Chapter 18
“Hello, Mr. Black.” I curtsied politely, my etiquette lessons paying off.
“Save those aristocratic quirks for your homeland, girl.” The man frowned slightly. “Just call me teacher or Sergei. Okay, enough of the bowing and scraping, I know you English people; you can spend half the day talking about the weather! Let’s go to my dacha! Masha’s already setting the table, they’ve brought the great-grandchildren. It’ll be fun!”
“Sergey, how are things?” Integra feebly fought off the man who took us by the hands and, with a smile, dragged us toward the exit.
“We’ll discuss everything tomorrow! When was the last time you came to visit us?” He gleamed with satisfaction. “Let’s sit, have a drink, take a steam bath, and then over tea and pies we’ll make a plan for tomorrow.”
This man resembled Sirius in appearance. And yet, at the same time, he wasn’t. His eyes were sharp, cold, and calculating, as if scanning the surrounding space, and only when he looked at my adoptive mother did they warm slightly. His gait and smooth, precise movements betrayed a dangerous predator, as if he were ready to lunge or swerve at any moment. A seasoned warrior was immediately apparent, and the several scars on his face only added to the picture.
A black sedan with a comfortable beige leather interior was waiting for us at the building’s exit. Sergei politely opened the doors for us, then got behind the wheel and leisurely drove out of the complex. From the outside, our point of entry looked like an ordinary five-story gray building, only surrounded by a high fence and armed guards at the gates. And, incidentally, it was protected by an anti-magic field; how and why it didn’t work in the portal room is beyond me.
***
I’d been to Moscow several times in my previous life, and frankly, I didn’t much like the city. The sheer number of cars and people, the run-down Khrushchev-era buildings and over-the-top glass shopping malls, and, most importantly, the air: it was hard to breathe in the capital; dirt and pollution were everywhere. And then there were the advertisements, ugly billboards, posters, and acidic neon signs everywhere. Sometimes I felt like the Moscow authorities were trying to hide behind them the squalid high-rises built under Khrushchev and never renovated since.
Here, the capital was striking: wide avenues, skyscrapers in the “old-fashioned” style. I remember seven Stalinist skyscrapers in that Moscow, but here I counted about twenty! There were no billboards at all, and the few signs that remained were seamlessly woven into the overall design of the city. The roadsides were literally immersed in the greenery of countless trees and ornamental shrubs. I stared out the window, my jaw hanging open, as I gazed at the capital of the Soviet Union.
“After the Great War, Moscow was rebuilt almost from scratch,” Sergei explained, seeing my interest. “The Nazis entered the outskirts of the city as early as November 1941, but were unable to take the capital. Urban fighting raged for almost four months, with blood flowing for every house, for every street! By December, half of Moscow lay in ruins, and the few remaining buildings had become veritable fortresses.”
– The Germans entered Moscow? – Yeah, in my past life the Germans didn’t reach the capital by literally a hundred kilometers.
“Yes, if the yellowfaces hadn’t attacked the Far East, we would have defeated the Germans at Kyiv.” The man slammed his fist on the steering wheel. “But we had to fight on two fronts! And if the Fritzes won with training and strategy, the Chinese won with numbers. The Japanese herded them like cattle to the slaughter, the yellowfaces then almost reached the banks of the Lena and surrounded Vladivostok, but they still couldn’t take it!”
– This is terrible! – In this world, wars were much larger.
“But after the victory, the decision was made to rebuild many cities and divide them according to specialization, so to speak. Stalin proposed the idea, and Zhukov continued his work.” The man turned on the tour guide.
– What do you mean, divide? – I don’t understand something.
“Well, look, Moscow remained the political center; only state and party organizations were left there. That decision was made at the CPSU Congress.” He turned to me. “You couldn’t put all your eggs in one basket. Kyiv was designated the financial center, and the enormous Eurasian Exchange was built there. Leningrad was recognized as the cultural capital, and almost all the museums were moved there, while the city itself was rebuilt after the war using old plans dating back almost to Peter the Great’s time. Science was moved to Siberia, farther from the borders—Sverdlovsk and Novosibirsk are home to almost all the research institutes and design bureaus; these cities became full-fledged scientific research centers.”
So, admiring Moscow and listening to stories about the city and its grandiose construction projects, we leisurely drove out of town. After a half-hour drive along the highway, we turned onto a narrow road leading to a small village. After a bit of wandering, the car stopped near a two-story wooden cottage located near a small lake.
***
A short, petite woman with jet-black hair braided tightly almost to her waist came out of the house to greet us, and slightly slanted brown eyes that only accentuated her oriental features. She was roughly forty years old, but even at that age, she was very beautiful.
– Finally! What took you so long? The pies are starting to get cold! – The woman spoke in Russian. She walked up to Integra and tried to hug and kiss her, for which the lady had to bend down. – How you’ve grown, huh?! I remember when you were a little girl, and now you’ve become a real beauty! Now, stop standing in the doorway, quickly, inside, the table is already set.
– Hello! – I said hello in Russian and – yeah, my accent is terrible.
– Well, hello! – The woman came up to me and patted me on the head. – My name is Masha, and I’m this idiot’s wife. You can call me by my first name.
After a brief introduction, we entered the house and were led into the living room, where five children, aged between seven and twelve, were already seated at a large, laid table. Lord, how I’d missed Russian cuisine! The table was a veritable bounty: borscht, pelmeni, Olivier salad, herring under a fur coat, pickled vegetables, and so much more! After about forty minutes, I felt like a bun, pondering a very important question: would this pelmeni fit inside me or not? I thought, “Let my filthy belly burst, rather than let this good product go to waste!” and, spearing the delicacy with a fork, popped it into my mouth. Now that was it, that was it. The other children were just as full and happy.
The adults noticed our state and, realizing we were no longer eating but simply “warming our ears” to adult conversation, sent us outside. Outside the house, the children surrounded me and began introducing themselves: the oldest was a girl named Alyona, then in order came Petya, Kolya, and Pavlik, and the youngest was my same-age sister, Ksyusha. As soon as we’d gotten acquainted, they dragged me to the lake, where everyone quickly shed their clothes and went for a swim. What seriously surprised me was the children’s lack of reaction to the scars covering my entire body. After a dive in the warm water, we started chatting, and I decided to ask about Soviet magic schools and how they generally educate children there.
It turns out that in the USSR, young wizards begin training at the age of seven. For the first four years, they learn the basics and cast spells with “children’s wands.” Before fifth grade, each student receives a custom-made magic concentrator. Then comes general magical education, but regular subjects aren’t forgotten either. The tenth and eleventh grades are then divided into specialties: fighters, healers, alchemists, and artisans. If a child is found to have a talent for mental magic or necromancy, they are taken immediately after ninth grade and trained somewhere in Moscow. With the prospect of further service in the KGB, yes. After school, children are assigned to institutes based on their specialization: fighters go to military academies, healers to medical academies, and so on. There are four schools of magic in the Soviet Union: Kiev, Moscow, Sverdlovsk, and Vladivostok. There’s also a closed school for werewolves somewhere near Yakutsk, where, under the supervision of shamans and experienced mentors, children are taught to control their inner beast. Incidentally, most werewolves later join the police; I immediately recalled the lesson’s screams about “shameful wolves,” and the phrase “werewolf in uniform” took on a whole new meaning.
I told the children in broken Russian about England, Hogwarts, and everything else I should have known, and also about my friend and the regular school. The children were very surprised to learn that in the British Empire there was only one wizarding school, and that classes started at eleven.
“That’s because they have a Statute in their country,” Alena explained to the others. “We’re not allowed to tell anyone about magic either, and in Britain, wizards live completely separately from mundanes and have no contact with them.”
“And I heard that English magicians can’t marry commoners, that’s why there are so few of them!” Kolya says this with a smart look. “One school is enough for everyone.”
“You’re lying! How can you not marry ordinary people?” Alena began to argue.
“Grandpa Seryozha told me about it! He came from England, he knows better!” The boy didn’t give up.
“That was during the reign of King Pea! He arrived before the revolution, everything has changed tenfold!” Alyona couldn’t believe it. “Look, in the States, the Yankees repealed their Rappaport Act during the Great War! Rigel, come on, tell him!”
“Kolya’s right, our wizards still live by the old laws and traditions.” “Damn, I feel so backward, like I’ve come from a mountain village and am telling you how kunaks steal a bride for a horseman groom.”
Our argument was interrupted by Integra, who approached us slightly flushed and very cheerful, and no longer dressed in her usual pantsuit, but in a white terry robe.
“Rigel, we’re going to the bathhouse now!” She smiled a little too eagerly for a “cold English rose.” “Come on, you’ll like it! It’s very hot there, but don’t be afraid – I’ll show you and tell you everything!”
“We’ll go right after you!” Alena issued an ultimatum and turned to the boys. “Otherwise, I know you two, you’ll be splashing around for two hours! All the heat will go away!”
***
The bathhouse was located right behind the house and was a sturdy log structure with a gable roof and a faintly smoking chimney. After undressing in the small anteroom, we immediately found ourselves in the spacious steam room, and it was incredibly hot in there! Unaccustomed to it, I covered my nose and mouth with my hands. My foster mother merely laughed and closed the door behind her. I was a little surprised by the dexterity and confidence with which this English lady of hereditary descent wielded the bath whisks and ladles. When she first turned on the steam and contentedly admired my reaction, my body began to burn from unaccustomed use, and I squatted down. And when she picked up a bath whisk and twirled it like a sword, I realized: now I was about to be steamed, and perhaps even in the ass. This heartless woman laid me down on the middle shelf and began her execution. It all started out so wonderful, but then it felt like Integra was trying to beat the very soul out of me. Just when I was beginning to see the light at the end of the tunnel, they doused me with ice water and, wrapped in a terry towel, carried me out of the steam room and sat me down on a bench.
How wonderful… Anyone who hasn’t been to a banya won’t understand the sensation. About twenty minutes later, when I had fully recovered, Integra, red as a boiled lobster, emerged from the steam room and called me in for a wash. My fever had already subsided, and I comfortably washed my hair in a basin. Then my foster mother, humming contentedly, scrubbed me with a washcloth. Then she doused me with lukewarm water, handed me a white terry robe, and sent me into the house, saying she’d steam for a bit longer and would be back in half an hour. Was it my imagination, or did a familiar pair of scarlet eyes blink in the dark corner of the changing room?
For the next couple of hours, I sat on the open veranda in a wicker chair, enjoying the lightness in my body and admiring the evening dawn over the lake, sipping sea buckthorn juice. I didn’t even notice how Integra, happy as a cat after eating sour cream, settled in next to me, and then the rest of the house followed—thankfully, the veranda was quite spacious and there were enough chairs for everyone.
When everyone was seated in a semicircle, Sergei levitated a huge samovar and faceted glasses in cup holders. We poured ourselves hot tea, Masha sliced pies, and the smell was simply amazing!
“Grandpa, tell me how you met Grandma!” one of the boys asked. “My brain can’t accept the fact that this young, healthy man is already a great-grandfather, who’s over a hundred years old!”
– Yes, tell me! – The other children whined, and I stared at him with interest.
“So, where should I begin?” Sergei settled more comfortably in his chair and looked at Integra and me. “I think I’ll start from the beginning. I was born in England, to a first-generation pureblood family.”
– How is that? – It’s interesting where purebreds come from.
“Well, look,” Sergei began counting off the fingers on his hand. “Muggles and Squibs produce Mudbloods, don’t be so blunt—that’s what the English say. A Mudblood produces a half-blood, and a relationship with a half-blood produces a pureblood, so it takes at least three generations of wizards! So my father was born a pureblood, a very powerful wizard, and dreamed of joining the ‘Sacred 28.’ The Blacks spotted him back in school and married him to one of their daughters, the most defective, who barely made it through five years of school—she didn’t have the reserves to cast powerful spells, and she had problems with her head anyway.”
Seeing that we were all listening attentively, he continued:
“My father then abandoned the family name and entered the bride’s family as a primate, a junior branch. But he still didn’t become an equal, and spent the rest of his life running errands, until he fell victim to the Dark Curse. He lost his magic, was cast out of the family, and went to live among the commoners, where he disappeared. After I was born, my great-grandfather raised me strictly, teaching me that I was no match for the other Blacks, and therefore must serve and protect them. That’s how it was in the mansion, and then at school. I turned out to be even stronger than my father, with a natural talent for combat, so I acted as a swordsman, fighting duels for my older relatives.
– And your mother? – How could a mother allow such treatment of her son?
“And after I gave birth, my mother completely f… Um, lost her mind, she even tried to strangle me in my crib. Luckily, the house elf didn’t let her, after that she was removed from my upbringing. So, where was I…” He thought for a second and continued:
After school, I was sent to Germany to train as a master fighter. I completed my training at twenty-seven and returned home, proud. But they quickly broke my heart – my family said I now had to work off my tuition, and they named a huge sum, obviously including interest. I went back to Europe to work as a mercenary and work off my debt to my family, and when I paid off my debt, I was stunned by the news – they’d found a bride for me, a good-for-nothing! A purebred of who knows how many generations, only she’s only six, and I needed to raise the ransom, a mere 15,000 galleons. I was already forty-seven at the time, just as the revolution was beginning in Russia. I quickly realized that my skills would be in demand in the war, and there would be plenty to profit from – I could plunder the mansions of the aristocracy with the commoners. What’s with all that? That’s exactly what I thought then, I realize now; I was young and foolish.
– How did you end up in the Red Army? – It starts like a romance novel, honestly.
“As an English mercenary, I went to the Revolutionary Military Council in Moscow and said I was passionate about the revolutionary cause, and I named my price. That same day, a magic contract was signed. There were plenty of half-baked magicians among the Reds, but almost no experienced fighters. And then it’s disgusting to think about.” Sergei practically spat. “I thought life was hard for us mudbloods, but it was even worse for Russians under the Tsar! I witnessed such passions and horrors in the basements of those aristocrats that some still have nightmares. And then the yellow-faces attacked, and my unit was sent to the Far East to liberate our native territories. And not for free, of course!”
– And that’s where you met grandma, right? – Alena leaned forward with shining eyes.
“I remember it like it was yesterday, we approached a burning village where the Japanese were committing atrocities, and she ran out to the edge of the village.” Sergei hugged his wife. “She was tiny, in just a nightgown and with an axe in her hand, a real fairy. And when she took off a Chinese man’s head with one blow! I knew I’d fallen in love at first sight, like a boy. We quickly recaptured the village, killed all the yellow-faced ones, but we were too late – half the houses were already burning, two-thirds of the inhabitants dead.”
“My first husband, Fyodor, was among them, and I was six months pregnant at the time, and our house burned down with all our belongings.” Masha hugged Sergei’s arm tighter.
“He was the village blacksmith. We found him in the center of the village, holding two hammers, surrounded by a pile of narrow-eyed corpses. He was a healthy man; I counted about a dozen bullet holes on his body.” Black sighed sadly. “Masha was the village healer and herbalist, and we were short on healers, so we offered her a job with us. We weren’t just marching, we were also recruiting a militia from the locals, and times were hard, and there weren’t enough men.”
“They gave me a place in the medical unit and put me on rations, and Sergei,” she glanced at her husband, “started courting me, gently, unobtrusively. He understood that I was mourning my first husband, and after I gave birth, every time after a battle or a raid behind the lines, he’d come over to chat and bring the baby something tasty. I still don’t know where he got it all from.”
– What did you name your son? – Well, I don’t know.
“Fyodor, in honor of my father. Sergei insisted then, saying that my husband died a hero, defending his family, and it would be a sin to forget such a man.” Masha lowered her head, and Black immediately kissed her on the top of it.
“Yes… Those were hungry times, and I only had an officer’s ration, and there were plenty of things I could have taken from the Japanese commanders, but they didn’t need it anymore. So I fed a mother with a baby in her arms.” He hugged his wife more tightly.
– When did you propose? – I leaned forward. – When did you decide?
“It wasn’t me! Fedka decided everything for us!” Sergei chuckled cheerfully. “We were already in Manchuria, I’d just returned from reconnaissance – we’d cleared out another village of yellow-faces where Japanese officers were stationed. And we searched them too, finding valuable documents, maps… And some condensed milk, too. And in one house, I found a set of tin soldiers. I thought I’d animate them, let the kid play with them. We weren’t even thinking about the Statute back then, war and devastation were all around. So, I go to her in the nook of the infirmary, and the little one comes running towards me, barefoot, snotty, in just a vest, holding out his little hands and screaming, ‘Mommy, Mommy, Daddy’s here!’ He was about two years old then…”
The man fell silent for a couple of minutes and looked into the distance, then wiped away a tear with his left hand and continued his story:
“Then I scooped him up in my arms and understood the meaning of the Black motto: ‘Family above all!’ This is my family! This is what I’ve been searching for my whole life!” The Black buried his face in his wife’s hair and kissed her on the top of her head. “I’m ready to die for this woman, and I’ve long since called this boy my son. What do I need England for? I won’t be equal, no matter how hard I try. And they won’t let me marry Masha; she’s weak, they wouldn’t consider her a person there. So I decided to stay.”
“The next day we went to the political officer and said we wanted to get married. He listened to us attentively and ran to get the division commander.” Masha giggled cheerfully.
“We both had no documents! I’m an English mercenary, she’s an illiterate peasant!” Sergei chuckled and received an elbow in the ribs. “Under the Tsar, peasants weren’t allowed passports; landlords counted them like cattle, by the head. Then, when I was getting my Soviet passport and citizenship, I was on edge for a couple of weeks; I even had to plunder everything… Ahem, donate the expropriated goods to the needs of the young Soviet state. I left one ring, saying so—a wedding gift, and they allowed it. They recorded it as a battle trophy, I mean the ring.”
Maria raised her right hand and, to the accompaniment of the children’s sighs, showed everyone a white gold ring with a slightly glowing black stone.
“They got us passports right away, as soon as we were married, with our new names; it was easier back then.” Sergei chuckled. “And that same evening, a couple of sorcerers from the division performed my naming ritual, and that was how I finally broke with the past. That day, the mercenary Ceginus Black died for everyone, and the Red Army commander Sergei Cherny was born. And you know, children, I have never regretted my decision.”
– And Fyodor, where is he now? – I quietly asked where that “boy” was who married off such an adventurer.
“Fedka died,” Cherny answered dryly. “He died heroically at the end of 1945, during the storming of Königsberg. But he left behind a son, and Mashenka and I raised a grandson. Marinka, Fedka’s wife, died even earlier – they were caught in a bombing raid, and she shielded their son with her body.”
As soon as the man stopped speaking, silence fell over the gazebo. Sadly, real life rarely has happy endings like in the movies. Almost every Soviet family suffered during the war, and these people were no exception. They sat there for about five minutes in silence.
I looked around and realized that it was already dark outside, and it seemed that the adults had realized this too.
“Children,” Sergei’s wife stood up and clapped her hands. “It’s late, time to wash up and go to bed. Alena, show our guest to her room.”
Once in my assigned room, I quickly undressed and fell asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow. It had been a very eventful day.
***
When all the children were asleep, the adults gathered in the study on the ground floor. Sergei settled into a large brown leather chair, smoking a cigarette. Lady Hellsing sat across from him on a comfortable chair, twirling a pistol similar in size and appearance to the famous Desert Eagle. Maria settled into a soft sofa, crossing her legs and studying a folder containing some documents. A comfortable silence reigned, punctuated by the rustling of papers and the metallic clank of the pistol’s slide.
“Well, what do you think? The latest development from our gunsmiths, 12.7 caliber, simple as a crowbar and reliable as a brick!” Black stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray. “It went into production last year. Now we’re re-equipping the army’s officers, and Vityaz has already switched completely to the Yarygin Pistol. The guys praise the barrel; it penetrates any armor at a hundred meters!”
“You’re right about the brick.” Integra weighed the pistol in her hand, then deftly removed the magazine and quickly began disassembling the weapon. “But the caliber and lethality offset that. And the weight and recoil can be compensated for with runes. When and in what quantities are you ready to supply?”
“We can provide a trial batch of a hundred right now. You can sight them in, check the ballistics… evaluate the new product, so to speak. We won’t be able to begin mass deliveries until next year; we need to stock up our own first, you understand.”
“Okay, I’ll talk to the minister and the generals, and I’ll take a sample with me for a demonstration.” The woman deftly assembled the pistol, which quickly disappeared into her purse, and then looked at the man with the gaze of the cat from Shrek. “What about the second request?”
“You cut it without a knife, how did you know that?” Black pretended to clutch his heart, but then continued seriously. “We’re ready to provide it, but ONLY for your Order, Integra, I’m serious. This is a secret development by our artificers. All deliveries are under a magical contract only , no technical documentation, just instructions. If you try to disassemble it, the device will self-destruct! And anyway, give me the pistol, it’s mine, by the way! You’ll get a sample with zinc cartridges tomorrow.”
– Seryozha, what’s so special about these new radios? – Masha looked up from her papers.
“What’s so special? A compact and completely indestructible radio!” The man choked with indignation. “It’s impossible to jam or eavesdrop on! And most importantly, it doesn’t care about distance or obstacles! The range is unlimited, plus they work with regular radios and don’t require magical abilities to use!”
“I’m asking for the Order’s sake. You know yourself that only vacuum-tube radios work in magical territories. They’ve already scratched my head with a teaspoon, saying that lugging around fifty-kilogram crates is incredibly inconvenient. Plus, they’re incredibly fragile; one blow and the squad is out of communication.” Integra smiled sweetly and placed her weapon on the table. Sergei immediately put it away in the top drawer. “What was your important mission?”
“So, I have a personal request for you, a very urgent matter.” Black frowned and leaned forward. “A nine-tailed beast has appeared on the Chinese border; that creature has already wiped out three villages and two border outposts! We’ve, of course, sent Vityaz’s division there and pinpointed its approximate location. But I haven’t given the order to attack it openly yet, you understand.”
“The losses will be heavy, you’ll lose at least three hundred men.” The lady nodded understandingly. “And what about the nuclear weapons? Drop a warhead on the creature’s head and the problem is solved.”
– You can’t! That bitch is grazing too close to the border! We could cover our cities with a radioactive cloud. – The man slammed his fist on the table. – We don’t know where she crawled out from, maybe the Chinese woke her up or she woke up on her own. She’s old, very hungry, and crazy about her own strength! And I don’t want to ruin my people! So I decided to ask your fanged pensioner for a loan; he hasn’t met a worthy opponent in a long time. Am I right, Alucard? I can’t believe you let your mistress go to a foreign country all alone.
“You’re right.” A quiet, ingratiating voice came from a dark corner. “And the offer is tempting. Nine tails, that means she’s almost a thousand years old. Strong and proud, but stupid. The Huli-jing were never known for their intelligence. I wonder where she’s been all this time?”
“I don’t care where she came from! She needs to be killed, and the sooner the better!” Black clenched his fists and looked at his interlocutor. “Well, will you help?”
“Okay, as soon as we return to Britain, Alucard will come to you immediately. You can explain everything to him in detail there.” Integra turned toward the dark corner. “Find her and destroy her, you can use any means and abilities!”
“I hear and obey, my Lady.” The ancient vampire never showed himself, but his voice was filled with irony and anticipation.
“Now that’s sorted out, what about teaching the girls? When will you take it on?” The lady leaned back in her chair, relaxed.
“Tomorrow morning we’ll go to GUM, buy chopsticks and a few other little things. I believe she reads Russian fluently?” The lady nodded in response. “Great, we’ll buy our textbooks. I’ve already found mine and made copies. My old ones are better, of course, but the modern ones are easier to understand. I think one lesson a week will be enough. I’ll come on Sundays and spend half a day teaching the material so she has a week to work on it. I won’t be able to do it more often, I’m busy myself.”
“Do you still have your old textbooks?” Integra asked in surprise.
“Of course! I carry everything I own with me!” The man chuckled. “When I went to Europe, I packed all my things without looking, and then the toad wouldn’t let me throw them away. And for good reason, by the way! Do you know how many wizards in the union studied from these books? Half of these textbooks are still reprinted with additions and are required reading. Hogwarts was considered the best school of magic for a reason; even now, when half the subjects have been removed and the curriculum has been simplified, it is in the top ten! And the library, in fact, is probably the best in the world!”
“Integra, I looked at her file… Hippocrates is right, he did everything he could.” Maria sighed sadly. “She won’t be able to have children, and our specialists won’t be able to help either.”
– I kept hoping until the very end… Thank you for looking. – The lady glanced at her watch. – It’s already late, and we have to get up early tomorrow. Let’s get going.
Ten minutes later the lights went out in the house and everyone was sleeping peacefully
