Chapter 16
It was not possible to cure me completely within a month.
Smetvik came every two days, performed a full diagnostic of my body, and always found something new, which led to him prescribing additional potions or personally performing unknown procedures. And he was as happy as a fool on a merry-go-round. He also constantly said that it had been a long time since he’d had such a unique case, and that my medical history was enough to warrant a job defending my title as a master healer.
The entire first week was spent taking strengthening and vitamin potions while my bones were being regrown. The process was fairly straightforward: the healer would hold me in a certain position with a special spell, then remove the damaged bones and infuse me with bone-growth. It was painful, no, it was incredibly painful! It was a fantastic sensation, as if a swarm of tiny hedgehogs with incredibly sharp needles had taken up residence under my skin, and these bitches had decided to explore new territories beneath my skin and muscles. In short, those were very long nights, and I lay paralyzed, gritting my teeth and enduring it.
Before I could rejoice at the sight of my intact skeleton, all hell broke loose. According to a respected healer, the most important and difficult stage had arrived: the restoration of the nervous and endocrine systems, muscle tissue, intestines, and other innards. Well, it turns out that bone growth is completely painless! For almost a week and a half, I tossed and turned in a delirium every night, my body wracked with pain. It felt like I was literally being turned inside out. Painkillers or a dreamless sleep potion were strictly contraindicated due to the incompatibility of some of the ingredients.
On nights like these, two people saved me: Vasya and Integra. The scaly one would lie like a cat on my most painful spot, and I would feel a little better. Maybe it was just self-hypnosis, but the snake literally never left my side. Integra also spent all those difficult, tedious nights with me: reading stories, telling me funny stories from her childhood, or simply holding my hand. And in the mornings, I would wake up drenched in sweat and see this woman, covered in purple bruises, next to me, because in my dreams I’d clung to her like a life preserver, but she endured and continued to hold me close.
Then we’d go wash up and head to the gym, but in silence, because this feeling of being cared for was new to both of us. We simply didn’t know what to say in such situations.
Speaking of physical training, Smetvik literally demanded that I be pushed to the limit during my treatment, with a particular emphasis on flexibility and endurance. So every morning, a sleepy Integra and a disgustingly cheerful Victoria would chase me around the gym, showing me various exercises and forcing me to work every muscle and ligament in my body. Under their careful guidance, I was able to do the splits after just three weeks! Incidentally, they did all these exercises themselves, and Victoria could even contort herself in ways that would make Neo from The Matrix nervously smoke on the sidelines.
Along the way, I spent a lot of time with Smethwick, who flatly refused to share details about Harry’s life, citing his healer’s oath of secrecy. It seems to me that Black is trying to rid my brother of his scar. It’s not for nothing that in the movies this “cosmetic defect” started hurting in the presence of the one-I-want-to-strangle, so there must be some magical nonsense going on there. But I learned a lot about St. Mungo’s! It turns out the wizarding hospital is extraterritorial and is not subject to either the Ministry of Magic or Muggle-British law. There’s the International Healers’ Guild, and they have their own court and their own laws. All healers are also immune—an unspoken, immutable law, and anyone who breaks it will quickly be found and put to rest. St. Mungo’s practices blood magic, malefic magic, and other “dark and forbidden” magic, and everyone knows it! But they keep quiet, because ministers and officials also get sick, and there is nowhere else to get treatment.
Mungo’s is also officially represented in the world of ordinary people, but mere mortals are not allowed there—only the royal family and the ruling aristocracy of the Empire use its services. It even has a name: the Scientific Research Center for Advanced Research in Diagnostics, Health, and Rehabilitation, or SRC PEDOR for short… When I first heard the acronym, I immediately thought of my friend.
We spoke on the phone almost every day, as I’d missed over a month of school due to the treatment. I simply wasn’t in any condition to travel anywhere, and some potions required me to take every three hours. Hermione was very surprised and happy for me when she learned about my adoption. I also asked her to say hello to the kids at the orphanage and let them know I was fine, just undergoing experimental treatment at the Research Center. I also made it a point to pass my phone number on to Dick so he could call me, and he didn’t let me down and called me the very next day. I had one simple request for him: organize the guys and give Hermione and my classmates a good beating. I still had another month of treatment ahead of me, and the little creatures can really relax in those conditions. Looking ahead, the guys didn’t disappoint.
Yesterday, Smethwick, with obvious disappointment, reported that I was as healthy as could be. He found no new ailments, despite his best efforts! He handed me a prescription for more strengthening potions and, in an ultimatum-like manner, declared that he would examine me every six months.
And so I admired my renewed self in the mirror: my hair had grown a little, making me look more girlish, my cheeks were rounder, the painful thinness had disappeared, my skin no longer resembled papyrus, and my improved posture had straightened my back and shoulders. I hadn’t even noticed I’d been hunched over before. I had to update my wardrobe too, as I’d grown about four inches. No, I’m not a narcissist, but I’ve honestly earned this appearance and I’m proud of myself. Okay, enough of this self-admiration, time for dinner.
Dinner proceeded in a relaxed atmosphere. After the main course, dessert was served, and I happily picked at the pudding with a fork, washing down my findings with tea. Alucard sipped blood with aristocratic grace from a tall crystal goblet, and Victoria, purring contentedly, was already devouring her third slice of cake. It turns out true vampires can eat regular food! It just doesn’t fill you up; to quench your thirst, you need blood, preferably human blood. I tried very hard not to think about where they get it from.
“Rigel, yesterday the healer reported you were completely healthy.” Integra put the instruments aside and looked at me carefully. “Today was your day off, you deserved it, but tomorrow after school we’ll start extra classes according to the schedule we’ve already set. You’re my daughter and my heir, so you have to live up to it!”
– What classes? – I don’t like her attitude. This isn’t sweet Integra in front of me, but a powerful baroness.
“I’ll teach fencing, etiquette, and dancing, Victoria will take care of your physical training and self-defense lessons, and Alucard…” She looked thoughtfully at the ancient vampire. “He’ll teach philosophy and the history of the magical and mundane worlds. Just ask him, he knows and remembers a lot.”
– What about magic? At least the basics? – After all, am I a witch or just out for a walk? – You can read up on the theory first.
“Rigel, what did the healer say?” The woman looked at me reproachfully. “No magic for the next six months! You’re not fully recovered yet, and theory without practice is dead! So stop being capricious and hang on until summer. In August, we’ll go meet your magic teacher.”
She said the last phrase much warmer and with a smile. Integra’s right, though. What’s the rush? There’s still plenty of time, and as for etiquette and dancing… I’ve been eating at the same table with her for a month now, and I never cease to admire how deftly she handles all these utensils and maintains her posture. I’ve never been able to dance, but aristocrats often hold balls and receptions. I really do need these lessons. I wonder if there’ll even be time left for sleep?
***
That evening, Integra, as usual, came to my room and, smiling, handed me a black velvet box. Opening the lid, I discovered two white gold rings encrusted with faintly glowing green stones, and a chain of the same material with a pendant in the shape of Hellsing’s shield, with the same stone in the center.
“Rigel, tomorrow you’re going to school not as Evans, but as Hellsing. This is a set of protective artifacts; please put it on right now. There’s a needle in the box; you need to sprinkle the center stone of each piece with your blood.” I obediently took the needle and, pricking my finger, smeared the blood on the stones. I placed the rings on the middle and ring fingers of my left hand, and my foster mother helped me fasten the pendant. As soon as we finished, the Baroness continued her political briefing:
“The rings provide protection from magic and kinetic energy—er, firearms—and the pendant is an emergency Portkey. If you lose consciousness or are in real danger, it will transport you to the manor and even penetrate Hogwarts’ wards.”
– I see, but why? – Caring is good, of course, but it’s somehow unusual. And who needs me now?
“Ria, you’re smarter than you let on. Don’t play dumb, it doesn’t suit you.” Integra looked at me reproachfully. “You’re the heir to the Hellsing family, and we have plenty of enemies. There could always be a smart aleck who decides to harm me through you. Victoria will be there, of course, but she’s not all-powerful. So promise me you’ll never, under any circumstances, take off these decorations outside the estate. I beg you.”
“I promise, I give you my word… And thank you!” Seeing her concern and desire to protect me, I couldn’t resist hugging her, and she leaned over slightly and put her arm around my shoulders. Such touches no longer evoke repulsion or hostility; maybe someday I’ll be able to call her mom…
***
Returning to school was a triumph, there is no other way to say it.
The morning began as usual: getting up at six, doing exercises and gymnastics, showering, and breakfast. Then I climbed into a luxurious black, armored, and tinted Rolls-Royce, and Victoria and I drove to school. Incidentally, the vampire could, if she wanted, transform her fangs into a sweet Hollywood smile and make her eyes blue. About an hour later, the car pulled up in front of the school gates, and Victoria, in her signature outfit, opened the door for me. I even felt a little uneasy; the kids were staring at me, and some even pointed, but no matter—we just put on a straight face and walked silently to class.
“Hey, friend!” I crept up quietly and hugged Hermione from behind. She jumped up abruptly, turned around, and stared at me with her wide eyes in surprise.
– Rigel?! Is it really you? – At my nod in response to her questions, I was wrapped in a bone-crushing embrace. – I missed you so much! You’ll tell me everything! You’ve become so beautiful! You’ve changed so much! I missed you so much!
The stream of exclamations was interrupted by the appearance of Miss Nelson. She looked me over in surprise and congratulated me on my adoption and recovery. Then she handed me a stack of tests and told me I’d missed almost a month and a half of classes and now I needed to catch up while the rest of the kids were studying. The questions were simple for me, so I answered them calmly, and so the rest of the lessons continued until recess. But then the questions became much more challenging.
“What’s she like? Does she really kill with one blow? They say Lady Hellsing burns heretics at the stake on Mondays?” Dick persisted.
– Is there a library there? – Lousy talks about the bathhouse, and Hermione talks about books.
– Are there many girls among the fighters? – Maggie was very interested.
The orphanage kids, led by Granger, surrounded me and bombarded me with questions. I answered honestly, trying not to disappoint either the boys or the girls. Integra is strong and powerful, and demands a lot from me. No, no one was burned this week; they haven’t managed to recruit any enemies of the Empire yet. There’s a library, but they don’t let children in there. And it’s fucking true! I found the abode of knowledge on the first floor, but I couldn’t open the door. Alucard appeared from the wall at my attempts, smiling sarcastically, and told me I had no business there, but when I grew up, I was welcome. You see, the books there are dangerous, even for adults. Seeing my disappointed expression, he smirked contentedly and disappeared, the fanged bitch. So, trying not to say anything unnecessary, I answered the kids’ questions; I didn’t even have time to properly eat.
Victoria was waiting for me after school, but she hadn’t gone anywhere; the car was still parked at the school gates. To communicate with the vampire, I was given another ring, this one with a diamond, which I now wear on the little finger of my right hand. If I’m in danger, if I get lost, I need to press the stone, and then the infernal nanny will instantly find me using the ring’s coordinates. I offered Hermione a ride home, and she accepted. How I enjoyed seeing the envy and malice of our classmates! If those little brats don’t change, I’ll make sure they die somewhere in the jungles of India or the deserts of Africa while on duty.
After getting home and eating lunch, I quickly ran to do my homework. Then they dragged me to the fencing hall, where Integra handed me a wooden broadsword my own micro-size and began (m)aching me. She held the same training sword and demonstrated the correct stances, steps, and movements, and for every mistake, she smacked me across the butt with the stick. I wouldn’t say it hurt, but it was offensive, very much so. After each strike, she explained that Hellsings aren’t afraid of pain and always fight back, and that I should take the blow with honor and dignity, without showing weakness. Now, before me was that very same iron lady from the portrait, not the sweet Integra who read me a fairy tale yesterday. Afterward, exhausted, I was sent to my room to get ready for dinner, and tomorrow I have lessons from Victoria. And so every day of my life is filled with this, except Sunday. My foster mom advised me to find a hobby to clear my head, otherwise it would be too hard, and just lying around or reading all day long is very harmful.
I found a hobby pretty quickly, and it was quite a decent one for a girl from a good family. One day after school, we stopped at a craft store, where I bought all sorts of knitting and embroidery supplies, and even picked up a bead set. Even back at the orphanage, I enjoyed making beautiful things with my own hands; it’s very calming, and the end result evokes purely positive emotions.
The days flew by: Monday and Friday, Integra taught me how to hold a broadsword; Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday, Victoria chased me around the gym; and Wednesday and Saturday afternoon, I was either taught how to navigate all those forks on the table or given dance lessons. Sunday was the most interesting, because right after breakfast, Alucard would slip into my room and tell me about various historical events, as if he’d been there himself. I don’t know exactly how old he is, but judging by the way he spoke of ancient Sumer the way some people remember their late grandmother, he’s not just hundreds, but thousands of years old.
After a short lecture from the ancient teacher, I’d have my day off, and I’d throw myself into needlework: my hands practically knitted scarves on their own, and the embroidery came out right the first time. I was in a hurry, as Christmas was just around the corner, and I had four gifts to prepare. For the last couple of days, I’ve had to get up an hour earlier to get everything done.
***
Christmas was celebrated quietly and in a family atmosphere: they sat by the fireplace in the dining room, drinking hot chocolate, and after midnight, they watched the fireworks display over the estate from the terrace, accompanied by the joyful shouts of the order’s soldiers. On Christmas Day, the soldiers were allowed to relax a little; only the sentries and duty officers watched the whole spectacle with military indifference.
Hermione and I exchanged gifts back in school. She ceremoniously handed me a thick, colorful handicraft book, and I knitted her a warm, chestnut-colored scarf. We were pleased with the gifts and agreed to go to the cinema together during the holidays.
For Integra, I prepared a blue silk scarf with the Hellsing crest embroidered on it, and Victoria got a gold beaded bracelet with her name. I pondered what to give our ancient guardian and ended up knitting a dark red scarf from fine wool, the perfect color for his cloak and hat. The gifts from my new “relatives” were a pleasant surprise, and this morning, under the Christmas tree, I found a fancy Soviet-made sewing machine—a gift from my adoptive mother. A steel dagger inscribed with various runes, with a set of sheaths for the belt, shin, and forearm—from Victoria, who turned out to be a true fan of anything that can take the life and limb of one’s neighbor. Over the holidays, she promised to show me her collection.
Alucard’s gift surprised everyone. The three of us stood by the Christmas tree, looking at it with apprehension … It was enormous, two meters tall, with black eyes from which the Abyss itself gazed at us, with a predatory maw that grinned with the most vile smile, with long, thick fur that no living predator could touch. And the color! Bright and repulsive, it evoked intense revulsion and an unbearable desire to wash our eyes with holy water. It was a fucking huge teddy bear! But such a bright pink, the most disgustingly vanilla color, that the sight of it made me want to puke rainbows! At the bleeping ticker in front of our eyes, Alucard grinned sarcastically and declared that I was a girl, and girls like pink! After enjoying our reaction for a bit, he grinned contentedly and disappeared, the fucking fakir.
That evening, the three of us, without a word, dragged the pink monster to the testing ground, where Victoria tried to incinerate it with a flamethrower, but it just wouldn’t burn! The incendiary mixture just dripped off it! Then Integra suggested blowing up this primal, chthonic horror with a thermite charge, but that didn’t help either—in a huge, red-hot crater with melted edges sat the unharmed pink bear. We didn’t give up; Lady Hellsing called an infantry fighting vehicle to the testing ground and ordered it to be fired upon with a 45mm cannon and heavy machine guns, but even after expending all its ammunition, the soldiers couldn’t even scratch it. With a sad sigh, Integra sent the armored vehicle back and, looking at me fatalistically, said that we’d have to leave the bear behind after all. The two soldiers ordered to bring the stuffed animal to my permanent residence approached it slowly and cautiously, and before touching it, they attached bayonets to their machine guns and jabbed it with them. Only then did the men grab the unkillable creature by its hind legs and quickly drag it to my room.
Otherwise, the holidays passed quickly and without incident. The intensity and frequency of classes were reduced a bit, so Integra and I spent a couple of days wandering around London, stopping in Soho, visiting the Imperial Theatre, and having dinner at some fine restaurant. On the second Sunday, Victoria brought me to Crawley, and my friend and I went to the cinema, then spent a couple of hours just strolling around the town. The weather was chilly, but that didn’t bother us, and Hermione proudly wore the scarf she’d given her.
***
After the Christmas break, time flew by, with daily activities after school taking up almost all my time. School went on as usual: lessons, socializing with the other kids during recess, and short trips with Hermione to her house. I tried to catch my friend using magic; I remember her saying in a movie that when she was a child, the pages would turn by themselves… But in real life, this smart brat was a master at hiding. I simply didn’t know how to talk to her about magic—we were going to Hogwarts in five years, and there I wouldn’t be able to trust anyone but her with my back. So she, too, needed to be taught and prepared, and at the same time, any respect for adult authority had to be knocked out of her.
The solution came to me in June, just before my final exams. My birthday is coming up soon, and even though I don’t want to celebrate, I still have to. I won’t throw a formal party; I’ll just invite Hermione for tea and cake and see how she reacts to the anti-magic field. It’ll be a great excuse to tell her about magic and all the crap that awaits us.
I passed all my school exams with flying colors and was looking forward to the holidays with great anticipation, but I was let down again. My schedule was adjusted slightly, and now I spent even more time in the fencing and ballrooms, and my sports activities were moved outdoors. Integra also hired tutors in economics and political science; after all, I’m a future baroness and should understand these things.
Towards the end of July, after dinner, I asked my foster mother’s permission to invite my only friend for tea and cake in honor of my birthday. Lady Hellsing was a little surprised.
– You’re not inviting her just like that, are you? – What a perceptive woman. – Is there a reason? Tell me, maybe I can help.
“Yes, she’s a witch too, I can feel it, but I don’t know how to start a conversation about magic.” I thought for a second and then made up my mind. “We’ll go to Hogwarts together, and I need someone who will watch my back. I wanted to ask you, can that teacher take us both?”
“Hmm… Unexpected and extremely far-sighted. Do you want to see her reaction to the anti-magic field?” I nodded in response. “Then it’s worth inviting the girl and her parents. And don’t worry about the teacher; it’s even easier to teach two – healthy competition speeds up progress. Let’s go to my office and send your friend’s parents an official invitation they won’t be able to ignore.”
In her office, Integra pulled a sheet of expensive letterhead from her desk and quickly wrote out an invitation for the Granger family in her finely crafted handwriting, instructing them to attend the birthday celebration of Baroness Integra Fairbrook Hellsing’s daughter. After rereading the text and chuckling contentedly, the adoptive mother signed her signature with a flourish and stamped the Order’s crest on the wax. She then pressed the intercom button, and two minutes later, a soldier entered the office, handed an invitation and instructed to deliver it personally to the head of the Granger family. The soldier nodded understandingly and quickly ran off to fulfill it.
***
Hermione fidgeted nervously in the backseat of her brand-new Range Rover. Her parents hadn’t believed until the very end that their daughter was friends with the heir to the Hellsing family, thinking she was trying to attract attention again. But the invitation, delivered a week ago by a soldier from this elite unit, dispelled all mistrust and stunned the Grangers for an hour.
For the first time in her life, she was going to her friend’s birthday party—no, that’s right, her best friend’s! This girl with short, buzzed hair had beaten up her bullies on her very first day at school and agreed to be her friend! Hermione didn’t care that her new friend was from an orphanage: the green-eyed girl was incredibly smart and kind, introduced her to her friends, and they accepted her! It was the best day of her life!
When her friend disappeared for more than a month, Hermione was extremely worried and afraid. She was afraid that Riegel wouldn’t return to school and she would be alone again. She even moved the phone to her room and waited for hours for a call from her friend. But, thank God, her fears were unfounded, and before Christmas, her changed friend returned! The girl was happy: they could chat again, discuss books, and so on. Hermione could confide in Riegel about anything, except one thing: her parents strictly forbade her to tell anyone about her eccentricities, because if anyone found out, she would be taken to some institute for experiments, from which she would never return alive.
Because of these cursed eccentricities, her parents feared and avoided her. It wasn’t for nothing that they spent entire days at work—they tried to be home as little as possible. Hermione wasn’t stupid, and she bitterly understood that she was different, and that couldn’t be changed. Her mother, Jean, was very religious. When she was three, she brought a priest to the house to have the child tested for possession. Fortunately, her father, Edward, was an intelligent man and tried to allay the parents’ fears, dismissing the eccentricities as a gift from the Creator and telling them to keep quiet, saying they would figure it out in due time. But it didn’t help; the couple’s fears outweighed common sense. Hermione sometimes felt as if, if her mother could get pregnant again, her parents would gladly give her up to an orphanage.
Shaking the sad thoughts from her mind, the girl gazed at the vast estate ahead—her best friend’s home. Her parents couldn’t refuse the Baroness herself, so the whole family went and even bought a gift together. They chose a large craft set; Hermione knew her friend’s favorite hobby.
Suddenly, she felt a sharp discomfort, as if someone had put a heavy, wet cloak on her, and the familiar warmth in her chest was gone! Hermione panicked and began rubbing her arms and legs, but it was no use. The girl began shaking, and fear made her gasp for breath. Jean, seeing her daughter’s condition, decided it was an epileptic seizure and ordered Dan to drive faster; there simply had to be a doctor in the estate. The girl’s father slammed the pedal to the metal and raced toward the gates, where they were already being met.
***
My instincts were right; I’d asked Integra and Victoria to go out and meet my friend’s family. When the car carrying the Granger family entered the secure area, it suddenly lurched forward and raced toward us at top speed. The soldiers on the towers became wary and trained their machine guns on the car, ready to riddle it at any moment.
“DON’T SHOOT!” my foster mother barked. “Something’s happened. Victoria, get the control artifact quickly! I think I know what happened.”
Victoria vanished the moment the car screeched to a stop in front of us, and a tall, dark-haired man jumped out of the driver’s seat, panic in his eyes, and shouted:
– DOCTOR! My daughter is sick! She’s having a seizure! – He waved his hands towards the car. – Gene is trying to help her, but nothing helps!
As we pulled my friend out of the car, Victoria appeared and silently handed the plate to Integra, and I placed the girl’s convulsing hand in the correct place. For a few seconds, nothing happened, until Lady Hellsing gave the girl a resounding slap. It helped; Hermione stopped shaking, and her gaze became focused and fixed on me.
– R-R-Rigel? W-w-what h-happened? I… I suddenly c-ceased to feel… – She began to make excuses excitedly.
I hugged my friend and held her tightly to me. I felt very ashamed, because I didn’t want to scare her.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to. I was just checking. Everything will be fine now.” I continued to reassure her.
“What was that? What did she feel?” asked a short, slender young woman with brown hair, apparently Hermione’s mother.
“It’s a common panic attack, some mages react that way when they first find themselves in the anti-magic field’s range.” Integra answered the woman’s question and looked at my friend with concern. “Let’s go to the mansion. A short walk will help you come to your senses, and then some hot Earl Grey and cake will lift your spirits. Don’t worry about the car, the soldiers will bring it right up to the porch.”
– What field? What the hell is going on here? – The father of the family tried to understand what had just happened.
“HOORAY!!! My sister’s friend is a witch too!” Victoria grinned joyfully, revealing her set of inhuman fangs and glowing red eyes to the guests.
Bang! It was Hermione’s mother who had fainted away.
Slap! Integra and I simultaneously performed the famous hand-to-face gesture.
Boom! My friend sat on her butt and laughed hysterically.
One father of the Granger family froze in place and, as if paralyzed, looked at the satisfied vampire with shock in his eyes.
Shit, the start of the party clearly didn’t go according to plan. I’ll have a lot to tell them and explain. I hope that’s the limit of incidents for today.
Author’s note: More chapters are available on AuthorToday, where the book is also free. LitNet blocks any links to third-party sites, so use the search function.
