” I warn as I macgyver the syringe onto the tip of one of the arrows with my hair tie.

“Katniss, are you sure this is the wisest thing to do?” Peeta’s voice always has a way of reaching me, even when I’ve got my blinders on and I cannot reason.

We can hear its steps echo through the threadbare walls. The mutt is hunting us. “We got to get rid of it Peeta. If it gets out…you need to take care of Jo.”

“Okay, I’ll take care of Jo, but I swear if I don’t see you in hour, I’m coming after you.” He places a soft kiss on my lips.

I want to tell him that I love him but there’s no time for this so I express it in my kiss. Stepping away, I turn to Madge, “Since you know the house better than us, is there a place where you can take Jo and Peeta, maybe call the cops?”

The howling is getting closer. There is no time to lose. We stare at each other in that pregnant peace before the storm. It knows we’re in here.

“Help me with Jo,” Madge shouts. Peeta tenderly puts Jo into the dumbwaiter and Madge wraps an arm around her waist to hold her up. We realize too late that three people cannot fit inside.

“Take care of her,” Peeta tells Madge and pulls the door closed. As the dumbwaiter rattles away, I hear the mutt sniffing at the door to the room.

“Peeta, get behind us,” I shout. Looking behind me, I see Peeta picking up a chair. The door smashes to splinters and the snarling wolf lunges inside, its eyes glittering with evil. Blood drips from its canine teeth and I spot feathers mixed in with its golden hair.

It snarls and snaps at Finnick, I aim the crossbow. It senses my movement and jumps at me as a blood curdling roar rips from its jaws. The arrow is released and it lodges itself in its chest. It roars in pain and stumbles, but lands on its paws and lunges at me again.  Finnick is shooting at it, but his arrows do nothing to it. He tosses his crossbow aside and rams the beast in its side.

“FINNICK NO!!” I scream as he struggles with the mutt.

The chair splinters behind me. I spin around. Snow is holding on to Peeta, who has a syringe buried in his jugular. Snow is wounded. Blood seeps from his nose but his eyes are wild, animalistic. Peeta is limp in his arms and his eyes are glazed over. Yet another secret door gapes open behind them.

“Hey, asshole!” I yell and Seneca whirls around to face me, spraying gasoline over the beautiful floors. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“I was looking for you,” he states weakly. “It’s so dangerous to go exploring in a rickety old house this late at night.”

“So you were going to burn it down around my ears?” I ask and Seneca fumbles for a moment or two, waving his hand in a useless gesture.

“Of course not,” he insists and rage fills me. I think of Johanna and Madge, somewhere in this house and oblivious to the danger they’re in. At least this new one. I think of Uncle Haymitch and how he’d been manipulated, used, and possibly blackmailed. His murdered wife Maysilee. Creepy Snow and his experiments topped off with these two greedy leeches trying to burn down my house and not caring who they hurt in the process. And I think of Peeta, his strange behavior and how I might still lose him tonight. But if I think about that too much, I might go insane, so instead I cling to my rage and pull the threads before I come unraveled.

I point towards the bright red gas can in his hands and snarl at him. “So I suppose that’s here to start a campfire. Did you bring marshmallows, too? I’m afraid I’m all out of chocolate bars to make s’mores. Fed them to the creepy, mutant birds in the attic.”

“Well I, uh—” he stammers and then the strangest thing happens. His eyes harden and he stands up straight. The usual fop that I’ve come to despise on some low level disappears and in his place is something sleeker and far more dangerous. “You’re just like him, you know. Your uncle. He was sarcastic and blind when he met his end, too.”

I take a few steps inside and Seneca flinches, so I keep going. “He died of a heart attack,” I remind Seneca, who laughs cruelly at my words.

“Oh no, my dear Katniss. He didn’t at all.”

“You’re a murderer!” I shout. He smiles and then something sharp scrapes painfully across my back. I yell and stagger forward, falling to my knees as I hear the familiar click clack of Effie’s heels and the soft tsk-ing of her tongue. Flames lick over my back as the floor boils in bright orange bubbles. How stupid of me to think she’d just wait inside the car.

“So impolite. Making such vile, unfounded accusations. Seneca is merely taking care of a public menace for me, aren’t you darling?” Effie trills as she examines her nails. The ends glow with something viscous and red. I try to crawl towards the door, but the orange bubbles have turned hot and burn my palms. The floor tilts violently and I retch. “Not to worry, my dear. The first dose is always the worst. From there…it’s only a matter of time.” Seneca hands her a fluttering white cloth and she sighs as she wipes her nails with it, staining the pristine thing red. Her talons, I realize. She’s laced them with the devil’s breath. Vines of the things sprout from the floor and wrap around my ankles, slowing my progress.

“And since you don’t have much time, let me explain a few things to you. Haymitch Abernathy was a drunken fool. A coward, too afraid to take risks. He was on his way to becoming one of the greatest engineers of our time but instead, he wanted a family with that whiny milksop of a wife. Well I knew I couldn’t just let him go and waste his millions on a pack of snotty children just like you. Poor Maysilee, unable to conceive though they did try so very hard,” Effie sings the words in a grating tune of false sympathy. I’ve almost reached the door as she keeps talking. Maybe if I can get there, through the ant hills sprouting up from the floor and spewing forth giant red ants, maybe I can flag down Finnick in the Jeep. My pulse pounds in my ears and for a moment, I think my heart actually slows. The distant rumbles of thunder alert me to the return of the storm.

“Well I couldn’t let them adopt a child. So Seneca and I took measures to make sure they didn’t. Your dear friend was correct about that,” she sneers and I freeze. How could she know about Madge–

Effie whistles and a flock of birds swoops gracefully down from the rafters. “Experimented on her with the Devil’s Breath.” One of them says in Madge’s voice. “Let experiment M loose.” Johanna’s voice joins in, “You need an exorcist.”

“Weapons in the house,” another says in my voice this time. Another sings about the hanging tree in Finnick’s and I cover my ears as all of our voices merge together and the birds form a swarm, screaming out in pain and fear.

“Katniss! Run!” Peeta’s voice yells above me. Peeta. I have to get to Peeta. It’s all I can think as the wings beat all around me, their beaks pecking at me and their words driving me insane. There’s a puff of sulfur and a light just above me. I reach towards it as Seneca stares down at me from the doorway, his face garish in the light from the match, his eyes black tar pits. I can just see the Jeep at a distance, two figures wrestling in the night. One of them scrambles for the door and the other wrenches him away as Effie hums and saunters back towards her Jaguar, it’s eyes glowing red. I can’t move. Instead, I watch, helpless as Peeta falls on Finnick and his fingers close around his throat—

“Okay, that’s it!” I shout and snatch the flashlight from Johanna’s hands. She freezes with her arm extended, hand curled into a strangling motion and her face twisted in rage. “You are not making Peeta murder Finnick.”

“What? No!” Finnick protests and shoves another handful of popcorn in his mouth. “If waf ‘us effing ‘ood.”

“Oh it was only now getting good?” Johanna asks and pops her hip to glare at her good friend.

Peeta lifts his marshmallow from the fire and frowns at the flaming thing before blowing it out. “Dang it, Jo. You made me burn another one.”

“Let her finish, Katniss,” Annie protests, her green eyes wide and luminescent in the firelight. “I want to know how it ends.”

“No!” I yell and everyone stares at me. I cross my arms and wriggle deeper into the blanket. “Couldn’t you have at least told your scary story from your own point of view?”

“That’s no fun,” Jo says with a wicked grin. “I don’t scare as easily as you do.”

“BLAGH!”

Hands clamp down on my shoulders. I scream. Smack them off and jump straight into Peeta’s lap as the other’s around the campfire lose it. Even Peeta’s biting his lip and trying not to laugh at me. I whack his chest as Madge wraps her arms around us both.

“I’m sorry, Katniss. I couldn’t resist,” Madge says between laughs. I plant my hand on her face and shove her away.

“None of you are my friends anymore,” I say petulantly.

“So do we all die or what?” Peeta asks and Jo shrugs before pointing around the circle. She starts with Finnick.

“Killed by your friend because you’re the jokester.” Next comes Madge. “Burned alive in the house, still haunts the grounds to this day with eerie song.” Madge claps her hands in glee. Then Johanna points to Peeta. “Locked in an asylum for the rest of your days.” To me, “Killed by the villain in your heroic efforts to save everyone else. Oh and that’s also because you had s-e-x,” she whispers the letters as she crosses her arms and grins. I sputter and protest that this was her story, not mine. She ignores me and moves on to herself. “Got away but don’t worry, I bite it in the sequel. Torn to shreds by the inexplicable reappearance of Experiment M.” She wriggles her fingers and twists her features into a grotesque mask. Then she drops her voice into a quiet but deep, creepy warble. “And Annie? Annie visits the burned-out shell of a house to look for her beloved and only finds the charred remains of a brass keyring, the echoes of birdsong, and half of Maysilee’s burned up portrait. Annie, of course, is the star of that sequel.”

“Oh no,” Annie says in the long pause after Johanna’s words and shakes her head, although she’s smiling.

“This is the thanks I get for letting you stay in my lavish mansion and mooch off my riches,” I mock. I try to stay mad at Johanna, but I can’t. The others seem just fine, talking about their favorite parts of her winding and twisted tale. Eventually, the full moon hangs high above us and the distant sounds of the night animals prowling in the woods beyond the fences reach our ears. Annie shivers and Finnick wraps a blanket around her, telling us that they’re turning in for the night. Madge and Johanna are next, laughing about the reality of our first meeting.

“No mutant birds, but I’m still not sure what kind of fungus that was growing in that attic aviary,” Madge jokes as she refers to the room she was hired to consult on the restoration of, only for us to learn that she was also Haymitch’s niece through her Aunt Maysilee. 

When it’s just Peeta and me, he roasts a few more marshmallows for us while I stand on the edge of the verandah and gaze up at the restored façade of Mockingjay Manor. It took some serious work and we almost missed our six month deadline, but in the end, we managed to meet Haymitch’s challenge.

I shift my eyes to look over at the house falling into disrepair next door. Next door is thankfully a bit of distance, though. It took the chill of fall to finally kill the smell of the genetically altered roses from his gardens and it will take some time to get over Coriolanus Snow’s attempts to blackmail me with Uncle Haymitch’s past as we worked to restore the manor. His nearly successful tries at blocking each step of the project. For now, it’s Snow’s estate that remains embroiled in legal debates, the old man having finally croaked during tea time, his death shrouded in mystery along with the scars ranging in age from a few weeks to years old found all over his body, resembling claw markings but unmatched to any kind of animal known to science. Maybe that’s why Johanna’s story freaked me out so much. Because at some point, it became difficult to find the line between the real and the made up as she spun the tale.

Mockingjay cosmetics, the hushed-up scandals of corporate misdeeds and ethics violations. The weird dreams that plagued Peeta for weeks after clearing the gardens and the bushes filled with razor sharp thorns left his arms cut and his blood exposed to toxins from fungi and plants alike. Even the hint of murder in Maysilee’s death. The child scheduled for adoption to two eager parents who built her a beautiful nursery, left somewhere in the system when the adoption agency pulled out and refused to give just Haymitch custody after Maysilee died. Haymitch wanted me to make it right, to find her and make sure she had a home, a family. I have a name – Lavinia Tulane. But I still haven’t gotten much farther than that.

“We’ll keep looking,” Peeta assures me as he steps up behind me and wraps his arms around me, his loud footfalls ensuring that he, at least, can’t scare me tonight. Something about Johanna’s story keeps nagging at me, though, and as I look up at Peeta’s concerned face, I know what it is that upset me so much. Just the idea of losing Peeta. But he’s here in front of me, so very alive and safe as he speaks softly. “In the meantime, do you want that last s’more? Or would you rather just go to bed?” That’s a question I definitely know the answer to. So I grab his hand and tug him inside and up the stairs, to where adventures of a more enjoyable nature await.

And that, friends, concludes Mockingjay Manor! We hope you enjoyed the ride! The story, in its entirety, will be posted on AO3 in time for Hallowe’en.

We’d like to express our deepest gratitude to our incredible group of authors, @burkygirl, @jennagill, @albinokittens300, @peetamymuse, @norbertsmom, @appleblossomgirl0305, @mega-aulover, @xerxia31, @katnissdoesnotfollowback and @peetabreadgirl. Your talent and creativity astounds us, you took this story to places we never could have imagined. Thank you!!

Snow has a single red rose in the lapel of the white jacket he’s wearing, I catch glimpses of it each time Peeta sways to the left. It’s what I hone in on as I gently squeeze the trigger.

And then Finnick and the wolf-mutt careen into me, slamming me into the wall, knocking me off balance.

The clattering cacophony of crystals crashing into each other is my first clue that the arrow has missed. I glance up from where I’ve landed on my knees on the carpet to see the chandelier swaying wildly overhead, one of the chains that secure it to the ceiling having been neatly severed by the erstwhile arrow. My heart sinks.

Snow starts laughing, an awful, gurgling cackle. I turn my gaze to him. He’s released Peeta, who now lies slumped and still on the carpet. Snow’s bent over, blood dribbles down his face, a Rorschach blot on his pasty-white cheek. The syringe full of Devil’s Breath I’d jury-rigged to my arrow - the one I’d intended to fire at the mutt - has somehow detached and pierced the old man right through the eye. I shudder in horror and revulsion.

He meets my stare with his one good eye, that single beady snake-like eye searing into my own, silently judging. Then the eye flickers shut and he falls to the ground.

Behind me, Finnick is frantically calling my name. The mutt has him pinned, only his strong legs braced against the creature’s chest keep the evil beast from reaching Finnick’s jugular. I heft the crossbow into my arms again and load another arrow. It strikes the creature between the shoulder blades, but it barely seems to even notice.

Several of Finnick’s and my earlier arrows stick out of the mutt like porcupine quills, I don’t know what kind of genetic engineering is at play but I’m starting to think it’s indestructible. It glares at me over its shoulder as I nock another arrow, those creepy jewel-green eyes almost sentient. I don’t even think twice, aiming the bow right at a green orb. This time, my shot is true, and finally the thing, whatever it is, collapses, landing on Finnick’s prone form.

With both Snow and the beast dispatched, I’m momentarily paralysed by indecision. Finnick, to my right, is under the mutt, only his face visible. Peeta, across the room, is completely soundless, body twisted onto itself. They’re both unnaturally still. “Finnick?” I whisper, barely audible over the blood thrumming in my ears.

His eyes flutter open. “I’m okay,” he says, his normally jovial expression stoic and serious.

Reassured, I dart across the room and drop my weapon on the carpet as I fling myself at my boyfriend. “Peeta?” I say softly. I brush the damp blond strands of hair back from his forehead, find the pulse drumming against my fingers at his neck. Sigh in relief. He’s alive.

His lashes flutter open and his eyes meet mine, unfocused. The pupils are blown wide, black pools swallowing all but the thinnest ring of summer blue. His features register confusion, disbelief and something more intense that I can't quite place. As if in slow motion, he lifts his arms, reaching for me, to caress my face, I think.

My lips are just forming his name when his fingers - those long, artist’s fingers I’ve loved since we were just children - lock around my throat.

I try to yell his name, but all that comes out is the consonant, followed by a squeak. He’s not squeezing as hard as I know he’s capable of, but he’s not joking either and I can’t breathe. I grapple with his arms, trying to pull him away. Claw at the rock-hard muscle, panicked and afraid as he stares at me, unblinking. I manage to dislodge his thumbs enough to suck in a lungful of precious oxygen. “Peeta!” I wheeze, and recognition flickers in his eyes.

His hands loosen, just a little, and he whispers my name, as if he’s not certain I’m real. His pupils contract to pinpoints, dilate again rapidly, and then return to something resembling normalcy. An expression of pure horror crosses his face as he takes in our positions, his hands on my neck, my shuddering gasps, and lightning fast he releases me, scrambling backwards until his back hits the wall.

The madness of our situation fades into the background as we stare at each other, uncertainty and apprehension thick between us. I regret coming to this house of horrors, regret every decision I’ve made since the reading of Haymitch’s will. No amount of money is worth having Peeta look at me like this.

A heavy hand lands on my shoulder and I scream, my elbow instinctively flying backwards, connecting with soft flesh. “Dammit, Katniss,” Finnick yelps, doubled over and clutching his stomach. Peeta cowers, flattening himself even more against the wall.

“Shit, Finnick, don’t sneak up on me like that,” I bark. Finnick opens his mouth, no doubt to deliver a snappy comeback, but then he catches sight of my throat, where I can still feel the impressions of Peeta’s fingertips. He glances over at Peeta, maybe evaluating the potential risk, but the way his expression softens at the image of Peeta trembling in fear tells me that he knows this particular danger is no more.

“What happened?” he mumbles, crawling closer until he’s kneeling right in front of Peeta, who flinches, as if he doesn’t even recognize one of his oldest friends.

“Snow shot him full of something. The Devil’s Breath, I think. A whole syringe full.” My voice breaks and fear claws at my stomach. “I think Madge used all of the antidote on you and Jo.” Used it saving their lives. I shudder, thinking about what Madge said about their hearts possibly stopping, like her aunt’s had. Like my uncle’s had. But Peeta is conscious, surely that means he’s going to be okay?

“The stuff that was in those freaky wasp’s stings?” Finnick asks, and I nod. His lips form a silent O. “That shit made me hallucinate pretty badly, see all kinds of awful things I’d have sworn were real,” he says, “and I only got maybe a dozen stings.” He pulls Peeta’s arms away from where he’s hiding behind them, shielding his face. My boyfriend looks almost childlike in his palpable fear. “Hey, buddy,” Finnick says gently, softly, as if talking to a spooked horse. “I know you’re seeing scary things, but they’re not real, okay?”

Above us, the house gives a mighty shake, plaster dust snowing down. I glance uneasily at the ceiling, then over to where Snow lies unmoving, and finally towards the door where the golden wolf-mutt is sprawled in a pool of blood. I think plenty of the scary things Peeta is seeing are, in fact, quite real.

“We’ve got to get out of here, Finn. This is too big for us, we need to call the cops.” I know both his phone and mine are dead, and I haven’t seen Peeta’s since the attic. Our only hope is to get to one of the neighbouring houses. I reach for Peeta, to tuck my shoulder under his arm and get him to his feet. “Can you help me with--” my words cut off sharply as Peeta recoils from me.

“I’ve got him,” Finnick says, glancing at me with something akin to pity. I swallow the hurt. Now isn’t the time. “Where’s Jo and your cousin?”

I shrug helplessly. “They disappeared back into that dumbwaiter, but surely Madge wasn’t crazy enough to head back for the attic?” The shrieking of birds has stopped, but periodic thumps still rock the building, along with faint groans, as if the very walls are in pain.

“We’ve got to trust that they’re someplace safe,” he grunts, struggling a little under Peeta’s weight. I don’t try to help.

We pick our way out of the room and try to navigate in the darkness. I’ve long since lost the floor plan Plutarch gave me, and I don’t think we’re in a section of the house we’ve explored before. Finally, the narrow corridor opens into a kitchen, large but dated. Thin moonlight streams through the windows, falls across Peeta and Finnick and my heart plummets. Finnick is covered in blood, his own or the mutt’s I can’t tell. And Peeta is barely conscious. In the moon’s pale glow, the circles under his eyes look like bruises. If Haymitch wasn’t already dead, I swear I’d kill him now for subjecting us to this.

“There’s a door,” Finnick says, breaking me from my homicidal thoughts. He’s right; at the far end of the room is our way out. Though my every instinct is to bolt for that door and leave this place far behind, we instead skulk along slowly, cautiously, aware that every black shadow could potentially hold more horrors. Somewhere from deep in the bowels of the big house, a clock strikes midnight. It feels like an omen. Finnick starts singing under his breath.

Are you, are you Coming to the tree Wear a necklace of rope, side by side with me. Strange things did happen here No stranger would it be If we met up at midnight in the hanging tree.

I elbow him in the gut again, and reach for the door. Unlike the front door, this one swings open smoothly, clearly it’s been recently used. We emerge onto a flagstone patio that overlooks what must have been gardens at one time, but is now no more than dimly illuminated overgrowth. The rain has stopped, but the full moon is still mostly cloud-obscured. “This must be the back of the house,” I guess and Finnick nods.

We skirt along the outside of the mansion in the shadow of the imposing facade, walking through wet, waist-high grass and even taller weeds, grumbling the whole way. Wind whips around us, making the trees whisper and wail, a devil’s lament.

As we round the corner, under a massive bow window, Finnick suddenly grabs my arm and tugs me down, pressing me flat against the cold stone of the foundation. My shoulder bumps Peeta’s as I crouch, and he whimpers. I glare at Finnick, but he raises a finger to his lips, then peeks around the corner, gesturing me to follow suit. Finnick extends his free arm, pointing to a car parked on the grass, its headlights shining on the side of the house not fifty feet away from where we hide.

It’s a car I recognize, a sleek Jaguar SJ that I know was custom ordered in gold, to match it’s owner’s hair. “Oh shit,” I murmur, squinting. Sure enough, I catch sight of a flash of brass in the passenger seat. “Aunt Effie,” I hiss. “I should have known that Haymitch’s gold-digging wife--”

“Forget about her,” Finnick growls. “We have a bigger problem.” I move my gaze from the car to where Finnick is pointing. Illuminated by the car’s headlights, a man who can only be Seneca Crane is splashing something over the house. Only when the pungent stench of gasoline hits my nostrils does it finally click. That bitch is trying to burn down my house! Whether to destroy the evidence in the attic laboratory, or to prevent me from taking half of Haymitch’s fortune I don’t know, and I don’t care.

“What do we do?” Finnick asks, an edge of hysteria in his voice. I know he's thinking about Jo, worrying. Peeta’s car, and along with it the promise of escape, is no more than a hundred yards away. But how can we run when our friend is still inside that house, and a crazy person is trying to burn it down?

Once the room is blanketed in darkness, the birds immediately go silent, which is more unnerving than their grating racket. In the unnatural quiet, the steady clomping and creaking of someone climbing the stairs sets my teeth on edge. The shadows flicker and elongate as lantern light streams through the opening at the top of the stairs.

Whatever I was expecting, what walks through the door is not it. A small, thin man with paper white hair walks straight past me into the room. Though his posture is regal as he strolls by, illuminated by the warm light from his lantern, he looks more like a grandpa than a real threat. Somehow he doesn’t see Peeta and me as he walks past, trailing a peculiar scent of roses and blood.

Immediately, I scan the room; I can see Jo’s feet under the silver work table near the back of the room, but Finnick is nowhere in sight. I lower my syringe and take a breath to call out to this old man, who probably wandered in here to take refuge from the storm. But before I can speak, the old man says, without turning around, “Put that down, son. It’s a sensitive instrument.”

Peeta glances over at me, but lowers the microscope so it’s level with and cradled against his chest, like he’s just been reprimanded by our high school biology teacher.

I step forward, sliding the syringe up into my sleeve to conceal it, before demanding in the most authoritative voice I can muster, “Who are you?” Then, realizing that was the wrong place to start, I add, “This is my house, and you’re trespassing.”

He turns around slowly, leisurely to face me before saying, “Then Haymitch Abernathy is dead, I presume.” It isn’t a question. When I don’t respond, he adds with a cold smile, “I assumed he had imbibed enough alcohol to preserve himself for all eternity. And who, pray tell, are you?”

“Fine,” I say through clenched teeth, “I’ll start. I’m Katniss Everdeen.”

“Oh, right, the niece,” he says dismissively, “I see the family resemblance.” Glancing over at Peeta, who is still cradling the microscope, he adds, “And a similar taste in pretty blondes.”

Who the hell does this guy think he is? Am I so rattled by the storm, this house, the experiments, the mutated creatures, that I’m allowing myself to be insulted by this intruder? Planting both feet and lifting my chin, I grit out, “Who are you and what are you doing here?”

I hear a snicker from what must be Finnick as he answers, “Dr. Coriolanus Snow.” Then, taking a step towards me, he growls, “And I’d advise you not to take that tone of voice, Miss Everdeen.”

This close, I can see that his eyes are as unforgiving as a snake’s and I fight the urge to take a step back. At the sound of Dr. Snow’s menacing hiss, the horrifying, fanged monkey shrieks and climbs back into it’s cage. I feel Peeta step up behind me and fight the urge to lean against him for support. But just the warmth radiating off of him, like my own, private sun, strengthens me.

“As to what I’m doing here, I think you already know. I’m conducting research.”

“You mean, you’re- you’re responsible for creating these abominations?” I can’t keep the disgust out of my voice as I glance at the cages arrayed around the room.

“Well, technically your uncle deserves part of the credit. The inspiration was mine, but Mr. Abernathy was the engineer.”

“Haymitch was a software engineer,” I blurt out, wanting answers, but wanting even more to have this man and his cold, watery blue eyes out of my house.

Coriolanus Snow tsks me. “That’s what he became, not what he was. He was a geneticist and architect. Somewhere along the way, he lost his nerve, probably at the bottom of a bottle of whiskey. He wanted out. But ours isn’t the kind of business you get to walk away from.”

My mind is reeling. What had Haymitch sent me here for? His letter had said, “I need you to go back there and make things right for me. You’re the only person I know who’s strong enough to see it through.” Had he sent me here as an exterminator? To clean up his mess? Though he was a drunken wreck with terrible taste in women, he wasn’t a coward. He needs me to do something he couldn’t. In my head I can practically hear Uncle Haymitch’s exasperated words, “Figure it out fast, sweetheart.”

“Please request that your friends come out of the shadows, we wouldn’t want any… accidents to occur, would we?”

Finnick and Jo climb out of their hiding places, both still gripping their weapons and looking nervously between Snow, Peeta and me. Everything about this man is unnerving. Can he see through solid objects? His preternatural calm in the face of four armed opponents is disconcerting, bordering on frightening.

“Look, Snow-”

“Doctor Snow,” he corrects.

Gritting my teeth, I say, “Look, Doctor Snow, your ‘research’ is over. Grab whatever you need and leave. Tomorrow, I call animal control and start renovating this old house. That’s what Haymitch wanted and that’s what’s going to happen.”

“No, I don’t think it will,” he says nonchalantly, pursing his puffy lips and shaking his head slowly as he reaches into his pocket. Jo and I both raise our weapons as he pulls out a what appears to be a jar of golden jewels, at the same moment as he extinguishes the lantern. It isn’t until he’s thrown the jar and the sound of shattering glass is replaced by the angry buzzing of wasps that I realize we’ve been outplayed.

I hear Peeta’s grunt of pain before he shouts for me to run. I’m immobilized by the chaos around me: the birds are screeching, the monkey is shrieking, the wolf is howling. I can hear Finnick and Jo screaming, but they sound too far away. I lunge towards where Peeta was just seconds ago, but encounter nothing but air.

Then the stinging starts. The pain is like a strike of lightning, so intense that my vision shatters into shards of darkness. I howl for Peeta, needing to run, escape down the stairs, but unable to find him, and leaving him is unthinkable. I fumble for my phone, but another excruciating sting on my hand renders it useless. I hear the sound of crunching glass, but can’t discern if it’s my phone or the glass from Snow’s jar of horrors.

Lurching sideways, I realize that I’m so disoriented that I don’t even know which way to run. Worse, I seem to be losing control of my legs, maybe losing consciousness altogether, though in the shimmery darkness it’s impossible to tell. I drag my left foot forward and trip over something large and soft. The resulting “oomph” alerts me to the fact that I’ve landed on one of my companions. With my last shred of strength, I find a limb and start to drag the dead weight towards what I hope is a door, my only conscious thought is that I have to get out of here.

To my absolute horror, I smell smoke. I swing my head around wildly, but don’t see any light from flames. I redouble my efforts to drag whoever I’m holding onto and suddenly feel the weight lessen as the body begins to slide. Seconds later, I register hands on my shoulders steering me away from the bird cacophony.

The hands are small and light, so they must be Jo’s.

“Where’s Finnick?” I yell to her over the din. But it isn’t Jo’s voice that responds in a raspy whisper directly into my ear.

“Help me get him in.”

Trying to fight through the wooziness, I struggle to make sense of what’s going on, what’s real. It’s hard to be sure, but the voice sounded female or maybe a young boy? Whoever it is, it’s not Johanna or anyone we came in with.

A tiny penlight flashes on, the light sharp and refractive to my sensitive eyes. I try to focus and am able to make out that it’s trained on a symbol stitched onto the fabric of their shirt. That same golden bird inside a circle that’s on my key and that painting of Maysilee in the entryway.

The stranger’s light beam sweeps out in an arch and I see Finnick staggering in a circle with Johanna slung over his back as he swings the pronged pole in wide arc trying to stave off whatever attack is coming next. When the light blinks out, I’m left with the darkness strobing before my eyes. Trusting a stranger in this chaos is madness, but any way out is better than staying here.

I heave my side of what I’m now sure is Peeta and slam into an alcove in the wall. The sounds are muted and I slide to the floor, clutching Peeta’s arm against my chest. My stomach drops as the floor gives way. But I’m not falling, I’m in some kind of an elevator. In seconds, we slam into the bottom and I spring out into a small room, lit with a single-candle lantern. The warm light shows some kind of an office or pantry, the floor covered in a thick oriental rug, with a small sleeping pallet in the corner.

A rumbling behind me alerts me that the elevator, which I realize is actually a large dumbwaiter set into the wall, has started to rise. Grasping Peeta’s leg in both hands, I tug with all of my strength until Peeta is on the rug beside me and the dumbwaiter ascends. Presumably at the command of our savior.

I collapse on the floor next to Peeta, which is now covered in tiny orange bubbles, and pass out.

I have no idea how much time has passed when I come to. Peeta is few feet away from me and I crawl over to where he’s laying. I brush the sweaty hair back from his beautiful face and take a quick inventory. He has a cut on his forearm, but it has already stopped bleeding. I count five swollen stings and a bruise on his left temple, but otherwise he is gloriously intact. I can’t help myself, I kiss the bruise, then the corner of his eyelid, then brush my lips softly against his. One eye cracks open and he smiles up at me. The relief that floods through me at that sliver of cornflower blue at that heart-crushingly sweet smile makes me gasp. Experimentally, I try another kiss, a bit more demanding this time. He groans and snakes a hand up into my hair. And then I can’t stop kissing him. I can feel the heat and slight nudge of the start of his erection against my thigh and I want him with such intensely it steals my breath, and possibly my sanity.

To my great disappointment, he breaks the kiss to take a similar inventory of me. When he’s satisfied, he crushes me against his chest. “Thank god, you’re okay,” he breathes into my hair. “Where are Finn and Jo?”

I’m ashamed to admit, there was nothing in my mind but Peeta’s safety. Glancing up, I scan the room for an exit and catch sight of another portrait of Maysilee. I have a dizzying moment of deja vu, like I’ve met this woman recently. A cold sensation, like ice-water drizzling down my spine makes me shudder as I make the connection and recognize the flowing blond hair and exact green eyes that are set in the snarling, caged wolf-like creature from upstairs. A small shriek escapes me before I can clasp a trembling hand over my mouth.

No wonder Haymitch hadn’t been able to come back here. Hadn’t been able to face what had happened here. Rage flares in my heart as I imagine someone distorting the man I love into something as freakish as that abomination in the cage.

This isn’t about a fortune anymore.

I have to hide my chuckle as we work out our plan of attack. We decide to form a chain with Jo on the end closest to the outer wall, Finnick next to her. He may be good to take on anything or anyone we come across, but without his flashlight app, he’s not much use right now. I’m between Finnick and Peeta, who is closest to the interior wall.

We walk toward the other end of the attic, sweeping our lights back and forth in front of us so we don’t trip on anything. None of us speak; I for one am holding my breath, listening for a clue as to what else may be hiding in this attic.

The sounds of the birds behind us are fading, but the knocking is getting louder the closer we get, and the stench of dirt and stagnant water morphs into the musky stink of wet animal fur. Some other creature besides birds must have taken up refuge in this attic from the storm.

In the distance, my light picks up a shiny rectangular object. I stop and point my phone light directly on it. “Guys,” I whisper. “Do you see that?”

“Looks like a stainless steel work bench,” Peeta replies.

“Yeah, something out of a science class, maybe,” Finnick adds, and he’s right. The closer we get the more we can see. On top of the bench is a microscope surrounded by various other pieces of equipment I have no name for, along with a few large syringes. Above the table is a row of lights with wires hanging limply down the side.

Peeta picks up the wires and shines his light down to the floor. “Looks like someone was using a generator up here,” he says as he points to the square that is a shade darker than the rest of the floor.

We each shine our light around what appears to be a makeshift laboratory complete with a filing cabinet and shelves of glass beakers and test tubes.

“Whoever owns this stuff this is getting evicted right along with their creepy birds,” I say and I realize that it’s finally quiet. “Hey, I don’t hear them anymore.”

“And the knocking has stopped, too,” Peeta adds.

“Thank fuck,” Jo says and I can’t agree more.

Jo starts rifling through the filing cabinet, while Peeta and Finnick go through the drawers under the workbench.

I wander around, not really focusing on anything. My mind is stuck on the question of why would anyone set up a lab in the attic of an abandoned home? Surely not Uncle Haymitch. In his letter he said he closed up the manor and walked away after his first wife died. Someone else then, definitely not Aunt Effie.  The thought of Effie, with her long manicured fingernails and designer dresses wearing a lab coat and working a Bunsen burner makes me chuckle. Certainly her wig would catch fire.

My light catches on a row of what appears to be boxes along the interior wall. Each one is covered by a white sheet. I reach out to pull one back when Jo calls out, “Guys, come have a look at what I found.”

We gather around the filing cabinet as Jo reads from one of the files. “Subject M has been successfully modified. After several avian variations,” Jo looks up from her reading, “I guess we now know where those creepy flying things with hair and teeth came from.” She laughs, then continues, “This is the first genetic modification of a mammal that has survived the gene modification process.”

“What kind of weird shit was your uncle into, Everdeen?” Jo asks.

“This isn’t my uncle’s stuff,” I sputter. “He was a technology guru, not some mad scientist. He didn’t even like birds. He always complained about the geese when we went to the park.”

I turn to Peeta, pleading with my eyes for him to believe me. I don’t care what Jo thinks, but I don’t want him to think I come from a family who would do such things.

Peeta just smiles down at me and hugs me close.

“Don’t worry, Brainless. I’m just messing with you,” Jo says with a laugh. “These reports are signed by a Dr. Coriolanus Snow. Ring any bells?”

“Nope,” I reply, but Finnick cuts me off.

“Coriolanus? His name is Coriol-anus, ha ha. What kind of name is that?” Finnick jokes.

“Very funny, Finnick,” I reply as we all chuckle. Leave it to Finnick to lighten the mood.

“If he was experimenting on animals, I think I know where he keeps his subjects,” I add as I point my light back over to what must be cages under those sheets by the interior wall.

“Holy shit, brainless,” Jo says as we approach the cages. “You think there are some freaky altered animals in these cages?”

“No way to know without pulling the sheets back,” I point out.

I reach out toward the first cage, but Peeta pulls my hand back. “Do you really think that’s a good idea, Katniss?” he asks. “We don’t know what’s under there. Maybe we should wait and call animal control.”

“I don’t hear any noises, so I bet they’re empty,” Finnick adds. “Hey Jo, shine your light this way, will ya?” he asks as he walks past me to pull the first sheet back with a flourish.

We all look inside, and Finnick points out the obvious, “See empty. What’d I tell ya?” He proceeds to pull back the sheets off the next few cages, all of which are also empty.

“Well, something made that loud knocking sound,” Peeta reminds us.

“Must have been a branch on the roof,” Finnick suggests as he pulls off another sheet. He moves onto the next cage but Peeta stops him.

“Finnick, I would move away from the cages. Look,” he says as he points his light into the cage. The door is bent inward, hanging precariously on only one hinge. “Something very big made that kind of damage. What’s that at the bottom of the cage?” He shines the light down on some kind of red substance.

“It looks like a patch of fur that was ripped out of something,” Finnick adds with a slight tremble to his voice.

“Probably one of the mad doctor’s failed experiments,” Jo suggests. “Let’s see what else is in here.”

Finnick slowly reaches for the next sheet, but he pulls his hand back and turns back to face us. “Do you guys hear that?” he asks, his eyes wide.

“What?” Jo snaps. “You whining?” she asks as she points her light in his face.

“Hey,” Finnick complains as he raises his hand to block the light.

That’s when I hear it, a low rumble coming from the last cage left to be uncovered.

“Shhh, I hear something,” I tell them as I take Peeta’s hand. “It sounds like a growl.”

“Maybe we should get out of here,” Peeta suggests. I’m about ready to agree when Jo speaks up.

“Pull the cover off, Finnick. Let’s see what’s making that sound.”

Finnick looks to both Peeta and I, but then leans forward to pull the sheet off the cage before jumping back.

Inside the cage is a snarling wolf-like creature with silky waves of blond fur and glowering green eyes are unmistakably human. Dangling from its collar is a tag with the letter W inlaid with jewels.

“This must be his successful experiment,” Jo suggests as we all start to back away.

As we do, my eyes never leave the wolf-like creatures as it snarls and snaps at us, shaking its cage as it tries to get at us.

“Didn’t that report say it was subject M?” I ask. “That’s subject W, probably for wolf.”

“What do you think the M stands for then?” Jo wonders aloud. We hear an answering knock from just beyond the makeshift laboratory.

Peeta, Jo and I turn our lights in that direction and I feel my blood run cold. There, banging the open door of its cage is a large monkey with orange fur. Its fangs are bared and hackles raised. Its claws are as big as Johanna’s switchblade. It bangs the door of its cage making the same knocking sound we heard earlier.

“I think we somehow stumbled onto the island of Doctor Moreau,” Finnick tries to joke, but it falls flat as we back away from the mutts.

Jo already has her switchblade, but the rest of us each grab something from the laboratory to use as a weapon. Finnick grabs a pronged pole that must have been used to control the animals. He twirls it around like a baton, pointing it menacingly at the monkey creature who hisses back at him. Peeta grabs the microscope. It looks pretty heavy, so it could come in handy if the mutt gets too close. I wish I had thought to bring my bow with me, but I settle on one of the large syringes.

We continue to back away, afraid to take our eyes off the monkey mutt, but we can’t keep going back without looking where we are going. “I’m going to turn around to lead the way back,” I tell the others just as my phone light begins to dim. “Damn, my phone is dead too.”

“Great, now we’re down to two lights,” Jo grumbles.

“Katniss and I will face the way back to the stairs,” Peeta offers.

“Jo and I will keep an eye on Rafiki back there,” Finnick adds.

“Sounds good,” Peeta and I both agree as we lead the way. The toys scattered across the floor come into view, so we are getting close to the birds and the way out. I start to breathe a sigh of relief when a loud bang comes from below. I jump and Peeta tenses beside me as the birds start shrieking and squawking and flapping their wings.

“What was that,” I whisper. Louds steps and the flicker of a flashlight tells us that someone is coming up the stairs.

“Someone’s coming,” Peeta whispers back. “They’ll know we’re up here. I left the door propped open with a chair.”

"You heard birds?" Johanna asks, still laughing. "That's what has you two so big-eyed and shaky? Or are you just trying to freak us out?"

"Look," Finnick says. "I'm as big a fan of Hitchcock movies as anyone, but it's going to take more than birds if you're trying to scare us."

I wrap my arms around myself and glare at the two of them. "We did hear something...and we're not shaking."

Peeta steps closer to me and rubs his warm hand up and down my arm. I'd be grateful, but he's almost smiling, now. "Maybe they're right. Maybe we did overreact a little."

I turn my glare on him as well. "We did not overreact. There's something going on in the east wing." I pull away from him and head back the way we came. Part of me knows that this is a little irrational, but something about this house has me anxious and on edge. I need to find out what it is and get out of here before things get worse.

I can hear Peeta struggling to catch up with me. I've always walked fast and he's never been the most graceful person.

"Katniss, slow down," he calls. "We don't need to get lost in this place. It might be dangerous—"

He is cut off by the combined sounds of what sounds like even more chattering birds and swift, rhythmic pounding.

"What the hell is that?" Finnick says, coming up behind Peeta with Johanna in the rear.

"That's what we heard," I say, feeling vindicated. The pounding sounds again—three hard knocks and then silence.

"That's why you don't run off on your own, stupid," Jo says, then sighs. "I guess it's time for me to earn a little of that money you guys are going to get. I hope you to remember this, Katniss."

She reaches into her back pocket and pulls out a switchblade. The silver of the blade gleams white in the pale light as she unfolds it.

Finnick breaks into his golden boy smile. " I knew there was a reason I keep you around, Jo."

"I thought it was because of my amazing body," she says with a wink. Finnick just laughs.

Peeta and I look at each other and Peeta just shakes his head. The four of us have been friends for a while, but Johanna and Finnick have always had a weird dynamic. Finnick loves his girlfriend, Annie, but he and Johanna flirt like mad.

Johanna leads the way into the master bedroom. There must be a draft in here, because the white sheets on the bed and furniture flutter sporadically, kicking dust up into the air and making us all cough. I pull the neck of my shirt up over my mouth. The others do the same and I couldn't be happier that I turned down Peeta's suggestion to test out the bed.

We pass into the abandoned nursery. The faded pictures of birds seem more ominous now, staring out at us, ready to strike with sharp, angry beaks.

"I wonder if the birds are in the walls. That happened once back home,” Finnick speculates. “Squirrels started living in the walls and all we heard was scratching for a week before my mother called pest control. It was expensive to get them out, too."

Johanna rolls her eyes. "Okay, Bob Vila, then tell us what do we do next."

Finnick puts his ear to one of the walls and knocks lightly down it. Something inside the wall clicks and a small crack opens in the wall, revealing a door.

"That isn't supposed to be there," I say, pulling out the layout of the house. There is nothing off this bedroom, at least on paper. I walk over to the door and, with a quick twist, pull it open. Inside is a flight of steep stairs leading upward. The air smells damp,  with a tinge of rot and mold.

I look at the others. "I don't think we can stop now. Let's go up."

I'm starting up the first step when Johanna pulls me back. "I'm the one with a weapon. I'll go first." Her words are brave, but there is a tremor in her voice.

She starts up in front of me. The rickety wooden steps creak beneath my shoes. There isn't any rail and so I have to grope my way through the cobwebs to grasp the exposed studs. We've only got up about five steps when the door below us starts to creak closed.

"It's a draft," Peeta says. "I felt it the first time we came in the nursery. "I'll go wedge something in the door to keep it open."

"We'll wait for you," I say and we stop on the dank stairs.

Peeta makes a lot of noise pulling a chair into the doorway. We all aim our cellphones at him so he can finish and make his way back.

After two minutes of shining it down for Peeta, Finnick's phone dims. "Did I mention I was on six per cent?" Finnick huffs a laugh, but not even Johanna joins him. After another minute, his phone goes completely out and there are only three lights between us and total darkness. I check my own phone—43 per cent.

There's nothing to do but go on. The stench of dirt and stagnant water grows stronger the farther up we go and so does the sound of the birds until every second is filled with avian screeching and I’m waiting for something to come flying out at me. I strain my eyes looking up into the narrow space over the stairs.

We make our way forward, grasping through the darkness, until we reach the top where we find a gaping hole of rotting wood where a door used to be. We step through it into an attic.

The attic stretches the whole length of the house. Part of the roof has caved in and is open to the sky. The storm is starting to clear and the full moon has finally come out, giving us a little extra light.

At one time, the attic might have been a child's secret playroom. Fragmented toys clutter the floor and molding posters hang from the wall. Among the scattered boxes and paintings and ancient toy trains are nests of birds, dozens of them, all different, all strange. Some sit in open cages, others nest on the exposed eaves. They don’t scatter when we come into view, but angle shiny, interested eyes in our direction.

"Is it me, or are these birds huge?" Peeta asks.

I nod and lace my fingers with his. The largest are the size of vultures.

"Are these birds huge? Huge!" one of the birds echoes, making us all jump. It has a sleek, dark body with a vibrant blue crest, but isn't a pet parrot or some other bird I expect to talk.

Another bird, this one smaller with a pale gray body, pecks at the larger bird until it stops repeating Peeta's words. The bird looks so familiar, but I can't place it.

Other flying creatures, these ones with hair and teeth, also nest in some of the cages.

"Somebody had to set this place up," Peeta says. "These birds didn't just show up here. This looks too organized." He points off into one of the corners. Large plastic bags of bird seed sit piled on top of each other.

The knocking pounds out again, louder and closer. It sounds like it’s coming from somewhere deeper in the attic. "Somebody or something is definitely here," Finnick whispers.

"Okay," Johanna says. "Whatever it is, let’s go find it and evict its ass. Katniss and I will take this side of the attic. The guys take the other side.”

I nod. For once, I agree with Johanna. We start heading for the far end of the attic when Peeta pulls me back.

“Katniss, I’m not sure splitting up is a good idea. I’d feel a lot better if you and I stuck together,” he whispers.

“Okay then, that'll be a good start for things to look out for,” I say and head towards the house.

Dark clouds flit across the full moon that illuminates the long path up to the house and the others follow behind me. I'm grateful that we changed out of our more formal clothes from earlier when we picked up Finnick and Johanna. It's been a mild October so far, so I'm comfortable in jeans and short sleeves.

“Don't go round tonight, it's bound to take your life, there's a bad moon on the rise…”

“Not helping, Finnick,” Johanna snaps.

“What? I can't even sing a little CCR?” he pouts. “You guys have no sense of adventure.”

We reach the threshold and I dig the key out of my pocket. It is heavy, with a circular emblem at the end. It's hard to make out in the moonlight, but it looks like a bird in flight. Plutarch had mentioned that the house has been sealed for years, so the key and lock might need some elbow grease. I slide the key into the lock and try to turn it the knob but it won’t budge.

“Let me try,” Finnick volunteers and works the key in and out while twisting the knob. “It's definitely stuck. Peeta, give me a hand… Or a shoulder.”

“It's almost like the house doesn't want us here,” Johanna says.

“Shush Jo. We just need to work as a team. You boys hurl your weight against the door and I'll turn the knob,” I say.

“And I'll just hang back here, thinking that this is a bad idea,” Johanna adds.

On the third try, the door gives way and we tumble into the foyer. The musty odor nearly chokes me. We all flick on the flashlight apps on our phones. Plutarch didn't say anything about the power being on or off, so I'm not taking any chances with the wiring.

Finnick blows out a low whistle as he takes in the entrance hall and our flash light beams bounce off the walls.

Cobwebs and dust form lace networks in every corner. White cloth is draped over all of the furniture and portraits. The stairs lead up to a wide platform before splitting off to either end of the house. Above the platform, there's a large portrait hidden underneath a sheet. Peeta steps forward to pull the sheet. After the cloud of dust dissipates, a portrait of a beautiful woman comes into view.

“Maysilee Donner Abernathy” Finnick reads from the plaque aided by the flashlight. She has a brave face, framed by straight blonde hair and blue eyes. A gold pin that matches the emblem on the key shines brightly on her dress. A canary is perched in a cage by her side. She has a sunny disposition, in direct contrast to the gloomy mansion.

"You don't need a contractor, Katniss. You need an exorcist," Johanna snarks. “I'll bet she's still here, watching over her manor.”

“What does you paperwork say?” Peeta starts, “about the layout of the house?”

“Eight bedrooms, eight full baths, four half baths, four garages, four fireplaces, library, lot size two acres,” I read aloud with the beam from Peeta’s flashlight.

“Is there a floor plan?” Finnick asks.

“Yeah,” I gesture with the additional information Plutarch gave me. “The master and a few bedrooms are in the east wing. Library and guest rooms are in the west wing,” I decipher from the map. “There's this grand staircase and another between the kitchen and the butler’s pantry.”

“We might need to get more supplies out of my Jeep if we're going to be here a while,” Peeta suggests.

A crack of lightning shakes the house and the roar of thunder rolls through the open door. Rain starts to fall nearly immediately so I shut the door to keep out the moisture.

“I don't want to make the trek back out to Peeta’s jeep again, especially in the rain,” Johanna says.

“So much for a quick look around,” Peeta shrugs.

“Well at least you'll see where the leaks are,” Finnick says.

“You two take the west wing and we’ll explore the east wing,” Peeta directs.

“I'll take a picture of the floor plan with my phone, so we'll have a copy too,” Finnick offers and starts climbing the massive staircase.

“Okay, just don't drain your battery!” I warn him.

Peeta and I take the east wing and head towards the master ensuite. It's odd to me that Haymitch would want to see the sun in the morning, he must have been very different with his first wife. I've only known him to sleep in until the early afternoon and stay awake most of the night with Effie flitting about their gaudy house in Merchant City.

We reach the master suite and Peeta pulls back the sheets on the massive bed and presses down on the ancient mattress. It's a huge room, easily swallowing up my childhood home.

“Want to give it a test drive? Sure would ease the tension I know is building up in your body…” he offers with a wicked grin.

“Tempting...but your winning smiles aren't going to work right now. It doesn't seem right,” I say, standing firm.

“Remember the time I went down on you before your dissertation defense? That sure calmed you down fast,” he says.

“True, it did. But this isn't that type of situation. Besides, Johanna and Finnick could wander back this way at any time,” I remind him.

“Katniss, it's 10,000 square feet to explore...they'll be at it for a while,” he says.

We continue searching the master suite. The fixtures seem to be in good shape and no obvious leaks are pouring through the ceiling. I find the same bird cage from the staircase portrait in the sitting room adjoining the master bedroom. The wind has picked up and is rattling against the window panes. Satisfied that we’ve seen all there is to see, we keep going.

I get a chill as we enter the bedroom adjacent to the master. There's a faded mural on the walls with dozens of once colorful birds, some in flight and some perched by a lake. A flock of pink birds catch my eye. I pull a sheet back to reveal an intricately carved crib.

“Umm Katniss, did Haymitch have children?” Peeta asks, pulling back another sheet to find an ornate bassinet.

“Not that I'm aware of, at least. I know his wife died 25 years ago,” I say, pulling back more sheets. “This was definitely a nursery though. I think my mom might have known Maysilee, but doesn't talk about her much. I could probably ask and find out what happened.”

“Was Haymitch your mom’s brother or dad’s brother? I never thought to ask, since he was just always ‘Uncle Haymitch’ in your stories,” Peeta says.

“Dad’s half brother. We all have the same eyes,” I confirm.

Lightning flashes outside and the rain falls harder.

“We should get back to the others,” I say.

We close the door and start back down the hallway towards the stairs. According to the map, there's another pair of bedrooms with an adjoining bathroom on the other side of the hallway.

Just as Peeta is opening the first bedroom, I hear an odd chirping from somewhere in the house.

“Did you hear that?” I whisper.

“The door creaking? Yeah, it's going to need some oil on the hinges,” he says.

“No, not the door. I distinctly heard a bird,” I say, a little rattled still from the nursery.

“Are you sure? With the wind howling outside, it could be anything. Or there could be a bird trapped inside somewhere. If so, we’ll find it soon enough,” he says, reassuring me--the way he's always done.