Penny Dreadful (2014) s02e07 Episode Script

Previously on Penny Dreadful: - Splendid day, isn't it? - Sir Malcolm, is everything all right? - What do you mean? - He's a changed man since he became reacquainted with you, Mrs.
Poole.
- Scream for me.
- You're in danger.
That big book, with the glyph on the side.
If ever the day comes where my little scorpion is crushed and beaten only then does she open it.
On that day she will have gone away from God forever.
This is my cousin, Miss Lily Frankenstein.
Would you think it bold if I compliment your eyes? - Yes.
Be still your heart, doctor, Mr.
Gray is being a proper host.
You're smarter than that, Miss Ives.
I believe we make ourselves who we are.
The blood's on our hands, not God's.
Whoever you have made yourself, I'm here to accept you.
We're together for a reason.
Will you let me escort you home? This place isn't safe for you.
Things become other things.
The leopard consumes the monkey and becomes leopard and monkey.
The crocodile consumes the leopard and becomes crocodile and leopard and monkey.
I have seen this.
The shamans in my mountains call it Uchawi Mabadiliko the changing from one skin into another.
The ones so cursed do not always fully remember it this becoming.
Is it a sickness? Or is it something else? Is it a blessing the purpose of which we cannot yet see? I say this is what it is for I know you, my friend, Ethan Chandler.
I see inside you past the crocodile and the leopard and the monkey.
And the wolf.
Tell me what you saw.
No, Sir Malcolm, that's not it at all.
It wasn't female hysteria.
Don't insult me.
- Then what was it? - She was in danger and she sensed it.
I was on my way to say good night to the doctor and I felt I was being surrounded.
I couldn't breathe.
And who was surrounding you? I don't know.
I find this difficult to credit, I'm sorry.
Hold on.
You don't credit Miss Ives' ability to sense things? I think it more likely the room was crowded and she became over-stimulated.
We've been living under a certain amount of pressure here as the mountains of armaments might suggest.
And now? I need to go.
- What? - I need to leave.
- London isn't safe.
- I'll go with you.
- I'm not sure.
- I'm coming with you.
I think that's a wise precaution.
Both of you go somewhere far away and stay there.
She's safer here.
I won't be kept a prisoner in this house, Sir Malcolm.
If I'm to be pent up, I'll choose my own cell.
Don't tell us where you're going.
Just go.
This company is safe.
Is it, though? Are any of us immune to this danger we can't see, can't touch but is everlastingly present? Mr.
Lyle's right.
Tell no one.
And we're not to even trust one another, then? Has it come to this? Then why trust Mr.
Chandler to go with you? Because he wasn't there.
You were all in the room with me.
And yet the lions still hunted.
We'll leave immediately.
Yes.
Doctor, may I have a word? I want to tell you alone where I plan to go.
- Are you sure that's a good idea? - Someone has to know.
I trust you.
What are you up to, Vanessa? I've never met a woman less likely to run and hide.
So far, we've been thrashing at specters.
I'm going to find a better weapon.
While I'm gone, do be mindful of Sir Malcolm.
He's losing his heart and needs our care.
I shall.
And if he needs me, don't hesitate.
Come.
And be patient with your cousin.
It's all so new to her.
London and all the bright shiny prizes it offers.
She'll grow tired of them.
That's very kind.
Only what if she doesn't? Then we'll have a long talk on a dark night.
That's where it happened? Yes.
Where should I go? I slept down here.
There's a bed upstairs.
Why don't you take that? This is your house now.
We'll have to replenish the stores.
I know the forest.
It'll supply us.
And Sembene sent along some tins as well so we won't starve, anyway.
Do you believe a place can be haunted? Yes.
Have you been in such a place? Indian graveyard in Arizona.
Indians I killed.
Were you frightened? I felt I belonged there.
Perhaps I belong here.
She always thought that.
I don't know that I'm made for company.
I think I'm made for something like the moors.
And for doing such things as hurt even as they help.
She called me her little scorpion and only said my name aloud once before she was murdered tied to that tree outside.
I've never liked trees since.
Not a one.
Thank you, I will go upstairs.
For years now, Sir Malcolm and I have had a very private relationship.
In a way, I think I savored that.
The intensity of it.
Perhaps I even fed on it.
And Mrs.
Poole threatens that? Doesn't she? He's lost his anger.
That resentment and rage is what we shared.
Our bond was in our mutual suffering.
Despite all that you're still the closest thing to a family he's got left.
He didn't go to his own wife's funeral.
Doesn't that demonstrate his allegiance to his family? Because it was too painful, maybe.
You know better.
He's in love.
The memories of his past, including me are clouds he doesn't want to face.
And why should I demand him to? Just so I can retain my unique bond with him? It's selfish.
My God, let him be happy.
Wood betony attracts bees for honey crushed and put into your pillow, it prevents nightmares.
Get a lot of that.
When I was with Ms.
Croft I was more content than I ever thought I could be.
For once in my life, I didn't feel like running away.
I felt I had a place to belong.
She was your moors your solitude.
In a way.
Sir Malcolm's just looking for where he belongs now.
Without Mina.
Without you, even.
But when he settles down, he'll come around.
He won't forget about you.
I certainly didn't.
Are you making a rabbit snare? Surprised? Who knew you were so handy? Life isn't all tarot cards and pagan blood glyphs, you know.
You know what? You're gonna make someone a great little wifey one day.
So I'm all of 8 or the like and my father takes sadistic glee in pulling me out there pointing at the biggest one, and saying: "Ride, boy.
" Now, all of the vaqueros Those are the Spanish ranch hands.
- Were watching and they can't wait to see the little lord in his velvet knickers fall on his ass.
I walk up to this monstrous big horse who goes by the name of I kid you not.
- Diablo.
And he's snorting fire and his hooves are pounding the earth.
My little knees are knocking together and I just look up at him and I say in my best grown-up voice: "Know your master, beast.
" What happened? Broken wrist and soiled knickers.
That's the most unheroic story I've ever heard.
Must have been scared of something when you were young.
No.
I was fearless.
- Come on.
- Really.
You don't fool me.
Dolls.
- Dolls? - Dolls.
Like girlie dolls? Yes, girlie dolls.
- Don't laugh.
- Never.
I mean, I played with them.
You had to or they thought you were deviant in some dreadful way but I never liked them.
My mother insisted on deploying them around my room like an army of little play friends.
But every night before I went to sleep I ran around my room and knocked them over.
Miss Ives.
Then every morning, I would put them all back.
God, those eyes staring at you, just waiting to come to life.
Who thinks that's healthy for a child? I played with toy soldiers.
Also not the best recipe for mental health when you think about it.
All those things that mark you when you're young that make you what you are.
Never escape them.
They just wait, don't they? What? The monsters inside us.
Monsters? What would you call them? For me demons.
But one word is much like another.
And when they're released? We're most who we are.
Unrestrained.
Ourselves.
I need to go out.
What? Out where? There's nowhere to go.
Just bolt the door when I'm gone.
Do you know how to shoot? - What? No.
- I'll teach you.
- When will you be back? - Morning.
- Ethan - Just bolt the goddamn door! Mr.
Chandler.
Would you like some breakfast? I'm not hungry.
Thanks.
Tell me.
We're alone.
Speak quietly, but tell me.
Tell you what? We can whisper about those things that hurt us.
You need to learn to protect yourself.
You haven't done this before? No, I suppose it just comes naturally.
Why am I not surprised? No, no.
Let me.
It's a different thing when you're firing at something that's alive.
How do you learn that? Experience.
Aim at the middle of the body.
Don't get fancy.
Don't aim at the head or limbs.
And here's the real trick, which seems illogical, I know.
Don't look in your opponent's eyes.
That'll stop you every time.
You think for one minute about what you're doing and you won't do it.
Stop being human.
Become something else.
What? An animal that has to survive.
A predator.
No emotion.
Survival.
And most important? Don't look into his eyes.
All right.
Moving target.
I feel I owe you for this.
What can I teach you? Just about any of the social graces, for a start.
Well, that's a long list.
There's the painstaking ritual of serving tea tedious decorum at balls, meaningless social banter Dancing.
- Dancing? - I never learned dancing.
My father didn't approve of such things.
Well, then I shall be your tutor.
I've had practice recently, in fact.
It's a deal.
Now, I'm going to toss this up very gently.
I want you to follow it through the air and fire at will.
Just don't shoot me, okay? I'll do my best.
It's the opposite of homicide.
Always look in your opponent's eyes.
And then? Proceed gently.
Take my waist.
Up here, Mr.
Chandler.
And sway.
Then one, two, three.
One, two, three.
One, two, three.
That's it.
That's it, Mr.
Chandler.
Come on.
One, two, three.
One, two, three.
One, two, three.
No.
Too much salt.
I love storms.
Primordial.
Every bit of civilization gone.
Everything true coming out.
Let it.
You don't fear it? Not now.
This must have been how the world was created.
Or how it ends.
Water! No! We are dangerous.
What is love but a kind of creature waiting to be unbound? A malady.
What does it bring any of us but confusion and bedevilment? The Egyptians were hardly unique in that.
Yes, but to them it was quite literal.
They called it the scorpion's sting a kind of eternal infection that had no end, not in time or death.
The gods Amunet and Amun-ra were immortal and their love was without end as well.
According to the myth, if they were to become conjoined all light would end and the world would live in darkness.
The hidden ones would emerge and rule.
Emerge and rule? Conquest.
The subjugation of all mankind.
This goes well beyond Miss Ives.
In Biblical terms, it's the coming of the beast.
The hidden ones who will emerge? Call them the fallen angels, as our relics do.
Or any such name that pleases you.
Devil, creature, demon.
Vampire? His name is legion, for he is many.
Leave the archeology of it behind for a moment and imagine this.
The fallen angel seeks his bride.
He believes this to be Miss Ives, and she loves him in her way.
They are aligned, these two.
He tries to lure her, seduce her attack her, if he must, but he must have her.
Why? Why does the scorpion sting? To protect itself.
To kill its enemies.
- And the demon's enemy? - God.
And if I don't believe in God? The scorpion will still strike, whether you believe in him or not.
We have to help her.
I'm onto something new here something I didn't expect, I need a few more days.
But I don't think she's entirely without protection in the meantime.
One phrase, "The hound of God.
" Like a musical refrain sounding over and over in our otherwise chronological narrative.
Why? A bit of poetry, a flourish.
I don't know.
Think how your mind works, doctor.
When you can't settle something, you return to it again and again.
- It obsesses you.
- Becomes a neurosis.
Precisely.
And it's repeated neurotically here.
Like the demon chewing on a bone it couldn't swallow.
It can't make peace with it.
- It's a danger to him.
- Yes.
Yes, the demon, the hound, the scorpion endlessly circling one another.
You know Mr.
Lyle won't give up.
If there's any sense to be found in all this, he'll find it.
And the doctor too.
They won't let this thing hurt you.
"This thing.
" We need to call it what it is: The devil.
Sometimes Sometimes I just want to let it take me.
Put an end to it.
And then? Then I would know why.
Why this unending torment.
I can't live forever violated.
When I sleep, when I wake, when I pray, those demons tearing into me.
I begged you to put a bullet through my heart but you thought it kindness to spare me.
It was cruelty.
You will not die while I'm here.
You will not surrender while I live.
If I have one goddamn purpose in my cursed life, it's that.
You are one man.
More than that.
And you know it.
We are not like others.
We have claws for a reason.
Do you ever think what it would be like to be like other people? Normal people? I try not to.
My God, so she's come back.
- The little quim with the witch.
- And who the fuck are you? Got herself a man now, does she? Mind your manners, lad.
Know your betters when they address you.
One word from me and you don't have an arm anymore.
They know how to behave.
You know how you get a dumb animal to behave? You feed it with your own hand.
You don't let anyone else do it.
You give them food or you don't.
You let some of them starve so the others see.
So they know their lives depend entirely on your will.
Learned how to behave yet, little bitch? - That's enough.
- Not hardly, lad.
Maybe I come visit you, eh? Bring a match and start another fire.
Young flesh burns best.
Hey! I swore one day I would see him again and be avenged.
You don't need his soul on your conscience.
- I can live with that guilt.
- No, you can't.
- That's not who you are.
- Of course it is.
Stop looking at me with those eyes and see me for what I am.
And is that what she would want? Your friend? One more step into darkness, for what? Her memory? Justice.
What are you gonna do? Kill him? Sneak up and cut his throat? Is that what you're gonna do? You do that and you won't be able to stop.
So stop now! I'll stop when his soul is burning, like hers was.
Go on, then.
Do what you fucking want.
I hope you can live with it, because I sure as hell can't.
And don't worry.
I see you for exactly what you are.
Don't you want me to have friends? Of course I do.
Do you not like Mr.
Gray? It's not that.
For heaven's sake, Victor, I can't stay cooped up here all the time.
No.
Of course not.
You should go.
I'm sure you'll have an amiable time.
And Mr.
Gray will certainly be a charming dinner companion.
Tell me not to go and I won't.
Don't be silly.
I could use some time to work.
You're an awful distraction.
You won't be late? Don't worry, cousin.
I'll come back with tales for you.
I was surprised to get your invitation.
- I would think you get many.
- No.
I don't go out much.
Your choice or his? My cousin is protective.
I don't think you need much protection.
You are, I believe, more capable than you perhaps appear.
I'm useless, really.
It's all so new to me.
Is it? My heavens, what's that? A waxworks.
Have you never been to one? I've never been anywhere.
Then will you allow me to escort you? - Oh, it's awful.
- It's not real, you know.
Well, I know that, but I can't.
I'm such a goose.
You must think me very silly.
I think you're mysterious.
- Hardly that.
- Oh, yes.
The coolness of your touch your sense of constant discovery.
And your eyes, mostly.
So familiar, but not.
You make me sound much more complicated than I am.
Dear.
What's this one? Burke and Hare, the resurrectionist men.
Caught here in the midnight act of exhuming a body.
Why would they do that? To sell it to a doctor for medical experimentation.
What sort of experimentation? I couldn't say.
I hope I haven't shocked you.
No.
It's good to see new things.
Then I hope you'll allow me to squire you again sometime.
London is nothing if not filled with new adventures.
Yes, I'd like that.
But I should go now.
Victor will be worried.
Of course.
Lily, thank you for this evening.
You're like a breath of fresh air.
It's good to have a new friend.
And so I hope you'll always count me.
No one's ever done that before.
New adventures.
Number 17, Shad Thames.
Could you stop, please? Well, hello.
You were going to kill him.
I didn't get the chance.
But I guess you know that.
Do you feel better now? Now that you're a murderess? I suppose that's what you learned here, isn't it? From your nice old lady friend.
How to kill babies.
How to kill men? You do belong here.
I know what I've done.
Do you? Do you know what it is to walk with someone's body tied around your neck for the rest of your goddamn life? Do you know what that is, little girl? Let me tell you about it.
First time is hard.
I'm sure you cried a bit, didn't you? Don't worry, that'll pass.
Second time is easier.
Third time you don't blink.
Then it's all just repetition.
You don't cry anymore.
You don't even remember when you used to cry.
You're alive and they're dead.
- Fuck them.
- Stop it! You'll never get your soul back.
Not ever.
Do you understand that? Yes.
Welcome to the night, Vanessa.