Salem (2014–2017): Season 2, Episode 2 - Blood Kiss - full transcript

Previously on "Salem"...

The witches completed
their dreaded Grand Rite.

Tell me about my father.

I loved him more than anything.

But he is dead.

Cotton Mather.

You are confined to Boston and...

Forbidden from returning to Salem.

It's time to face
what you really are.

There is nothing
I care to learn from you.

I have found him.



He is quite possibly
the savior of Salem.

Who is it
that led the Grand Rite?

To answer that, we
must go to Salem ourselves.

Do I have your protection?

The war is on.

If you defy me,
only horror awaits you.

The battle has begun.

It is I, not Mary Sibley, who...

And the front line is in Salem.

Mercy Lewis killed our witches.

True witches. The Elders.

Courage, men.

This is our ultimate battle.

We have every reason to believe



the crags are the last
refuge of the Salem witches.

For the sake of all our people,

your wives and children,

it's clear what must be done.

We end it here.

Again!

Again!

Witches!

Suffer not one to survive
and torment us more!

Kill them!

Kill them all!

You wanted war.

Now taste war.

2x02 - Blood Kiss

We are the people of Salem,

God's chosen people,

given this land on which
to build a new world

of Faith and freedom.

But even God's gifts come at a price.

A dreadful price.

Mercy Lewis and the daughters of Salem

fell under the devil's tragic influence.

You all saw what they did last night...

Slaughtered two old, innocent beggars

from the outskirts of town,

hung and burned like
animals on the stocks.

An act of war on all of us.

I weep for our lost children.

But such are the casualties
of this war on witches.

We must be willing to bear any burden,

pay any price.

It is up to us what kind
of land this shall be.

A Heaven on earth...

Or a Hell.

Witch blood fall, black earth rise.

Hear my call, make me wise.

Time foretell for me alone

when all mankind, its sins atone.

Pretty words,

but as you well know,

words without blood are nothing but air.

For once, cease
your shriking, harpy.

I am mistress of blood as well as words.

Observe this exquisite movement.

See here.

This is the clock...

The clock of the doom
that hangs over Salem,

over the puritans,

over this whole land.

And over you,
too, should you fail.

Know that you shall never truly
possess that boy as your own son

if you do not complete the Great Task.

Save your breath.

I have already sown the witch seeds,

and today the plague bodies

begin to be dumped into the crags

to await their transformation.

The comet will soon Blaze overhead,

terrifying all for only three nights.

By the time it passes in fiery glory,

the crags will be
filled with hell-blood,

the gate will open,

and our dark lord at last incarnates.

For once, lay aside all
your suspicions and grudges,

my dark sister.

Exult.

We have long lain in their grim gutters,

but our eyes have always
remained on the stars above.

And now our time is at hand.

Indeed, you have
done marvelously well.

But there remains one flaw in your gem.

And what is that?

Against all judgment,

you entrusted the Malum
to that idiot Isaac.

And now he is near awakening

and will most likely
tell your handsome doctor

exactly how this pox began.

You must fix it... for good.

On the one hand,

the news is almost all grim.

The number of victims
increases exponentially.

At this rate,

there may not be anyone
alive here in a fortnight.

"Almost all grim"?
That sounds entirely grim.

Yes.

But then there is your Isaac.

He is finally conscious.

And what says he?

Well, so far, only one word.

"Mary."

Isaac and I are childhood friends.

It's true.

May I see him?

Certainly.

This way.

I hope the sight of you
will revive him sufficiently

to tell us what we so
desperately need to know...

How he first encountered
this dreadful pox.

Dr. Wainwright,

might I have a quiet
moment alone with him first?

It might help.

Of course.

Mary.

Is that you?

Yes, sweet Isaac.

It is I.

I'm so sorry.

Sorry?

What on earth for?

It's all my fault.

Calm yourself, Isaac.

What's your fault?

All this.

All of this death.

See, at the last moment, I lost Faith.

I didn't do as you told me.

If I did as you said,

perhaps none of this would've happened.

Hush, now.

What's done is done.

And it was wrong of me
to put you in such danger.

Let us never speak of this again.

To anyone.

As you say, I will do.

Please... a drink. A drink.

I'm so sorry, Isaac.

Rest here.

Let me get you a fresh glass of water.

Now, what do
you think you're doing?

Playing, ma'am.

Well, we must
all have our amusements.

But do not let your mother catch you

at such playing, understand?

Yes, ma'am.

Mr. Hathorne.

Greetings, my dear girl.

How may I help you?

It is I who
am here to help you.

I thank you

for whatever kindness you may intend,

but I'm rather busy at present.

No one can
replace your father,

either in your life, or
the life of the community.

But someone must try.

Sugar?

No. Thank you.

Your father was a most impressive man.

How far he rose during
his years here in Salem.

After all, he alone
of the senior selectmen

was not a founder.

No.

He came here only after some
years in the west indies.

I envy your father his grit.

He is... was...

What they are now
calling a "self-made man."

Whatever that may mean,

given that we are all made by God.

But still, impressive,

and wise, too, to have made a fortune.

I don't know any Hales
back in old England.

Do you know your ancestors?

No.

My father was the
only one of his family

to... make the crossing.

I see.

Too bad.

Family is everything.

And a tall family tree,
planted with deep roots,

blessed with wide, plentiful branches,

is the best guarantor
of a successful life.

So, with no cousins,

the task of preserving and
expanding your father's fortune

falls on your lovely
but narrow shoulders.

I suppose so.

It's a dangerous
world for an orphan girl.

Filled with predators

who would take your
fortune and your innocence.

In whom you place your
trust and your troth

will be the most important
decision of your life.

And I trust, when the time comes,

you will make the correct one.

Oh, e-excuse me.

The air is rather dry today.

I should go.

I shall return for you, my dear.

Excuse me.

Where are those coaches headed?

Boston, Jamestown, New York.

- I'd like to purchase passage to...
- May I see your travel permit?

Since when does one
need a permit to travel?

Sorry, miss. New
orders from the selectmen.

Part of the quarantine effort.

You'll need to apply to them
or Mrs. Sibley for a permit.

Miss Hale?

Did she send you to stop me?

She? No.

Our mistress has no idea that I'm here.

She may be your
mistress, but none of mine.

That would be
a mistake, miss Hale.

You really must learn
the virtue of patience.

You speak to me of virtue?

I detest everything
she and you stand for,

everything you're doing...

Turning this town into a pit of death,

seizing powers never intended.

I want nothing from her or you.

In truth,

I share your discomfort
at some of her actions.

But for the time being, stay
still and learn from her.

I cannot bear it! I
must get out of this place!

But where would you go?

Away.

Anywhere but here.

Well, you know
where to find me, and I you.

Miss Hale?

What on heaven and
earth are you doing here?

The ranters are right.

This is the end of the
world, and the dead walk.

I was told a friend of the Indians

lives in these woods.

And so he does.

Who are you?

Some call me Petrus.

Petrus?

Yes. I remember that name.

Are you a witch?

Whatever I may be,

I have been much engaged on your behalf.

I showed Mary Sibley your funeral.

So you're on our side.

A circle has no sides.

Come.

Alive or dead,

you are still the most
wanted man in the colony.

Bring out the dead!

Bring out the dead!

Bring out the dead!

My dear husband.

I'm sorry,
but we must take him.

How dare you?

I have sent diggers to prepare
a resting place for him.

You have no business taking him!

Reverend Lewis,

these bodies must be
removed from the town.

It is far too dangerous to
keep them within the village.

Where would you take them?

Mary Sibley informed me

that you have a place outside of town

where you sometimes dispose of bodies?

The crags?

Sir, it is
a matter of the health

of the entire community.

You may
have dedicated yourself

to the health of the citizens,

but I am responsible for their souls!

Gentlemen.

It is precisely this degree
of argument and dissension,

in full view of a public
that look to us for unity,

that is the most dangerous of all.

Did you
order that all bodies...

Puritan, good men and good women...

Be dumped into the crags like
slaves and common criminals

without the benefit
of prayer or service?

Mr. Hathorne,

these are extraordinary times
with extraordinary dangers.

And they call for
extraordinary measures.

We would do best
if all those who fall to the pox

were interred some distance
from the center of town

and farther away from the
waterfront and the well,

lest they aid in the spread of the pox.

I'm glad, at least,

they didn't send you back unarmed.

I sense them, your tools of power.

A witch dagger to kill,

a moonstone to see,

and a medicine bag to be unseen.

It hurts to hide.

I should know.

I've been hiding my whole life.

How many witches in Salem?

How many thorns on a rose?

One hundred is not enough if
you wish to protect the flower,

- and one is too many.
- How many?!

What matter the exact number?

Because I intend to
kill every last one of them,

so it'd be helpful to know
how many and their names.

But the names I know, you know.

Mary Sibley, Tituba, Magistrate Hale.

Who else?

I cannot say.

Then what good are you to me?

No man knows his own worth.

But I will tell you

that there is one less witch
in Salem since you left.

Hale is dead.

How?

Wrong question.

And the right question is?

What now?

You need to start talking

or you'll be deaf as well as blind.

Salem will need
a new magistrate soon.

So? What do I care
for puritan politicking?

Mary Sibley
is determined to place

another of her hive in
that powerful position.

Find out who Mary Sibley
is backing for magistrate

and I find the next witch in line.

There.

It's good to see you can
still smile, miss Hale.

So, tell me, what brings you to Boston?

Is your father in town on business?

My father...

Dear miss Hale, what is it?

My
Father and my mother...

Both dead.

Dead?

From the pox.

The pox?

Salem is gripped by pox?

It is as if the
Angel of Death himself

has descended upon the town.

A pox.

Is this it?

What?

The Malum.

Evil unleashed.

The apple opened.

The witches' Grand Rite.

I don't understand.

I feared something like this.

They wouldn't listen.

But a pox...

This they can't ignore.
They must do something.

"They"?

What about you? You must do something.

Me?

I am... I am banned from
even speaking about Salem.

I'm explicitly forbidden by
the elders from returning.

Perhaps in a month or two they
will reconsider and relent.

We do not have months.
We may not have weeks.

I fear all will be dead by then.

Please, Reverend Mather...

"Cotton."

I think after all we've been through,

you may now... call me Cotton.

Cotton...

Please return to Salem.

Even if I could, what use?

Everything I did turned to dust or...

or worse.

Simply put, miss Hale,

I'm a failure.

Back in Salem,

it was my doubts soothed
by your calm confidence.

It pains me to find you sunk in doubt.

Since the incidents in Salem...

And my father's death, I...

I doubt everything.

I've even begun to doubt
the existence of witches.

No.

Never doubt there are witches.

Miss Hale...

Anne...

Has something else happened?

I mean to you?

You know you may tell me anything.

Countess!

This is a day of surprises.

What brings you here?

Cheese,
wine, pork, and sausages.

A bachelor alone rarely
feeds himself properly.

Though I find you not
nearly alone as I expected.

Countess Palatine
Ingrid Von Marburg,

may I present Anne Hale,
newly arrived from Salem.

From Salem.

My dear... my poor dear.

You must tell us
everything... Everything.

It's so hard
to believe any of it.

Who could imagine such horrors?

I thought I smelled a witch in Boston.

Where am I?

Within.

Within?

Within what?

Your soul.

Who are you?

My dear,
I have had so many names.

Hecate, Medea, Báthory are just a few.

I'm the Swallower of Souls,

she who flowers from her own wounds.

I'm the last of the first,

the last of the true witches.

What do you want with me?

To help you
discover your true nature.

Your bright light has been buried

'neath the coal of
half-wit half-breeds

of the so-called Essex witches.

Imagine my surprise to find that,

of all the hives that survive,

it is weak-blooded Essex witches
who have done the undoable...

Complete our Grand Rite.

What I want to know...

Is who.

Who?

Yes.
Who, my little owl.

Who amongst the Essex hive
has initiated the Grand Rite?

I don't know.

Do not lie to me.

Ever.

There could be no
greater error than that.

You do know, and you will tell me.

No, I do not know, truly.

I know nothing of the witches.

I-I didn't even know I was one.

No, I see that now.

You do not even know what
it is that you do know.

I am deeply desirous of knowing

who it was that
performed the Grand Rite.

My own triumph was stolen

by that pestiferous, pus-headed killer,

Increase Mather.

You know Increase Mather?

He and
I danced a lively jig,

and neither of us left it unmarked.

I will tell you all my stories sometime.

But it's not about me now.

It's about you.

Me?

What have I to do with... anything?

You are uniquely
placed because of your heritage.

Your father did not tell
you the whole truth, did he?

Well, you must ask him.
Ask him who you truly are.

You are no mere Essex
witch any more than he.

- I cannot ask him.
- Why?

He is dead.

Well, do not weep for him.

We must all murder our
fathers and mothers.

This is the way.

How did you know I...

Child, you
have so much to learn.

I almost envy you

the long path to endarkenment
that you must walk.

When you learn to talk to
your father again where he is,

then you will be ready to
hear what he can tell you.

In the meantime, weep no more
unless it is to bring the rain.

We will meet again,
little owl, and soon.

Until then, tell no
one that we have met.

Their time for knowing me is not yet.

And trust me,

I will know if you have told anyone.

And things will not go lightly for you.

We are just dying to hear your opinion.

Do bring miss Hale to dine.

Sebastian is most anxious to meet you.

And I know he will be thrilled

to make miss Hale's
acquaintance as well.

We're all going to be such friends,

I just know it.

Good lord. Mrs. Sibley.

W-what are you doing here?

I could ask you the same question.

I live directly opposite

and have known this house
to be long unoccupied.

When I saw movement, I...

I knew you
were strong and smart

but never suspected how brave...

To confront a potential robber alone.

Well, to be frank,

I thought it might be
the previous occupant,

a man I've known all my life
and never had cause to fear.

Well, then
you were even braver,

as I am told the previous occupant

was none other than the
notorious king of the witches.

Perhaps, like me,

you doubt the very existence
of such things as witches.

No, I'm quite sure

of the reality and threat of witches.

I never could believe
John Alden was one.

But how come you to be here?

Well, Mr. Hathorne told me

the house was empty and seized
on account of, well, witchcraft

and that I might as well use it myself.

Do you have some objection

or perhaps some attachment
to the house yourself?

I surely would do nothing
to offend you, of all people.

No.

Mr. Hathorne was,
for once, quite correct.

You do
not like Mr. Hathorne?

No more than he likes me.

Hathorne
seems simply unmanned

by a strong woman such as yourself.

And you are not?

Science teaches
what the poets always knew...

Woman is not only man's
equal, but his superior.

Really? In what way?

Well, the most important...

Her capacity to endure pain.

Even the frailest woman

can take far greater pain
than the strongest man.

I've delivered too many
babies to doubt that.

Trust me... If men
had to deliver a child

from an opening in
their body that small,

the earth would be a cold, dead place.

You look like one who's
known pain intimately.

Perhaps in this very room?

My pain, like
my body, is mine alone.

You'd do well to remember that.

Good night, Dr. Wainwright.

But where will you sleep?

I have
never slept in this room.

It was my father's,

and I find, even in his absence,

I am much more
comfortable in my old room.

You will come to Salem, won't you?

Lord knows
what the elders will do.

Banish me, excommunicate me.

But yes, I will return to Salem.

Thank you... Cotton.

What did
she taste like, mother?

Like lemons and honey.

Like strawberry and sugar.

Like innocence.

I can still taste the honey.

Well, nothing
lingers like innocence.

And what did
you learn from your kiss,

beyond the sweet taste of her lips?

All she knew
but didn't know she knew.

Most importantly,

that the Grand Rite was
led by one Mary Sibley.

I would have
thought it was her father.

No.

Hale was a charming and cultured man

but wasn't capable of
leading the Grand Rite.

He was a survivor

and carried always a
survivor's guilt and fear.

He never would have taken the risk.

But this Mary Sibley...

She must be something
very special indeed.

Not content to survive,
she would thrive.

Mama, I
am fascinated already.

When shall we meet her?

Soon, darling, soon.

But we must tread carefully.

We are no more welcome
amongst the gutter hives

than we are amongst the puritans.

And if we were to be
recognized prematurely,

it might be an awkward and bloody thing.

You never
mind the blood, mother.

No. But
like a good carpenter,

I prefer to measure twice and cut once.

So let us take the
measure of this Mary Sibley

before we go to Salem.

As always,

your beauty is exceeded
only by your prudent wisdom.

I nearly forgot. I
brought you a present.

Girl:

What a thoughtful son!

Now, what did I do to deserve you?

Only everything, Mama.

Only everything.

Boo.

Voilà, George.

The results of an excellent day's work.

With the first bodies being
delivered to the crags,

we are well under way.

You people have no idea
what's coming for you.

You are so dim,

with no more understanding
of the celestial movements

than ants have.

We witches have always
understood the skies

and known how to predict what is coming.

And what is coming is
death for all of you

and a new life for us.

The comet will be here soon.

Our plague turns your dead bodies

into Wells of hell-blood.

The crags will be filled
when the comet passes over.

Well, then you puritans
will be right for once.

The comet really will
be a portent of doom...

Your doom.

All of your dooms.

Well done, mistress.

Well done.

As a reward, you shall
have a small taste

of the maternal
intimacies you may expect

when your tasks are complete.

Come.

Soon, child.

Soon we shall be together
every day and every night

and nevermore be parted.

When, mother?

When all my work is complete.

And all the world shall be yours.

Father...

Your baby's home.

Original sync by retrojex
WEB-DL resync by kinglouisxx