I tried not to gape and keep my awe in check, but my fascination with modern world overwhelmed me. The town where we've arrived at didn't look too different from what I used to see. Maybe the buildings were larger and the streets broader, but the main image stayed the same.

What really exploded my mind was the amount of cars outside, that thingy they called a phone that didn't need to be connected to the wires or have an operator to match the calls. Almost, everything was automatic: the doors in the shops, the car locks. People wore clothes that were hardly appropriate for outside, more like for a gym. Actually, I felt a little irritated that people were so casual about their outfits. Back in the sixties, it was simply rude to appear in your sports suit without actually doing any kind of sports activities. Saying that, I realized that the clothes I was wearing were similar to what people had nowadays, and despite my absolute shock, I found them really comfortable.

Chris parked the car in front of a red building with a huge sign "Pharmacy", and with a jerk of his head, he signaled me to get out of the car. Our ride wasn't awkward; there was a certain tension in the air between us, but other than that we stayed silent busy with our own thoughts. Once, I found my feet touching the ground, on instinct, my nose drew in the smell of the street. Not detecting any metallic scent, something inside of me relaxed, and my suspiciousness eased. I made a quick survey of my surrounding and finally let go of the car door shutting it with a thud.

Chris was already making his way into the pharmacy. I lingered on the sidewalk in taking the view of the building and followed Chris inside. As expected, once I stepped behind the automatic doors, my gaze scattered around the hall that was filled with rows of shelves with different goods. Everything looked bright and attractive. I didn't even notice that Chris was telling me something, leading me to a particular part of the pharmacy. My eyes were jumping from one thing to another, and my fingers were tracing every single thing that was in my reach.

"Stacy," Chris called me.

"What?" I stopped looking around, and my head snapped up to meet his gaze.

"Were you even listening?" he snapped.

"No, sorry. I got distracted by everything here," I replied casually.

He rolled his eyes clearly annoyed. "I asked you what kind of medicine do you need?"

I shrugged my shoulders. "I'm not familiar with modern medications."

He groaned in frustration pinching the bridge of his nose. "Just...just tell me what symptoms do you have, so I can match it to the medicine," he said trying not to raise his voice.

"I have a fever. I need vitamins and more food. And water. Lots of water," I listed and my gaze slipped to the bright colors again.

"Alright, come on. Stop stalling. It's just a pharmacy, for crying out loud," he hissed and spun around, walking away.

As much as I wanted to explore and see new exciting things, like those packs with the outlines of dancing women on the covers, I tore myself away from the spot and went after grumpy Chris. I didn't find his tone offensive. Not at all. I could care less, actually. The nature of our relationship was strictly businesslike. I wasn't his friend to take his snappiness close to my heart.

At the aisle with the jars of different sizes and colors, Chris paused and began searching through the row of bottles on a top shelf. On a little sticking out a tag, it said "Cold/Flu", and being curious, I stepped behind Chris, and started reading the names and descriptions of each medicine. He picked two and waved me to come with him. I gave my farewell full of wonder stare to the shelf, to memorize the names on the jars and forced myself to follow Chris.

His steps were fluent and determined. He obviously knew his way around. When we got to the cashier, I saw a young man behind the counter. The guy's eyes flickered to Chris for a second and he smiled a small formal smile, greeting him. The guy looked around twenty-seven or twenty-eight. His entire posture and appearance hardly fitted into a role of a clerk-boy. His eyes were intelligent and shoulders wide like of a marine officer. Dwight had the same pose as the young man. Very steady, as if he was made of stone. Thinking of Dwight filled my heart with sorrow.

"Hay, Chris, man," the guy said casually.

"Hey, Spence. What's up?" Chris replied placing the items from his hands on the counter.

"Not much. Yourself?"

"I'm throwing a party tonight," Chris said without any excitement in his voice. "You should come and bring a case of beer. Take Terry along."

Spencer's gaze was hardened. "I will. How many people?"

"Not much. Only close friends. Stacy is the one I want to introduce," Chris pointed at me.

Spencer nodded observing me. Something was wrong with the way he was inspecting me. There was something nostalgic and full of grief inside his eyes. I didn't smile, just gave him a curt nod in acknowledgment. Then my thoughts drifted to a word – party, and my brows creased. I didn't think that to throw a party was the wisest thing to do for Chris. I didn't want to meet new people. First, I needed to put my head on the situation and adjust to the new things that this world has to offer, and maybe then expand my circle of acquaintances.

"What's the theme of the party?" Spencer asked still looking me over.

"Harry Potter," Chris replied, and Spencer's eyes widened a little. And when they did, a realization finally found me. The party was a code word that stood for some kind of gathering of no social type. And it did make me thinking about what kind of people were they. Was it normal for people to have such informal groups?

"I'll grab the movies and popcorn, too," Spencer finally replied.

"Great," Chris returned nonchalantly.

"It'll be sixteen fifty-eight," Spencer said when something beeped, and he started placing the medicine into a plastic bag.

"Sixteen fifty-eight?" I choked. "For two medicine jars?"

"Uh, yeah..." Chis shrugged his shoulder and pulled his wallet out of his back pocket.

"You could've bought food supply for an entire week for this amount, or a pearl necklace with the extra set of earrings," I mumbled. "I mean..." I took a breath and shook my head. "Never mind."

July 10, 1963

It's been over a month since Oengus paid me a visit. During this month they continued injecting some kind of liquid into me. My hands were always tied when my demon nurse would come to cram me with tranquilizers, and that substance that burned me from inside. After each session, I would throw up that hateful black mucus. But strangely, even though my body condition began worsening, I kept my full strength. That, probably, explained a constant supervision of two guards while the nurse was at her task with me. I was never hurt physically. Just, my mental state was balancing pretty close to insanity.

Dr. Farmosa kept our daily séances. However, her tactics did change. Instead of assuring me of a demon-free world, she started to break my mind, forcing me to accept Palus' bond. She constantly repeated that I was a lucky chosen candidate to join their family. She almost wiped out my memory, by placing me into trances and washing away all my human experiences. I was no longer felt compassion or love. Something in me grew incredibly cold and unresponsive.

But, no matter what she did, my body refused to accept the bond, so made my mind. When my head was less clouded from the poison of tranquilizers, some thoughts managed to sort the confusion. I started to think, or rather hope that my inability to turn into fear in the flesh, had something to do with my failed death. I knew I needed information, to search for the truth. Anything to keep me in one piece, and mentally stable.

I was sitting on the edge of my bed staring blankly at the white wall. The door lock clicked, not producing any kind of effect on me, and several people entered my cell. I kept calm wrapped up into the nothingness. The only thing I could comprehend was that this was the second contact with the personnel for today. I felt a hand grabbing my chin, and my face was lifted. My eyes met a flashlight, but I haven't blinked. My mind was still far away after my trance session.

"Her body keeps rejecting the serum. We can't understand the reason behind it. Her blood absorbs only the similar to her blood type component, but the rest ejects out of her through her stomach."

"Parents?"

"Both humans. Her mother is human and father, according to her file, is human, too. Both background checks showed no traces or relations to the Primus."

"Did you check her blood for possible hidden cells of Primus?"

"Yes, sir! That's the thing. Separately from her body, the blood adequately responds to the serum, while in her bloodstream it keeps getting blocked."

"I want to keep a close eye on her. My scientists started working on a new technic of scooping the birth information out of the patient. DNA analysis can show more than a regular blood test."

"Of course, Dr. Schmidt. Mr. Palus instructed us to give you a full authorization over this case."

"And I shell to see what the problem is?"

August 15, 1963.

Cold water was cascading down my shoulders. The surface of my skin responded to the coldness, turning all over into goose skin. I shivered squeezing my muscles, trying to warm up and then suddenly relaxed allowing the ice burning sensation to take over. A nurse opened the curtain of the shower stall and poured some soap onto my hair. My arms stayed unmoving rested by my sides. I felt her fingers spreading the soap around the length of my locks without gentleness, and once she was done, she grabbed my shoulder and placed me under the flow. Soapy water glided down my body forming a little puddle around my feet. I moved a little sending my feet into the puddle and wiggled my toes.

As soon as I started playing with the soapy bubbles, the flow of cold water stopped, and a towel was pressed to my hair. The nurse skillfully rubbed the water off me and pushed me out of the stall to the dryer. Before I was allowed to sit on the chair, she put me on a simple pair of white underwear and a matching singlet. After what she shoved my arms into a gray loose hospital pantsuit and began briskly combing my hair.

The nurse carried the fera in her. Her eyes were dark and evil. Her actions automatic, working under a strict instruction of her superior. Plus, her metallic reek gave away her hidden identity.

When she was done with me, she clutched to my upper arm and tugged me out of the washroom. In the corridor, she stopped me, and a male nurse took a charge of me. He escorted me to Dr. Farmosa office, continually pressing his massive fingers into the sensitive skin of my arm. We reached the office. He pulled the door open and instantly a smell of disinfectant enveloped me nearly overpowering the smell of metal. I peered inside and met a smiling face of Dr. Farmosa. Her mood was unusually cheerful like she received good news.

"Come on in, Stacy," she gestured me to enter. "Today our session will be short. Dr. Schmidt wants to go over your files again."

I nodded and went to take my regular seat.

"I heard of your improvement. I'm very pleased to say that I'm glad that your fear of Mr. Palus did cease. He'll be so happy to learn of your healthy and sane condition."

There was something positively wrong with the way she placed her statement. The only thing that improved for me was my ability to think for myself. I started skipping dinners, only eating when necessary and the drug that they put into my meal, to slow my reflexes, affected me less.

I nodded again trying to send her a smile, but all that came out was a twitch of my upper lip. The rest of my face remained emotionless.

"So, tell me, Stacy. What do you think of Mr. Palus? Be truthful."

"He is a wonderful employer. I didn't need anything when I worked for him. He let me stay in the best hotels around the country." All that I said was true if to put it that way. So, she couldn't detect a lie in my response.

Her eyes flashed coldly, but she nodded in approval.

"Good. Good. That's everything I needed to hear. You're dismissed from the session. Sleep tight and don't forget to eat your dinner."

"Yes, doctor," I replied calmly and slowly stood up.

The male nurse grabbed my upper arm again and delivered me back into my cell. The door behind me clicked, and I was left alone. My gaze traveled around the allowance noticing micro-changes that I would definitely miss unless my mind were less sharp. My bed was made wrinkle free, not the way I left it and the food on the tray laid in a beautiful arrangement. The smell of food was intoxicating, too good and attractive.

My first desire was to go and eat my dinner, but self-preserving instinct kicked in, and I decided against it. I picked the tray and dumped half of the food into the toilet and flushed it. Then to be less suspicious I placed the tray next to my bed and sprawled on the cover pretending to be asleep. In half an hour I heard the footsteps tapping on the floor and some shuffle next to my ear. Whoever entered, picked up the tray and departed locking the door from outside.

I waited for the lights to go off, then made a bump on the bed and retreated into the corner of the cell. And started waiting again...