The stairs feel like Mount Everest with my ankle the way it is, but eventually I make it to the second floor. I pause outside our bedroom door, listening. No sounds of movement inside, but that doesn't mean anything. Kate's gotten good at playing possum.

  I push the door open slowly, wincing at the tiny creak of the hinges. The room is dark except for the faint blue glow of Kate's phone charger and the streetlight filtering through the blinds. Kate appears to be a motionless lump under her blanket on the far side of the room.

  I hobble in and close the door behind me, not bothering to be particularly quiet. If she's awake, she's already heard me. If she's actually asleep... well, we need to talk anyway. As I'm digging through my dresser for pajamas, I catch a whiff of something chemical. Not strong, just a faint trace, but definitely there. Like cleaning products, but with a metallic undertone. Guess she can't keep it out of her hair.

  "Late night?" Kate's voice comes from the bed, deliberately casual. She doesn't sound groggy at all. Definitely wasn't asleep.

  "Could ask you the same thing," I say, turning to face her. She's sitting up now, her phone screen illuminating her face with that eerie blue glow. Her hair is damp - recently showered. Convenient.

  "I've been here all night," she says, not looking up from her phone. "Unlike some people."

  "Uh-huh." I toss my clothes on my bed and sit down, carefully keeping weight off my bad ankle. "So you wouldn't happen to know anything about a warehouse explosion in North Philly tonight?"

  Her eyes flick up to meet mine, narrowing slightly. "Only what's on the news. Industrial accident or something, right?"

  "That's what they're saying." I watch her face carefully. "Weird thing is, I was just there. And so was Soot."

  "Who?" Kate says flatly. "Sounds dangerous. Is that some baddie I should recognize?"

  "Funny you should mention being careful," I say, leaning back on my hands. "Because I've been thinking a lot about Soot lately. About who they might be under that mask."

  Kate sets her phone down, her expression hardening. "Sam, if you're about to accuse me of being some random supervillain, I'm really not in the mood."

  "I'm just connecting dots, Kate. It's kind of my thing." I start counting on my fingers. "Soot shows up right after your house burns down. They mainly operate in Tacony and Mayfair - our neighborhood. They're exactly your height and build. They have the same skin tone as you, even if their nail polish is always deliberately different from yours." I glance pointedly at her blue-painted nails. "They have some sort of medical device in their mask that looks an awful lot like it could be made from a repurposed CPAP. They know enough martial arts to be effective in a fight, just like you. And they're mysteriously never around when you are."

  "Lots of people are my height," Kate says dismissively. "Lots of people know martial arts. And I haven't been anywhere near North Philly tonight."

  "Then why do you smell like industrial chemicals? The same ones that were in that warehouse?"

  Kate rolls her eyes. "I took a shower using these fancy bath products my dad bought with some of those donations. Sorry if they offend your superhuman senses. You can go smell them if you don't believe me."

  Sure.

  I resist the urge to call bullshit. That's not what bath products smell like, and we both know it. "And how come Liam's been the beneficiary of all this anonymous monetary attention? Where'd that come from?"

  "What are you implying?" Kate's voice turns icy. "That I'm, what, stealing? Taking payoffs? Whoever this Robin Hood is probably caught wind of the fact that my fucking house burnt down and is being a Good Samaritan. Isn't that what superheroes do?"

  "Steal from people? Not usually," I bite back.

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  "This is ridiculous." Kate stands up, crossing her arms. "You're seriously accusing me of being a vigilante based on... what? Coincidences? Circumstantial bullshit? I thought you were supposed to be the detective here."

  "I am," I say calmly. "And the evidence is pretty compelling, Kate."

  "Evidence?" She laughs, but there's no humor in it. "You don't have evidence. You have a theory, and you're seeing what you want to see to make it fit."

  "Then explain why Soot just happened to be at the exact same warehouse we were planning to hit tonight. How come they keep popping up where I pop up?"

  Kate's face doesn't change, but I catch the subtle tension in her shoulders. "How should I know why some random person was where you were? Maybe they were tracking the same people you were. Maybe it's someone on your team with a secret identity. Maybe it's your friend Jordan trying to impress you."

  "Jordan was with me the whole time," I point out. "And everyone else on the team is accounted for. And none of them have smoke powers."

  "Then maybe it's just a coincidence," Kate says, her voice rising slightly. "The world is full of them. Or maybe Soot was following you. Did you ever think of that?"

  "I didn't consider that I was an interesting enough person to be worth following," I sarcastically quip.

  Kate throws up her hands. "I don't know, Sam! I don't know how this person's mind works because I'm not them!"

  I study her for a long moment. She's good, I'll give her that. Not a single crack in her denial. But there's something in her eyes - a defiance that goes beyond simple frustration at being falsely accused.

  "Okay," I say finally. "So you're not Soot. Then you won't mind if I ask you where you were tonight between 9 PM and 2 AM?"

  "Here," she says without hesitation. "Watching Netflix, then sleeping. Your dad checked on me around 11 before he went to bed. Ask him."

  Damn. That's a solid alibi if true, and knowing my dad, he probably did check in. That doesn't mean she couldn't have left afterward, but it complicates my timeline.

  "Fine," I say, not bothering to hide my skepticism. "Let's say I believe you. That still doesn't explain all the other coincidences."

  "Maybe you're seeing patterns that aren't there." Kate sits back down on her bed, picking up her phone again. "Maybe you're so desperate to know who Soot is that you're forcing the pieces to fit."

  "Or maybe you're lying," I counter. "And we both know it."

  Kate looks up, her expression suddenly tired. "What do you want from me, Sam? A confession? Because unless you've got a smoking gun, you're not getting one."

  "I want honesty," I say. "We live together. Your dad lives here. We're supposed to be friends, or at least we were before... everything. If you're putting yourself in danger every night, I deserve to know."

  "Like you tell me every time you go out as Bloodhound?" she asks, raising an eyebrow. "Like you told me before you went out tonight?"

  "That's different," I protest. "My parents know. My team knows. I'm not hiding who I am."

  "Aren't you?" Kate's voice is quiet now, almost sad. "Sam Small, straight-B minus student by day, vigilante by night? Seems like hiding to me."

  I don't have a good response to that. She's not entirely wrong.

  "Look," Kate says after a moment of uncomfortable silence, "I'm not Soot. I'm not a vigilante. I'm just trying to get through each day and take care of my dad until we can get back on our feet. If you want to waste your time trying to prove otherwise, that's on you."

  There's a finality to her words that tells me I'm not getting anything more out of her tonight. She's dug in her heels, and short of catching her in the act, I'm not going to change her mind.

  "Alright," I sigh, reaching for my laptop. "I still think you're full of shit, but whatever."

  "Likewise," she mutters, turning to face the wall.

  I open my laptop, planning to check if anyone's posted updates in our HIRC chat, but immediately notice something's off. I left it open to a forum thread about regeneration science, but now it's displaying our secure chat. The one where we planned tonight's operation.

  I glance over at Kate, who's very deliberately not looking at me.

  I want to confront her, to throw the laptop across the room and demand answers. But what good would it do? She'd just deny it again. And maybe that's the smarter play anyway - let her think I don't know, see what else she might let slip by thinking she's still a step ahead.

  Instead, I quietly close the laptop and set it aside. I'll need to tell Jordan tomorrow, make sure we change our security protocols. Maybe set up some kind of trap for next time, something to catch her in the act.

  "Night," I say, my voice carefully neutral. "Sleep well, bitch."

  "Night," Kate replies, still facing the wall. "Don't let the bed bugs bite, whore."

  There's no bite to it. Even after we've literally powerslammed each other into the concrete, I just can't muster up any real venom, not the sort of stuff that would really make toes curl. This is just what teenagers say to each other, right?

  I change into pajamas and slide under my covers, my mind racing despite my exhaustion. The warehouse explosion, the confrontation with my parents, the ankle injury, and now this - it's too much to process all at once. But one thing is crystal clear: Kate is Soot. And more importantly, she doesn't trust me any more than I trust her.

  As I drift toward uneasy sleep, I find myself wondering what Jordan would do in this situation. Probably something clever and strategic. But Jordan's leaving soon, and then it'll just be me trying to figure out what to do about the vigilante sleeping across the room.