Chapter 20
I woke up from a peculiar trance a couple of days before my birthday. More precisely, I’ll be nine in three days. Two years flew by like a single day; I’ve never experienced such a strain, not even in my past life while preparing for my final exams.
During the second lesson, Sergey asked me to demonstrate a couple of my handicrafts, waved his wand over them for a long time, and pronounced his verdict: I have an innate talent for artifact making. The friendship bracelet I wove for Hermione’s birthday turned out to be a simple protective artifact and contained a drop of my magic. This trinket was capable of deflecting even the simplest evil eye! Of course, it won’t last long—it’s made of ordinary materials, so it will quickly deteriorate.
A week later, this pedagogue brought back a dozen books on the basics of artifact making, Slavic carvings, and Scandinavian runes. It turns out there are tons and tons of runes, even the Scandinavian ones are divided into some kind of futhark. Almost every nation had its own runic alphabet, and I’d picked up more and more at the store without really understanding it! It’s like buying both an ABC book and a higher mathematics textbook in Chinese—that’s pretty much how I stocked up. After giving us the basics, Sergey literally bombarded my friend and me with assignments! We had to reread a ton of stuff and then summarize it on parchment.
After the second essay check, he gave us a beating. He transfigured the benches and the rod, immobilized us with a spell, and gave us ten lashes on each bottom. Because someone, let’s not point fingers, quoted entire paragraphs instead of thinking. That’s what he said.
On average, we learned one spell a month, while simultaneously learning the history of this particular spell: who came up with it, when they showed it to everyone, and what they got for it, well, besides a beating. Besides that, our (m)teacher taught a lot of useless theory, a lot! Add to that his desire to develop my “gift”: we started with the basics, learning Latin and ancient runes. After six months, Hermione and I could already understand something of the Elder Futhark, but I was starting to run out of parchment and ink!
But that wasn’t enough for Black! He decided to make us ambidextrous, and Integra and Victoria supported him, so we also learned to write left-handed. With a quill. On parchment. With our left, damn it, hand, when we still can’t really use our right… That’s when I taught Hermione to swear.
By the way, my friend turned out to be somewhat of a talentless handicraftswoman – she barely replicated my work, and her creations barely worked. But when it came to calculations and designing patterns, she was a walking calculator! We ended up dividing the responsibilities: Hermione conceived and calculated new designs, and I built them. Luckily, we had plenty of materials and tools. We took notes throughout the process and presented them to the teacher for evaluation. A scarf with runes of warmth and comfort, self-cleaning socks, and other household trifles. I even made a magical night light, although it’s always on (we forgot about an on/off button), and now it’s in the dressing room.
It was the same with spells, only household charms: dusting, tying shoes, summoning water, or ironing clothes. There was even a spell for brushing teeth! We learned everything purebloods know and practice from childhood, honing it to the point of automaticity. We weren’t given any combat or defensive spells at all, as our childish wands simply couldn’t reproduce them.
Incidentally, about a year later, we were whipped again because a brown-haired witch decided to help Mom and learned Reparo herself, and the Black One found out. Another ten lashes on our butts, and we stood and listened to the story of how this important and undoubtedly useful spell was created.
But all of the above is mere trifles. With the help of my mother—and I even call Integra that in my mind now—I’ve managed to make considerable progress in Occlumency over the past two years. I now automatically maintain a simple shield—it won’t stop a powerful intruder, but it will let them know that someone is trying to get into my head.
Every evening, Integra came to my room and we just talked. She explained mind-defense exercises and gave me tips on structuring my memory: how best to do them, where to start, and so on. She also told me a lot about herself, her childhood, and her father, whom she rarely saw and who died when she was only twelve. And the next day, I helped Hermione with mental magic, explaining to her what my mother had told me.
Lady Hellsing advised creating a Mind Palace, unique to every mental mage. To do this, you need to visualize your memory. Mom imagined a large bookcase filled with memory books; Hermione imagined a library in her head, no doubt about it. I decided to take a different approach and visualized my office from my past life, with a desk and computer. I sorted my memories into folders, and “archived” the most vile and difficult ones.
It was incredibly hard! Over the past two years, I’ve reviewed my entire memory, literally reliving both lives. I only stopped having nightmares about two months ago, and after some moments from both lives, I cried into my pillow for half the night. But honestly, I don’t regret a thing! Thanks to reviewing my memory, I understood why I sometimes acted strangely. I never considered myself an adult, because back in the hospital, I decided I was Rigel Evans, and Elena’s memories were a bonus that would help me survive.
During my introspection, I realized that schizophrenia was literally waiting around the corner! I’d intuitively suppressed Elena’s personality back in the hospital, but with more life experience, it began to merge with my childish mind. Only now did it become clear – I enjoyed killing! I seriously devised a plan to eliminate the school gym teacher simply because I didn’t like him. And the idea, no, wasn’t to kill him, but something much worse. I simply remembered a scene from the thriller “Yulenka,” and it would have been so easy to implement – all I had to do was be alone with the poor guy. If not for the timely resuscitation of the cuckoo, I would have ruined the life of an innocent man. And given the charges I wanted to charge him with and Integra’s cruelty, he wouldn’t have lived to see the trial.
I understood why this had happened: I’d been bullied, beaten, and humiliated since childhood. A quiet, downtrodden child, I’d become embittered at the whole world. Everyone hated me, so I’d reciprocate. Preemptively. And then—bang!—I inherited the memories of an unhappy adult woman who also didn’t particularly love the world. And, most importantly, I inherited her knowledge and life experience! I absorbed all the pain and humiliation from my past life like a sponge, which made me even angrier and more aggressive. I saw the world in strictly black and white terms: these good ones would live, and I had to kill the rest! Just because I wanted to.
Having relived both lives, I was able to merge my two personalities. Well, that’s how it seems to me. Now, mentally, I feel like a teenager, no more than fifteen, hormones and a child’s body are taking their toll. Some might say, “Elena was thirty-four when she died, and she’s been in this world for almost ten years now—you should feel like a grown and experienced woman.” But no way! No matter how hard I try, I perceive Integra, the teachers, and Victoria as adults and simply look up to them. Besides, I still have a childish perception of the world; in my past life, I didn’t care about the weather, the stars, or the smell of freshly cut grass, but now I notice these little things, whether they make me happy or, on the contrary, upset me. Emotions, too… My perception is much more vivid; I have something to compare it to.
In the end, the worst memories from both lives were relegated to the farthest folder, labeled “Blood, Shit, Sand, and Sugar.” I wanted to erase them completely or somehow remove the emotional component, but my mother forbade such experiments. Our personality is built on experiences and emotions, and “deleting memories” is practically “deleting yourself”; it can even damage your personality.
I simply sorted through the rest of my memory, and rewatched the Potter films. Yes, there’s a separate folder for that. The smallest one was the “Happiness” folder; it contained Alyoshka’s first kiss and declaration of love, a couple of evenings with Mom, a walk with Hermione, and that’s it. Hmm… Not much. But never mind, I’m only nine, I’ll catch up!
I dove into the Chambers and double-checked the password for my computer account and the folder with my memories. I think I’m all done. Now I just need to train my defenses and build up my mental shields.
After nearly losing my mind, I’ve reconsidered my life goals and priorities. Before, all I wanted was revenge, “I’ll kill everyone and be left alone!”—I never even considered what would happen next… But now I’ve started considering my options and making plans for the future. I’m not giving up on revenge; all the pureblood racist fanatics and their hangers-on will burn in the cleansing flames of my anger, but let the rest live for now. And based on my conversations with my mother, I want to ask Dumbledore who actually handed me over to the Dursleys. I can’t believe he personally took me; he has nothing better to do. And I remember the scandal and the fear those creatures felt when they were afraid to get rid of me. I will find and punish the culprit. No, I haven’t become kinder or started shitting rainbows; any threat to me and my loved ones will be eliminated. Only now do I understand that murder isn’t always the answer; there are other methods. But I still like the phrase “no man, no problem.”
Why am I lying in my room right now, indulging in introspection and self-reflection? Yeah, fuck, because I have a day off! I’ve gotten so used to the frantic pace over the past two years that I just don’t know what to do with my free time. Yesterday, Sergei gave us the Aguamenti spell to master; it creates water from thin air. It’s a pretty complex spell, but we never got it right, even though the gesture and activator phrase were correct. Then Black announced he had some important business, necessitating a two-month break, handed us a reading list, and told us to rest. Before leaving, he checked my mental shields and praised me for having developed something resembling protection. Hermione actually turned out to be a natural Occlumens; according to the teacher, after ten years of this kind of training, even Occlumens wouldn’t be able to get into her head. It’s a shame, just a little bit. But I can cross-stitch. Mom supported Black’s initiative and cancelled all classes until my birthday.
By the way, I need to call my friend! She’s probably bored out of her mind at home too. A kind smile crept across my face at the thought of my friend; Hermione is like family to me. I lured the “Wonderphone” with my gaze, and—yes, I’m cool, my telekinesis is slowly developing too.
***
My birthday was a quiet one, with only the Grangers as guests. We sat in the dining room, drinking tea and cake, just like the first time: Mom at the head of the table, the vampires and I to the right, and the guests to the left. According to my friend, her relationship with her parents had warmed, she’d stopped acting up since classes started, and once she’d “steamed up” everything she could get her hands on at home, magic had transformed from dangerous heresy into useful miracles. My friend gave me, who would have guessed it, a book on sewing. A rather hefty tome with tons of patterns and beautiful illustrations—she knows my tastes, the devil. We finished our tea, and Lady Hellsing caught my eye.
“Rigel, happy birthday again. Your friend has already congratulated you, now it’s our turn. Victoria.” She nodded to my older sister.
– Finally! I thought I’d never get here! – No wonder she was fidgeting in her chair all lunch.
The vampiress bared her teeth, causing the elder Grangers to tense up, clapped her hands, and vanished. Yes, higher vampires can move through shadows, almost like Apparation, only differently. A moment later, she was standing before me, holding out a large, flat box, tied with a bright pink ribbon. I looked into her glowing eyes, turned my head, and noticed Alucard’s mischievous grin. I think I know what’s in there.
“Come on, open it quickly! I chose the model!” Victoria practically danced impatiently. “And the Master has prepared a special holster. And we haven’t forgotten about your friend either.”
I sighed, smiled at my mom and her guests, and silently accepted the heavy box. I hope it’s not like last time. Alucard turned out to be very inventive; Cthulhu now has friends – Lilith and Agrat. Note: I suggested “Mrs. Dimitrescu” and “Miss Bock” for the names, but the author didn’t appreciate them.)))) Last year, he gave me two porcelain dolls with natural hair, wearing bear-colored ball gowns, the same sickeningly sickly pink. Their porcelain faces are enough to make you want to shit bricks! Seriously, Chucky is just a cutie compared to them. We didn’t even try burning or shooting them… Mom just laid these fairies on the pavement, and a heavy infantry fighting vehicle drove over their ceramic bodies. But forty tons of armor and metal couldn’t even dent their hair. Integra and I exchanged silent glances, and I carried the dolls to my chambers; the teddy bear has not been alone since then.
Untying the bright pink ribbon and opening the box, I discovered what I’d hoped to receive in a year, at best. On a black velvet cushion lay two small pistols—Glock 26s, if I’m not mistaken. This model is highly prized for its reliability and compact size. Yes, talking to Victoria every day has given me a bit of an understanding of weapons, not just firearms, and I can now distinguish a bastard sword from a regular sword, and a glaive from a halberd. Mesmerized, I ran my finger along the barrel, completely inscribed with runic chains, and touched the handle, covered in incomprehensible symbols. Simply beautiful! I can literally feel that this weapon has been upgraded to the max. My gaze shifted to the left of the pistol grip and landed on something: a solid matte metal bracelet, engraved with incomprehensible symbols, the likes of which I’ve never seen in any dictionary of dead languages. He was mesmerizing and would have been beautiful if not for one BUT! Why the hell is he pink?! My eye twitched.
“The bracelet is a special holster. Put it on your wrist and no one but you can remove it or detect it.” The ancient pervert said contentedly behind me. “It can’t be destroyed, and it’s controlled by thought.”
“There wasn’t another color?” I muttered quietly. “The thing is cool, of course, but the color!”
“You’re girls, and girls like pink.” Alucard’s voice was literally laced with malice. “But don’t worry, he can become invisible to others if you wish. Try it on; the bracelet and weapon are designed for blood bonding.”
– What is it? Rigel, show me! – Hermione is practically jumping with impatience.
I silently took out the pistol and assessed it – it fits comfortably in my hand, weighs about two hundred grams, no more, and should weigh about half a kilo! They’ve really beefed it up; judging by the pictures, recoil will be minimal and it won’t need cleaning. What a gift! I smiled contentedly and gestured for my friend. As I pulled the trigger, I felt a sting in my palm, and the runes on the handle flashed red for a second. Clearly, the binding had worked.
“What if someone else takes my pistol?” I asked my mother; she should know. I’m 100% sure she examined these pistols inside and out before giving them to me.
“If he just takes it, it’s okay,” Integra grinned cheerfully. “But if he tries to shoot, the thief’s hand will be torn off. Do you like that?”
– Very much! Thank you! He’s just great! – I’m really pleased.
– Oh! – ‘Mione grabbed her copy. – He pricked me! Is that how blood binding works? I read about it. Do I have to wear the bracelet? How does it work? What do I need to do?
– Put it on. It’s all simple. – Victoria smiles contentedly.
I sighed heavily and picked up this metallic pink wonder. The bracelet was much wider than my wrist, but it was probably self-adjusting. Sure enough, the piece of jewelry immediately shrank tightly against my wrist, and I couldn’t feel it at all. A sharp pain shot through my arm—the malevolent accessory had begun sucking my blood, not a drop, but a good hundred grams. For a moment, my head spun, but then the bracelet flared scarlet, and everything stopped. Now I feel it as a part of me, like an arm or a leg. It’s like the jewelry has become a part of me, it’s so cool!
Now I don’t care what color it is! With a mental command, the gun instantly vanished from my palm. Another thought – the weapon materialized, another second – it was gone. I simply wished and realized that no one but me could see this pink obscenity. And then came the realization that the bracelet could hide not only the gun but also something else, like a magic wand. Turning my head, I saw my friend holding her Glock 26 with a goofy, happy smile, admiring the accessory.
Okay, old pervert, thanks, but this game can be played by two. I’ve already thought of a Christmas present for you, but for now… I spun around and hugged Alucard tightly.
– Thank you! Uncle Alik, you’re the best in the world! – And rub your face on his cloak. I hope my snot is also magical and hard to wash off. – Hermione, say thank you for the gift and give your kind uncle a hug!
Everyone present was a little taken aback by my remark, and Uncle simply disappeared, appeared next to Integra with a slightly embarrassed face, chuckled cheerfully and bowed his head.
– You’re always welcome, young lady.
“I’m glad you liked the gift. When Hermione returns from France, we’ll begin firearms training.” My mother looks very pleased. “I’ll adjust the schedule a little; you already know the etiquette very well, and we can postpone the dancing. The young ladies waltz beautifully.”
“Is this really necessary?” Dan asked. He and his wife had watched the entire unwrapping of presents in silence, in a state of quiet shock. “Why do children need weapons? Are we preparing them for war?”
“It’s not a weapon, it’s a means of self-defense.” Mom turned her gaze to the Grangers. “Have you forgotten your daughter’s vow? Girls should be prepared to stand up for themselves and have the means to protect themselves!”
“But it’s a school, even if it’s a magical one.” Hermione’s mother clearly doesn’t understand something. “There are protective spells! They’re still just kids, what if a girl accidentally kills someone or injures herself?”
“A bullet flies faster than Avada, and enchanted firearms have proven themselves excellent at killing mages.” The vampire grinned contentedly. “You’ve read the laws of magical Britain and know that your daughter has no rights THERE. Self-defense should come first. I’ll personally train the girls in weapon handling, so you needn’t worry about their safety.”
– But still, giving children weapons is too much. – Mr. Granger just doesn’t understand what kind of trouble we’re getting into.
“Dan, we decided everything two years ago.” Lady Hellsing sighed heavily. “I’m in charge of training and preparing the girls, you just don’t understand the seriousness of the situation.”
– Okay, but if my daughter becomes a murderer, it will be on your conscience!
“Wouldn’t it be better to be raped by a pureblood bastard?” I glared at the elder Grangers. They’re good people, but their belief in human nobility infuriates me. “At school, any heir to an ancient family can do whatever they want to my friend! And you know what’s worst about this? It’ll be her fault! Because the Mudblood seduced this pureblood boy herself, she’ll get the fine! I’d rather shoot the bastard’s balls off than let him get close to me or let him climb on top of me! You’ve read the papers, you know what I’m talking about!”
“Riya, please calm down,” Mom said softly. “As long as I’m alive, anyone who tries to harm you or your friend will die. We’ve already discussed this.”
“I’m sorry… You’re right, the children’s safety comes first.” Jean took her husband’s hand. “It’s just hard for us to accept that another society exists so close by, with its own rules and laws. Rigel, I’m sorry again, you’re right. I have a personal request for you. In the magical hierarchy, you stand above my daughter, so… If anyone tries to harm Mione, please shoot the bastard. I ask you as a mother.”
– I promise! Your daughter is under the protection of the Hellsing family! – I made this promise from the bottom of my heart, and if anyone hurts Hermione, I have a very sick and rich imagination.
The rest of the dinner proceeded in a calm and even cheerful atmosphere. Hermione’s parents’ clinic received an interest-free loan for business development and “won” a tender from the Ministry of Defense; now, officers from the London Garrison are treated there. With the family’s financial situation improved, the Grangers have increased their staff and can now afford a full vacation—tomorrow they’re flying to Nice for two weeks. The only thing that makes my friend a little sad is that I won’t be able to go with them. My mother has important government business to attend to, but she promised that next year we’ll spend the vacation together.
After chatting for a couple of hours, we went to see our guests off. Hermione gave me a big hug before we left, promised to call every evening, and also reminded me about the observation log. We kept a notebook where we recorded all of Vasily’s changes, measured him with a measuring tape every evening, questioned him, and, of course, squeezed him. This little guy simply melted under the attention, telling me how he was feeling and who he’d eaten that day.
We watched the guests’ car leave and went to our rooms. It had been a rather pleasant day, and tomorrow I’m going to the shooting range! I need to appreciate the gift.
***
Entering the room, I sprawled tiredly on the bed and caught sight of a book on atrefactorics. It had several protective charm chains for clothing. I’ll read for half an hour, then go wash up and get ready for bed.
I felt movement—Vasya, who’d grown quite a bit in two years, was climbing on top of me. He’s now 62 centimeters long, jet-black with bright yellow spots, and some kind of bony growth has started to emerge from his forehead and crown. He’s evolving, the bastard.
– Mistress! – The former little snake hissed contentedly.
– What do you want? Something urgent? – I lazily turn my head.
– I’ve become a real predator! I’ve developed some fucking poison! – He raised his muzzle proudly. – I’m not a bullshit! Now I’m fucking awesome! A two-legged one will die right after my bite!
– Are you sure? Have you tested it on anyone? – The fatigue evaporated, giving free rein to the awl that began to play.
– I’m not a moron to test it on my own. I just know, I feel it!
– We need to check! – I took the Miraclephone. – Victoria.
– What do you want, little one? – The vampire is for any fuss except a hunger strike.
“Vasya has developed some poison. The snake claims it’s lethal to humans. Any ideas on how to test that? Maybe strain it and give it to our alchemists for analysis?”
“Why strain? We can find out through experience! The slums are full of rapists, pedophiles, and other scum.” She nodded to herself and grinned bloodthirstily. “Anyway, go to bed for now. I’ll pick you up at two in the morning, and we’ll go conduct scientific experiments. Get everything you need ready and dress in black. Also, put on the eye-catching amulet; it’ll come in handy.”
– Um… Are you sure? – I was about to refuse, but the vampire’s eyes were burning with wild excitement. – Okay, let’s make this city a little cleaner, I’ll set the alarm for half past one and be ready at two.
– We’re going to have a lot of fun, little sister!
***
London is the capital of the British Empire, a metropolis with a population of nearly 12 million. Such a huge city is bound to have troubled neighborhoods populated by drug addicts, thieves, rapists, and other criminal elements. The police profit from maintaining such neighborhoods; all the riff-raff are holed up in one place, and the most brazen and reckless are eliminated during raids. It was precisely to such a neighborhood that we moved.
Victoria showed up at exactly two, just as I was getting ready. Dress, stockings, and shoes—all black. The pistol was loaded and tucked into my bracelet. My purse held my observation log, pen, and stopwatch. Vasily simply wrapped his arm tightly around my left hand and hissed contentedly about hunting two-legged creatures. The vampire took my hand, and we literally sank into the ground, and after a few seconds of darkness, we popped out of the wall in some stinking alley. I barely managed to keep my balance, but then stepped in a pile of shit.
– F*ck! – I dodge the slap, clutching the stick in my hand. – Evanesco!
“Don’t swear! That’s not proper for a young lady!” Seras shook her finger at me sternly. “Put on the amulet, we don’t need any extra attention. I think we’ll find some ‘volunteers’ in no time!”
– Is it decent to be in a vomit-stained and shit-stained alley?
“A lady must maintain her dignity in any situation,” my sister replied in a didactic tone.
So, jokingly exchanging banter, we emerged from the gateway and turned right. A crowd of teenagers buzzed as we exited, drinking beer and loudly discussing some Alexa who’d blown people for just five pounds. We walked past calmly, simply ignored—magic is cool. Over the next fifteen minutes, we encountered a few gangster-looking individuals, but none of it was what we were looking for. And then we found what we were looking for.
A tall, skinny blond man stood at the entrance to another gateway, and the sounds of some kind of fuss could be heard from behind him. He was clearly keeping watch. Let’s check. I tugged Victoria’s sleeve and we headed in that direction.
Hmm… A painting like that. In a dirty alley, a huge bald guy is raping a prostitute, while his gangly partner waits his turn. Why did I think that? Well, girls don’t usually cry during sex, and men don’t hold a knife to their partners’ throats. The girl is clearly a whore: provocative outfit, bright, vulgar makeup, and a bluish bruise under her left eye on her once-pretty face—her mascara and foundation have smeared from tears. The guy couldn’t care less; he was satisfying his lust. I involuntarily clenched my fists; I hate rapists.
“Vasya, bite the lanky one first, ” I ordered my pet.
“With pleasure, mistress! ” Vasya hissed and slid quickly onto the dirty asphalt, heading towards his victim.
The snake lunged at the boy and bit him on the ankle. The loser jerked and began sliding down the wall, convulsing. He tried to scream, but bloody foam came out of his mouth. A little more, and he went silent.
“Subject Lanky, died in 28 seconds. Not bad.” I put away the stopwatch and pulled out the logbook; I need to record the data. Incidentally, the big guy was so caught up in his back-and-forth process that he didn’t notice his partner’s death.
– Now second, Vasya, wait for the command. – I put the notebook away and got the stopwatch ready. – Come on!
– Got it, you’re not stupid . – This time the bite landed on my thigh.
The brute proved stronger, thrusting a couple more times into his victim before falling backwards. He fucked the girl standing and from behind. The knife fell from his weakened hand, and the big man began to thrash in his death throes. He even managed to wheeze until scarlet foam poured from his mouth, and soon he, too, went still.
“Hmm… Subject Bugai, death occurred in 36 seconds. Tough bastard.” I wrote the information down in my notebook and looked at these freaks’ victim.
The girl stared in horror at the two corpses, one at the entrance and one next to her. Then she saw Vasya, quickly crawling “towards the base,” and me. She must be a witch, seeing me through the amulet. The whore trembled slightly, fell on her butt, looked around again, and began to crawl away, quickly moving her arms and legs. The girl’s face was contorted with primal fear. What was she doing? Oh, right. In a dark alleyway, a little girl in a black gothic dress stood calmly admiring the corpses of the two thugs she had just killed.
– Please… Don’t… Don’t kill me… I… I’ll do whatever you want… I won’t tell anyone! – The frightened girl whispered a beg for mercy. Fool, I don’t need you, get out of here already.
In such areas, it’s not customary to “snitch,” and no one would believe her anyway. I was about to open my mouth and calm the poor thing down, but Victoria materialized behind her. The vampire grabbed the girl by the hair, yanked her to her feet, and pinned her back to her.
“Of course you won’t tell anyone, sweetie,” the vampire whispered tenderly in her ear, her elongated tongue tracing the artery in her neck, growling like a beast and sinking her teeth into the girl’s throat, revealing a set of needle-like fangs to me.
Moments later, a woman’s body, her throat torn out, fell onto the dirty asphalt of the gateway. The smell of shit and urine was joined by the scent of blood, of which there was a suspiciously small amount. Fuck, I keep forgetting that my nanny is at the top of the food chain. People are, first and foremost, food to her.
“What? She’s just a streetwalker. We don’t need witnesses.” Under my disapproving gaze, Victoria deftly licked her face up to her eyebrows, pulled out a white handkerchief, and carefully, even manneredly, dabbed her lips. “Should we look for more losers or go home?”
“Let’s go home, that’s enough experimenting for today.” Vasya was already sitting on me, so I simply extended my hand to my sister. My mood had sunk to the floor. I didn’t feel sorry for those assholes, but I didn’t want to kill the girl.
***
A few moments of darkness, and here we are in my room. Finally, this crazy day is over.
– How was your walk? You wanted to warn me, of course, but you probably forgot? – Judging by her voice, Mom is angry. You probably should have warned her.
I slowly turned around and saw Integra in her favorite silk robe, sitting on a chair with a glass of wine in one hand and a cigarillo in the other. Walter stood next to her, glaring at Victoria and me with a disapproving, reproachful gaze.
– I’m asking you, young lady, where were you wandering in the middle of the night?! Or did you think you could leave MY estate unnoticed?! Rigel, I await answers! – I’m lying, she’s not angry, she’s just furious. She has every right to be.
We’ll have to resort to the French army’s tactics – we’ll surrender. Oh, and we’ll get a beating. I lowered my head guiltily and began to tell…
