She registered a low humming coming from the side, like an air conditioner but not quite. Glancing up, she saw that none of the power lines connected to this house. None of the phone lines, either. A generator. Whoever lived here was living off the grid. All in all, the whole place was really cozy, if cozy meant creepy and cultish.

And the woman who opened the front door? Exactly what you'd expect of someone creepy and cultish, Miranda thought. She had graying hair pulled back in a loose bun and was wearing a long skirt and kind of shapeless sweater. She could have been anywhere from thirty to sixty years old, it was impossible to tell because she was wearing a pair of huge bifocals with unflattering square frames that magnified her eyes and covered half her face. She looked completely harmless, like a schoolteacher who'd dedicated her life to caring for an aging relative and whose one indulgence was a secret crush on Mr. Rochester from Jane Eyre.

Or almost like that. Like that was the look she'd been going for. But there was something wrong, some tiny thing that did not quite match, one tiny detail that wasn't right.

So. Not. Your. Business.

Miranda said good-bye, took her $1.00 tip-"Because you were really quite late, dear"-and drove away.

She was half a block away when she slammed on the brakes and sprinted back to the house.

What do you think you're doing? she asked herself. Rhetorically, since she was already up the Snow-White-and-the-Seven-Dwarves-Do-Baby-Jesus neighbor's tree and staring into the yard of the house where she'd left Sibby.

I can't wait to hear you say to the cops, "Yes, officer, I know I was trespassing but that woman was very suspicious because she was wearing false eyelashes."

With a full Creepy Cult costume. They just didn't go. Plus she had a hole for a nose piercing. And a French manicure.

Maybe she just has really big pores! And a love of dated manicures!

She wasn't what she was posing as.

Is this about helping someone or having an excuse not to show up at prom and see Will with his face nuzzled in Ariel's huge, soft-

Shut up, U-Suck.

I was going to say hair.

You are so not funny.

You are so not brave.

There were two guys sitting in the backyard, leaning across a picnic table toward each other with a book between them, both in T-shirts and khakis and Teva sandals, one of them wearing thick black-framed glasses, the other one with a scraggly beard. They looked like two geeky college guys playing Dungeons and Dragons and sounded like it too when the one wearing glasses said, "That's not how it works. It says in the Book of Rules she can't see for herself, only for other people. You know, like genies with wishes, how they can't grant their own." Except they each had a large automatic rifle lying on the table next to them and Miranda could see shooting targets set up on the fence.

So what? There are armed geeks. Maybe they're Sibby's protection. Go home. Sibby doesn't need you. She's fine.

If she's fine, why isn't she out there trying to kiss the two boys?

Miranda strained to hear something from inside the house but it was definitely soundproofed. A couple came out of sliding doors onto the patio away from the Geek Guys, a woman smoking a cigarette in short, tense puffs and a man. Miranda almost fell out of the tree when she recognized the woman as the cult lady, only now without the glasses, skirt, or sweater and with her hair down.

Which doesn't mean anything.

The woman whispered, "We still need the girl to tell us the location, Byron."

"She will."

"She hasn't yet."

"I told you, even if I can't get her to talk, the Gardener can. He's good at that."

The woman again: "I don't like that he brought a partner. That wasn't part of the plan. Does she get a cut-"

The man called Byron cut her off. "Put that out and be quiet, we have company." He pointed to the Geek Guys scrambling over to join them.

The woman crushed her cigarette out under her foot and kicked it away.

"Is She all right?" Bearded Geek asked breathlessly, pronouncing She like it should be capitalized.

"Yes," the man assured him. "She's resting after her ordeal."

Oh, they could not be talking about Sibby. Ordeal? No way.

"Has She said anything?" Glasses Geek asked.

The man said, "Just expressed how very grateful She is to be here."

Miranda almost snorted.

Bearded Geek said, "Will we be able to see Her?"

"When the Transition happens."

The geeks wandered off in a blissful daze and Miranda decided this was the weirdest thing she'd ever seen.

But it proved that Sibby was in no danger. These people clearly worshipped Her. Which meant it was time-

"Why is he called the Gardener, anyway?" Fake Eyelash woman asked the man.

"I believe because he's good at pulling things out."

"Things?"

"Teeth, nails. Joints. That's how he gets people to talk."

— time to find Sibby.

Miranda dropped out of the tree into the neighbor's yard and found herself looking down the barrel of an automatic rifle.

"Put them up," Glasses Geek said. "I mean your arms. Miranda did what he said because his hands were shaking so much she was afraid he'd shoot her by accident.

"Who are you? What are you doing here?" he demanded in a voice that shook almost as much as his hands.

"I just wanted to get a glimpse of Her," she said, hoping she made it sound right.

He narrowed his eyes. "How did you know She was here?"

"The Gardener told me, but I didn't know where She was being kept so I climbed up that tree to look."

"Which affiliate are you with?"

I knew this would end in tears. What now, smarty pants?

Miranda raised an eyebrow and said, "Which affiliate are you with?" Adding for good measure, "I mean, I would remember a guy like you if I'd seen you before."

It worked! She saw him swallow hard, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down. She would never doubt How to Get-And Kiss-Your Guy again! He said, "I'd remember you, too."

She hit him with a dose of Winsome Smile and saw the Adam's apple do some more moving. She said, "If I give you my hand to shake, will you shoot me?"

He chortled and put down the gun. "No," still chortling. Holding out his hand now. "I'm Craig."

"Hi, Craig, I'm Miranda," she said, taking it. Then flipped him onto his back and knocked him out cold in a single silent move.

She looked at her hand for a second in shock. She'd definitely never done that before. That had been very cool.

If you're going to be an idiot and risk everything, you might as well do what you came for. You know, instead of just staring at the guy you knocked out?

She bent to whisper, "Sorry. Take three aspirin for your head when you wake up and you'll feel better," in his ear, and moved around the edge of the safe house.

There must have been an open window because she could hear voices here, the man who had been outside before now saying to someone, "Are you comfortable?"

And Sibby answering, "No. I don't like this couch. I can't believe this is the nicest room in the house. It looks like a place for a grandma."

Heh!

Miranda followed the sound of Sibby's voice and found herself standing in front of one of the street-facing plate-glass windows, looking through a gap in dark blue drapes into a living room. There was a spindly-looking couch, chair, and coffee table. Sibby was in the chair, her profile to Miranda, with a plate of Oreos in front of her. She looked fine.

The man was perched on the couch, smiling at Sibby, saying, "So, where are we supposed to drop you?"

Sibby took the top cookie off the Oreo and ate it. "I'll tell you later."