Cold held the halls of the original Carter household in lockdown as Grandpa Grant ushered the group of them inside.

  “Oh my god, Grandpa, turn on the heat!” Pip exclaimed, shivering as she hauled the door shut behind them. Why would he keep his house so cold? It was practically a tundra outside, and he decided not to keep the heat on.

  “The heat is on,” he said calmly, wrapping a gentle arm around her shoulders. “It’s just always cold in the entryway. The kitchen is warmer.”

  He beckoned them down the hallway, not caring about their dirty, sopping wet boots. Pip was the only one who hesitated to walk down the hall, her mum’s voice screaming in her head to take off her shoes, especially on the nice hardwood flooring. But since no one else took their shoes off, she followed them to the kitchen, wincing with every step.

  Thalia and Grant’s house was surprisingly normal, something Pip always found odd whenever she visited. She expected to find the walls all painted black and lightning streaked with purple, or for a skeleton to be hanging from the door, or to find a sex dungeon downstairs. There probably was a sex dungeon, but as for the rest of it, perfectly normal.

  Understated, even. Compared to the house Pip had grown up in, it was practically a cottage, cozy and wrapped up in warmth. Grandpa Grant was right; it was a lot warmer once you reached the kitchen.

  The stovetop going helped too, a fat dutch oven bubbling away on the metal grating. A warmth, not just from heat but from comfort and good smells, washed over her, and she let out a long sigh.

  “Hot chocolate,” she breathed, eyes shuddering closed. For a single moment, she was able to forget that other people existed and she was supposed to be apologizing, not soaking up the scent of homemade hot cocoa.

  Vivainne made a sound like clearing her throat, though when she spoke, it still came out thick. “Excuse me, where’s your restroom?”

  “Just down the hall and to the left,” Grant said. “There’s a sign on the door. Can’t miss it.”

  The girl, paler than Pip remembered, slinked off down the hall in silence, the toes of her boots dragging against the stained oak floor as she walked. She had just watched her mother get put on trial in front of the whole world, using a picture of the both of them to blast that information. Pip wouldn’t be okay after that either.

  “How was dinner?” Grant asked, pulling a set of mugs out of a wooden cabinet. He placed three on the countertop, each one different from the last. Mentally, Pip selected the purple and black skull one as her own. “You’re back earlier than I thought.”

  “The adults started talking, so we went out for a walk,” Florence said, leaning against the counter casually as Grant began to dole out the steaming hot chocolate. Not bothering to wait for it to cool, Florence grabbed his mug and took a long sip, draining half the drink. “Then Pip and Viv got into a fight.”

  “Oh, come on, Pip,” Grant chided, stopping his pouring for a moment. “You’re better than that.”

  “It was more of an argument,” Pip muttered. She reached out for her mug, fingertips burning against the side. If she tried to copy Florence, she’d burn her mouth off. It wasn’t fair; why did he get to enjoy his cocoa before she did?

  “And then the news started playing, and apparently Viv’s mom is famous and also on trial for some sort of crime.”

  A shadow crossed Grant’s face. He nodded, silent as he placed the still steaming pot of hot chocolate back on the stove. “I see,” he said, attention sliding down the hallway Vivainne had vanished down. “That’s unfortunate.”

  “What did her mom do?” Pip asked. “You and Thalia knew, didn’t you?”

  “Yes,” Grant said. “Recompense spoke to us about it.”

  “Is that why she’s living with him?” Finally, the pieces began to click into place. Vivainne wasn’t living with Recompense because she was some sort of rehabilitating delinquent, she lived with him because her mom had done something terrible. She’d fought her sister, because her sister was evil?

  Pip shook her head. It made sense, but she had more questions. Like, who was her mom, and what had she done?

  She could find out later.

  “We should do something to cheer her up,” Pip suggested, staring down into her mug of cocoa. She’d been terrible to Vivainne throughout the trip. Or maybe not terrible, exactly, but certainly not nice. And the whole time, she’d been going through something terrible of her own, and Pip just had to go and make it worse.

  Which meant she had to try to fix it.

  “Like what?” Florence asked.

  “I don’t know. I’m bad with sad people!”

  “Don’t look at me. I’m bad with girls.”

  “What about me?”

  “You hardly count,” Florence said, rolling his eyes.

  “You could just talk to her,” Grant suggested.

  “No, that would never work.” Pip took a step back, leaving her mug on the counter, and surveyed what she had to work with. There was hot chocolate, which could definitely work, but what else? What would Pip want someone to do for her if she was sad, or angry, or whatever Vivainne was feeling. She hadn’t really gotten a chance to ask during their flight from the bodega.

  She stepped into the cozy living room to the left of the kitchen, a book left propped open on the coffee table, TV playing soothing instrumentals. This could work, couldn’t it?

  But she would need to do a bit of work.

  She spun around, locking eyes with Florence, who raised an eyebrow in response. “Quick!” she snapped. “Grab as many blankets as you can find.”

  “Why.” The word was so dry it wasn’t even a question, and somehow that was worse than if he’d actually questioned her.

  “Because I said so! Now hurry, before she comes out of the bathroom.”

  Downing the rest of his hot chocolate, Florence dragged his feet into the living room, taking the pile of blankets thrust into his arms.

  “Why aren’t you taking any?” he demanded.

  “Because,” Pip reached out with both hands, pushing her sleeves back with a flair. “I have something else to do.”

  Pip was terrible with emotions, always had been. Didn’t know how to handle someone when they were crying, couldn’t always understand why people got angry, and most of the time, it didn’t matter. But she’d been an ass tonight, and needed to do what she could to make up for it. Maybe it wouldn’t help, but it had never failed to make her happy, at least when she was small.

  Closing her eyes, Pip envisioned points around the room in her mind. Behind the sofa, connecting with the sparse bookcase. Across the room by the lamp, black lampshade sitting crooked on the stand. In front of the TV. No, on either side of the TV, so they could still see it. Yes, that should work.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Shhh,” Pip said, shushing him sharply. “I’m working here.”

  The moment her core activated, a familiar rush went through her body, more warming than her grandfather’s hot chocolate. Her fingers tingled as if passing through warm water, a well of potential energy at her fingertips. With a minor exertion of will, she shaped it, summoning glass from the something that made up her power. Pillars like greek columns rose up around the room, blue glass glistening purple from the inside.

  “Nice.”

  “Now put up the blankets,” Pip said, grabbing one from the top of the stack and revealing the rest of Florence’s face behind it. “And be careful not to knock over the pillars. They’re gonna be heavy.”

  “Can’t you just…” he reached a hand free of the blankets and waved it, fingers grabby. “Telekinesis it?”

  “Yes, but I shouldn’t need to, because you’re going to be careful.” With a flare, Pip threw out the blanket, draping it over the column she’d constructed in the middle of the room and running it across to the column behind the couch. The height was just about perfect, forcing her to crouch down slightly as she walked beneath it, tucking the blanket the rest of the way behind the couch.

  “You could have made it taller,” Florence grumbled as he helped throw up a blanket.

  Together, they rapidly built a decent blanket fort, billowing out from the central column like a circus tent. They’d tucked blankets around the TV, the light illuminating the inside of the fort. Taking the remote from the table, she changed the channel to cartoons, then hesitated. Vivainne didn’t seem like the type of person to watch cartoons.

  With another moment’s thought, Pip switched back to music. Better be safe than wrong.

  “Nice work,” Grant said, leaning against the doorway to the living room. “But you’ve stolen my book.” He pointed to the book that had previously been sitting on the coffee table, now propped on top of one of the pillars to keep the blankets in place.

  “Can I borrow it for a bit?” Pip asked, turning her eyes as wide and adorable as she could. He was her grandpa, he had to fall for this.

  He swatted a hand at her, bopping her on the forehead. “I’m immune to all Carter manipulation,” he said, grinning despite the words. “I’ve been with your grandmother for decades. I’ve seen all the tricks.”

  “What tricks?” The voice Pip had been waiting for asked from behind her grandfather. She quickly scurried past him, stepping to the right of the entryway to give a clear view at the fort and Florence crouched awkwardly beneath.

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  “Behold!” Pip declared, throwing out her arms toward the tent. “A blanket fort!”

  “A blanket fort.” Her thin black eyebrows drew together, forming a crease above her nose. In the yellow kitchen light, Pip couldn’t help but realize just how black her eyes were, pools of shadow that seemed to soak in the light around them.

  “Yes,” Pip said, scurrying back to the door. Vivainne wasn’t impressed, which just meant she had to sell her on it. “I built it for you.”

  “Hey!”

  “We built it for you,” Pip amended, shooting Florence a dirty look. She was trying to do a nice thing, and he’d complained the whole time. Why did he expect credit for it? “And there’s hot chocolate.”

  “And ice cream,” Grant added. “If you don’t mind the cold.”

  “And ice cream!” Grandpa Grant was the best. He always knew exactly what you needed, and was right there with it. Ice cream was perfect for terrible, moody, sad nights. “So, come on. Get under the fort.”

  “Just do it,” Florence added, voice muffled beneath the blankets. “She won’t let up until you do.”

  Vivainne shook her head, baffled. “Okay, I guess.”

  Pip let out a yelp of success, punching the air. Step one in her plan to get Vivainne to like her had succeeded. Now, onto step two.

  She rushed into the kitchen as Vivainne crawled underneath the blanket fort, her boots catching against the hardwood floor. Fed up with the shoes, and the fact she still had them on at all, she kicked her foot furiously. The boot went flying off her foot, catapulting down the corridor and landing solidly by the front door. She repeated the effort with the second, satisfied when it landed roughly beside the first, then returned to her work. Hot chocolate and ice cream.

  Grant had already started working on it, refilling Florence’s mug and taking out three heavy glass bowls. Pip dove into the freezer, pausing when she found it almost entirely full of ice cream.

  “Planning on starting up an ice cream truck?” she asked, peaking around the freezer door.

  Grant glanced up from the kitchen counter, brown hair falling around his face, licked with grey. Most of the pictures of Earthshaker were from when he was young, right out of college and what would eventually become the hero program, with slicked back hair and a dashing smile. There were hints of that still, though he’d aged since then. Retiring had brought his age slowly creeping up on him, though his power level and usage still kept him well below average. In most families, it would be odd to have someone so young looking as their grandfather, but to Pip, seeing him age only made her heart ache. A reminder her family wouldn’t always be around.

  “There’s food in the freezer downstairs,” Grant said. “But we like to have the ice cream on hand.”

  “Typical.”

  Pip pulled out a few select flavors and plopped them onto the counter, conversation beginning dimly in the living room. Fuck, she needed to get over there before they became friends without her. She was supposed to be able to make friends with everybody, not have it happen when she wasn’t around.

  Doling out the ice cream would take too long.

  She grabbed three spoons, tucked the ice cream under her arm, and threw herself beneath the tent.

  Pip hit the ground with a thud, knees smarting. The carpet was thinner than it looked.

  She sat up, grimacing as she pulled her knees up to her chest. “Floor’s hard.”

  “No shit. No bowls?”

  “Who needs bowls?” Pip asked, dropping the containers of ice cream in the middle of the floor. “We have spoons.”

  Vivainne reached out, the sleeve of her knit coat falling over her hand as she grabbed a spoon. “I think I’d prefer a bowl.”

  “It’s more fun this way,” Pip said, getting her legs beneath her and sitting cross legged. She found her own spoon and popped the lid off a container, tossing it to the side. They probably wouldn’t be needing it once it was done.

  A shadow passed across the entrance, the scent of chocolate wafting in with it. “Here,” Grant said, holding out a mug. “Enjoy the rest of the hot chocolate.”

  Pip took the mugs, passing one to Florence and one to Vivainne, before taking her own and placing it in front of her. She wasn’t dumb enough to eat ice cream and drink something hot at the same time; you only made that mistake so many times before you changed.

  “I’m not sure what the point of doing all this is,” Vivainne said. She sat back against the couch, curling the steaming mug to her chest. She didn’t look at anyone when she spoke, staring off into the distance, or at the still going TV.

  “Well, ice cream always helps me feel better, and so does hot chocolate and blanket forts.”

  “Wish we had nachos,” Florence added with a sigh. “Those make me happy.”

  “I don’t know how you can think about eating more when you just consumed a giant plate of pasta and a dozen breadsticks,” Pip said, eyeing him. It was both disgusting and awe inspiring, especially considering he was thin as a rail, ready to blow away in a gust of wind. “And anyway, this isn’t about you.”

  “I don’t need to feel better,” Vivainne whispered.

  Something in Pip’s stomach turned. That wasn’t okay, and she wasn’t going to let it stay like that.

  “Well, I’m going to try my best,” Pip said. “I don’t really know what’s going on, but it looks like it sucks, so ice cream and hot chocolate and movies under the blanket fort it is.”

  “I don’t want your pity.” Vivainne placed the mug down, pushing herself into a crouch. Pip jumped in front of her, blocking her from leaving.

  “Please!” she held up both hands, forcing Vivainne back down on her ass. “I’m not trying to pity you. I’m trying to say sorry.”

  “Sorry?” Vivainne snorted.

  “Yes,” Pip said, letting out a little huff. Why did everyone force her to say the actual words, rather than just accept she was sorry. “I shouldn’t have fought with you earlier. I’m just… I hate seeing people attack heroes without understanding what they go through.”

  “I think I understand,” Vivainne said, rolling her eyes. “I’m currently living with a hero. Actually, three heroes.”

  “Yeah, I guess so,” Pip said, rubbing the back of her neck. “I guess I wasn’t really thinking about that. I kinda thought you were living with him because you were some sort of criminal or something like that.”

  Vivainne stopped moving, her eyes locked on Pip. “Why did you think that?”

  “I mean, you did say you had to do Unity ordered community service,” Pip said. “I just assumed.”

  “Oh, what, really?” Florence leaned over, propping himself up on one arm. “Do tell. What did you do?”

  Vivainne let out a short sigh. “I fought my sister.”

  “Oh. That’s it?”

  “She broke into my mom’s lab and was trying to steal evidence. I tried to stop her.”

  “Why’d you get in trouble for that?” Florence asked, making a face. “Sounds like they should be thanking you.”

  “Because I shouldn’t have been there, and we also tore the entire building up. And she still got away with the evidence.”

  “Damn.” The word slipped out before she could stop it, but really, she’d let the entire situation slip through her hands.

  “Like you could have done better,” Florence scoffed, slapping at her. “You’ve never done a heroic thing in your life.”

  “Like that’s my fault! It’s not like I run around looking for criminals to fight.”

  “Didn’t you get grounded for sneaking out to an underground super fight club?”

  “What?” Vivainne turned to her, eyes narrowing. “How come you didn’t get any community service for that one?”

  “I mean, I basically did. My mum made me join an after school group for shitty supers. They don’t have any training at all.”

  “I don’t either,” Vivainne said with a shrug.

  “Really?” Pip took her in with wide eyes. She fought her sister and defeated that training room, all with zero training? That wasn’t fair.

  “Yes.” Vivainne sighed and grabbed up one of the ice cream containers. Rocky road, good choice.

  “You’re good, though?”

  Her nose wrinkled as she looked across at Florence. “Sure.”

  “Really. Maybe not compared to me, but I mean, who is?”

  “Me,” Pip piped up immediately.

  “And who lost to who when we sparred?” He stared at her pointedly, heat crawling across her cheeks as she looked away.

  “You didn’t stand a moment when I actually touched you.”

  “We’re talking powers, dumbass, not physical ability. Of course you’re fucking better at physical fighting, the Carters probably put a sword in your hand at two days old. Said, here you go, you’ve had plenty of time to adjust to living outside the womb, now it’s time to learn the blade.”

  “That’s ridiculous.”

  “For your information, I didn’t get my first sword until I was two,” Pip said.

  “That’s also ridiculous,” Vivainne said, shaking her head. “Who gives their toddler a sword?”

  “The Carters,” Florence and Pip said at the same time.

  “As soon as I could walk,” Pip added. “Not that I really started training until I was six.”

  “Those poor kindergartners,” Vivainne whispered.

  Pip opened her mouth, only stunned laughter coming out. Had Vivianne just made a joke? Was she allowed to do that?

  “I didn’t fight anyone in school! I’ve never fought anyone in school,” Pip swore. “I wouldn’t fight a normie.”

  “What if they were really an asshole?”

  “That sounds like a super power to me,” Vivainne said with a shrug. “At least, I can think of some people whose power must have been that.”

  “Was your mom a super?” Pip asked, mouth half full of ice cream.

  Florence whipped around, his eyes wide. “You’re not supposed to ask about her mom.”

  “Why not?” Pip asked. It wasn’t like she’d just straight up asked what fucked up thing her mom had done. “We all know her mom is a criminal. I was just curious.”

  “Also, everyone knows Vora Monet isn’t a super,” Florence said.

  “I don’t really know who that is,” Pip said with a shrug. Was she supposed to? “So…”

  Florence opened his mouth, then shut it again. “That’s really not surprising,” he said, shaking his head.

  “She’s a famous scientist,” Vivainne explained. “And yes, she actually is a super.”

  “Really?” Florence perked up. “Usually, it’s pretty easy to spot the super geniuses.”

  “Not a super genius,” Viv said. She lifted up her hand, shadows flickering around it, faint under the TV light. “Shadow power, like me. That’s why I’m like this.”

  “Genetic power theory is pretty strong,” Florence said with a shrug. “I mean, fire power parents here.”

  Her lips pressed together, she turned her attention back to the ice cream in front of her. There was something there, something in what she wasn’t saying, but Pip didn’t feel right pushing her. But she still had questions.

  “Did you know about it?” she asked. “About what she was doing?”

  “I figured it out,” she muttered darkly. “The heroes wouldn’t have known without me.”

  That made Pip pause. Usually, heroes were pretty good at finding criminals, even if they had to wait for them to actually do something to arrest them sometimes. There were whole teams dedicated to it, keeping taps on the underground, infiltrating gangs, watching from afar. Work Pip would never do. “Really?”

  She nodded, the motion stiff. “I…” Color flooded her pale cheeks. “I broke into Recompense’s house.”

  Pip’s eyes bulged, her next question thrown into the dirt at the feet of the reveal. “No way.”

  “It was the only way I could get to him without my mom being suspicious!”

  “You mean, you broke into a hero’s house and survived?” Florence put proper weight on the word, all too aware of just how ridiculous a statement it was. Hero houses were well defended, and Recompense was a tech genius on top of it. Surely, he had traps of his own.

  “Yes.” She dug her spoon into the ice cream, coming back with a huge scoop, only to take a nibble off the end. “It wasn’t like I stole anything.”

  “Still,” Pip said. “That’s impressive. I mean, it’s definitely not easy. Just sneaking out of my house is hard.”

  “Why would you need to sneak out?” Vivainne asked, titling her head curiously.

  “To go fuck girls.”

  “Shut up!” Pip screeched, his cackling laughter echoing through the living room. “I snuck out to fight summons, that’s all.”

  “And how come I’m the delinquent here?” Viv asked.

  “Because you got caught?”

  “You did too,” Florence said. “Don’t let her fool you. She was good enough to win but not good enough to avoid getting caught. By her mom. And grounded. In front of everyone. I don’t know how you could recover from that.”

  “I recovered just fine,” Pip said, sticking out her tongue at him. “Even got a girlfriend out of it.”