“NO!”  Logan yelled, pulling his brother back down.  “She isn’t going with you!  Mom…”  He looked to the silent Lady Manson for help.  Cleo looked down at the table, not meeting her son’s gaze.

                “Penelope is an adult Logan... she can make her own decisions, though I wish she would choose the least dangerous, you’d have to be blind not to see that your brother needs fresh blood.  If there are more people it’s less dangerous for all involved.” She said, not looking up.  He stared at her in disbelief.

                “Except for the one who joins who could be safely at home instead of risking her neck for a cause that she has nothing to do with!  Don’t any of you remember what happened to Dylan?!  Don’t you remember what he was doing when he died, who he was running from?  Don’t any of you care at all that that could be Penelope in a few weeks if she joins?”  No one met his gaze.  Penelope could tell that they all remembered.  Ben and Cleo stared at the table in shame, but stayed silent.  Ryan just continued to stare at her, but she could see the pain losing his littlest brother had caused him.  Logan gave a cry of tired frustration.  “Penelope,” he turned to her, “please!  Please, don’t let them get into your head.  What they’re asking you to do is dangerous. Not sky diving dangerous, not police officer dangerous, but stabbing a knife into your side dangerous.”  He looked on the verge of tears as he begged, “Please…”

                Her breath caught in her throat.  She considered leaving right now and going home, if that would make that tortured look on his face go away, but… “Logan, he was my best friend…”  Her whisper had left his face blank, which was worse.  He slumped back in his chair, just staring at the food they had stopped eating.  “I’m sorry…” she tried, but he just shook his head at her.  It felt like she was going to cry.  A second ago Penelope had been furious at him for lying to her, but now, she was thankful.  He was trying to save her, trying to save her from some unknown horror that, apparently, was certain death.  She wanted to leap across the table and take him into her arms, but she thought better.

                “Penelope?”  It was Ryan.  He looked at her with an emotionless face.  When she finally looked at him, he went on.  “Do you want to know what killed Dylan?”  She nodded.  “Then come with me.”