Previously on Penny Dreadful...
You let her go out with a man!
- What have you done? - Stop it!
Did you enjoy your evening?
Never again... will I kneel to any man.
Now they shall kneel to me.
Is it a blessing, the purpose of which we cannot yet see?
I know you, my friend, Ethan Chandler.
What can I do for you, Inspector?
You know him. American. 6'3", I would say.
It means nothing.
You're sure you don't recognize him?
Entirely sure.
I'm expanding down here in the cellar
- for a new attraction. - More crime scenes?
Something much more ingenious.
Hello, old pal.
I'm not going back to America.
You are.
I see you outside of this house...
and I'll kill ya.
While I'm gone, do be mindful of Sir Malcolm.
And if he needs me, don't hesitate.
He released himself from the enchantment.
You lost your power over him?
Perhaps you're not as desirable
as you thought, Mother.
- You grow impertinent. - You grow old.
Now Sir Malcolm is himself again
and so he will come.
Sir Malcolm has gone.
We need to find Miss Ives and Mr. Chandler.
If you will let Miss Ives live,
I will walk with you to the end of time.
It's the one thing I cannot do.
The Master will have her.
I leave you with a few memories.
Mind them. They sting too.
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Easy, boy.
I have taken the sensible precaution
of tossing your firearms outside.
Through the same little window wherein I gained entrance.
There are times one's diminutive size
bears strange fruit.
Miss Ives!
- Come down here. - Leave her out of this.
Oh, pshaw.
Mmm. That's it, honey.
Come join the merriment.
How'd you find us?
Not too hard tracking down a six-foot American
traveling with a raven-haired beauty such as this.
Took me some time, but, well,
you know my persistence, old friend.
Did you think you could hide from me?
Let her go.
You are a repellent creature.
You don't know the half of it.
Hope you don't mind.
Gets awful uncomfortable.
This is what your boyfriend did, honey.
When he was in one of his more obstreperous moods.
Put these on him.
No...
behind his back.
Now we have a curious dilemma, do we not?
Mr. Chandler shall be returning
to his home country with me.
But what shall we do with Miss Ives?
What shall we do with all that pretty hair?
You lay a finger on her and I'll...
You'll do what?
The only real question is...
do I scalp her before or after I fuck her?
Oh, God!
Sync and corrections by explosiveskull www.addic7ed.com
So now we are homicides together.
It was him or us.
And that excuses everything?
I don't know.
You did that to his face?
Yes.
What are you?
Come on.
You must come.
Sir Malcolm's in trouble.
It was a kind of enchantment or bedevilment.
It shattered him rather, breaking free of it.
And then he disappeared.
Was he taken?
Mr. Lyle doesn't think so.
And where has he gone?
Into the Witch's castle.
Did you imagine it?
When you came across my emaciated corpse,
crawling with the creatures of the earth,
flesh eaten hollow.
Did you imagine my slow death?
Feeling the bugs crawling over my face?
Oh, Peter,
my outrage takes pride of place.
Our father left you to die from neglect
and his lust for glory...
but with me, he actually
looked into my eyes and pulled the trigger.
With my arms outstretched, defenseless before you.
Not many men can claim
to have killed all their children.
You're not real.
You are not here!
We're here as long as you are.
Do you think you can forget us?
I have faced down graver threats
than those conjured from my memory!
Oh, well said, Malcolm.
How like you.
Kiss me, darling.
Like you did in the old days.
No!
Mother, you look tired.
It's a temporary situation, I assure you.
Mmm.
She's on her way.
I can feel her.
And then...
all will be well.
And you're confident
you can deliver her to the Master?
What are you about, Hecate?
Enjoying your terror, if I'm honest.
What if you fail?
What if Miss Ives should prove stronger than you think?
What would the Master do to you then?
Caution, daughter.
Children should walk before they run.
And mothers should know when their children
are ready to run.
You believe you are?
I believe what you have taught me.
That youth is paramount,
that the sinuous agility of the young mind and body
will always triumph over the ravages of age,
the slowness of decrepitude.
I believe the dinosaurs should know
when the mammal is hunting.
If I were of another constitution,
I would fear you.
You know I obey you in all things, Mother.
For how long?
How long did the dinosaurs last
before the mammals discovered their claws...
darling?
- Where are you going? - I've a social call to make.
Don't worry, I'll be back for the festivities.
What's going on?
There've been policemen about.
I don't know why.
Comforting to have them here though.
Mr. Chandler.
Inspector.
- Might I have a word? - Shall we walk?
Well, mightn't we be more comfortable inside?
No.
Ma'am. Sir.
My name is Inspector Bartholomew Rusk.
And you are?
This way.
Why all the police?
Sir Malcolm reports
there has been thievery in the neighborhood,
although our records don't support the claim.
But Westminster must be protected.
You don't give up.
That I do not.
So, this is where you live?
Is it?
Disguise it as you might try,
Sir Malcolm recognized your picture.
Perhaps he's just a fan from my theatrical days.
Do you know the medical neurosis called
the phantom limb?
It's not uncommon when people lose
an arm or a leg or such.
When I lost my arm,
I was constantly reaching for things with it.
It seemed so real...
but it wasn't.
More and more, I think this is all some...
sort of phantom limb.
Something is going on here
which is not an actual arm or leg.
Something not quite real...
but completely true.
You mean otherworldly?
That's precisely what I mean.
I couldn't codify it in a report log,
nor could I capture it in a crime scene photograph.
This place, those people
and you...
are a phantom limb.
Are you a superstitious man?
Not by nature.
But I'm learning to be.
And the things I have seen over the years, Mr. Chandler,
have made me a bit mad, I think.
Set a thief to catch a thief.
And set a monster to catch a monster?
Very like.
My less monstrous colleagues
will be on duty night and day, you can be assured.
You will not take one step from this house
when you will not be observed.
Your peace of mind, such as it is,
will cease to exist
and a length of hemp will seem a cheap price
to be free of the burden.
I'm sure you're right.
Now if you'll excuse me?
Of course.
Good evening, Inspector.
Good evening, Mr. Talbot.
Yes. I have penetrated your fanciful stage name.
Ethan Lawrence Talbot.
Born the year of our Lord 1857 in the New Mexico Territory,
enlisted in the United States Cavalry
March the 2nd, 1882.
Your complete War Department dossier
is currently being ferreted out
from thick ledgers
in various departmental agencies in Washington.
When it arrives, I'm sure it'll make
fascinating reading.
Really...
you would do well to make a clean breast of it.
The quarry has been run to his hole.
He has lost his anonymity and his freedom of movement.
He should know when he is captured.
Cornered animals are the most dangerous.
But they are cornered, nonetheless.
Not until there's evidence
that will stand up in court of law.
True enough.
But I'm about it, you can be sure.
Enjoy your evening, Ethan.
I stand at the ready to be of assistance
and liberate you from your burdens,
one way or another.
The moon is full tonight.
I know.
You'll help me again?
Good evening, Mr. Chandler.
Mr. Lyle.
Mr. Lyle was explaining his treachery to us.
I don't for a moment deny my...
complicity with that evil woman
but you must believe me when I say that's done
and I am willing to suffer the consequences
of my disloyalty to her...
which are ruinous.
And now we're to trust you?
I hope I've demonstrated my allegiance
to the people in this room.
My shame is my own to live with, and I shall.
No one here is above guilt, Mr. Lyle.
We need every ally for the night ahead.
What do you mean?
Sir Malcolm needs our help. We will go to him.
No.
- Ethan, we have to help. - No.
We can't go tonight.
- Or any night. - He's right.
Their power is multiplied many times over by night.
And, in any event, Miss Ives,
you cannot go inside that house.
Sir Malcolm needs me!
There will be no discussion on the point!
That's exactly what she wants!
I will not let him suffer alone.
Vanessa, listen.
I understand you want to help Sir Malcolm, and we will,
but you know what those things are capable of.
And you, Mr. Chandler,
know exactly what I'm capable of.
This is my work now,
for it is not a battle of firearms,
it is a battle of faith.
And yours is not strong enough.
There's no goddamn way you're walking in there alone
and certainly not at night.
Mr. Chandler is right.
We go tomorrow.
In the day. All of us.
We save that man.
We kill that woman and all her like.
It will be unholy slaughter.
Fresh flowers, fresh flowers,
fresh flowers!
Look over there.
My dear Mr. Clare!
You seem inordinately contemplative.
I suppose I am.
Well, at least the citizenry's enjoying my beasties now,
although they prefer my crimes, God love them.
Congratulations.
You seem to have a success.
Which only emboldens me for greater ballyhoos to come!
Do you have an especial favorite?
What?
They're all too ugly.
Isn't that rather the point?
It's not real.
True evil is...
above all things, seductive.
When the Devil knocks at your door,
he doesn't have... cloven hooves.
He is beautiful
and offers you your heart's desire
in whispered airs.
Like a Siren,
beckoning you to her ruinous shore.
And what do you do,
when that Siren sings?
You save your soul...
or you give it to her.
- But then you're damned. - But you're not alone.
Interestingly, I thought about putting Pandora
and her wicked box in the exhibit.
But in the end I didn't.
I mean, how could you show what the box contained?
I could tell you.
A mirror.
Nothing but a mirror.
What things you must do here.
So much empty space
to fill up with your... adventures.
But you like adventures.
Who doesn't?
You're a very interesting man, Dorian.
You can't be as pure as your face suggests.
And are you?
As for the room, I find diversions to fill it.
I've held balls, as you know.
And the occasional gathering of like-minded friends.
Photography sessions.
What do you photograph?
All manner of life.
I've even held Theosophical Society meetings here.
What's that?
A sort of religion,
seeking a personal connection to the divine truths,
to that hidden knowledge.
You must like hidden things, for you hide things very well.
As do you.
I don't know what you mean.
Don't you, Brona?
Or is it Lily now?
Or is it some divine admixture of both?
This room is made for secrets.
Then tell me yours.
In time.
Tell me now.
Now, boy.
Kneel.
Kneel, boy.
Tell me your secrets
and I'll tell you mine.
I've been staying here
and thought it best that we sort all this out.
You mean you haven't seen your cousin?
You don't approve?
I know the attraction of narcotics on occasion but...
Yes, yes, "But."
Of course.
Scientifically speaking,
life's nothing but a series of chemical reactions.
So, to accelerate or decelerate that process
is of no great matter.
It gives us that illusion of power
in a life with little,
does it not?
And, yes,
it becomes an addiction,
this...
seeking transcendence.
Much like your addiction to God.
I'm sorry she hurt you.
I'm sorry you feel so unloved.
You are a beautiful monster.
And there are those who could love you...
and shall.
Life awaits you.
- The cellar again? - Yes.
You should tell Miss Ives.
I think she knows, in her way.
Not everything, but...
enough.
You should tell her all.
Why?
She will take your pain and make it hers.
That is what she does.
Don't you think she has enough to worry about?
She is without limits.
And your limits?
I have been much feared and hated in my life.
By my people, by yours.
These marks mean I was a slave trader.
This is my sin to live with.
But in this house
I have found kindness among the unkind.
So have you.
I've not had many friends in my time...
but I'm proud...
to count you among them.
Get some rest, Ethan Chandler...
for tomorrow we see none.
There, there, Ethan,
calm yourself.
You're in no danger from me.
How did you get in?
Oh, your ingenious charms and spells and such?
I'm sure those little totems are very comforting to you,
but they've no real power
to those who don't believe in them.
What do you want?
I think the more appertain question is
what do you want, Mr. Chandler?
Such a grim little room, really.
Do your ambitions not exceed this?
I have no ambition.
Everyone has ambition.
And yours?
To join your great enterprise.
I don't mean Miss Ives
and the rest of this woebegone bunch...
I mean yours.
The Wolf of God.
You have been chosen.
You are unlike all others
and you have a profound destiny.
Will you seize it?
And what's that destiny?
To strike with impunity.
To feed at will.
To serve not the emaciated Galilean God
but to stand alongside the great winged Lucifer
as he reconquers heaven's bloody throne.
Will you crawl with the insects,
or will you rise over them?
Say I put a bullet in you?
Do it.
That won't change what's going to happen.
- Will it kill you? - Oh, yes.
Doesn't take a silver bullet to kill us.
But pull the trigger
and you deny yourself the one person
who could be your greatest ally
in the future that awaits you.
You have been given a great power.
One day you will use it
and take your foretold place over these mortal animals.
You know in your heart I'm speaking the truth.
Admit it.
Yes.
You are what you are.
And when you're ready,
I will serve you best of all.
Do you know what he's doing?
No, Miss.
I'm so curious.
For months now those workers have been
coming and going over there.
Pounding away with hammers.
Another attraction, I'm sure.
Father and his ballyhoos.
As if those hideous crime scenes
weren't bad enough.
But he hasn't asked me to work on any new figures.
That's odd, don't you think?
I couldn't say, Miss. Good night, Miss Lavinia.
- See you tomorrow. - Mr. Clare...
I have a wicked sort of idea.
Let's go explore what Father's been building.
I shouldn't tether you to my intrigues,
but I'm so damnably curious.
I can't very well go adventuring on my own.
Shall you be my gun-bearer and guide?
- Uh... I really don't think... - Oh, please.
There's some things I can't do by myself,
as much as that galls me.
And you are my true friend.
Please.
No one will know.
I promise.
Uh, this way then.
But let's be quick.
Tell me what you see.
A cell...
with a heavy iron door.
I don't understand.
Is it for animals?
I believe so. There's a row of them.
Watch your step there.
My God. He's not opening a zoo now.
I'm afraid so.
Are they empty? Tell me what you see.
No, there's something in one of them. A book.
What book?
Stay here.
I'll tell you. It's a book of poetry.
You should enjoy that.
How old are you?
Ancient.
- Can you die? - Find out.
When we could do so much together?
No.
This sad little world is ours.
Now... let me see your power.
Go heal yourself...
my beloved immortal.
She's gone.
Oh, for fuck's sake. Get the others.
Ethan, you can't go tonight.
Get the others.
She should have known better.
That doesn't matter now. We have to help her.
You have no idea what hell you are stepping into.
She's there now. That's all that matters.
Surely you jest.
Mmm.
Come on, we have to go out the back.
We don't want to be followed.
There's a way out through the cellar.
You should not go.
You know what is going to happen.
Let it.
It was ever so suspenseful.
Would you question all the new construction?
Would you creep in and take a look?
But I told my parents you're a man of honor.
You were mistaken.
Then why are you in that cell, Mr. Clare?
In truth, I'm rather glad it was I
who got to entrap you so artfully.
God, all those tedious discussions we had.
Not everyone shares your mania for poetry.
Hello, Mr. Clare.
- Why am I here? - It's your new home.
Albeit a bit on the wee side...
but you'll soon have compatriots
to ease the boredom.
It's where he belongs.
Animals are right in cages.
There, there, Mrs. Putney.
Have you puzzled it out?
You're to put me on display.
Not just you, pet.
What can the carnival escapologist or fortune teller
compare to living, breathing freaks?
You can't keep me here.
But of course we can. That's the point, Sonny Jim.
Scream your lungs out if you like. No one will hear.
And even if they could, who would care?
You know Londoners.
What care they for the suffering of
malformed brutes?
They will look and they will point...
and they will pay.
I've tasted success, sir...
and it's a meal I now wish to devour.
Welcome to my home, Miss Ives.
Where is he?
Cowering in a corner,
a silk thread away from madness by now,
- I should think. - Let him go.
I shall in time.
He's lost his power to entertain me.
When men become mad, they quite lose their dignity.
And without that, well...
what are they
but throbbing vermin made to procreate and expire?
Come this way.
My sister was always a bit of an embarrassment to me.
Very headstrong, wasn't she?
She could have had the world and all its riches,
instead, she chose that grotesque little hovel
and her abortionist knives.
Did you enjoy watching her burn?
Not near as much as I enjoyed watching you branded.
Still stings, doesn't it?
That flesh is dead.
We'll see.
Miss Ives, what a distinct pleasure.
Welcome to my home.
Not quite yet, dear girl.
Now prepare the others. They'll be here soon.
Who?
Your friends, of course.
We'll be ready.
And I've a singular welcome in mind for Mr. Chandler
who I saw earlier this evening, by the way.
I kissed his lips.
I still taste him.
This way, Miss Ives.
I need to see Sir Malcolm immediately.
There's someone else you need to see first.
So, I'm to meet your Master?
Oh, my darling...
he's your Master as well.
You and Mr. Lyle take the front.
We'll find another way in.
And then what do we do?
Kill everyone you don't recognize.
- All right then. - Wait. If you would.
Far be it from me.
Don't let me hurt our friends. Promise me.
On your life.
Yes.
My God.
No!
Lyle!
Sir Malcolm...
It's Doctor Frankenstein.
Father.
Your children have returned.
- I can't stop it! - I know.
No!
You must!
I beg you!
I will not.
I am just a man.
You have been chosen by God.
My friend, Ethan Chandler.
- And these are your works? - Mmm.
From over the years.
They facilitate my singular occupation.
Handsome bits of the craft, aren't they?
Murderer.
Please!
Sync and corrections by explosiveskull www.addic7ed.com
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