Penny Dreadful (2014) s02e08 Episode Script

Previously on Penny Dreadful: Your wife took her own life.
That doesn't seem like her.
- It's like he doesn't care.
- When he found his son dead, I was there.
This is not him.
- Maybe he just needs time.
- This is not him.
I banished the old bear to the cave and lured out the cub.
I feel like a new man.
Only Miss Ives matters.
The time comes when the spider must touch the fly.
- Who done it? - Inspector.
Mr.
Chandler, I know you are involved.
- And your proof? - I'll find it.
I always find it.
- I need to leave.
London isn't safe.
- I'll go with you.
Enough.
Whatever power you held over me at the moment of my bestial creation is gone.
I will see her.
She thinks you were her fiancé before the accident that robbed her of her memory.
Let us start by being friends, Mr.
Clare.
I can do no other.
To my dear Angelique and a special welcome to Miss Frankenstein.
Cheers.
- My cousin is protective.
- I don't think you need protection.
You are more capable than you perhaps appear.
You're a very silly boy.
That's what I like about you.
Men should always remain boys at heart filled with childish games with Snakes and Ladders and Blind Man's Bluff.
How sad that boys feel they must grow up.
You'll never grow up now.
Where is she? - What? - Where is Lily? Where is she? She's not here? You let her go out with a man by herself.
What have you done? Stop it! Just stop! Give me a moment.
She Yes, she went out.
She was meant to come home and You made her for me.
She is mine.
She is not yours.
She is not his.
She is mine.
I will take her.
And when we are gone far away from this place to a place for she and me alone I will return Creator.
I will return to you.
One day one night I will show you the monster you have made.
Sir.
You should see this.
Inspector Galsworthy's appointment book from last year.
Note the listing for September 27.
Why would Sir Malcolm Murray of all people visit Scotland Yard? That's what I thought so I did a bit of digging into the records.
Seems I have a call to make.
I gave that up long ago.
It was too embarrassing.
Forever trying to remain fit with rub downs and medicine balls and glandular injections while around me there were more handsome men who had the thrill of genuine youth.
Guardsmen in shining uniforms and stable hands with thick arms.
Yes.
I admit to vanity about my complexion and hair color.
But what harm there, really? Do I render myself foolish? Well, hang a man for that and it'll be a very crowded gallows.
But then there's you.
Quite a different paean to youth we sing there.
- Well, we will sing it, won't we? - Oh, yes.
The sword you dangle over my head would cut deeply.
You don't imagine you care for those people? For Miss Ives and that sorry lot at Grandage Place? - I've long since given up caring for anyone.
- Very sensible.
Your future rests entirely with me, my dear friend.
Whatever you desire, the Master can give you.
You don't need to tempt me.
I'm your creature.
- Where are Miss Ives and Mr.
Chandler? - I don't know.
She wouldn't say.
- When will they return? - I have no idea.
Does Mr.
Chandler love her? Do you? Does she love him? - She's opaque.
- And you've absolutely no idea where they've run off to? - None.
- Are you telling me the truth? - Yes.
I can feel your blood pumping.
The most minute pressure and the artery is open to me.
Your blood would paint this room.
I know you're not lying.
You always bat your eyelashes most coquettishly when you lie.
Oh, well, then.
If Miss Ives has gone to ground I shall have to lure her back.
Kiss me and go.
I'm bored with you.
No.
You taste like a fat little man.
What did she say? Ask her yourself.
I am not so sentimental as my mother.
Where is the future, Mr.
Lyle? With her age or my youth? Whatever she promises you is a lie.
Whatever I promise you is a lie.
But you'll live longer with me.
Now, tell me about Mr.
Chandler.
Come in.
There's a gentleman here for you.
From Scotland Yard.
How do you do, Sir Malcolm? My name is Inspector Bartholomew Rusk Scotland Yard.
Inspector.
To what do I owe the pleasure? You have a martial sense in decoration, Sir Malcolm.
Apparently I do.
Please, take a seat.
- What can I do for you, inspector? - Are you interested in criminology? What? No.
- Not especially.
- No? No.
I didn't mean it as an insinuation of any sort.
Many people are intrigued by the morbid events in our city.
- Why are you here, inspector? - I should like to know why you visited Scotland Yard on September the 27th last year to speak with my predecessor, Inspector Galsworthy.
Oh, yes, that.
Rather whimsical sort of thing, actually.
- What did you talk about? - I barely remember.
I spoke to him an hour ago.
You asked him about the Spitalfields murders.
You were quite insistent that he stop hunting for a man and start hunting for a beast.
Why would you say that? I don't recall.
- The whole thing was a caprice.
- A caprice? - Something like that.
- You don't seem a capricious man.
- Don't I? You have a tripod of rifles at your window.
Yes, well, can't I decorate my own house as I see fit? Any way you like.
- Do you live here alone? - What? No.
I have a ward and my man Sembene.
Other servants? - No.
- In a house this large? We make do.
- You have a front door made of steel.
- There have been robberies in the neighborhood.
- Oh, I'm so sorry.
That door could keep out a beast, wouldn't you say? Inspector Rusk, I'm not to be trifled with.
You filed a missing persons report on June 12th last year.
Your daughter, Mina.
- Yes.
- You visited Scotland Yard seven times in the next six weeks, and then you stopped coming.
Yes.
Might I ask why? - My daughter's deceased.
- I know.
I have the burial records from Margate, dated January the 4th.
But there was no death certificate filed with the magistrate.
It was a private affair.
There are no private burials in this country, sir.
Title or not.
The circumstances of her death were embarrassing to my family.
I used my influence to ensure discretion.
That is illegal.
- She was my daughter.
- Many people have daughters and obey the law.
- Well, I didn't.
You know him.
- No.
- Look closely.
American.
Six-foot-three, I would say.
Means nothing.
Is he a suspect? - You're sure you don't recognize him? - Entirely sure.
- Are you confident in that answer? - Would you like to summon a lawyer and take a deposition? - In time.
Should you come across anything that would aid in our investigation don't hesitate to stop by Scotland Yard.
You know the way.
Good day, Sir Malcolm.
Victor! - Where have you been? - I'm so sorry.
I know you must have been worried.
You'll hardly believe it.
- What happened to my curtains? - Lily, where have you been? First, kiss me good morning like my true friend and calm yourself.
I had a most entertaining evening with Mr.
Gray.
We went to a waxworks.
Have you ever been to one of those? - Yes.
- Well, after that I just felt like taking a walk, and I completely lost track of time.
Finally, I got so tired that I sat on a bench in Hyde Park to rest my feet and next thing I knew it was morning.
I could have been murdered in my sleep.
Did you get me flowers? Victor, you are such a good friend.
They're not from me.
From Mr.
Gray, I take it? What a strange sort of man he is.
Isn't he though? He's awfully charming.
But I think a little too sophisticated for me.
Lily.
We should think about getting away.
Away where? I don't know.
Leave London.
- Take a bit of a holiday.
- Nonsense.
I'm just getting used to the place, and you have so much more to teach me.
I'm safe here with you.
This is our home.
Now if I know my boy, he hasn't thought about breakfast.
I'll make your favorite poached eggs.
You are so good.
Wait.
Don't bother about breakfast.
I'm going out.
All right.
Can you bring back some butter and eggs? We're running low.
Yes.
It was the veins in my arms that told me.
When they collapse, you have to find fresh ones.
I'm running short.
So I'm addicted which is no great terror to me.
But the cause Pain.
I don't have the proper tools to perform this operation.
I don't know what I'm doing honestly.
We're all neophytes in love, Victor.
None of us have the tools, or the weapons, or the resources.
Prepared as we think we are, we're defeated.
I have surmounted in my life.
It's been my inexorable pattern of behavior.
No mystery too deep.
No puzzle too complex.
They've fallen before me.
I don't know what wisdom I can offer.
We're in the same unknown jungle, my friend.
We have to thrash our way out alone.
Isn't that what love is? And if we're in danger of losing that love, and that creates greater panic still, what do we do then? We suffer in our own ways.
But we're all unequal to the task.
We are enchanted.
In all my life I've been a man who sought singular achievement and fed on rage and dissatisfaction.
My character was one of monomaniacal anger.
My blood thrilled to the lash.
I was cruel to my wife, and to my children and grew more famous in the process.
More myself.
And now? I've become alienated from the cruel man who used to look back at me in the mirror.
What is this face, doctor? Is it the one you knew, and properly feared? I've seen you grow content.
You've seen me grow into a happy man.
But look deeper.
That's not who I am.
This thing divorces us from our wits and our dignity.
Our purest instincts are undone.
We become strangers to ourselves.
But it can't go on forever.
Finally, we must look in the mirror.
On the day of my wife's funeral I was dancing at a ball.
Who is that man, doctor? So, it seems our narrative is complete.
What we speak of now, we whisper.
It cannot leave this room.
Very well.
I shall conclude the tale, with emendations to follow.
This is what you've heard so far.
In the great war for the Heavenly Throne, we were vanquished so God looked down on his defeated angels and found us to be evil angels, so he cast us out.
He took us by our winged backs and raised us over his head.
Thence did he fling us from his Heavenly Throne and cast us down to earth and to hell.
So we were And now the rest of the tale.
So we were cleaved apart two brothers cast down to two realms.
One brother to earth and the other brother to hell.
And thus were we set in eternal enmity.
My brother on earth to feed on the blood of the living by night.
And myself in hell to feed on the souls of the dead.
Both in an eternal quest for the Mother of Evil who will release us from our bondage and allow one of us to reconquer heaven and topple God from his bloody throne.
And so will the Darkness reign, on earth, in heaven everlasting.
And so comes the apocalypse.
Two brothers? Apparently Lucifer isn't an only child.
Like many brothers, they don't get along.
One brother cast to earth.
Is that the vampire master that captured Mina? And all those he creates in his image.
He tried to lure Vanessa through Mina.
- While the other brother - Lucifer, banished to hell? Tried to possess her soul and failed.
So, now he makes use of the witches to do his bidding.
Why her? Why Miss Vanessa? There are old prophesies from prehistory that tell of such chosen ministers of evil.
Amunet from the Egyptians.
Lilith from the Talmud.
The Nordic Hella.
The Celtic Macha.
Mara from the Hindus.
All variations of deities or demigods who were destined to unleash annihilation on the world.
And all women.
Something thought unholy in the erotic power they held over men.
And to face this titanic threat to Miss Ives, we four and Mr.
Chandler.
And perhaps another.
The mystery guest at the party.
Only referred to here obliquely as the Hound of God.
Hound of God? Yes, or something very like.
I think this figure is a threat to the Demon's plan.
- Now the specific taxonomy is - No.
In the Arabic, it's not hound.
It's wolf.
You children.
Meet your Master.
Malcolm! No! Know who you are! Remember? Remember.
Mina.
Father! Hello, Father.
Peter.
You're looking very smart.
I try my best.
Are you going to favor us with a dance? - I just might.
- Come on, Mina.
Let's show the old man how it's done.
Good night, husband.
What happy days we have known.
What's happened? He released himself from the enchantment.
You lost your power over him? Perhaps you're not as desirable as you thought, Mother.
Should I try? - You think you have that skill? - We have to do something.
Such a baby.
We need do nothing.
A man's character is always his destiny.
And now Sir Malcolm is himself again he is full of anger and will strike back.
And so he will come in all his manly rage.
And then? - You shall see.
- Tell me now.
Careful, child.
You grow impertinent.
You grow old.
Never forget who commands.
And so my chivalrous knight will come.
Dinner with Miss Frankenstein again? You don't mind terribly? Would it matter if I did? Sir Malcolm? Sir Malcolm has gone.
We need to find Miss Ives and Mr.
Chandler.
So You've discovered my secret? Forever unchanging.
My sins made manifest only here.
At times I've deceived myself into thinking I'm other than this.
Don't we all want to paint ourselves into something better than we are? But that is who I truly am, Angelique.
Can you accept me as I am? Can you love me? Yes.
I don't think you can.
Mr.
Clare, you startled me.
I don't think it's entirely proper that you should be here without Victor.
Perhaps you should come back another time.
Why are you so quiet? You're never usually at a loss for words.
Aren't there some verses you could recite? Stop pretending you're frightened.
Please leave.
Who are you? What What do you mean? Who are you? Honestly, I think you're more able to answer that question than I.
My past is unknown to me as well you know.
Is it? What are you talking about? Did you enjoy your evening? What? With that young man.
Were you spying on me? Did you enjoy your evening? Yes, I did.
Now, please leave.
This behavior is really insupportable.
- When Victor hears of this - There is no Victor! There is no young man.
There is thee and me.
All right.
Very well.
What in God's name do you want of me? What I want, I cannot have.
- You're incapable of it.
- Yes, I know.
You want to walk in the village and hold my hand.
And when people are cruel, you want me to love you even more.
Do I hurt you? You pathetic creature.
How can you imagine that I could care for you? Does that face belong alongside this? Doesn't the world smile on us? Don't we make a beautiful couple, thee and me? Shall we wander the pastures and recite your fucking poetry to the fucking cows? You are blind like all other men.
And you are unlike all other women.
No! You tell me how.
We flatter our men with our pain.
We bow before them.
We make ourselves dolls for their amusement.
We lose our dignity in corsets and high shoes and gossip and the slavery of marriage! And our reward for this service? The back of the hand the face turned to the pillow the bloody, aching cunt as you force us onto your beds to take your fat, heaving bodies! You drag us into the alleys, my lad and cram yourselves into our mouths for two bob when you're not beating us senseless! When we're not bloody from the eyes, and the mouth, and the ass and the cunt! Never again will I kneel to any man.
Now they shall kneel to me.
As you do, monster.
My monster.
My beautiful corpse.
How clever he's been, our Creator.
But our little God has brought forth not angels but demons.
Thee and me.
And what should we do with this power, undead thing? You're a thoughtful man, a philosopher even.
So, tell me.
Why do we exist? Why have we been chosen? Tell me.
I don't know.
Is it to suffer? Yes.
Must it be? How can it be other? We long for that we cannot have.
Women? I'll bring you a dozen.
We'll fuck them together.
Me? Then you shall have me.
I want you.
I want a man unlike all other men.
My brother my equal.
I'll take you by this beautiful, white, dead hand and lead you to my bed right now.
I'll bleed for you.
I'll love you for your sadness and your poetry and your passion and your rage and your infinite, luxurious ugliness.
I'll lick your sins away.
And when Victor comes home we'll put our hands around his throat together and watch him die.
And then this will be our home.
And then? What then, undead thing? We were created to rule, my love.
And the blood of mankind will water our Garden.
Us and our kin and our children, and our generations.
We are the conquerors.
We are the pure blood.
We are steel and sinew both.
We are the next thousand years.
We are the dead.
No being whoever was or ever will be, shall love you like I do.
Memory.
It is such a potent force in our lives.
All of these memento mori for one sobering message.
"Remember that you will die.
" - What do you want of me? - You see, darling.
I understand hunting as well though I've never been to your beloved Africa.
Sometimes you tie a lamb to lure a lion, don't you? So, all I require of you is that you - Why Miss Ives? - Because the Master desires her.
It's not personal.
It's goods and services.
I supply him with what he wants, he supplies me with what I want.
It's tit for tat, Sir M.
And what does he give you? No, Malcolm.
Us.
Eternal life, eternal beauty.
Such shallow pursuits.
What value do they hold if we walk always alone? I've been too much alone and this house is so cold.
But with you, I've found a kind of elation.
To feel the old touch of passion.
To yearn.
To be truly human.
My humanity, such as it is, is colder than this house.
No.
No arrogance or pride.
This is your chance to live, Malcolm.
Let's bury the past together.
Your wife, your son, your daughter.
And all my sins as well which surely match your own, far exceed them.
I don't want to live alone.
Nor do you.
Take my hand and love me.
We have no one else.
And together we will walk quietly.
So quietly.
If I could, I would tear that beautiful head from your shoulders and laugh all the while.
But if you will let Miss Ives live I will walk with you to the end of time.
She means so much? She means all.
That's one thing I cannot do.
The Master will have her.
Then when I have played this game out, my dear the lamb will kill the lion.
I suppose I shouldn't be surprised with your tiresome obsession with Miss Ives.
You're so very close after all.
You knew her when she was born didn't you? - Yes.
You saw her grow into the fine young woman she is? Yes.
You watched her rather carefully, I'd say.
Did I? Of course, you did.
She was always your favorite.
It's good we care for our daughters.
Mind her.
She stings.
I'll leave you two to catch up.
One other thing.
Our theme for tonight, yes? I'll leave you with a few memories.
Mind them.
They sting too.
Oh, Peter.
Peter.