All the solemnity of the moment was spoiled by Miranda, who shouted: 'Hurrah!' - hung around Irishka's neck.

- What is a dacha? And is it far? And when are we leaving? How long will we stay there? The girl's happiness knew no bounds.

-- Vacation home. Don't know. Tomorrow morning. Until your uncle arrives! Irishka laughed. - Let's get together.

***

The next morning, having had a hearty breakfast, the marquise and her niece solemnly loaded into the carriage and set off for one of his lordship's estates. The manager and maids and luggage were placed in other carriages. The journey promised not to be too long: about a quarter of an hour before the portal and three hours after.

Irishka looked with interest at the views of the capital floating outside the window. She firmly decided that this time she would never sleep through the movement in the portal and consider everything as it should. Miranda, as an experienced traveler, undertook to enlighten her relative.

“Do you see that blue house with the arch? Now Theo will pay, the uncle in gray uniform will turn on the portal, he will sparkle purple in the arch and we will go to the dacha! Understood?

- And then how ... Listen, is it a long ride in this portal?

- No, really fast. - a small necromashka climbed onto the girl's knees and leaned out the window. - Look, the carriage with the maids is already at the portal, now it's our turn!

Irishka watched with interest how the carriage disappearing into the haze of the portal, taking away Martha, Alan and the newly sewn wardrobe. The horses and wagon seemed to dissolve into a bright purple glow. Finally, it was their turn.

- Aola, why is he blinking blue? - Through the suddenly overwhelmed drowsiness, the marquise heard and thought that somehow it did not work out with the portals.

***

"Dessert, baby?" Warm breath tickled my ear. - Allow me... - and a kiss touched Irishka's half-open lips, giving not only pleasure, but also a sip of sweet wine. -- Tasty? - another drunken kiss.

-- On the table? There was a slight noise in my head, either from wine or from kisses.

- Do you want it on the table? Right now? We do not mind, - the sensual laughter of the second was her answer.

-- Not! Yes! I don't know! - Men's hands, confidently hosting under a skirt, interfered with focus and answer correctly.

- Make up your mind, dear, - the long-suffering skirt was a puddle of glass on the floor, and Irishka felt how she was lifted and put on the table.

***

-- Why doesn't she wake up? Miranda's frightened voice broke into the dream.

- Tell me, child, why do you always wake me up at the most inopportune moment? - Without opening her eyes, Irishka pulled the frustrated nekromashka, hugged her, pressed her soothingly to her.

“What tender governesses have gone today,” a low male voice made him twitch and open his eyes. “You shouldn’t look after a necromancer, but cross-stitch and eat desserts.”

- Desserts... On the table... - still being in the grip of sleep, Irishka stared with all her eyes at an unfamiliar man who was sprawled on the seat opposite. Well, what can I say? Black-haired, black-eyed, hefty Bugaina. Dangerous. Highly. Moreover, these desserts ...

- Well, you can also on the table, - beautifully outlined lips curved mockingly, - but with work, young lady, you will have to say goodbye. I'm firing you.

- Aola is not a governess, - the child, who was silent, was indignant.

- How interesting, and who is she?

-- My aunt! - Irishka felt uneasy, looking at how the black-eyed one crept up.

So Cas got married. Well, that changes everything. Lady, you will come with us.

Chapter twelve

Firmly hugging Miranda, Irishka did not take her eyes off the kidnapper, wondering in her mind whether she should turn on the 'aristocrat in anger' or 'noble maiden in trouble' mode, but in the end she decided that it was better to keep quiet and not show off, at least for the time being. time. The thug, without waiting for the tantrum, snorted, grunted and introduced himself.

“Gregory ru Moreno, at your service,” and paused, waiting for the ladies to introduce themselves in turn. The ladies, however, remained silent, looking at him with large frightened eyes. "Lady, don't worry, you're not in danger.

It's clear, but you stole us, Grisha, just to have a picnic. On the sidelines, huh.' Dark-haired, meanwhile, sighed heavily and tried to go in from the other side.

"Miranda, have you awakened the gift of necromancy?" The girl nodded warily. -- Well! - the thug rejoiced at something. "I assume Cas is looking for a teacher for you, right?"

-- Yes! So your uncle found you?

“We are old acquaintances with your uncle,” the black-eyed man evaded a direct answer. - I have known him since childhood, and now I will be your mentor and teacher.

- Where are we going? To the cottage? Are there dogs there? And the kitties? Will you start training soon? How is the ritual performed?

Is she always like this? The thug looked slightly puzzled.

- A normal child, - Irishka shrugged her shoulders. 'And by the way, he asks the right questions,' but asked aloud: 'Are we really not in danger?'

“You have nothing to fear, stay at my estate until the ritual, and you can make sure that everything is in order.

- Can we send a message to relatives? She tried to keep her voice as calm as possible.

- I think it's redundant.

Helplessly leaning back on the soft seat back, Irishka bowed her head, trying to hide her disappointment. In principle, she did not expect another answer. Moreover, these rituals... Understood by the locals on some intuitive level, for her they were and remained a dark forest. No, of course, she memorized the theoretical part under the guidance of the Most Serene One, and she knew that the mentor-pupil bond, after performing special magical rites, is indestructible until the student reaches a level of skill comparable to that of a teacher. The mentor kept the life, honor and health of the adept, passing on his knowledge to him, and the pupil revered and obeyed the teacher, and of course adopted the skill. But in practice ... If this one, Irishka looked at the kidnapper, Grigory messes up something by accident or intentionally, then she will not understand anything, she will not be able to help her girl in any way.

- Well, well, do not frown. From this, early wrinkles appear, - meanwhile, the dark-haired bastard sneered. - Do not pout so offended, you are already a big girl!

And then, leaning forward, he grabbed the girl's cold hand and kissed it on the palm. Relieved that the kidnapper turned out to be not a pedophile, but an ordinary dog, Irishka forgot to take her hand away, and this crazy man was already kissing his wrist.

- What are you doing... - looking into such black eyes that the pupil is almost imperceptible, she almost whispered.

"Let Aola go!" Right now! - an immediate response group in the person of one red-haired necromashka entered the battle.