Chapter 2 #2
“Zephyr Nightshade.” She nodded to him with genuine warmth, though she didn’t put Fred down. “I might ask you the same thing. Never in a million years would I have expected to see an old agent like you whiling the hours away on a cruise ship. A holiday cheese tour, no less!”
“Don’t knock it till you’ve tried it.” Zephyr winked, utterly unfazed. “Retirement sure has its perks.” He gestured to Minerva. “I’m here with my new bride—”
“Yes, yes. Ms. Lathrop, yes, I’d heard the rumors.” Exandra’s imperious gaze flicked to Minerva, assessing and dismissing her in the same moment. Her tone remained polite but cool. “You must be the bookshop proprietor.”
“Former proprietor,” Minerva corrected mildly, refusing to be ruffled. “Current fromagerie owner. And it’s Lathrop-Nightshade now.”
“You are a mouse shifter as well as a witch, if the rumors are correct?”
“I am,” Minerva confirmed. This giant doesn’t beat around the bush, she thought.
“Interesting. I suppose that explains the cheese obsession.” Exandra continued to stare at Minerva, unblinking.
“Amongst other things.” Minerva forced herself to keep her chin held high.
She’d heard more than a few stories about Zephyr’s former partner in fighting magical crimes.
She knew the giantess possessed superstrength and a pinch of compulsion.
It had made her most valuable when fighting vampires.
She was impervious to their wiles. But somehow she wasn’t quite what Minerva had pictured. She was… unnerving.
“Exandra.” Bayard had finally found his voice. He limped toward them, his cane tapping against the deck. “I... we didn’t... ummm…You’re not on the passenger manifest.” His shoulders slumped. “Your assistant wired me to say you couldn’t get away to join us.”
“Correct. This is not leisure time for me. I’m here in my official capacity, on a last-minute assignment.
” She straightened to her full height, still cradling Fred, and suddenly she was all business again.
Official, professional, in control. But Minerva noticed the way her fingers twitched as they stroked Fred’s feathers. Most suspicious.
“We’ve received some troubling reports of cheese-related incidents that require further investigation before they escalate.”
“Incidents?” Bayard’s voice cracked slightly.
“Yes. Some of them at fromageries along this route.” Exandra’s eyes swept across the assembled passengers, most of whom were still watching her with undisguised curiosity.
“Someone’s been targeting magical cheese production.
Sabotaging cultures, damaging equipment. The Society was only just made aware.”
Bayard’s face somehow got even paler. “I... I see.”
“They’re calling the perpetrator the Culture Vulture,” Exandra continued.
She was looking at everyone except Bayard now, her jaw set.
“It all sounds dramatic, I know, but accurate. Someone’s threatening Yule cheese production across the region.
I’m here to make sure everyone on this tour stays safe and sound and to catch whoever’s responsible. ”
Zephyr frowned. He glanced from Exandra to Bayard. “That sounds very concerning. Bayard, did you know about this?”
“I... I had heard there was a small incident at one of the fromageries upstream,” Bayard admitted, still staring at Exandra. “Nothing major, though. I didn’t think it was a big deal.”
“Well, it’s considered to be a major big deal now.
” Exandra looked directly at him, and for just a brief moment, something raw, vulnerable, and protective flashed across her face.
Then her professional mask slid back into place.
“So I’m afraid you’ll be stuck with me keeping you all safe for the duration of the cruise. ”
“That’s... that’s fine, absolutely fine!” Bayard managed. “Of course. We’re happy to cooperate with the investigation. Aren’t we, Fred?”
Fred, still in Exandra’s arms, quacked his agreement while simultaneously trying to worm his way into the pouch pocket of her track suit.
“I should find the captain to brief him and get myself settled,” Exandra said abruptly. “Sorry for the dramatic entrance, Bay. Didn’t mean to crash your party.”
She set Fred down with obvious reluctance, and the duck immediately positioned himself between her and Bayard, looking up at both of them as if existentially torn between which one he wanted to follow.
His obvious confusion was almost heartbreaking.
Bayard scooped him up and patted him, murmuring words of comfort.
As Exandra strode away toward the ship’s interior, her pack over one shoulder, Minerva noticed the tiniest hitch in her confident stride. It was just for a moment after she walked out the door, a flash of hesitation that looked like something else.
Bayard stood rooted to the spot, watching her go.
“Well,” Zephyr said. “I for one am delighted to have the old gang all back together. I’m sure whatever the Culture Vulture has in store, they’re no match for a crack agent like our Exxie.”
Later that evening, after the reception dispersed, a smaller group gathered near the bow for the sail away.
Bayard, Zephyr, Minerva, Wren (notebook ever present), and Jasper, who’d been tasked with fetching a tray of after-dinner cordials, tossed magical, eco-safe confetti over the railing.
It glided down toward the river in shimmering ribbons before evaporating.
Exandra stood a few feet apart from the group. She was leaning against the railing with her back to the receding lights of Geneva, watching them.
Before long, the ship had begun its journey, floating smoothly above the darkening water. The hum of magic beneath their feet had settled into a pleasant, rhythmic thrum.
“So, Exandra,” Zephyr said, accepting a small glass of something amber from Jasper’s tray. “Tell us about these incidents you mentioned.”
Exandra stroked Fred’s feathers, her expression carefully neutral.
“Three fromageries have been hit in the past month. Different regions, different cheese styles, but the perp has had the same pattern every time. Either the cultures are compromised or the aging processes are disrupted. Nothing catastrophic, but it might be enough to threaten Yule cheese production. The Culture Vulture seems to have it in for the holidays.”
“Can you say anything more about this? What kind of compromises are we talking about?” Wren asked, pen poised expectantly over her notebook. Her journalist instincts were clearly engaged. “How odd that we haven’t heard anything about this in the mainstream magical news!”
“That’s not surprising.” Zephyr tutted. “You’d be shocked at the things that go unreported on a daily basis. We agents rarely speak to the press during an active investigation. Too dangerous. It compromises us and the case.”
Exandra shrugged and nodded. But she turned to Wren with a look of respect.
“What can I say without getting too specific…” Her voice was professional, detached, but not unkind. “I can say it’s always something that could be explained as an accident or negligence. But the timing is too coincidental, we think. Someone knows exactly what they’re doing.”
Bayard had gone very quiet, his fingers white-knuckled on his walking stick. “And you think... this tour might be targeted?”
“The fromagerie we’re visiting tomorrow was on a list of potential targets.
” Exandra turned to look at him directly, and Minerva saw something flicker between them again.
Concern, tension, or was it something else entirely?
“I couldn’t risk anything happening to—I mean, I thought it best to be here. Just in case.”
“Quite right. I would have made the same call,” Zephyr said firmly. “Though I’m surprised the Society sent you alone. No partner on this mission? Isn’t that highly irregular?”
A muscle tightened in Exandra’s jaw. “Everyone else was either off for the holiday or already away on assignment. Or retired.” She spat out the “r” word like it left a terrible taste in her mouth. “There was nobody else. I had to come alone.”
“What a hardship for you that must be…” Bayard murmured, so quietly Minerva almost missed it.
“This is fascinating,” Wren said, writing rapidly. “I mean—not fascinating that someone’s sabotaging cheese production. That’s terrible. But from a story perspective…” She grinned apologetically.
“Perhaps we should try to keep this quiet?” Jasper interrupted nervously. “I mean, we don’t want to alarm the passengers. Or get bad press before Mr. Fontaine’s lecture series even properly starts.”
He shot an apologetic glance at Wren, who raised an eyebrow.
“I’m a journalist, not a gossip columnist,” she said coolly. “I know the difference between a story and fearmongering.”
“Right. Yes. Of course you do. I just meant—” Jasper’s ears turned red. “Sorry.”
“The boy’s right,” Exandra barked out, and Minerva noticed Jasper straighten slightly at being called “right” by someone so imposing. “No need to alarm everyone. I’ll investigate discreetly. Most passengers won’t even know I’m working.”
“I think it’s a little late for that,” Minerva commented. “Given your dramatic arrival. The other passengers are not simpletons. They already know something’s up.”
“And what if something happens at tomorrow’s fromagerie?” Bayard asked. His voice was steady, but Minerva could see the tension in his shoulders.
“Then I’ll handle it.” Exandra’s tone brooked no argument. “That’s what I do, Bayard. It’s what we’ve always done and what I intend to keep doing, with or without you.”
The words hung in the air between them, weighted with history Minerva didn’t fully understand. Zephyr clearly did, though. His expression had grown wary as his gaze moved between his two old colleagues.
Fred quacked softly, and Exandra looked down at him. “Don’t worry, darling. I definitely won’t let anything happen to you. You are one of my top priorities. I even noted it in my brief. ‘Must protect Fred.’”
The gentleness in her voice when she spoke to the duck was so at odds with her professional demeanor that it made Minerva’s heart ache a little.
“Well,” Zephyr said, breaking the tension, “I for one am glad you’re here, Exandra. It’ll be like old times. The three of us on an adventure together.”
“If you can call it that,” Exandra said, but something in her expression softened. “Not much of an adventure, really, when we’re just babysitting some cheese cultures.”
“I don’t know, that sounds like the best kind of adventure to me,” Minerva chimed in.
When Exandra’s cool gaze turned to her, she met it evenly.
“I’ve found that the most interesting things happen when you’re paying attention to the small, important details, Agent Thorne.
Cheese cultures. Bakery recipes. All those little traditions that hold communities together. ”
For a moment, something like understanding flickered in Exandra’s eyes. Then she nodded curtly. “Quite.”
Suddenly a melodious, magical chime that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere sounded through the ship’s PA system.
“That’s the signal for evening turndown service,” Jasper said. “We should head to our cabins. We’ll fly through the night and arrive at the Alpine fromagerie by morning.”
“So we’re actually going to be flying, not sailing?” Wren asked, looking intrigued.
“Yes, we’ll be taking to the air for a good part of the journey.
The ship hops between waterways,” Bayard explained, some of his natural enthusiasm returning.
“We’ll lift higher now and travel overland till tomorrow.
You’ll see the Alps by moonlight if you look out your porthole before you go to sleep. It’s quite spectacular.”
“I should document that,” Wren said, already making notes.
“I could... show you the best viewing spot?” Jasper offered hesitantly. “For the Alps. If you want. For your article.”
Wren glanced up, and her expression softened a bit. “That would be helpful. Thank you, Jasper.”
The young man looked like he might faint from happiness.
As the group began to disperse toward their cabins, Minerva lingered at the railing with Zephyr. Ahead of them, Bayard limped toward the interior, Fred tucked under his arm.
Exandra had already disappeared into the ship’s depths.
“There’s a story there with those two, isn’t there?” Minerva commented.
“Several stories,” Zephyr agreed. “And I suspect that it’s still being written. Should be an interesting chapter!” He wagged his eyebrows.
The ship rose higher, and the lights of Geneva fell away below them. Above, the stars blazed in the winter sky. Ahead, somewhere in the darkness, the Alps waited.