Chapter 51
“So it was a local deity?” I took a sip of hot tea and leaned back in my chair. My mother, who was sitting next to me, put her hand on my shoulder. “And this bastard wanted to eat Hermione?”
After all the adventures, our group of women gathered in the kitchen. I sipped tea, and the women sampled a berry liqueur that smelled delicious and inviting. I wouldn’t have refused a glass myself; I was still shivering, either from the cold or from nerves, but who would pour alcohol for a child? And it wasn’t until I got home that I realized that flying on a broomstick in minus-30 degrees Celsius in just my panties is terribly cold, though you only realize this when the adrenaline kicks in. I nearly froze my ass off! While I was recovering from Apparation, almost revealing my inner world to everyone, Hermione was quickly transported to bed, where Grandma gave her a thorough examination. It turns out Maria is an apprentice in magical healing, with enough knowledge to be a master, but her magical power is lacking – she can’t perform all the “heavy” spells. That’s why my grandmother works as a leading specialist at Pavlov Hospital in Moscow! The best clinic in the Soviet Union, by the way!
By the time the diagnostics were complete, Jean woke up and immediately rushed to her daughter’s side. I was keeping watch at the door, but they wouldn’t let me in. When the door to the room opened, we ran to the bed and saw a girl snoring evenly and smiling in her sleep. My heart sank, and when Mrs. Granger stopped hugging her sleeping daughter, the eldest woman of the Black family finally reassured us. Hermione had only suffered from severe magical exhaustion with mild frostbite, so a couple of potions and some restful sleep, and she’d be perfectly fine tomorrow. Her mind was also unharmed, and I protected the blessed cross of the Creator on my wrist—it was not for nothing that Father Benedict asked me never to remove it. After listening to the qualified Healer, we headed to the kitchen. “We”—me, Maria, Olga, Integra, and Jean—while Alya and Valya, having checked all the other children, went to bed.
When our group gathered around the table, Grandma warmed up the teapot for me and pulled out a large, frosty bottle of a reddish berry drink for the adults. After drinking a glass and snacking on some fruit, Maria told us that Khan Khute-Baabai is the guardian god of the Great Water of Yeluene and the Northern Sea of Bei Khan, which is what the natives call the Lena River and Lake Baikal.
Local peoples have worshiped this deity for hundreds of years, and the lands around Shamanka Rock are considered doomed, as atop its summit stands the stone throne of the guardian of the surrounding territories. Therefore, Evenk and Buryat shamans regularly perform rituals and sacrifices at the foot of the rock to appease the local guardian. Khan Khute-Baabai isn’t evil, just old and grumpy. For a young girl killed in his honor, he grants the entire village good fishing for a whole year. And if at the foot of the rock the shaman cuts out the heart of a young man who hasn’t yet experienced a woman’s body, the entire village will be granted excellent hunting for a couple of months. That’s how it goes. My grandmother grew up in these parts and knew the local customs well. When she was little, a neighbor boy was sacrificed; it was considered an honor, and he volunteered for the ritual—the village was starving… The next day, hunters brought a fat elk, and then another and another.
“Have you tried to exorcise that bastard?” I carefully set down the mug, still shaking from the experience, and the bottom thudded lightly against the tabletop. “Why worship some wild creature?”
“If only it were that simple…” Olya poured the women another round and, nodding to the silent Jean, took a couple of sips from the crystal goblet. “This isn’t just some overfed evil spirit or demon, it’s a god. A petty, local god, but a god nonetheless! And the locals believe in him! As long as people pray to him, believe in him, make sacrifices, and revere this creature, we can’t do anything about him. Shouldn’t you have been taught how a deity appears and how it lives?”
“The energy of faith feeds the Supreme Being; the more believers, the stronger it is. As long as there are a certain number of believers, the deity will be immortal.” I scratched the back of my head and for some reason remembered the history textbook. “But Christians managed to destroy the ancient Roman and Greek pantheons. Why couldn’t they do that? Burn out this heresy in the name of the Creator!” I blushed with indignation. “And why does he need Hermione?!”
“The church has been gaining strength lately, more and more people are worshiping the Creator, so Baabai has become weaker, so he draws energy directly, absorbing the life force and magic from people.” Olga grinned maliciously. “He doesn’t wait for people to bring him anything; he takes it himself. There are about a hundred sanatoriums, health centers, and recreation centers around the lake, and according to statistics, about thirty people drown or go missing every year…”
“We need to kill this creature! Now!” Jean, quite tipsy, angrily slammed her fist on the table. Olga, sitting next to her, hugged her in support. “Wow, that liqueur is pretty strong, it turns out. I just noticed that all the women at the table are already pretty tipsy. When did they manage to do that?!”
“I will pray to the Creator for the death of this worthless thing…” My mother, with a serious face, took a second bottle from under the table and filled her friends’ glasses, receiving nods of gratitude in response. “And what if we ban the worship of local gods?”
“We tried. Since ancient times, the Russian Holy Church has been spreading its faith in these parts. Priests came with the settlers, they built churches, tore down the altars to the local deities, but to no avail…” Maria smiled sadly. The tincture had made the woman with beautiful oriental features flush slightly and relax, but I couldn’t call her drunk. “In the morning, the shaman goes to church and listens to the abbot, and in the evening he makes a sacrifice to the local deity. Try and catch everyone.”
“Burn all heretics in righteous fire!” the tipsy Jean continued. “All of Europe and the British Empire worship only one god! Forbid the worship of this nonentity and let the Templars oversee it!”
“Jin, the scorched earth tactic doesn’t always work.” Mom let me go and took her friend’s hand. “In India and Africa, the locals still worship their gods. The Empire used to try force, but it wasn’t effective and only caused discontent. Now we work differently.”
“I agree, my grandmother told me…” Maria sipped from her glass and continued sadly. “At the beginning of the century, the Templars of the Russian Holy Church came to our region again, began searching for and destroying altars en masse, burning shamans at the stake, and they burned my grandfather right on the shore of the North Sea… As a warning, so to speak, and so what?!” The woman leaned forward. “There was a rebellion, all the churchmen were drowned or sacrificed! Slanted morons…”
– Why is that? – I looked at my grandmother in bewilderment, although it still feels strange to call a woman of about thirty that; she looks a little older than my mother.
“Because!” The Eastern woman downed the rest of her glass. “Raids like these used to happen regularly. They’d destroy a few altars, burn a few shamans, and that’s it! But then the locals rebelled and killed nearly fifty churchmen, and even refused to pay taxes! A month later, the Taman Regiment arrived here, led by Count Menshikov himself, and along with the soldiers, the fighting monks of the Kiev-Pechersk Monastery… Those thugs rampaged here for almost six months, the entire bank of the Lena was strewn with crosses bearing the crucified. And it was all for nothing; their actions only strengthened the locals’ faith. Let’s face it, I prayed to Grandpa Baabay myself before I got married… I was a fool, of course…”
– How do you live with a neighbor like that? – I leaned forward. – Why doesn’t he bother you? You said yourself that your blood flows through me, and he won’t harm me.
“About thirty years ago, when we were given this plot of land, before we started building our house, I told my husband about the local deity and recounted a few legends.” The woman sipped from her glass. “Then, on Naadan-Surharbaan, Seryozha went to the rock and made a deal with Grandfather Baabay, and since then our family has been completely safe here.”
“What did you agree on?” I finished my tea and looked at Olga and Maria. They knew something, but weren’t saying anything. “The gods don’t do things for no reason.”
“Once a year we give him a special gift, and in return, the local deity leaves our family alone.” My great-aunt glanced dramatically at her watch. “Riga, it’s getting late, go to bed!”
“Well, mom…” I looked at the platinum blonde with puppy eyes. I wonder what else drunk women will say.
“Daughter, go to Hermione.” Mom gently stroked my head and pushed me up from my chair. “Your friend needs support, and it would be good if she woke up tomorrow and saw you first. Don’t be offended.”
I hate my age and realize there’s no point in trying to eavesdrop. I need to get up now, hug my adventurer tighter, and go to bed.
***
“And what kind of agreement did you make with the half-demon?” As soon as Rigel left the kitchen and closed the door behind her, Integra leaned forward slightly and looked closely at Maria. “Judging by its behavior, this creature has demonic roots.”
“You’re right, it’s a demon who’s gorged himself to the level of a lesser god. Sergei even called demonologists from Kiev; they examined everything, scoured the entire Shamanka, and said it was too late. He can’t be exorcised so easily, but over time, when the locals stop believing in him…” The eldest woman of the Black family stared into her glass. “That’s why we had to come to an agreement. Every year on December 30th, we make a sacrifice to him.”
“Horrible… But… This is not right! Sacrificing innocent people!” Jean finished the tincture in one gulp and slammed the glass down on the table.
“Who said anything about innocent people? It’s a big country, there’s always a surplus of bastards sentenced to death. And as for how the sentence will be carried out…” Olga grinned angrily. “We cast Imperio and give the order to head to the mountain, and the next day the person disappears without a trace. By the way…” The young woman’s eyes widened, she had just realized something very important. “We have a problem.”
“That bastard wants a girl,” Maria nodded understandingly to her daughter-in-law. “They’re supposed to bring Chepushilo to us tomorrow, but this maniac is a man, we need to think of something. Maybe we should call Sergei?”
“No need, I have an idea. I’ll call work in the morning, and tomorrow evening they’ll bring us a bride for the bastard.” Olya chuckled cheerfully. “That little bitch deserved it; she’s already been sentenced to prison in absentia, so if she hangs herself in her own cell tomorrow, no one will be surprised.”
“You mean that little slut?” The mother-in-law looked at her daughter-in-law and, waiting for an affirmative nod, smiled. “She deserves it.”
– Who are you talking about? – Jean, quite tipsy, looked at the women.
“Yesenia Ksobchak, sixteen. A teenage slut and her two idiot friends decided they were Satanists.” Olga took a sip from her glass. “These freaks kidnapped a six-year-old boy and staged a human sacrifice in the cemetery at night, trying to summon Beelzebub. The guard heard the screams and called the police. The patrol arrived ten minutes later, but the child was already dead. The boys were shot on the spot for ‘resisting arrest,’ and this sick creature is now awaiting trial in a pretrial detention cell.”
“I wanted to summon a demon.” Integra grinned cheerfully. “She’ll become food for the demonic deity.”
“I suggest we close this conversation. The girls are fine, we’ve resolved the issue with Baabay…” Maria filled the glasses on the table to the accompaniment of her friends’ nods. “Especially since we’ll have a more serious problem tomorrow.”
– W-what? – Mrs. Granger looked with fear at the serious women of the Black family. – What could be worse than having a demonic god at your side?
“Maybe…” Olga sighed resignedly. “A hundred kilos, maybe more, of fresh fish that our men will haul in tomorrow. We’ll have to keep the girls busy; we might not be able to handle it ourselves.”
– With what? – Some suspicion appeared in Integra’s eyes.
“Sergey forbids cleaning and filleting fish with magic, he says it ruins the taste.” Maria winced. “So, girls, tomorrow, grab your knives and get to work, until we’re done. No one’s going to bed until we’re done.”
Everyone present imagined how much work they would have to do tomorrow and silently drained their glasses.
“By the way, I recently learned a new recipe! Dan kept asking for more.” Jean drew herself up proudly, and the other women leaned forward with interest. “So, let’s get it…”
***
After the night’s adventures, I woke up tired and exhausted, and had to drink restorative and tonic potions to stay awake. Hermione was still fast asleep, even drooling on her pillow, so I went out to exercise alone. Outside, the kids surrounded me and bombarded me with questions about what had happened, but after learning that my friend was okay, they calmed down.
Then came the usual forced march and sparring sessions. This time, my opponent was a tall, blue-eyed, light-brown-haired girl named Nastya. She was half a head taller than me and three years my senior. I fought like a lion, but still ended up taking a good beating. First, she broke my nose with a clever punch, and then, before I could react, she executed a clever undercut. I had no time to react and slammed my head hard on the ice, earning a slight concussion. Nastya, smiling, promised to show me these techniques after lunch, and Nina said she’d help. My great-uncle’s grandchildren turned out to be very sociable and friendly; I never felt any negativity from them; it was like a big, close-knit family.
Alas, my plans to learn new hand-to-hand combat techniques had to be put on hold. Our fishermen showed up right after breakfast. Their faces were puffy and reeked of alcohol, but they still smiled proudly and contentedly. Sergei announced to everyone that they’d had a record catch this year and began dumping fresh fish out of a special bag right in front of the house. The pile turned out to be quite large, definitely around two hundred kilograms! I was mentally happy for the men, but I shouldn’t have been…
Bitch! I hate fish! I dreamed about those fucking scales and guts for days afterward! As soon as Black finished bragging about his catch and the proud men headed off to the bathhouse, Maria, with a sly smile, called all the girls over. Afterward, they gave us knives and sat us on the veranda cleaning all that splendor. Even Hermione wasn’t spared; she didn’t even have time to wake up or eat before she was handed the tools and sent to us. The guys didn’t stay away either, bringing fresh fish and taking away the already-cut ones, taking the fish guts to the trash along the way. We fiddled around until evening, breaking only for lunch and dinner. I don’t know if this was a planned mockery, but they served fish soup for lunch, and baked fish with rice for dinner. I almost started glowing from the amount of phosphorus in the menu.
That night, strange guests arrived. I was almost asleep when a car pulled up to the house, its headlights shining directly into the windows, catching my attention. I crept quietly to the window so as not to wake Hermione and witnessed a curious scene: two black Volgas parked in the yard—official cars, judging by the license plates—and men in gray uniforms emerged from them. Olga and Sergey came out to greet the guests; they chatted for a few minutes and then opened the trunks of the cars, confirming my suspicions.
A tall man in prison fatigues with a bag over his head was pulled out of the first black sedan, and a short, fair-haired woman in a blue tracksuit was pulled out of the second car. Upon closer inspection, I noticed her face was one big bruise, even her eyes were almost completely hidden. She tried to scream, but Olga slapped her hard and she fell into the snow, earning her a couple more kicks to the body. Sergei looked at the prisoners with satisfaction and, with a wave of his wand, transformed them into two statues, which he promptly pocketed. After a brief farewell, the black Volgas drove off toward the city.
So that’s it, a special offering for the local deity. It wasn’t for nothing that Olga mentioned death row inmates yesterday. The puzzle in my head finally came together: Sergei hadn’t been able to banish this bloodthirsty creature, and now he buys it off every year with human sacrifices. Judging by their clothes, they feed death row inmates to Baabay, and they don’t feel sorry for these scum. Well, not my problem, the main thing is that this creature won’t touch Hermione again. With these thoughts, I returned to bed and quickly fell asleep.
***
The days before New Year’s flew by. Morning exercises, sledding or broomstick riding after breakfast, and after lunch we studied. What? Everything! There were tons of children around, all of different ages, so the older ones showed the younger ones new spells or told them interesting stories; even Hermione and I managed to surprise the locals. The Union didn’t even know there was a spell for tying shoelaces or buttoning buttons; it seemed useless, but it saved a little time. Elvira also listened attentively and memorized everything, and they even started teaching her to fight; they even found her protective gear so she wouldn’t be so afraid of getting hit on her sweet little face. My friend and I weren’t far behind, and every day we had friendly fights with the children of the extended family; once I even knocked Nastya down! It’s true that I later lost my front teeth, but that wasn’t a problem – Maria grumbled a little and quickly got us back in order.
Well, on December 31st, when the women were busy in the kitchen and the men were helping them set the table, Sergei Cherny called me into his office. It seemed the head of a large family was ready for the conversation that had been constantly postponed. My grandfather’s office was on the first floor, and after knocking, I pushed open the massive oak door.
The room was spacious and decorated in dark tones. The walls were covered in expensive dark green wallpaper with monograms, and thick curtains of a deep red, almost burgundy color covered the large windows. To the right stood several large bookcases, crammed with various books and scrolls. To the left sat a black leather sofa near a large fireplace, in which a log fire was now crackling comfortably. On the mantelpiece, I saw numerous framed photographs, in one of which I recognized my mother. In the photo, Integra was about seven years old; a girl with long platinum hair smiled, standing between two tall men in military uniforms, British and Soviet. Looking closer, I recognized my grandfathers; Sergei had hardly changed since then. The owner of the office himself sat in a large black leather chair behind a massive ebony desk. I think I can guess Sergei’s favorite color. Behind my grandfather hung a large portrait of a monumental man in a general’s uniform. I immediately recognized Alexander Zhukov; I had seen his portraits at the USSR consulate.
“Star, have a seat.” The man smiled warmly at me and gestured to two smaller leather chairs in front of the table.
I nodded silently and settled comfortably in front of Grandpa, examining him closely. Seeing this mighty man in a white sweater with a deer and lounge tights was unusual. With a wave of his hand, he levitated two cups and a teapot from a small table; without waiting for permission, I poured the aromatic drink. Black chuckled and, with a magician’s gesture, pulled a large plate of chocolate chip cookies from his sleeve.
“Well, first off, let me reintroduce myself.” The man looked a little embarrassed and scratched the back of his head. “Sergey Cherny, I’m your grandfather’s brother, even though I never knew him… So that makes you my second cousin, or something like that.”
“Nice to meet you, Rigel Hellsing.” I stood up and curtsied, which, considering I was wearing sweatpants and a T-shirt, looked rather amusing. “Your granddaughter, nice to meet you.”
“That’s all for now.” Sergei thought for a moment and then continued. “I’ll say right away, the Princess and I have discussed everything, and I have no claims on you. You are a Hellsing, period.”
– I see. – I nodded in understanding.
“But!” the man looked at me demandingly. “You’re half Black, you have my mother’s blood in you, you’re part of my family, and that means you have to live up to it! I won’t be coming to London for the holidays anymore…”
– How? – I leaned forward. – And what about school?
“Interrupt me again and I’ll give you a spanking. I have every right to do that now,” Sergei grumbled. “So, where were we? Anyway, you and your friends will be coming to stay with me for the summer now. I think three weeks is enough. I organize a training camp for our kids every year; it’ll be more fun and productive for everyone, and the learning will be more enjoyable. Got it?”
“Yes.” I nodded contentedly. When Sergei came to teach us, he was severely limited in time, plus the time difference took its toll. Now, for three weeks, my friends and I will be at his complete disposal. I wonder what kind of trials he’ll prepare for us? Considering his sick imagination and sadism… The smile faded from my face.
“Make your face simpler, you’ll like it, I promise!” Grandfather chuckled cheerfully and took a sip from his cup. I caught the scent of expensive alcohol, how come? I thought I was pouring tea, didn’t I? “Now for the second point. You’re my granddaughter, so if you need any help, ANY, call me immediately! Because of the Statute, your Order’s capabilities in Magical Britain are severely limited, but I don’t care! You’re a smart and independent girl, so you certainly won’t bother me over trifles. But if you’re seriously offended or a real threat arises, I will come to your ministry with my eldest sons and give the entire Winzangamot a hard time. Fortunately, we have a good relationship with your queen, so there will definitely be no international scandal.
“Thank you!” I nodded again and, bowing my head, looked at this powerful wizard. “Grandfather, can I call you that?” The man sighed resignedly and nodded. “I’m truly pleased that you turned out to be my relative. I’m very grateful for everything you’ve done for us, and if I ever… In any way… I can help…”
“Where would you go from a submarine?” Black laughed merrily. “Hellsing and Vityaz are sister units! We’re simply obliged to help each other!”
– Um… What do you mean? – I stared at the laughing man in confusion; now he had openly pulled a steel flask out of the desk drawer and poured some into his cup.
“It’s very simple. You know, right? The first Vityaz fighters were trained by Hellsing officers?” I nod silently in response. “That’s how I met Arthur, when he and his group of instructors arrived in Ryazan in 1929.” Black remembered something and smiled sadly. “So, back then, the leaders of the countries drew up a very interesting magical treaty, which was later signed by Stalin, George VI, me, and Abraham, your great-grandfather.”
– What kind of agreement is that? – I leaned forward, as the future head of the Order, I was obliged to know such things.
“In short, our fighters are brothers in faith and spirit. We cannot attack each other. Vityaz cannot invade the British Empire, and, accordingly, Hellsing cannot wage aggression against the USSR. But if either of us needs help, our sworn brother is obliged to appear at the first call.” The man looked contentedly into my shocked eyes. “Back then, the young Soviet state was just getting its feet on the ground, and the British were actively assisting us. They were hedging their bets with Vityaz, which is right, of course. That’s how you train a special combat unit for your friend, and then the thugs you trained land on your coast. However, Stalin was also a good bargainer, so the treaty was made bilateral; what that cost him is anyone’s guess. From now on and forevermore, Hellsing and Vityaz are obligated to fight shoulder to shoulder, like brothers.”
– Holy shit… – I received a loud slap from behind.
– Don’t swear! – Black shook his finger at me.
“Grandpa, I still don’t understand…” I turned my head, found a photo of my mother, and pointed at it. “Where does this friendship between our countries come from? We even have different political systems, socialism and monarchy. Why do the USSR and the British Empire cooperate so closely?”
“Oh, right… Well, yes, you’re only studying ancient history in school.” Sergei thought for a moment and drank the contents of his cup in one gulp. “You’re wrong about the political systems. Both Britain and the Soviet Union are military dictatorships, except you have Her Majesty at your head, while we have a General Secretary. Incidentally, both leaders hold power for life. And about friendship…” Grandfather took a sip from his flask. “In short, our strong friendship began after the revolution; before, our countries were constantly playing dirty tricks on each other and often at war. The rulers of the Russian Empire didn’t like British influence, and in general, the Russian tsars were constantly meddling in European squabbles; they would have been better off solving their own internal problems…”
So, the apogee of this mutual hatred came in 1853, when the Yankees declared their independence from the mother country. Then, Americans simultaneously revolted across the continent, acquiring Russian weapons and officers with strange accents. The rebels quickly slaughtered several garrisons and advanced rapidly, capturing new cities. Then the British sent the Pacific Squadron to the shores of North America, targeting New York and San Francisco. The squadron split into two and, upon entering the harbors, was ambushed in both. The Yankees had no warships, so the British fleet moved at full speed and without reconnaissance. The main objective was to bombard the cities from the sea and then land troops, but it was a complete disaster! Two Russian squadrons awaited them as they approached, immediately opening fire to kill. The battle lasted almost a day, resulting in the complete destruction of the British Pacific Squadron. The Russians also suffered heavy losses, but nevertheless repelled the attack. It later emerged that the Russian Empire had recognized the young United States, and the two countries had already signed a treaty of mutual military assistance and cooperation.
The Brits were very angry and spent the next fifty years doing everything they could to harm the Russians, even supplying weapons to the Japanese. And the mood in Europe had changed, too; many countries were unhappy with our Tsar’s actions. Especially when the American Civil War broke out, and the Russian Tsar sent a 30,000-strong expeditionary force to support the Southerners. While that idiot was sending soldiers to another continent, Poland attacked Russia with the support of almost every European country. As a result, we lost the eastern regions of Belarus and Ukraine, and then the revolution happened and the Russian Empire ceased to exist. Did you know that Lenin, Stalin, Trotsky, and their entire entourage studied in London? Many Soviet revolutionaries were trained at UEBI schools and received funding and military aid from Britain! Can you see which way the wind is blowing?
– The revolution began with the instigation of the British Empire? – I looked at my grandfather with interest.
“That’s right, Queen Victoria was very upset with the Russian Tsar and swore revenge. The Russian aristocracy had become so arrogant and preoccupied with foreign policy that they completely forgot about their own country, and such a mess was going on there! I saw it all with my own eyes; while the peasants were dying of hunger, those bastards were eating éclairs and washing them down with expensive wine. The British government carefully groomed future revolutionaries, who returned home with financial support, and a few years later the people rose up against the government.” Sergei took a breath and lit a cigarette. “In Russia, food riots broke out regularly, but to no avail; there was no leader or coordination. So Lenin and Stalin organized it all, and then the hungry and disenfranchised peasants rose up on their own, and then they raised their former masters with pitchforks.”
“Why does the Empire need this?” I asked impatiently, like a lesson in alternative history, or was my past world an alternative one?
“As I understand it, the British initially wanted to mold Russia into a puppet state, install their own people at the helm, and quietly rule, but it didn’t work out.” The man chuckled. “First came the war in the Far East, uniting the Whites and the Reds, then came the First Great War, which finally reconciled the communists and the remaining representatives of the aristocracy. In the first days of the revolution, thousands of nobles fled Russia for America, leaving only the patriots, those who cared. Then Lenin died, and Trotsky was assassinated, and he was categorically against the Whites in power. Joseph Vissarionovich, however, turned out to be a very smart man; he decided to take the best from communism and capitalism, so he began actively befriending the British. The new king of the Empire realized that where you sit on Joseph, there you go. The Brits might have put pressure on us, but the First Great War messed things up. After it, half of Europe lay in ruins, millions of people died, and many colonies began demanding independence… So the British Empire decided to befriend the young Soviet Union, especially since we had someone to befriend.
– And who are we friends against? – I took a sip of tea.
“During the Great War, our countries fought together against Germany and its allies, including the Americans.” My eyes bulged again. “Don’t be surprised, they changed their tune in 1945; before that, they actively supported Hitler. The Yankees supplied the Germans with weapons and ammunition, and a whole bunch of other useful things.”
– Why would the Americans help Hitler? – I interrupted Sergei.
Native Americans hate the British Empire with a passion, like they were their former masters, and all that, so it’s a sacred duty for them to harm the islanders. Also, during the Revolution, several million Russian aristocrats and other scum fled to the States; all these people were rich and well-connected. Back then, a so-called “gay” party even emerged in the American Senate, who were utterly consumed by hatred for the Soviet Union. So, Adolf and Grindelwald were the stars aligned; the Yankees invested billions of dollars in Germany, but still lost.
– Do the States have a Senate? – I’m not really interested in the history of the United States in this world, but I think they had a Congress.
“We were surprised ourselves,” Sergei leaned back in his chair. “After the Great War, the Yankees declared themselves the Fourth Rome, renamed Congress the Senate, and their president became Caesar. They even wanted to change their name to the Great American Republic. They’ve completely lost their minds. They started demanding Alaska from us, Canada from the British, and grabbing everything that wasn’t nailed down. So now Britain and the Union are actively allying themselves against the Yankees; they’ve become especially belligerent lately.”
“I see.” I nodded thoughtfully. So much information, most of which seemed like nonsense. Although what am I surprised about? I flew on a broom this morning, recently my friend was almost eaten by a local deity, and my mother has a couple of higher vampires in her employ! And now I just learned that Stalin studied in Britain, and the Yankees have a Senate instead of Congress—what nonsense.
“Okay, that’s enough chatting, the festive dinner will be ready soon.” The man rose from the table and stretched contentedly. “Come on, Zvezdochka, Masha and her daughters-in-law made some dumplings for everyone, and I’ll bring some smoked grayling right now. It’s New Year’s, after all.”
From the office, we walked into the spacious dining room, where everyone was already gathered around the large table. Seeing such a large, cheerful group, I smiled and sat down next to Mom and Hermione. Morgana was thinking about foreign policy and history; today was a holiday, and I was going to enjoy it! Oh, my mandarin! The evening flew by in this noisy and cheerful company; we laughed, listened to various stories and jokes, and, of course, enjoyed the delicious food. When the chimes struck midnight, our entire friendly crowd poured out into the street, and Sergey and his family set off a celebratory fireworks display for the children. After enjoying the magical pyrotechnic show, we went to bed.
Lying in bed, listening to Hermione’s steady snores, I smiled stupidly and a tear rolled down my cheek. My dream had finally come true: I have a mother, a best friend, and now a huge family! Lyoshka was right, I really have been given a second chance. Creator, thank you so much! This strange world has become my home, now I have someone to live for and something to fight for! And woe to anyone who tries to take away my happiness.
– Creator, I worship You,
Thank you for all the blessings you have given us.
I pray You, save us and keep us,
From the hands of our enemies, from filth and heresy,
May we gain the upper hand over them!
Light our way to victory,
May we conquer her for Your glory!
For your power is limitless,
And my faith is strong and unshakable!
So be it!
After whispering a prayer, I yawned sweetly, hugged Hermione tighter, and began to drift off into a dream world. Something has changed in me today, and I like it…
***
As soon as young Rigel Hellsing fell asleep, one of the stars of the Orion constellation flared brightly in the sky for a few moments. At the same time, the cross on the girl’s wrist began to glow steadily with a pure white light, but soon the radiance seemed to be absorbed into the consecrated silver, granting protection and protection. The Creator heard the prayer, which came from a pure heart, and accepted it.
