Salem (2014–2017): Season 2, Episode 4 - Book of Shadows - full transcript

Previously on "Salem"...

Witches! Kill them all!

Father...

... your baby's home.

I would do anything for you.

You'll be the means of my vengeance.

Hathorne wonders if you really
came to town to cure the plague.

I seek the seat of the soul.

And where is it?

I believe it's right about here.

I'll try and be gentle.



Don't bother.

The last of the true witches.

I know nothing of the witches.

I didn't even know I was one.

We will meet again, little owl.

I sense them, your tools of power.

A witch dagger to kill,

a moon stone to see,

and a medicine bag to be unseen.

Be careful with that one.

The role of magistrate cannot
fall to an un-sympathetic foe.

It must be a witch.

Corwin is nowhere to be found.

Whoever is out there,
they are targeting us.



In my own home. My own bathtub.

How is it possible?

Someone wants to kill you.

First Corwin, now you.

No.

No, I was helpless in its horrid grip,

like a mouse would be in mine.

No, if it wanted me dead, I would be dead.

What, then?

A warning?

Who in the hive has the
power to challenge me?

No one.

Whether you know it or not,
I have never done anything

that was not in your best true interests.

Yet your anger and mistrust

prevents you from heeding my warnings.

Oh, warnings.

I told you long ago to eliminate mercy.

But you let her live long enough

to do us real and permanent damage.

Now, I tell you again.

Do not ignore the very real
danger that Anne Hale poses.

I have no fear of her.

By the time you do, it will be too late.

She has returned from Boston.

And her power comes on fast...
faster even than yours did.

It is wiser to drown her
now while still a kitten.

Do not wait to face the
full force of her claws.

We can do nothing until

we know who it is who seeks to attack us.

I will deal with Anne Hale.

Go to Petrus.

His many eyes must have seen something.

Bring out your dead!

Bring out your dead!

Excuse me!

I have one in here, but I'm too
weak to lift him. Please help.

All right.

Back away from the door.

Selectman Corwin?

Bring out your dead!

Bring out your dead!

... Very heart of our Puritan America...

to judge our own cases.

The Reverend Cotton Mather returneth.

Like a dog to its vomit.

Appalling.

How can you keep prisoners
in such conditions?

Well, perhaps you'd care to donate

some of your father's estate
to help pay for the cost

of building larger and
more sanitary holding cells

for accused witches.

What are you doing here anyway?

I'd heard you'd been admonished

not to interfere any
further with Salem's affairs.

Salem's affairs are every man's affairs.

But in fact, I come as a family friend

to offer solace and
spiritual advice to Anne Hale.

Well, truly, sir, if you had
any concern for her well-being,

surely the kindest thing you could do

would be to stay miles away from her.

I'm sure her father would...

Her father would be appalled

at how you fill his shoes as magistrate.

I am magistrate now,

and I will deal with
prisoners as I see fit.

Really, Mather.

You're not needed here.

Salem is almost as sick of witch
hunters as it is of witches.

How dare you summon me
like an errant child?

Such a big menace for just a small girl.

I am neither menace nor a girl.

No?

There was an incident last night

outside one of the checkpoints into Salem.

One man killed, another
man frightened witless.

I intended none of that. It just happened.

You are like a keg of
gunpowder ready to explode.

I'm afraid I've made my decision.

I simply cannot allow you to
live on like this in Salem.

No. You let me out. You cannot...

I can.

Child, I could kill you 100 ways.

I will not lie.

Others have urged me to do just that.

And I am fully prepared
to cut your candle short.

What do you want?

Merely to help you be you.

I know you find it hard to believe,

but I hold no malice against you.

And yet you would kill me 100 ways.

As I would a savage untrained dog.

But first, I might try to train it.

And if that dog would accept the muzzle,

then I might find that it
no longer posed a threat

to every innocent that passed by,

may even become a... trusted companion.

Death or submission.

Or alliance.

How do I begin?

There is no magic without...

arousal.

Just relax. Close your eyes.

Shh.

Now imagine someone.

A man, perhaps.

You may know him.

His breath in your ear.

His hands on you.

His lips on your neck.

Come. I have something for you.

Your book of shadows.

Some books are made to be
read, others to be written.

Every one of us must keep one...

a private grimoire of all
our thoughts and dreams,

our magic and experiments, all our deeds,

dark and light.

If it be worked properly, no
one but she who inscribes it

will be able to read what it contains,

at least not while the author still lives.

And after they are gone?

After the death of a witch,

the book finds its way to the Samhain.

This ensures the survival
of the discovery of witches

so that the old ways are not lost.

Some of these go back hundreds of years

to some of the earliest Essex witches.

In fact...

I have your father's book.

That's how I knew he was dead.

The book appeared that morning.

Now go home and inscribe your book.

You may write with ink,

but first you must sign it with blood.

- What?
- Yes.

The deep magic, the
strong and permanent kind,

always requires a little blood.

Your blood signature guards
it from all eyes but yours.

- Ow.
- See? It's that easy.

Do that at home, and with it write,

"Anne Hale," and "this
is my book of shadows."

When you do, your familiar will come.

My familiar?

You'll know it when you see it.

I will come for you
tonight at the witching hour

and we shall complete your initiation.

May I ask what you are doing?

If you're capable of
understanding the answer, yes.

If not, I would advise watching in silence.

I read at Harvard, sir.

Theology, no doubt.

What an extraordinarily
useless and twisted branch

of the tree of knowledge.

Please forgive me.

I can't seem to open my mouth
today without insulting someone.

Blame this infernal pox.

It's got my mind twisted in frustration.

Wainwright.

Just the man I was hoping to meet...

the new doctor.

I've come from Boston

precisely with the pox
weighing heavily on my mind.

I intend to help stop
it if it's not too late.

And you are... ?

- Cotton Mather.
- Oh.

You sent correspondence
to the Royal Society.

Why, yes. Are you a member?

An associate, and I distinctly recall

one of your missives read
aloud at our last meeting.

You sent a sketch of a... um,
a... a misshapen stillborn fetus.

Apparently a grand sign of
the devil's immanent arrival.

Yes, it was truly remarkable. It...

It caused no small mirth.

I seem to remember Sir Isaac...

Isaac? Sir Isaac Newton? He was there?

There? He popped several buttons

on his waistcoat he laughed so hard.

You did intend it to be funny, didn't you?

I was there, sir. You were not.

Well... Take a look at this.

What is it?

A heretofore unidentified bile

taken from the poor souls of
Salem afflicted by this pox.

And I've never seen a pox like this.

But you've never seen a witch pox.

No one has as there is no
such creature as a witch,

let alone a disease caused by one.

Well, perhaps when all rational
explanation is exhausted,

only the impossible remains.

You're all right, Mather,
for a damn Harvard man.

By a stroke of luck,

I believe I have located the
original carrier of the pox.

The very first afflicted?

I believe so.

His name is Isaac... Isaac the Fornicator.

He was branded by the benighted
bigots of this little town.

Isaac?

I know him well. Thank
Christ he still lives.

Better thank me. I'm the one who found him.

Where is Isaac?

Where's my patient?!

Young lady, where is he?

Poor Isaac was sleeping
last night when I left.

The boy could barely move.
He didn't just wander off.

It's crucial we find this man.

I don't know what happened.

Mm.

He may have been snatched or
at least not in his right mind.

When I found the boy, he was in possession

of more gold than he could have
earned in a dozen lifetimes.

And yet he left it here.

The Malum.

Well, that, too, I found near Isaac.

What, you recognize this curiosity, Mather?

Yes.

It's a legendary magical
object used by witches

to complete their grand rite
and loose death upon the world.

You say Isaac was very...

very possibly the first
to be afflicted by the pox.

He had upon him a bag of gold

and this... the very weapon of the witches.

Could Isaac have been hired by
witches to start this plague?

I can't begin to discern the
sense from the nonsense you talk,

and I do regret losing
Isaac, but fortunately,

I drew enough blood from him

to continue my work with inoculation.

That way lies the cure.

Wh... where am I?

Mercy?

Oh, uh, Lord, I'm sor...

Don't look at me!

Be not sorry. I'm not.

And now you, her Isaac,
shall be my Isaac...

my offering in turn to that
goddess of bitches, Mary Sibley.

Isaac's disappearance has raised an alarm.

They're searching for him even now.

Cotton Mather seeks him.

Well, then, Dollie, my doll,

you had best make sure
they do not find him.

Why do you hate Mary Sibley so?

What has she ever done to you?

Oh, dear Isaac.

You have no idea, do you?

She, not I, is the real monster.

I'm sorry.

Get that stinking pile out of here.

Hey!

Please, sir. Please.

Don't think me ungrateful, Reverend Mather,

but how come you to be here?

You saved my life,

but I begged you to never
return to Salem again.

It is far too dangerous.

I did fear I made a mistake returning here

to the scene of all my crimes.

But now I know this is
where I am meant to be.

And that is?

The Malum, the cause of the plague

that decimates Salem even now.

And proof I was right.

If only my father had listened to me.

If he believed me, we might
have stopped the grand rite

and he might yet live.

And this... thing shows
you your purpose here how?

It reminds me that I am here
to undo all my father's errors.

He was wrong about everything...

wrong about the Malum being
a figment of my imagination,

wrong about you being a witch...

and wrong about John Alden.

They think John Alden killed my father.

Perhaps it's for the best.

They can never know the truth,

and John is beyond their reach now.

Beyond the sea?

Beyond all seas.

Gone.

Dead?

I am sorry for that.

I entertained a hope

that someday I might
tell him how sorry I was.

Now he'll never know.

We all have such thoughts.

Can I tell you something I've
never spoken out loud before?

He was the only man I ever loved.

And the saddest part is
he died not knowing it.

Ah, Mrs. Sibley, not a
sight for delicate eyes.

My eyes are many things, magistrate,

but delicate is not one of them.

He bled to death,

but not, I suspect, before
enjoying some torture.

His tongue, it seems, was
cut out and a message left.

"Liars?"

What does that mean?

I'll tell you what it means, Mr. Hathorne.

You have won your place in
history, that's for sure.

Madame, I...

The worst jail break in
the history of this colony.

In broad daylight, a
selectman brutally murdered,

his abused corpse left as a calling card,

all on your very first day at the job.

The man responsible will be found.

Sadly, the man responsible
stands before me.

And we might wonder upon
the strange coincidence

that the very man whose absence

led to your appointment as
magistrate hangs dead before us.

You can't possibly suggest that I...

I suggest nothing,

but that you are a spectacular
failure as guardian of the law

and not fit to lead a beggars' parade,

let alone Salem.

- Petrus is dead.
- What?!

Murdered. It appears our
witch killer has struck again.

- His eyes?
- Gone.

No matter.

They have attacked me in my own
home, murdered one of our own,

but they made a fatal error

leaving behind their victim's fresh body.

Now we have them.

Corwin's hand will point
straight to the witch killer.

Anne Hale.

This is my book of shadows.

What an adorable little
brown thing you are.

Come here.

Oh, don't eat me.

Mr. Jenkins, I will call you.

Brown Jenkins.

Three innocent people
are dead because of me,

including my own mother and father,

so this is my promise to you, book,

and to you, little Brown Jenkins,

and to myself... I will
master this power inside me,

but I will use it for the common good.

I will do no harm.

Do you seek to make the dead
speak like a necromancer?

Someday, science will make the
dead reveal all their secrets.

For now, I am merely lifting
the edge of the curtain.

Come. I'll give you a
peek of what I've found,

if you're not afraid.

You feel this?

The ridges on the stump of the tongue.

Yes.

I was wrong. His tongue was not cut out.

He bit it off himself.

They're calling it "autopsy,"

a postmortem examination.

You know what that means?

The act of seeing with one's own eyes.

Would you mind taking me
outside for some fresh air?

Even I have my limits to what
my eyes see and my hands feel.

I don't believe you.

You do not feel weak at all. I can tell.

Then why am I out here with you?

Well, that remains to be seen.

You are a most unusual woman, Mary Sibley,

truly exceptional.

Really?

In what way?

Well, I've known other women
as beautiful and as intelligent,

but it's something else.

Do tell.

You're like me.

The body holds no horror for you,

nor, it seems, death itself.

Only fascination and...

Delight.

I have waited all my life with no hope

of meeting someone who I might stare with.

Stare?

Into the abyss.

Why are you here?

Because you liked what you felt...

And you're ready for more?

The road to the palace of wisdom

is arduous and long. Do
you think you might...

like to walk that road with me?

Now open, lock, to the dead man's knock,

fly open, bolt and bar and arrow,

find the one who spilled this blood,

to him now point your marrow.

Now open, lock, to the dead man's knock,

fly, bolt and bar and arrow...

The visions were clear.

Knocker's Hole.

Seal off all the alleyways.

No one is to enter and none to leave.

The finger points this way.

The killer was here.

He's gone now.

Check outside.

He might still be near.

There's no sign of them.

Patience.

There's no place to hide
for long in my Salem.

Place guards on every
entrance to Knocker's Hole.

No one is to leave.

This witch hunter will not escape me.

What is it?

I felt it...

the presence of the one who attacked me.

She came from here.

They came by water.

This was their conduit,

the means by which they
gained entry into Salem.

Like a rat in a sewer,
they came through the well.

Then they could come again at any time.

No. I will make sure that
whatever came last night

cannot come again without fair warning.

I'll make a water charm

to warn me if it draws near.

I need but a taste of their signature.

'Tis a simple task.

Hardly simple and highly unpleasant.

Well, then I'll get the young Anne Hale

to perform the ritual for me.

Time to dirty her hands,
and the rest of her.

What are you doing to me?

Preparing you for the spell.

You're gonna kill him. Please stop.

Isn't Isaac one of us...

the abused and abandoned of Salem?

You said so yourself that
he was betrayed by Mary,

left to die just like we were.

Like some of us were, Dollie, dear.

Stop! Looking! At! Me!

Mercy, please.

Leave her be.

Leave her?

Leave her? No!

I'll leave her in the grave
if she back talks again.

Why?

Sweet Isaac, it is simple...

simple like you,

like my father's Bible lessons.

Nothing new under the sun.

That which is done unto us
must be done unto others.

That is the way of the world.

To everything, there is a season,

a time to every purpose in hell.

A time to reap, a time to sow.

Yes.

No.

The season of the witch.

Now we will complete your initiation.

Where is everyone?

I spread word of another outbreak.

All hide away, quaking with terror.

Last night, I was behagged in my own home.

My assailant

used the water in this well to reach me,

right here in the very heart of our domain.

Last night, they had
the element of surprise.

Now we must take it from them.

You must take it from them.

Me?

What can I do?

You can capture the magical signature

of the witch who threatens us in this.

It will give us fair warning
if they dare draw near again.

What do I have to do?

There is no magic without sacrifice.

So to begin,

you must drown an animal
at the bottom of the well.

Hold the vial beneath
the surface of the water

till it is filled

and recite the incantation
to seal the well.

Then bring the water charm to me.

No.

Give me something else to do.

I can't go down the well.

I've been terrified of small
spaces ever since I was a child.

And you have been crippled by that fear,

made meek and small,

and embryo goodwife

shut up in your Puritan house

like a Puritan mouse.

But you can be more than that, Anne.

Under us, soon all women can.

But you cannot taste freedom

until you confront your
most crippling fear.

We must drown an innocent creature?

No creature is innocent.

And neither are you.

No.

I cannot do it.

You will go down the well.

You cannot make me.

I swear, little ginger witch,

I will hurl you down that
well and watch you drown

if you do not stop resisting.

All right! Stop!

I'll do it.

Please.

No.

No, please.

What are you doing? Please.

Aah!

Aah!

Breathe your last, be empty shell...

... and by your death...

My words compel.

Water, water, drawn from hell,

let the boil, your steps foretell.

We meet again, little owl.

Water, water, drawn from hell...

by my words, seal this well!

See? That wasn't so bad.

Tonight,

Mary Sibley bade me confront my
fear and go down into the well.

And so I went to create a warning charm.

I drowned the animal.

I filled the vial.

I saw the hag.

She spoke to me in the voice
of the Countess Marburg,

and I do not know who I fear more...

Mary Sibley...

or this Countess Marburg.

I demand an explanation, Madame.

For what, exactly?

The pox spreads like fire,

and now there are reports
of an outbreak in Andover.

I must know if it is the same pox,

but your militia will not let
me leave Salem to investigate.

You dare to walk into my house

in the dead of night uninvited.

My husband will have your neck.

I am a doctor. I have seen your husband.

That's hardly a credible threat.

The people of Andover are
not my concern or yours.

The citizens of Salem are under quarantine,

one you yourself supported.

That edict was for others.

I did not intend it to apply to me.

Oh.

Oh, just days in Salem

and already Puritan hypocrisy
is rubbing off on you.

You well know

that I am far from puritanical.

Do I?

You talk of pain and ecstasy.

You came to seek the seat of the soul,

but I see no evidence that you
have the courage to touch mine.

Perhaps if you wish to
address the seat of my soul,

you might consider another approach.

Such as?

A man of science, unlike
a Puritan, can take

as well as give instruction.

You once said that I was like
the queen Elizabeth of Salem.

How would you have
approached good Queen Bess

if you wanted something from her.

On my knees.

Of course, I not only know the...

duty...

... that a subject owes his monarch.

I also understand the ties
that bind them together.

I wish you could be here to see
the truth of what I told you.

I was right.

If only you had listened.

If you had only listened.

Who's there?

But you are dead.