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This is an eighteenth-century reproduction. There are only three known copies, including this one.”
    He lowered it into my hands with all the ceremony of passing over the crown jewels. I didn’t want to be impressed, but when I felt the worn leather, smelled the mustiness of time, a thrill rippled through me. I was every great fantasy hero raised in ignominy, then handed the magic book and told “this is who you really are.” I couldn’t help falling for it—the story was hardwired in my brain.
    Dr. Davidoff opened a second door. Inside was a surprisingly cozy sitting room with leather chairs, a jungle of plants, and a skylight.
    “My secret hiding spot,” he said. “You can read your book in here while I work in my office.”
    After he left, I checked out the narrow skylight, but even if I could manage to climb twenty feet to get to it, I’d never fit through. So I settled into the chair with the book.
    I’d just opened it when he returned.
    “Chloe? I need to leave. Is that all right?”
    Leave me alone in his office? I tried not to nod too enthusiastically.
    “If you need anything, dial nine for front reception,” he said. “This door will be locked.”
    Of course…
    I waited until I heard the outer door close. I was sure he’d locked my door, as promised, but I had to check.
    It was a rich girl lock, Rae would say—the kind that keep out only kids who’ve never had to share a bathroom and, occasionally, break in to grab a hairbrush while their sister hogs the shower.
    A side table held a stack of paperbacks. I found one with a cover sturdy enough to do the job, then copied Rae by wriggling it in the door crack until the lock clicked.
    Voilà, my first break-in. Or break
out
.
    I stepped into Dr. Davidoff’s office. What I needed was a file cabinet, stuffed with records on the study, but all I could see was a desktop computer.
    At least it was a Mac—I was more familiar with those than PCs. I jiggled the mouse and the computer popped out of sleep mode. The user login screen appeared. There was only one user account—Davidoff, with an eight ball as the graphic. I clicked it and got the password box. Ignoring it, I clicked on “Forgot password.” The hint appeared:
usual
. In other words, his usual password, I supposed. That really helped.
    At the password prompt, I typed
Davidoff
. Then
Marcel
.
    Uh, do you really think it could be that easy?
    I tried every variation on Lyle House and Edison Group, then, in what I considered a stroke of insight: Agito, with several possible spellings. After my third wrong guess, it had again prompted me with the hint:
usual
. A few more tries and it asked me to enter the master password so I could reset the user account password. Great. If I knew what the master password was…
    I remembered reading that most people kept their password written near their computer. I checked under the keyboard, under the mouse pad, under the monitor. As I peered under the desk, a voice whispered, “It’s Jacinda.”
    I jumped so fast I banged my head.
    A tinkling laugh. “Careful, child.” It was the demi-demon. Again.
    “The password is Jacinda?” I said as I backed out from under the desk. “That’s Rae’s mom’s name. Why would he—?” I stopped myself.
    “What connection does Dr. Davidoff have with Rae and her mother? Another delicious secret. All these scientists, so proud and lofty, pretending they are above mere human frailties. Foolishness. They are prey to them all—greed, ambition, pride, lust. I’m particularly fond of lust. Very amusing.”
    As she prattled, I typed in
Jacinda
. The password box vanished and Dr. Davidoff’s desktop began to load.
    I opened a Finder window and searched on my name. The window began filling with hits. I tried clicking on one in a folder labeled “Genesis II subjects,” but misjudged and instead opened a file called simply “Genesis II” in the root folder of the same name.
    The first paragraph looked like something out of