The Offices of Eugene Gertz, Esquire

"So...what was our story, again?"

Isabelle sneaks at glance at the front desk, double checking that the very sweet and very old secretary stationed there is still clacking away at her outrageously loud keyboard before whispering back to you. "We're here for a Civics assignment. We're interviewing him about what notary publics do."

"Notaries public."

"What?"

"'Notary' is the noun and 'public' is an adjective. It's 'notaries public', not 'notary publics'."

Isabelle stares at you for a long moment, then sits back with a curious look in her eyes. "...Things have been so crazy for the last two months, I'd actually forgotten that you do this."

You can't help frowning slightly. "Do what?"

"This." She's got a faint smile; is she teasing you? "Like when people say 'expresso', or 'octopodes'."

Okay now you know she's teasing? But someone just said 'octopodes' in your presence, so now you have to clear the air. "Look, it's 'octopuses'. It's that simple. It's derived from Ancient Greek but it is not Greek; it's an English word and uses English pluralization. At least when people say 'octopi', they're just saying what sounds right. 'Octopodes' is simultaneously wrong, shitty-sounding and undeservedly smug."

Isabelle quirks her lips, seeming as if she's seeing you in a refreshed light. "You gave pretty much the same speech in the first week of freshman English, you know."

Now it's your turn to stare at Isabelle. "Really? I don't remember that."

"I do. I had a front row seat for the whole show."

Huh. That was before you even knew Isabelle very well. She'd been homeschooled through most of middle school; the only times you'd crossed paths before then was at Jenny's birthday parties. You'd had the distinct impression at the time that she begrudged your shared claim on being Jenny Park's best friend, but clearly things played out for the better. Maybe you've got an angle here to turn Isabelle's teasing back against her. "Oh, really?" You lean over, pressing your shoulder into Isabelle's as you theatrically flutter your eyelashes at her. "Did you like what you saw?"

"Hm." Isabelle makes a show of considering it. "In a way. I remember thinking, 'Oh wow, Jenny's hot friend is an even worse nerd than I am. She is insufferable'. That did wonders for my self esteem."

You lean in a little closer. "Shut up. You know I'm super sufferable. I am so sufferable. I was sufferable then and I'm even more sufferable now."

"I'm the one who's suffering here, Jesus Fucking Christ." Jenny hisses at you in annoyance, glancing towards the front desk to make sure the old lady didn't hear her swearing. "And it doesn't matter what the cover story is, okay? We're just going to magic the dude and get him to spill what he knows about Beatrix. Fucking hell."

The thunderous clacks of the ancient secretary's typing slows for a moment. "Mister Gertz should be with you in just a few more minutes, ducklings!"

All three of you chorus in unison. "Thank you Missus Myrtle~!"

Once you're safely ensconced within the cacophonous din of the old woman's typing once more, Jenny allows herself to whisper again. "Let's just see what we can find and move on, okay? I just wish we'd been able to do this during the last truce. I don't like being this far outside of the wards."

Jenny has a point there. Gertz's office is out towards the suburbs, well beyond your usual stomping grounds. You're relatively confident in your ability to protect the three of you, even without the aid of your preexisting shields? But being 'relatively' confident isn't all that hot when we're talking about life and limb. Still. You've spent all this time hidden away within your own territory, behind your magical walls, and Beatrix is still a mystery. If you don't take this opportunity to potentially learn more about her, she'll probably stay that way. And you're a good bit more than relatively confident that that is not good for life and limb, either.

The playful smile Isabelle sported just a few moments ago has faded away, replaced with that same pensive look she'd had since the three of you entered the building. "It's funny. I don't feel like there is anything magical here, but...something still seems off. Doesn't it?"

You share a glance with Jenny, and when she shrugs you turn your eyes back to Isabelle. "I don't know, Isabelle. I don't really feel anything."

"It's strange. I don't really get it, either, but..." She frowns, fussing with her ponytail. "I don't know. I feel like we're in danger. I felt like this a little on Friday, before Gal showed up, and before we met Aisha at the Mocha Bean. Maybe we should just lea--"

The door to the back offices swings open, and Myrtle's typing stops. "Mister Gertz will see you now, dears."

A brief chill cuts through your heart, momentarily flooding you with a peculiar sense of panic. You shake your head clear; what's up with that reaction? And when did Isabelle's hand grip onto yours so tightly? You give yourself another shake before rising to your feet and pulling Isabelle up with you. You offer the elderly secretary your most dazzling smile as Jenny rises as well. "Thank you Missus Myrtle~!"

And then the three of you move forward as one, collective breath held as you follow the pathway into the deepest recesses of the offices of Eugene Gertz, Notary Public and Attorney at Law.

Said breath is freed almost immediately as the 'deepest recesses' wind up being, like, just a short hallway. You aren't sure what you expected; for a brief moment, Isabelle's vague premonition had you imagining cauldrons of blood and skull-studded walls or something. Well the closest thing to a cauldron is the water fountain, and rather than skulls the walls are studded with framed pictures of the girls' softball team the Gertz Law Offices sponsors. You take a moment to glance at the yellow jerseys on display in one of the photos. 'The Wildcats'. Jesus. The blandest mascot possible. The little Gertz in the photo certainly looks pleased, though. The intensely bland man's chest is all puffed out, one arm wrapped around his wife's shoulder and the other proudly pointing to the oversized Wildcats jersey his young daughter is draped with. Man, he must either be stupid successful or hung like a horse, because this boring guy has no business having a wife that--

Your heart is already pounding in your chest before your eyes can fully relay what they're seeing to your brain. Fortunately your arm is ahead of the game, though, snaking out to grab Jenny's sleeve just before she can take hold of the doorknob that leads into Gertz's office. Your voice rings in your ears as if it's being said by someone else, your eyes still locked onto the team photo. "Stop. Don't."

Jenny freezes in place, Isabelle going very still herself as she speaks as quietly as she can manage. "What's wrong."

You give a tiny shake of your head, fumbling your phone out of your pocket. You snap a quick photo of the softball team, then motion insistently back towards the waiting room. "Outside first. Quickly. Don't touch anything, and especially no magic."

If Myrtle finds anything odd about the three supposed interviewers stiffly power-walking out of the back offices, she doesn't show it. "Oh, done already, ducklings? I hope your report goes well!"

"Thank you Missus Myrtle~!"

A few heart-pounding moments later, you're huddled inside the heavily-warded safety of Jenny's car. You all but collapse into your seat, rubbing hard at the corners of your eyes as you walk yourself through what you saw, and what it means. Fuck. Fuck. It should be impossible to underestimate someone who stuffs people full of little Cthulhus, but somehow you managed it. Good fucking work, Ash. Isabelle leans forward from the back seat, seemingly unable to decide if she should be more concerned for you or just generally nervous about everything. "What's wrong? What did you see?"

"Here." You press your phone into Isabelle's hand. "Take a look."

Isabelle furrows her brow, flipping over to your newest photo. It's not long before she lets out a hiss of recognition. "Oh wow, this little girl's Beatrix, isn't she."

Jenny very nearly takes her eyes off the road at Isabelle's reveal, prompting you to jerk upright again. "Jenny, keep driving. Just get us out of here, but stay under the speed limit. And if any car veers out at us, you have to trust the wards to protect us, okay?" Your friend nods, unnerved but hearing the urgency in your tone as she refocuses on driving the three of you home. You give yourself a moment to squeeze the bridge of your nose once more, then turn back to Isabelle. "Yes. That's her."

Isabelle shakes her head in disbelief. "So 'Beatrix Étienne' is actually Beatrix Gertz."

"I'd wager it's Beatrice Gertz, actually."

"Heh. Probably. This explains why the map keeps showing her out in the suburbs, too. She's just at home." Isabelle lets out a little snort at that. "Do you remember what Aisha said when we mentioned her at the Mocha Bean? How mocking she was? She must know that Queen Bea is a commuter putting on airs."

"I guess so, yeah."

Isabelle stares down at the picture for a while longer, then tilts her head at you. "But...why were you so insistent we get out of there? I mean, if we'd had to guess we probably could have come up with the fact that Eugene Gertz is her father, or related to her at least. What's the issue?"

"That's not it. It's his wife. Her mom."

"Eh?" Isabelle glances back down at the phone. "What about her?"

"We've met."

"Really? When?"

"Friday night." You shift your head to stare distantly out the window. "When Beatrix's drone tried to crash its car into us. That wasn't what it was actually doing."

Isabelle's brow knits even further. "What, then?"

"It was trying to get us to crash into her."

"Trying to get you to crash into..." Isabelle recoils as she works her way through that. "Wait, you mean to break the Family Taboo?" When you silently nod, Isabelle recoils even further. "Beatrix was trying to get you to hurt or kill her own mother?!"

"Yes. I'm sure of it. And that's why I wanted us away from her father as quickly as possible. Who knows she might have in place for him, just in case we ever crossed paths?"

"Wow, I just..." Isabelle slowly shakes her head, eyes glued to the Gertz family tableau displayed on your phone. "She looks so happy, though. With them. What the hell happened?"

You run your hand through your hair, feeling deeply drained. "I have no idea. Maybe she changed. Maybe it was an act, even back then. I only talked to her mom for a second, but...she seemed nice. Her dad seems nice. We don't need to know why, though. Not right now. We just need to know that the most dangerous place in the world for us right now is anywhere near one of Beatrix's parents, and never lose sight of our surroundings. Beatrix is officially capable of anything."

A heavy silence falls over the car as you all process that dire pronouncement, the sense of unease persisting even as Jenny shepherds you into the outer ring of your warded territory. At no point has this war been 'fun'? And the stakes have certainly been raised all the way up for weeks now. But somehow it feels even worse now, dirty and mean and ugly in a way you hadn't previously thought possible. You can't stop thinking of your own mother, or Jenny's or Isabelle's, and then you're thinking again of Mrs Gertz and her brief but sincere display of concern for you. This isn't fun, and you have no idea what could possibly lift your spirits again.

Isabelle's voice breaks through the dreary hush. "Hey Ash."

"...yeah?"

"I was reading about that drone NASA landed on Mars recently. Ingenuity?"

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. The article called it a 'mini-copter'."

"............" Jenny has already started to groan before you begin your response. "Okay, the two parts of helicopter are 'helico' and 'pter', not 'heli' and 'copter', so whoever edited that should be dragged outside and--"