Jules had watched movies and television shows with his mother that featured ballroom dancing, and never thought much of it, especially when he was little. As he grew older, he never thought he would get to experience a dance in a ballroom. Occasionally, his parents would slow-dance in the kitchen or the parlor together. His father was quite remarkable at singing quietly along with whatever was on the radio or record player, but reserved that for when he was with Vanora. When Jules was little, it was amusing to see, but now, there was a sweeter quality to it, especially since his parents had been doing it for years. It was spontaneous, unless it was Christmas Eve. There was always a dance on Christmas Eve.

Now, Jules was experiencing something similar, and he wasn't in a ballroom. He doubted he would ever be in a fancy ballroom. Being in the stable was perfect. His and Antheia's only audience were the horses—well, two of them. Icepatch was lying down in her stall, asleep. Jules preferred the company of the horses anyway. He also knew Dietrich and Troy were outside, standing guard. He didn't mind their company, either, and he knew Antheia appreciated the company of her father. This wasn't much, but it was nice. It was nice to just shut everything else out and focus on something that really mattered.

"The best thing that's come out of this whole situation has been spending time with you," Jules said.

"Yeah," Antheia replied. "I was thinking last night about what I could do to help make things just a little bit better, and this came to mind. I'm just glad you didn't think it was silly."

"No, not at all. It's… really sweet, actually. Thanks."

"You're welcome."

Things went quiet until the record ended. Jules looked toward the record player, then back at Antheia. "Another?"

"Sure."

Jules briefly let go of Antheia to change the record, then quickly went back.

"I wish we could do this all night," Antheia whispered.

"So do I, but I'm sure your dad and Dietrich want to get some sleep."

"True. I wish we could do this all night without having to worry about the magpies."

"Same here. One day. One day, we will. Maybe we can do that once the magpies have been dealt with."

"That would be fun." Antheia stood on her toes to put her head on Jules's shoulder. "I like this. Going to an actual ball wouldn't be fun. It'd be too frilly. That, and I've never seen Mom wear a dress. She mentioned it wouldn't be comfortable to go shooting in one."

"I imagine buying clothes with your mother is very… practical."

"Yeah."

"Clothes shopping with me is impossible because I outgrew everything in the youth section very fast. I can wear almost everything of Dad's. Plus, Mum and Anah make a lot of my clothes."

"You have the cutest winter sweaters."

"Anah makes those. She likes the patterned sweaters because they're easier for her to climb on if we're standing. She also makes all our socks, and slippers, and scarves, and winter hats. She likes making the cozy things."

"You seemed really happy that she got to make dinner tonight."

"And that she made fish and chips. I've missed that." Jules looked up when he saw Dietrich standing in the stable doorway. "Hello."

"I apologize for interrupting, but I am letting you know that Anah made dessert, and your parents are ready for you to come inside," Dietrich said.

"Okay. Thanks."

Dietrich entered the stable, putting his shotgun over his shoulder. "You two go on inside. I will take care of the record player."

"You don't have to."

"Well, I am offering."

Jules figured it was best to not to argue. He held Antheia's hand as they headed back to the house, where Anah was cutting a cherry pie next to a bowl full of homemade whipped cream in the kitchen.

"Hello, dears," Anah said. "Jules, this piece is for you." She dropped a massive slice on a plate, then two heaping spoonfuls of whipped cream went on top of it.

"Uh, Anah?" Jules nervously laughed. "I'm still stuffed from dinner."

"Well, it is not my fault you had two servings."

"I know, but I've missed your cooking so much. I couldn't help it."

"Yes, you could, dear."

"Would you rather I eat like Dad?"

"Absolutely not." Anah gave an irritated sigh. "Your father is skin and bones and will not do a damn thing about it."

Moffitt left the parlor, and shook his head when he entered the kitchen. He promptly took Jules's plate and scooped half of the pie and whipped cream onto another. "Anah, I've told you a thousand times, stop trying to overfeed him. He eats just fine."

"But he likes my cooking, dear, and I have missed cooking for everyone."

"I know, but sometimes you make too much."

The pie and whipped cream on the excess plate were mixed together in a creamy cherry mess. Moffitt didn't even bother taking it for himself, so when Troy and Dietrich entered the house, Anah slid the plate in Troy's direction. "Here. We need the service of a garbage disposal."

Dietrich squeezed his eyes shut when Troy picked up the plate. "Please use a fork. Please use a fork. Please use a fork—"

"I'm not going to use a fork." Troy leaned down as if to start eating the pie with only his mouth.

Dietrich sighed and swore in German.

Troy stopped, looked up at him, and smirked. "I'm going to use a spoon. You should see the look on your face right now."

"Troy?" Dietrich said.

"What?"

Dietrich's expression could be best described as one of disbelief, combined with a complete lack of surprise. He shook his head. "I… have no words. Get a spoon, please. Never do that again." He looked at Antheia. "At least you do not follow your father's example when it comes to table manners."

"He does have table manners at home," Antheia said.

"Good to know. Very good to know. Now, if only he could have table manners in front of other people." Dietrich glanced at Troy, who was shoveling the mixture of cherry pie filling and whipped cream in his mouth, which prompted Dietrich to sit at the table with his head in his hands.

"Mom has the same expression sometimes."

"Same expression about what?" Shauna said as she entered the kitchen. She stopped upon seeing her husband. "Oh, for heaven's sake, Sam."

Anah put plates of pie in front of Dietrich, Moffitt, and Shauna. "Here. Enjoy."

"Thank you, Anah," Shauna said. "It must feel good to be doing this again."

"You have no idea how good it feels."

"I can imagine, though."

"This is quite a good pie, Anah," Dietrich said. "The whipped cream, too, is perfection."

"The pie filling is homemade," Anah replied.

"Taking the pits out must've been a pain in the ass," Troy said with his mouth full.

"A tedious task, but made easier with telekinesis. I also enjoy it."

"You're nuts."

"Look who is talking!" Dietrich said. "You are both crazy, but Anah can cook."

"I can make hot chocolate," Troy said. "And use a grill. What's so special about whipped cream? It's not that hard to do, is it?"

"Well, it's more than just stirring heavy cream," Vanora said. "I've had homemade whipped cream that used far too much butter and made it salty."

"I use real vanilla beans in mine," Anah said. "Sometimes I use vanilla rum if I cannot find beans. That and Dietrich's wine is the only alcohol allowed in the house."

"And I have to remind you to be careful with how much rum you use," Moffitt said. "We don't need boozy whipped cream."

"It's easy to tell when she uses too much," Jules said. "It doesn't taste particularly good. Tastes a bit like medicine."

"I'm glad you think that, Jules," Vanora replied. "That means you won't start drinking when you come of age."

"There's nothing wrong with a drink with a meal," Troy said. "Just don't ever do what I did when my grandparents passed away and left us with a ton of Greek liquor. I tried the infamous retsina."

"Isn't that made partly with pine resin?" Moffitt asked.

"Oh, yeah, and it's kinda strong. I wasn't ready for it, but a couple of cousins dared me to drink it."

"Is it safe for us to assume that this story will not end well?" Dietrich asked.

"I forget how much I had, but I remember throwing up in the bathroom and my parents wondering why the hell it smelled heavily of turpentine afterward. Then they traced the smell to me and figured out pretty quickly what I did. Needless to say, my backside was beaten black and blue and it was difficult to ride a horse for a few days."

Dietrich sighed. "To be fair, I did have an incident where I had a little too much when going out with some coworkers at one of my first jobs, and I showed up on my aunt's doorstep in a horrendous state. She did not punish me—I was a bit too old for that—but I was chastised for it when I woke up the next morning."

Troy looked at Jules and Antheia. "So the moral of the story is, don't drink more than you can handle."

"Better yet, don't drink at all," Vanora said.

"The only thing you should be drinking is tea," Moffitt added.

"You do need water as well, love, and milk."

"You get both of those in tea, technically."

"A cold glass of water or milk feels really good on a hot day," Jules said.

"Especially if it's good milk," Antheia added. She then made a face. "Not skim."

Moffitt sighed. "I once had the misfortune of adding what I didn't realize was skimmed milk to my tea at a Christmas party at the university."

"You drove us home ranting about it and didn't stop for over an hour," Vanora said.

"It was one of the most appalling cups of tea I've ever had."

"More appalling than my tea?" Troy asked.

"No, your tea will always be the worst. Nothing, and I mean nothing will ever beat the lump of sludge you served me when I first visited you."

Troy grinned. "And I will always be proud of that. No one can take that title from me."

Moffitt rubbed his face and groaned, "I'm glad you're proud, Troy."

"Thank you."

The house became quiet after the pie was finished and the others went back to their hotel rooms for the night. Jules stood by the kitchen window and watched Antheia wave to him as she and her parents left. He didn't turn around until he could no longer see her. The kitchen was empty, and it was far too quiet with the windows closed. The sound of crickets chirping outside was muffled, when it should have been clear as a bell.

He noticed his father approaching the corner of his left eye when he paused at the sink for a glass of water. Moffitt was smiling a little. "So, you and Antheia had a nice time in the stable?"

"We did," Jules said. "We'd like to do it again someday, when all this nonsense with the magpies is over."

"I think you will. You did have good form, I noticed."

"All from watching you and Mum slow-dance in the kitchen."

"Ah, so you have been paying attention to that." His father had a far-off look in his eyes. "Did I ever tell you that was partly how your mother and I met?"

"I don't think so."

"Yes. I was invited to a dinner function to help Evelina with pitching her college to the faculty of Cambridge, but it was also because a friend of hers saw me at a presentation, thought I was interesting and handsome, and wanted to meet me. That was a wonderful night, and certainly one I'll never forget."

"So, slow-dancing is something really special to you."

"It is. Very special." The far-off look disappeared, and Moffitt looked to be thinking about something a bit more somber. "Your mother and Shauna are expecting to be done with the shield within the next three days. How are you doing with training?"

"I feel like I'm ready for the castle."

"Are you being honest?"

Jules nodded. "Completely honest."

Another moment of silence fell over the house. Moffitt glanced out the window, then back at Jules. "You've grown a lot over the last few weeks. You've learned some things that… I didn't think you would learn until you were much older."

"Feels like I really haven't done much of anything. Just sat back and watched you and the others do all the work."

"You've been smart. You did run off, but you had a reason for doing so. You weren't trying to escape this or be the hero or anything like that."

"It really upset everyone, though."

"It did. I won't deny that, especially since that was a very bad day overall. Still, everything went well. We kept our heads on straight. We found you. No one was hurt. We got the location of the sword. What you did ultimately helped in getting us closer to the finish line."

"There's that, I guess."

"I know I've said this before, but I'm very proud of you. I don't think words alone can really convey how I really feel. They really can't."

"That's okay, Dad." Jules drank his water, and set the glass in the sink. "So… three days?"

"Maybe four, depending on how long it takes for the paint to dry."

"They're painting the shield?"

"A really nice cobra and adder crest."

"Can't wait to see it, then."

"Same here." Moffitt looked over his shoulder at the bedroom. "Alright. I guess it's time to say goodnight. See you in the morning."

"Goodnight, Dad." Jules gave his father a hug, and felt him hang on for a moment. Then he heard Moffitt sniff and draw in a sharp breath. "Are you crying?"

Moffitt clenched his fists and exhaled. "I just wish there was some way of knowing for sure that everything is going to be alright. I don't want to lose you."

The quiet desperation in his father's voice and the feeling of tears soaking into his shirt caused a desire of his own to cry to start rising in Jules's throat.

"I already lost Michael." Moffitt squeezed Jules tighter, a sob escaping him. "I don't want to lose you, too. Please… I don't want to lose you, too."

Jules stayed quiet, unable to think of anything that would help. There was nothing that would help. He maintained his grip on his father, and allowed himself to cry as well. Dad's gone through so much, he thought. His mind turned back to the medals in the nightstand. He's gone through so much pain and sadness. He shouldn't have to go through more.

Neither of them let go until the tears stopped flowing and the house was silent once more. Moffitt let out his breath, his eyes red and wet. He touched Jules's shoulder, then turned to go into his bedroom. "Goodnight, Jules."

"Goodnight." Jules stood in the middle of the room for a moment. He knew he still had to get a shower, but he wasn't looking forward to being alone with his thoughts. He tried to think about other things while in the shower, and eventually focused on the memory of dancing with Antheia. It progressed into a daydream about dancing with her again. He remembered what his father told him about dancing with Vanora on their first date, so Jules daydreamed about dancing with Antheia in a ballroom. An empty ballroom. He knew Antheia would be more comfortable with that, and he would prefer that, too. Just the two of them. A whole room and a night to themselves. That would be nice.

Jules tried to keep that daydream going when he left the shower, put his nightclothes on, and went into his bedroom. He lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling, and eventually closed his eyes, hoping to dream of a slow-dance with Antheia.

Dietrich stared at his wrists in horror. Cold sweat ran down his face and bare torso. His hands were shaking, and he heard himself whispering that what he had just seen was only a dream. A very bad dream.

Just a minute ago, he had watched a pair of magpies rip open the scars on his wrists. Blood gushed freely, accompanied by the angry voices of his long-dead soldiers. He really wanted to dismiss the magpies as being completely ignorant and stupid if they were going to be using things that no longer upset him, that being the voices. The clear, vivid sight of the birds tearing open his scars, though… that upset him.

He sat in bed, staring down at the scars. His hands and arms had been painted red in his dream—and he remembered them being completely covered before passing out in his apartment. He felt as though he had been hit by a train as he was plunged into the memories of that night. The sound of the wine bottle smashing against the counter. The strong, acidic smell filling the kitchen. Shaky hands taking the sharpest shard he could find.

Dietrich turned his hands away, and squeezed his eyes shut. He made himself think about the previous year, when he awoke from a nightmare about his attempted suicide around the anniversary of when it happened. His rapid, panicked breathing had woken up Esther, and she pulled herself close to him. She was well-aware of the significance of that day. She said nothing, and hugged him, gently pressing his wrists against his chest so he wasn't looking at them. The last thing he wanted was to feel alone, so he hugged her arms, and asked her not to let go. He remembered the morning after was quiet, as Esther had asked their neighbor to look after Gunther for a few hours in order to focus on her husband.

He tried to imagine her with him, but nothing would be as comforting as having her actually with him. Right now, that wasn't possible.

Dietrich looked out the window. The sun was beginning to peek over the eastern horizon. A perfect excuse for him to not try going back to sleep. He thought it was too early to be going over to Moffitt's, but he had a feeling Troy was already there. One part of him felt it would be best to talk to Troy, but another felt that Troy was just going to sink into a mood when he learned the dream featured the magpies. Dietrich was willing to try anyway. That was better than letting this fester. He left the hotel after getting dressed, remaining lost in his thoughts while riding a bus packed with Cambridge residents on their way to work. A group of bleary-eyed young men and women looked to be on their way to the university for early-morning classes, and Dietrich allowed his thoughts to wander to Moffitt, knowing he was once in that position. Thoughts of last night's dream returned when the bus stopped near the road leading out to Moffitt's home.

The road was peaceful aside from the songbirds and crows, along with the occasional rooster from a farm south of the road, hidden by the forest lining the road. Dietrich took his time, pausing every so often to listen to the birds. He heard a couple of ravens, which made him feel safe as he kept walking. When he arrived at the house, he entered to find Shauna using the coffeemaker, and Troy seated at the table, not doing anything.

"Good morning, Dietrich," Troy said.

"Can I talk to you outside, please?" Dietrich asked.

"Yeah, sure. Everything okay?"

Dietrich didn't answer that until they were both outside and away from everyone else. He sat in the grass, unsure if he even wanted a cigarette, despite usually taking advantage of being outdoors to smoke. He couldn't tell if he was simply too tired, or too bothered by his dreams and memories. He sighed, then decided to get right to the point. "Last night, I dreamt that two magpies came into my room and tore open the scars on my wrists."

Troy looked out at the woods across the road, sighing. A number of expressions crossed his face, then he said, "You, uh… You okay?"

"Mostly. I am more shocked than anything. I have had dreams about my scars opening before, but this one felt different. It felt… more real, like it actually happened."

"Because of the damn magpies."

"Most likely." Dietrich expected Troy to get angry, but, surprisingly, Troy was quiet. When he continued to say nothing, Dietrich added, "At least we are only days away from ending this, and then we can get back to normal." He looked at Troy again, trying to read his expressions.

"You're certain we didn't do anything to deserve all this?" Troy asked.

"I doubt it. Jules was chosen for this probably thousands of years ago, as was I for my prophecy. We have been over this, Troy. It is not something you can ignore."

"I know. I just hope this is it."

"I hope so, too. I have a little under twenty years until retirement. I have not quite decided what I will do. It depends on how I feel by the time I do retire, and what Gunther will be doing after he completes his required service in the military."

"You're not going to have him follow you, are you?"

"No. All I ask is that he do well, and not embarrass me."

"I highly doubt that'll happen. There's no way to judge what his personality will be like while he's still a toddler. I know that's what you're waiting for to be over."

Dietrich nodded. "Perhaps, though, I am… being a bit impatient."

Troy smirked. "You know, any other day, I'd tease you and say that we're not all that different after all, but I already know that we've got a lot in common and I just don't think that's what you need right now."

"No, it most certainly is not. I just display my impatience differently to you."

"That's true, but, still, you're a lot more patient than I'll ever be. That doesn't mean you don't have your moments when you're impatient about something. I've known for a while that 'something' is Gunther. You wish he was more like Jules at this stage."

"Admittedly, yes. Jules was not nearly as active, and I spent more time with him than I did with any of the other children. Jules was content with having me around. He largely left me alone and played by himself."

"Yeah, that was something I noticed when Jules was little. He always did prefer to be on his own, even when the other kids were around, and Moffitt never really encouraged him to go play with them. I think the most he said was, 'You can go play with the others if you want.'"

"I do remember that."

"Jules is turning out alright, though. As much as I don't like that this prophecy had to fall on him, I can't think of anyone else better suited to carry it out."

"He does have a lot of similarities to his father, and I have a feeling one of those will be not seeing himself as a hero, for one reason or another. This whole situation has been quite upsetting, so I suspect, strongly, that he will not look back on it fondly when it is over."

"Nope. Moffitt hates getting recognized for anything, I've noticed. Most of the time. I know he's uncomfortable receiving awards and getting credit for stuff. If he's going to be in charge, he has to be by himself. He can't stand leading, and resists it wherever possible."

Dietrich nodded. "I am curious if that attitude has after the hypnosis session."

"Well, we haven't been placed in a situation where he'd need to be in charge. Really the only time he's comfortable being in charge is when snakes are involved."

"I think that is because he knows he is the only person capable of communicating with them, and therefore the only person capable of keeping them safe."

"The same can be said for people."

"Snakes are a little bit different. He is the only one who can offer a bridge between species, which is why the snakes in the university behave they do. They are able to express needs and wants to make their lives in captivity less stressful. There is no one else on Earth who can do that, whereas with people, there is, potentially, someone who can lead better. Even if he does not suffer from chronic guilt anymore, he may still doubt his leadership capabilities. Perhaps such a test will come up in the future, but for the upcoming castle assault, he does not have to worry about anything other than keeping in contact with the snakes. You and I will, for lack of a better term, be in charge."

"Yep." Troy's grin returned. "Hard to believe this is the first time we'll actually be fighting together."

"Genuinely together, instead of through a fragile truce." Dietrich paused to think for a moment, noticing the sun had risen a little higher since coming outside to sit and talk with Troy. "I think it will be… interesting, to say the least."

"No doubt about that." Troy looked toward the sunrise as well, then back at Dietrich. "You know, we came out here to talk about you having bad dreams, and now look where we are."

"We let the conversation go where it took us."

"Do you feel better? That's really all that matters."

"I do. This has served as a reminder of how much has changed since I tried to end my own life. I never could have had conversations like this eighteen years ago."

"A lot of stuff has changed for me, too."

"That is true. You have become a bit more open, a little less impulsive, but you are still the same old Troy that never fails to give me a migraine for multiple reasons."

"I'll take that as a compliment."

Vanora was still half-asleep when she cuddled up to Moffitt and started lazily running her fingers through his hair. He shifted a little, making a soft moaning sound before mumbling that what she was doing felt good. Vanora smiled and hugged him, glad that she could make him happy after he had been so upset the night before. "Good morning, Jack," she whispered.

"Good morning, darling," Moffitt whispered back.

"How'd you sleep, love?"

"Alright, I guess. No nightmares. I suppose that's a good thing."

"That's always a good thing." Vanora kissed his cheek. "I love you."

"I love you, too."

Things went quiet for a little while. Moffitt had moved onto his back, allowing Vanora to rest her head on his shoulder. They didn't fully fall back asleep, but Vanora came close. She was eventually roused by Moffitt touching her cheek and giving her a kiss on her forehead.

"I hear someone in the kitchen," he said. "Probably Troy."

"I'd be surprised if it wasn't," Vanora sighed. She sat up and got dressed along with her husband before following him out to the kitchen. Much to her surprise, Troy wasn't there, but Shauna was.

"Well, this is unusual," Moffitt said.

"Sam's outside, talking with Hans," Shauna replied. "I'm making coffee."

"Thanks," Vanora said. She filled the kettle with water for Moffitt and Jules's tea, then set it on the stove.

"I'm anticipating we'll be able to start painting the shield tomorrow," Shauna said.

"Good. Did you bring paint?"

"No, unfortunately."

"I can get some. Don't worry about it." Vanora looked at Moffitt. "Would you… mind coming with me?"

"Not at all. I'd love to come with you, darling." Moffitt kissed her forehead again before getting his tea from the cabinet.

"Thank you." Vanora was glad Moffitt didn't question why, but she felt she owed an explanation when they headed into Cambridge to get some paint about an hour after breakfast. He drove, granting her a few minutes of staring out the window at a patchy sky and thinking. Eventually, she turned to him. "You're not wondering why I asked you to come?"

"You're not comfortable being alone because of the magpies," Moffitt replied without taking his eyes off the road.

"How did you—"

"Your behavior doesn't exactly make it a big secret, and Shauna mentioned that you seemed very frightened at the lumber shop."

"Oh. I… I see."

"I'm not angry. I completely understand why you're afraid. It's saddening more than anything, but if you're still afraid when this is all over—" Moffitt reached over to gently squeeze his wife's right hand, "I'll help you. I promise." He let go to resume his focus on driving.

"How have you been feeling since last night?" Vanora asked.

"A bit better. I'm more worried about Jules."

"Everyone's more worried about Jules, and I know he's not thrilled about that."

"No, and I can't blame him. We just have to keep telling ourselves that this'll be over soon."

"And hopefully, we'll all still be together."

"We will." Moffitt squeezed Vanora's hand a little tighter. "We will."

Vanora's thoughts turned to the nightmare she had a few nights ago, where the gargoyle had thrown Moffitt across a room and killed him instantly. She stayed close to him while they were in an arts and crafts store, feeling scared, but also tired of being scared. There wasn't much she could do about that beyond finishing the shield.

She kept that in mind while helping Shauna finish building it. As much as Vanora didn't want to send her son to fight, she knew there were no other options. The supernatural had demanded his presence, and they would have it one way or another. Something about him had made him worthy of being chosen, centuries before he was born. Vanora just wished Jules wasn't still so young. He didn't really act his age most of the time, but that didn't change the fact that he was still only a teenager.

The day after Vanora and Shauna painted the crest on the shield, Vanora went out in the morning to check on it. A cold feeling spread through her when she found the paint was completely dry. The two snakes—a black Egyptian cobra and a silvery-gray European adder—looked life-like and ready to strike, surrounding an equally life-like sword. At Dietrich's suggestion, a raven with outstretched wings had been added to the top of the crest. Its wings were angled slightly downward, as if protecting the heads of the two snakes.

Off in the distance, the usually calming sound of a church bell tolling could be heard. Vanora turned when she saw someone's shadow appear in the middle of the garage doorway, and was greeted by the tall and skinny Dietrich.

"Everything alright?" Dietrich asked.

"Yes. The, um, the paint's dry." Vanora sank down to sit on a bench she and Shauna had been using while they worked. "It's dry."

Dietrich touched her shoulder. "Jules will be alright." He gestured to the shield. "May I?"

"Sure. Go ahead."

Dietrich picked up the shield by its handle, holding it in front of his torso, then raised it to cover his head. "This is quite light," he said. "I know it does not need to be heavy. He will be deflecting birds after all."

Vanora nodded.

"Trust me when I say none of us want to do this."

"I know."

Dietrich set the shield down. "Jules will have plenty of people watching out for him, and then some. Do you know Psalms 22:19?"

"I should, but I don't."

"'Be thou not far from me, my Lord, my strength, haste thee to help me.'" A slight grin crossed Dietrich's face. "I whispered that one on more than one occasion whenever the Rats came barreling into my camp."

"I'll try to keep it in mind when we go to the castle."

"You are coming with us?"

"Yes. I'll be with Millington, helping with first-aid if it's needed."

"Hopefully, we will not need it, but it is nice knowing we will be in good hands." Dietrich looked in the direction of the house. "Let Jules and the others have breakfast, and then we will tell them that… we are ready."