Our Lost Girl obsession is going strong! If you’re just now diving into the show, be sure to check out all of Kiersten Krum’s recaps, including those for the last few episodes of Season 1: episode 11, episode 12, and episode 13. All caught up? Good. And now, on to the recap of the Season 2 premiere, “Something Wicked This Fae Comes.” Enjoy!
It’s the middle of the night, and Bo and Hale are creeping their way down a drainage pipe, armed with flashlights and what look like Nerf shooters, but are probably some big ass fae guns. “Here little underfae monster thingie,” Bo calls. She asks Hale to remind her why she gave up her Friday night to help him track these things and he notes that allowing “our less evolved fae brethren” loose on the city is a bad thing. “Not to mention your mom is the one who went all Vigilante Barbie (ha!), and bombed the Ash and the elders.” Bo wonders what that has to do with anything and Hale expositions that it’s Aoife’s fault The Ash is on life support, the elders are dead, and all their weird and horrible pets now “running all free and feral.” So basically she’s paying for her mother’s sins—again. Bo: “So we’re the fae SPCA—yay!”
She snits that it should really be Dyson helping Hale out, and Hale sighs and says how he hasn’t heard from the wolf boy in three weeks, same as Bo. He wonders again what happened between Bo and Dyson and she insists it was nothing to make him go AWOL without a word.
Suddenly Kenzi pops up behind them, spooking them, lit flashlight beneath her chin. Bo jumps a mile and smacks Kenzi’s shoulder yelling that it was totally not cool. Hale with strained patience: “Didn’t we tell you to stay in the car?” I’m experiencing a Chuck flashback here. Kenzi: “Cars are the basements of horror movie clichés,” but Bo and Hale are distracted by movement in the tree branches. A bat-like creature dive bombs them as Bo and Hale swirl around trying to nail it with flamethrowers. Naturally, it zeroes in on Kenzi and she screams in said horror movie cliché manner before Bo yanks her back and steps forward to take the bat down.
Bo is forcing the still shrieking fae bat into the succmobile’s trunk. Kenzi: “Is it weird that I’m craving fried chicken?” At least it’s not fried bitch. Bo is breathing heavily and has to lean against the car to stay upright. “Damn, what was in those claws?” she asks, as Kenzi supports her. Hale posits that it must be toxins and takes out his phone to call Doctor Lauren. Kenzi stops him: “No, no. No time.” With effort, she helps Bo into the car while telling Hale that if he wants to be helpful, he should call Dyson and tell him to grow a pair and come home. Hale shifts uncomfortably as though this isn’t the first time in the last three weeks that he’s taken the heat for his missing boy. Kenzi: “I’m tired of getting her emergency takeout.” Hale turns his head and leans on the trunk. That may have been a little TMI for him.
Cut to a takeout joint where Bo is aggressively kissing the young but legal-aged clerk as she backs him into the bathroom. Clerk is totally overwhelmed, giggling while insisting that he really shouldn’t leave the counter unmanned. Bo reassures him that her “friend” has it covered and besides, he really deserves a coffee break. Wide-eyed, Clerk nods in agreement, but when he tries to shake his head clear, Bo strips off her shirt and he promptly loses the power of speech and stares dumbfounded at her breasts, possibly the first pair he’s ever seen in the wild. Then the sweetheart tries to give something back, “do, do you live around here?” and Bo rips his shirt open. This darling boy tries again once last time to slow the succubus train down, “I don’t—mean to—pressure you (here he gives an adorable grin as Bo kisses his neck) or anything, but this is going a little too fast. We should start with dinner?” Bo: “Works for me,” and she sucks him down.
I don’t like Bo’s suddenly willingness to feed on humans, and less Kenzi’s role as procurer. I geddit; without Dyson, Bo’s in a bind, at a loss for a healing booty call. I wouldn’t expect her to go without, ever, but they seem remarkably quick to victimize the kid, and it’s disturbing.
On a random back road, a tow truck pulls around a motley caravan. The driver climbs out and is greeted by a bald man in a bowler hat dressed like it’s the 1920s. “Over here,” he tells the driver and leads him back down the line. “Y’all some kind of circus people or something?” the driver wonders. “Something like that,” Bowler Hat agrees, and pulls aside a painted tarp revealing a tall, bald man, clearly some kind of creature, who honestly looks a lot like Sloth from The Goonies. NotSloth unhinges his jaw so that his mouth stretches to unnatural lengths. Presumably, the better to eat the tow truck driver.
At The Dal (drink!), Doctor Lauren is giving Trick a palm reading. No, wait, she’s examining his wound from the bloodletting he did in Bloodlines. Doctor Lauren marvels over the effectiveness of the balm they’ve been using and Trick’s rapid healing mad skillz. She reminds him that he still isn’t up for heavy lifting. “Lauren, all I’ve been doing these days is heavy lifting,” Trick says with a lifted eyebrow of double meaning.
Bo, Kenzi, and Hale enter in the background and Trick yanks his hand from Doctor Lauren’s the moment he sees them. Ah, still not on the up and up on what you did for our girl there, huh Trickster? Like that’s not gonna bite you in the ass later.
“Hey,” he exclaims heartily instead. “Our mighty hunters have returned!” Bo strides over to a map that’s holding center stage near the bar and triumphantly sticks a push pin in it. “Done and done.” Hale wearily ambles over to sit at the bar explaining that the creature they bagged looked like a peuchen. Bo says whatever it was it was ugly and cranky and totally reeked up her trunk. Doctor Lauren zooms over to Bo’s side, concerned as Trick told her Bo had been scratched by the peuchen. With some resigned irritation, Bo displays her neck. Doctor Lauren is surprised to find there’s residual bruising. “Why didn’t you fully heal?” Bo: “Well, I thought it’d be nice to actually leave the kid alive.” Doctor Lauren’s face is all “oh yeah, right, that.” Bo insists that she’s fine and turns the tables on Doctor Lauren, wondering when she last slept, but Doctor Lauren doesn’t trust anyone but herself to monitor The Ash in his coma, “which doesn’t leave room for siestas.” Bo wonders if that’s the case, then why is Doctor Lauren here now? “I heard you needed me,” Doctor Lauren states matter-of-fact, ignoring her ringing phone for the moment. “I came.” Ah, not really, Doc. You house-called Trick first, remember? They exchange charged, speaking looks until Doctor Lauren finally turns away to answer her phone. Better stock up on the Bailey’s. I have a bad feeling we’re in for a lot of this sorta thing in Season 2.
Hale is explaining to Trick that they swept the whole west quadrant and tonight’s catch makes eight creepily crawlies reclaimed. Dude looks utterly wiped out. I’m betting Dyson’s absence has left Hale hauling his alpha share and not only on the personal front with the women. Kenzi, with false cheer: “Underfae! Collect the whole set!” Bo begs Trick to tell them that’s the last of the underfae and though Trick admits to not having an official count, he does think they’re good. Hale harshes their mellow by mentioning the fact that while The Ash remains out of commission, the light fae are left leaderless and if he doesn’t get better soon, “bigger, more organized baddies are gonna start testin’ us.” Hanging up her phone, Doctor Lauren agrees with him. She’s just been informed of a body dump on the side of a highway, though the cleaners have already moved it to her lab.
Trick wonders if she’s sure it’s a fae kill and Doctor Lauren says it’s likely as the body has been flayed. When Kenzi asks for clarification, Bo explains that something ripped off all of the victim’s skin. Kenzi: “Oh, horf!” Trick looks meaningfully between Hale and Bo, silently asking who’s on point for this latest mission. Hale grunts with resignation and Bo looks at him with exhausted understanding but they both Rock, Paper, Scissors their way to a decision (no Lizard, Spock in Faedom) and Hale smiles as Bo loses. “Ugh,” she grunts. “You suck, siren!” Hale gives a weak “hey now,” and lays his head down on the bar. Kenzi moans with protest. It’s telling that there’s no question that Bo going means Kenzi is going too. Bo tells Doctor Lauren she needs to accompany them too. “This could get science-y.” Doctor Lauren looks a bit bewildered as though she doesn’t get out much (I’m betting she doesn’t). Kenzi picks her coat and gloves up off the bar and whines “I’m tired,” but follows them out.
In the weak morning light, Bo and Doctor Lauren crouch next to the bloody body print left on the highway. Highway, huh? More like one step up from dirt road. Kenzi stands between and behind them, trying not to horf with the succmobile in the near distant background and I’m wondering exactly who got shotgun on that ride.
Doctor Lauren geeks out a bit, rambling on about how it’s definitely a body imprint but mostly made up of just blood and fluids. She proceeds to details the types of fluid a flayed body might leave behind, some lymph matter, “interstitial tissue and, let’s see,” here she takes a sample with a cotton swab and sniffs it, “possibly some digestive secretions. Neat!” She says the last in this delighted tone with a goofy smile, and even I have to say she’s adorable doing it. “You think something swallowed it, spit the corpse out here but digested the skin,” Bo clarifies. Doctor Lauren agrees it’s a possible scenario. “I’d love to get a look at that skin. It would tell me a lot.” Sure Doc. You do that. She’s sure she’ll know more when she gets back to the lab and can do a work up on the corpse. Bo wonders meanwhile what fae feed on skin and Doctor Lauren objects that they don’t even know if it was a feeding and insists that there are several types of flayers. Tell us more, Doc. Oh look! She does! “There’s [sic] collectors and there’s sadists and there’s priests performing rituals.” Kenzi: “There’s creepy dudes who like to make body parts outta other people’s skin.” Bo decides that whoever it is, they need to be found, and fast. Quick! To the succmobile!
Or not. Bo and Kenzi wander down this “highway” that has absolutely no traffic on it whatsoever and Bo points out the oddity of the different types of tracks in the ground as though a bunch of vehicles pulled over at the same time. Apparently, without Dyson on hand to sniff things out, Bo’s become an expert tracker. In three weeks. Kenzi suggests that the tracks could be old, but Daniel Bo nixes that since the big rain storm yesterday afternoon would’ve washed old tracks away. She thinks that whatever flayed the dead guy might not be travelling alone. Kenzi suggests they get a recommendation from Trick for a tracker they can use “since Mr. Dyson left us high and dry.” Bo’s face gets tight and pissed off at the mere mention of Dyson. “He really picked a shitty window for some me time, huh?” Kenzi continues, but Bo just glares off into the distance. Kenzi tries again, mentioning that this is an open opportunity for her friend to snark. Bo: “Oh, I am all out of snark. What if he’s not coming back?” This then is her worst fear, that when she pushed him away, he left her forever. Kenzi gives her an “oh please” look, but Bo continues. “What if he’s...hurt or—" Kenzi interrupts to reassure her that Dyson wouldn’t leave for good without saying goodbye. Bo: “How do you know?!” Kenzi: “Because I know Dyson! And he just isn’t that massive a dick. And come on, how much can a dude change in three weeks?” Oh honey. You just knocked me right out with that anvil there.
Cut to the cop shop as two uniforms open the interrogation room door inwards dragging in a cuffed, bleeding, and downright sullen Dyson who has still managed to get a haircut. He’s wearing a torn t-shirt and jeans and, holy mamma jamma, is a sight for sore eyes. Hale, sitting at the table with a file in front of him, takes one look at the unrepentant Dyson and sighs. He picks up a page of the file and begins reading the charges. “Six semi-conscious rednecks and 5K in damages to a perfectly unrespectable roadhouse.” Dyson looks up and whoa—dude is a long, long way from getting it out of his system. Hale: “And the first I hear from you in weeks is a call from your arresting officer.” Dyson lifts a whatever brow and actually sneers at Hale. “What do you have to say for yourself, detective?” Hale asks. Dyson shrugs. “They started it.” Come on, man, what are you, a 14-year-old boy?!
Hale chuckles and shakes his head saying, “my man!” as he comes around the table to sign the release papers because he is a 14-year-old boy. The uniforms uncuff Dyson and leave. Hale closes the door behind them and hands Dyson a clean shirt. Dyson looks at Hale and for a moment seems himself again. “Good to see you, brother,” he says, and they do that male half embrace with a pat on the back. Hale: “Hey, my throat’s bleeding from all the singing I had to do, man.” Dyson: “Yeah, I didn’t ask you to.” And he’s back to being an asshole. He strips his filthy, bloody shirt off back to front, exposing a bruised, bloody, and magnificent torso. OK, I’m woman enough to admit that I gasped at first, which was immediately followed by, “But
Spike Dyson, you’re covered in sexy wounds.” If he’s going to go all primal, he’s gonna have to suck up the primal response. Sue me.
“I was handling it,” Dyson adds with cocky (hee) assurance as he (sadly) shrugs into his dark blue, high collar chambray shirt that really fits him well and does wicked things for his eyes. Hale laughs and wonders if by handling it, Dyson mean handling himself into rages up and down the coast. “Least that’s what I heard. Anyway, first, welcome back. Second, what’s eating you—ah, scratch that, don’t care, cause we got even bigger issues.” Dyson asks what kind of problems while (dammit!) fastening his shirt closed and Hale says shit’s gettin’ real. “Half the elders are dead thanks to Aoife’s bomb. The Ash is hanging by a thread.” Dyson asks who’s in charge and Hale mentions Elder Porter, which makes Dyson flinch, “never met an ale he didn’t like, Porter?” Hale admits that Trick is doing what he can behind the scenes but it’s not enough. “Look, the light is weak, and all the hungry nasties are coming out of the woodwork tryin’ to test the waters. We need you back!”
Dyson ducks his head at this, processing all the crap that’s gone down while he was off licking his wounds and inflicting new ones on others. “Also, your girl?” Hale adds breaking out that gorgeous smile of his, and Dyson’s head jerks upright. “’Bout to put out a missing persons APB on that ass.” And what an ass! Dyson quietly asks after Bo. Hale: “Aw, she’s about to get a whole lot better once she sees your furry face!” He clasps Dyson on the shoulder, delighted to have his partner back and totally missing Dyson’s epic misery. “Finally, things are startin’ to get back to normal!”
Cut to a random lot where the circus is in town! Sort of. The camera pans across various carnies and acts and random oddness, but all in all, they look rougher around the edges than the entire cast of Carnivále. Finally, it zeroes in on Bowler Hat who is opening the cage seen in the cold open. NotSloth steps forward with a stupid smile, and immediately, and revoltingly, begins to regurgitate the tow truck driver’s skin. Seriously, it’s like watching a cold open of Bones, which I stopped watching altogether due to the show’s constant need to outdo the disgusting level of its previous episode. Also, every time Bones opens her mouth, I want to smack her upside the head. Repeatedly.
OK—back to the puked up skin, which I am now re-watching again to recap it all and it’s like totally grody to the max, dude. This is the depth of my love for all of you. Bowler Hat hands the skin off to The Human Mole who is chittering nearby, with the instructions that Human Mole knows what to do as apparently he does since he scurries away, skin clutched close. Bowler Hat pets the heaving NotSloth in consolation for emptying his stomach for his master’s nefarious plans. Oh course they’re nefarious—he’s wearing a bowler hat! As Human Mole retreats, he pulls the skin on the ground behind him so that a yet fully formed hand drags in his wake. Thanks for that, show.
Bo and Kenzi are in the woods trailing a man who is sniffing his way down the trail. His very red and slightly bulbous nose is going full tilt, but he has to stop and admit that he lost the scent again. Kenzi rolls her eyes. “Great. A bloodhound with allergies. Trick really outdid himself with the referral.” Bloodhound: “It’s a sinus thing and we discussed this. Get off my back, food!” Hee. He blames the pollen count, but then catches the scent again and leads the women straight to Cirque du Sordid. He demands they pony up his payment and Kenzi drags a mammoth zip lock bag of prescription pills from her backpack. “Pharmacy grade allergy meds from my doctor friend,” Bo tells Bloodhound with a humoring smile. “Enjoy.” Bloodhound cradles the bag but as Kenzi and Bo head off, he stops them. “Oh, by the way, my nose is plenty good enough to tell they’re friends of the family.” He rolls his eyes at their questioning expressions. “Other fae?” he clarifies with a heavy dose of “you idiots” in his voice. Bo shrugs it off, “yeah, we know one of them is fae.” Bloodhound calls back, “not one—all of them!” and exit Bloodhound.
Bo and Kenzi cautiously enter the Cirque du Sordid lot, garnering plenty of wary looks along the way. As they approach the now once again tarp-covered cage, Bowler Hat and Human Mole cut them off. “You’ll have to excuse us,” Bowler Hat smarms, “but we’re not set up yet for visitors just yet.” Bo notes that they’re new in town, and Bowler Hat says they’re new to every town, and goes into his spiel. “I present myself: Zale and my travelling sideshow! Do you hunger for wonder?! Do you thirst for thrill?!” Bo cuts him off, “I bring greetings from The Ash,” and Zale immediately reverts to form. “Ah, a sister. Well that’s a relief. I wasn’t really in the mood for the whole song and dance.” He shouts something in—faeish, maybe? and the company immediately zooms in to surround Bo and Kenzi.
Zale offers them refreshment as though they’re in the parlor and not some dingy lot and Bo asks instead for an explanation. “We tracked you from a body left of a roadside.” Zale is embarrassed that they discovered the kill as though he merely forgot to lower the seat, “Trust me, I’m mortified.” He gestures for Bo and Kenzi to follow him over to the shrouded cage explaining that one of their less civilized members occasionally slips out for a feed. “But we have reclaimed him and he will not trouble you again, you have my word.” Kenzi: “Oh, well, that totally makes up for killing a guy!” Zale draws back the tarp and reveals NotSloth in his cage. Bo sidles over for a closer look. “Fae hiding in plain sight as circus peeps,” she observes, with a little reluctant admiration. “Pretty clever.” Kenzi, with a disgusted, freaked out look on her face, sticks close to Bo’s side as around her, the ever closing circle of fae eye Kenzi like she’s their next meal.
Zale explains that it was the circus back in the 1800s and then it was sideshow freaks evolving into vaudevillians. “Nowadays we’re more industrial performance artists. It’s a great way for our kind to pass out in the open.” He offers her a place in the company, but Bo declines, insisting that she’s good as is and that they’ll just file a report with The Ash and let them off with a warning. “Since you’re just passing through,” she finishes, pointedly. As she and Kenzi turn to leave, we see NotSloth’s hand has been reaching for them through the cage bars during the whole conversation. Creeeeeppppyyyy.
Kenzi mumbles from the corner of her mouth, “Are we just gonna let them get away with murder?” and Bo points out that they’re outnumbered and she doesn’t want to start a small war out there without Trick’s say so. Kenzi wonders what happens now. Bo, idly, as she pauses mid-step and peers at something ahead of them: “We get Trick’s say so.” A little girl, about 11 years old, stands in their way. She’s wearing a burgundy dress with a white collar, very Eloise at the Plaza. Someone walks in the way of Bo’s viewpoint and when the way is clear again, the girl has vanished. Bo glances around for the girl while Kenzi checks their rear and notices the motley crew still clustered together at NotSloth’s cage watching our girls. “Can we go?” she whines, bouncing on her feet, and finally Bo leads her away.
At The Dal (drink!), a portly, St. Nick-like fellow is schmoozing the room of revelers and well-wishers. He’s also wearing a prominently displayed chain of office. He passes a waitress and grabs two glasses from her tray, downing one as Trick intercepts him. “Buzz, what are you doing?” and here Trick recoils from the wafts of fumes that emote from Elder Porter. “Other than bathing in mead,” he tacks on. Hmmm. Mead. So sweet and tasty. Buzz claims he’s merely floating among the proletariat, letting the masses know he’s there for them in this time of need. Trick reminds him that his job is to calm the populace by assuring them that The Ash will be well soon and Buzz is merely doing his bidding in the meantime. “Oh, that too,” Buzz agrees with drunken bonhomie. “That too,” he repeats, patting Trick’s head in a move that only fools and idiots would attempt, but since Buzz is both, he remains safe. Barely.
He tottles off to the raucous cheer of his admirers as Bo takes his place at the bar and warily takes in Trick’s furious expression. “I think there’s actual steam coming from those ears.” Trick transfers his glare to her as the phone rings. It’s Hale and as Trick listens, his alarmed gaze locks on Bo. “What is it?” she asks, worried. “It’s Dyson,” Trick informs her. “Is he hurt?” Trick pauses, then, “he’s home,” and in Bo’s face is a wealth of questions and emotions. I am dreading what comes next and yet I cannot wait to see it unfold.
Melancholy music leads us into Dyson’s loft where sad, pensive wolf boy is sitting next to his motorcycle. Of course he rides a motorcycle. Naturally. Because my ovaries don’t clench enough when he’s on the screen, now they have to put him on a hot bike to guaran-damn-tee it?! Strewth.
He’s polishing the chrome, and I hate the fact that that’s not even a euphemism, staring off into space and we flashback to that beautiful dumbass moment when he offered the Norn whatever she wanted if she’d only give his strength to Bo. We live through his brutal loss of love again and then are back in the loft with Dyson as he cradles the spot on his chest over his heart where the Norn plunged her hand to steal his love as though missing a phantom limb.
Suddenly, the door bangs open, and Bo stands there gaping at him. “Hey,” he says, standing up as though he just left her that morning. She streaks across the room and, catching her breath on a sob, throws herself into his arms, closing her eyes in relief to be holding him again, whole and well. He catches her and pulls her in tight lifting her off her feet, closing his eyes too as he breathes her in and it’s Bo and Dyson together again and, for a moment, all is well.
Only it isn’t. Dyson’s eyes open, and they’re empty but for pain. There’s none of the warmth, none of the love he usual shows when he’s holding Bo. He slowly releases her and she steps back, her expression of relief fading to anger as she realizes there’s nothing physically wrong with him and remembers the way he abandoned her. Dyson stands before her, waiting for her to say something, but instead she hauls back and wails him across the face with a right hook! She knocks him back three steps with the force of it! I love this woman!
“Seriously?!” she demands, as Dyson recovers, rubbing his face. “You disappear for three weeks and no phone call?” She grabs his arms. “Do you know how scared I was? What are there no phones in Douchetown?!” she adds with a smack to his shoulder. Ha!
Dyson is sporting a faint smile as though he might actually be glad to see her again, and gives a half-hearted eyebrow waggle. “See you’ve been working on your right hook,” he observes, douchily. Bo says his name, and her hurt and confusion are evident. The music goes sad again as he walks past her to the bike. “I was dealing with some personal stuff,” he explains, his back to her. “What, we’re not personal?” Bo asks, bewildered. Dyson clears away his tools and doesn’t respond. Bo watches him, completely lost.
“Hale says there’s a body,” he says finally, turning back to her. From her expression, Bo can’t believe he’s just going to leave it there with no further explanation. “I was just on my way to The Dal,” Dyson continues, straddling the bike – oh my – while Bo looks on. “Wanna join me?” he asks, in a weird casual and flirty mix. By the look on her face, Bo has started to close down as she gets an inkling that this homecoming is not going to be a joyous one.
At The Dal (drink!) Doctor Lauren informs everyone that her forensic workup confirms the killer is definitely fae and so is the victim. A shot of Bo’s face reveals that she’s still mentally back in Dyson’s loft, even though the wolf boy is sitting across the table from her next to Doctor Lauren and in unusual camaraderie with her as he asks whether the fae victim was from “our” side. Trick stands behind and between them. Dyson opens Doctor Lauren’s report as Bo downloads everyone how she and Kenzi traced the kill to a bunch of circus fae camped out by the old candy factory. She thinks they can push the fae harder to talk but Kenzi guesses it’ll take more than a push as Zale never admitted the kill was fae on fae, which means they’re definitely hiding something.
“Come on,” Bo says to Dyson, clasping his hand as she stands up. “I’ll take you there.” Lauren glances at their joined hands with sad, resigned eyes that say too much and then ducks her head. It’s a lovely, poignant, throwaway moment where Zoie Palmer rocks the pathos. Dyson looks at Bo’s hand and then up at Bo as he slides himself free and rises with forced casualness. “I’m gonna take this one with Hale. Got a lot of catching up to do,” and he walks away without another word, the implication being that he has no catching up to do with Bo. Dude, she just rode pinion on your bike; not like she didn’t hold on to you for the trip, but a little hand holding in public gets your asshole on?
Doctor Lauren excuses herself, claiming she has to get back to the lab, but after that look it’s more like she can’t bear to stay around Bo as she stares after Dyson, her face a picture of confusion, pain, and rising anger. She gives her head a shake. “Did he just give me the brush off?” she asks, indignant. Much like Dyson’s rejection in Faetal Attraction, this is likely the first time anyone’s ditched Bo this way. Kenzi is sympathetic, but it’s Trick who advises that Bo give Dyson some time and adds that he could use her help in the back anyway asking her to tell him about this “circus.”
Dyson and his long-legged stride stroll into the candy factory lot with Hale at his side only to find that while the caravans remain circled, Cirque du Sordid themselves have disappeared. Hale: “For starters? Where the hell did they all go? And why leave their wheels?” Dyson posits that it’s because a convoy is easier to track. Hale notes as he approaches the tarp-draped NotSloth cage that they even left their clothes behind. I’m finally able to see that the artwork on the tarp includes the name “Human Serpent,” which explains NotSloth’s expandable jaw.
Hale, hysterically: “Can you – ah - get your,” he pauses and actually goes sniff sniff, “wolf on?” Dyson continues scanning the compound then crouches down to lift some discarded hay to his nose and his eyes briefly flip wolf gold. “They got wise,” he tells Hale. “Salted their path.” The shot is framed really well with Dyson crouched in the foreground and Hale behind and to the right in front of NotSloth’s cage where the tarp billows in the wind as smoke billows around. I’m guessing the smoke is added ambiance as it’s the same day as when Bo and Kenzi were there so it’s not as if Cirque du Sordid had to light campfires in the interim, but whatever.
“I do smell something,” Dyson adds ominously, and leads Hale across the lot to a refuse barrel. Lifting a thick, handily nearby tree branch, he prods the cauldron and lifts out a singed piece of canvas marked with a distinguishable tattoo. Oh, so that’s where the smoke is coming from! Gotcha.
At the lab, Doctor Lauren confirms that it’s definitely skin and belongs to their fae corpse. She marks something interesting and tells the boys that there’s a tattoo on the inside of the skin put there years ago and while the deceased was still wearing it too. Dyson wonders how that’s possible while Hale takes a look for himself in the doc’s microscope. Doctor Lauren is stumped. “I’ve never seen or heard of it,” she admits and guesses it must be some kind of mystical process. Hale exclaims that it looks like a map, and Dyson is at least glad that they now have a motive for skinning someone. As Dyson pulls out his phone, Hale wonders if either of them have any idea what it’s a map of, but Doctor Lauren shakes her head with puzzlement though she promises to see what she can find out.
Bo answers the phone, and Dyson dismissively asks if Trick is there. We cut to Bo on The Dal’s phone, clearly insulted that he’s brushed her off again, this time without even being in the same room. “Hold on, I’ll put you on speaker phone,” she says, neatly keeping him from cutting her out of the conversation. Trick asks if the boys found anything and Dyson admits that Cirque du Sordid were gone when they got there but explains about the skin and the map that was tattooed premortem. Trick asks if he’s sure and Dyson says Doctor Lauren seems to be and that he’s going to check case files to see if anything pops in the tattoo database. There’s a tattoo database? Convenient. They disconnect, and Trick tells Bo and Kenzi that there are a couple of things in his parlor of – er – tricks that might help identify the tattoo. Kenzi effectively tells him to slow his roll and clarify, and Trick explains that he “liberated” a few things from The Ash’s store room recently. Kenzi, with a hand to her neck as though clutching her pearls: “Why sir, I am – I am just appalled.” He gives her a pointed look. “For safe keeping,” he emphasizes. “I think they might have the answers we need.” Bo, sitting next to Kenzi, has been silent all this while, stewing over Dyson’s behavior and seriously not accustomed to being benched by all her men folk.
Kenzi tells Trick to take his time and grabs a glass and a bottle from the bar. “God I miss the old days when chasin’ your momma was our biggest headache.” She stops herself and passes the bottle over to Bo. “What am I doing? You are the bartender!” Bo rallies, “right!” as Kenzi grabs another glass and a mixer and a bunch more bottles and the ladies prepare to get their drink on. “What are you drinkin’?” Bo asks, as she lines up her tools. “I dunno,” Kenzi says. “Maybe something sweet like an apology from Dyson for being la merde face since he got back.” As she pours, Bo starts nodding in agreement, relieved she’s not the only one noticing it. “Thank you! He’s being a total ass, right?! Guy disappears for three weeks leaving you hanging girl usually gets to be the pissy one, yes?” Kenzi: “That is how I have come to understand things from my education in romantic comedies, yeah. Also? Girls in glasses are way smart and being klutzy is adorable!” Girl just summed up Kate Hudson’s entire career there.
A little more calmly, and with a drink in her hand, Bo admits that it seems like Dyson’s afraid to be alone with her. Kenzi speaks for all of us as usual: “Maybe he’s afraid you’re not going to like what he has to say,” and Bo’s head whips up. Now she’s really worried.
Trick scampers down the steps into Tolkien’s Parlor but pauses when he sees the manhole cover has been dislodged. Turning the corner, he finds Human Mole at his desk, devouring pages torn out of a book whose dismembered corpse is strewn across the desk. Seeing Trick, Human Mole leaps up, claws extended, mouth full of parchment, and charges, but Bo is suddenly, incongruously there, shoving Trick out of the way and punching Human Mole back. After checking that Trick is OK, Bo plunges down the manhole after Human Mole – “Gotcha! Oh! Gross! Rats!” – and quickly emerges dangling a rat by its tail, “he turned into rats!” The dingy kimono that once covered what I now realize was actually Human Rat is hanging from her other hand. Bo begs Trick, “Now please tell me you know what the hell is going on!” but Trick spreads him arms as dumbfounded as she.
One of Trick’s not-eaten books is spread open on the bar displaying a drawing of one of the rats of Nimh. The gang’s all here as Doctor Lauren sits between Bo and Kenzi at the bar while Dyson hovers behind the Goth girl. “That’s the rat dude that attacked you?!” Kenzi asks. Trick names it as Tesso “or one of his descendents,” and Doctor Lauren fills in that it’s a rare Japanese fae that consumes knowledge by, well, eating it. Bo suggests excitedly that if they can figure out which books Tesso ate, they can determine what he was trying to learn. Trick is already on it, trying to piece together the remains. “Meanwhile,” he says, holding up the kimono and displaying its emblem. “This tells a tale all its own.” Bo says she saw a whole bunch of the same symbols all over the Cirque du Sordid campsite.
Trick asks what they all know of the Sluagh. “The wandering damned?” Dyson clarifies, so apparently he knows something, which is that the Sluagh are supposed to be superstition only. Not according to Trick, “and they’re not damned or dead but cursed forever to wander the earth without rest, without a home.” Dyson lifts the kimono and takes a deep whiff as Trick is speaking. Kenzi wonders who the Sluagh pissed off to get cursed so badly. “Let’s just say in the early wars between light and dark they tried to play both sides and fooled neither.” Bo: “Well, I like them already.”
She wonders why they’re here now and Trick explains that many of them became thieves so if they’re here… Dyson tacks on in THAT VOICE: “They probably plan to steal something.” Something to which that map points, Doctor Lauren fills in, and Bo finishes the collective thought by adding that it’s something worth killing for. Dyson says he’ll talk to the fae fences and see if there’s something of unusual value that’s hit town. He strides off without a second glance or word for Bo who tracks his movements with a look of yearning. I can’t blame her. Used to be he couldn’t be in the same room with her without marking her by touch or at least standing too close. Now he purposefully and repeatedly puts himself as far away from her as he can get, without leaving the group entirely, and doesn’t even acknowledge her directly. Dirty pool, man.
At Hilton Hovel (drink!), Doctor Lauren rushes in. “I took another look at the skin Dyson found,” she explains as Bo comes out of the kitchen, plate in hand. “I got an ID.” Bo exchanges the plate for the books in Doctor Lauren’s hands. “Sit. Eat. Defer your imminent coma,” she orders and Doctor Lauren dives into the food, still protesting that she really is fine, “just a little bit tired.” As she sits on the couch, the camera pans down to frame her with the coffee table in the foreground, where a pair of empty wine glasses sit prepped and waiting, while Bo in the background grabs the bottle of wine. She brings the books and the wine over the couch while Doctor Lauren moans with pleasure over the food and geeks out. “Why are carbs so damned tasty?” she asks as Bo sits beside her. “Actually, I know why. It’s an interesting fact. They increase the body’s insulin, which clears competing amino acid and a path of serotonin to the brain and then - ” Bo interrupts her, “Lauren.” Doctor Lauren: “Right. Less geeking, more eating.” Even I have to (again!) admit she’s adorable. They’re really working on rehabilitating her character this episode and perhaps this season, to which I say a cautious we’ll see (I still don’t trust that chick). Also? The fact that I got the spelling for all of that right on the first try (not that the geek speak was particularly challenging to be sure) has nothing to do with autocorrect and everything to do with my day job as a pharmaceutical editor. Just one of the special perks of having me as your recapper.
Bo opens the file Doctor Lauren brought and names the flayed victim as Marvin Ardale. Doctor Lauren says he’s light fae and a tow truck driver, which makes sense as he’s a doonie, a helpful road fae. “My guess is the Sluagh faked a roadside emergency and called him there.” Bo asks if Doctor Lauren was able to find out anything else about the underskin tattoo. She admits the skin sample was too degraded, but that the external tattoo on Marvin’s hand might be of use. Then she turns a page in the file on Bo’s lap, gingerly adding that there’s bigger news to be had. “When I used The Ash’s clearance code to look into Marvin, these two were linked to him.” She points out daguerreotype pictures of two other light fae in early 20th century dress. “They have the same symbol on their hand.” Bo wonders why, but Doctor Lauren doesn’t know, the file doesn’t go that far, but she brought books so they could look into it further, have themselves a study date, except Doctor Lauren is beginning to fade. “Maybe I could just close my eyes for a second first,” she offers, leaning back into the couch. Bo looks on fondly as Doctor Lauren drifts off to sleep.
In Tolkien’s Parlor, Trick is bent over the desk (not like that!) peering at the unconscious rat through his foe glass, looking like Doc Brown in magnification head gear. Unnoticed, Kenzi creeps close and swipes the rat beast out from under him. “I knew!” she shouts, all j’accuse! “Step away from the scalpel.” “Kenzi,” Trick says with strained patience. “Give me the rat.” Kenzi tells him if he takes one more step, she’s going to call PETA. “Or, I guess, Feeta?” Absently, she strokes the rat. “Hey, do the fae even have some sort of protection society—” Trick cuts her off. “Kenzi, it’s just sleeping! These are just tweezers. I’ m not going to hurt it, I promise.” Kenzi checks the rat, realizes Trick is telling the truth, and hands it back. Trick holds it under the foe glass and carefully pulls a tiny scrap of paper from its mouth. Using his Doc Brown magnified eye, he unfurls the paper. “What is it?” Kenzi asks in hushed tones. “Trouble,” Trick answers dryly, cause what else would it be?
At Hilton Hovel (drink!), Doctor Lauren is mumbling in her sleep (“isotopes”) while Bo flips through one of the books the doc brought with her. Turning a page, she sees the same emblem that was tattooed on Marvin and his two buddies’ hands.
“Super-sized shit!” Kenzi exclaims as she enters Hilton Hovel. She looks at the open wine on the table and the sleeping Doc on the couch with a speaking glance, which I think is an unspoken question of whether Bo fed off of Doctor Lauren. Bo: “She’s just taking a nap, relax,” and asks what’s up. Kenzi perches on the arm of the couch next to the doc and explains that they may have found out what the Sluagh want or at least what they’re after next: The Sword of Agros. She says that Trick doesn’t know where to find it yet, but Bo does, “at least I have a good idea of who’s protecting it.” “How?!” Kenzi asks skeptically, all way to burst my information bubble. “I’m super smart,” Bo duhs. I LOVE this!! Because she is smart and clever and resourceful and so much more than just a smokin’ succubus and I super dig that the show has finally, bluntly called that out because smart is the old, new, and forever sexy.
Bo pulls out Doctor Lauren’s file (who is sleeping through all of this, BTW) and shows Kenzi the trio of pictures. “These three are what the fae call Guardians, sort of a life of servitude, donating your actual body for the protection of something.” As Bo’s phone rings, Kenzi posits that it’s the kind of something the Sluagh might want. Bo points out as she picks up her phone that Marvin is already dead and the other two have no contact info. Seeing who’s calling, she answers the call with a pissy look and a short, “Dyson.” We hear Dyson tell her that they’ve found another body, male, in a dumpster in the east end. “Something was ripped out of him.” Bo wonders if the victim’s name happens to be Ralph.
At the lab, the camera pans up from the victim’s tattooed hand to the gaping vertical wound at the top of his spine and over to Bo, Dyson, and Doctor Lauren who are gathered around the doc’s computer looking at her scan of the corpse. Doctor Lauren marvels that it looks like some type of organic, flexible tube was inserted down the length of the victim’s spine. “It’s not a tube,” Bo corrects her. “It’s a sheath.” Dyson clarifies that this guy was carrying around a sword inside him and Doctor Lauren dumbs it down even further for us, “so he’s a living sheath?” Bo nods. “The Sword of Agros. And something tells me that whoever pulled that sword out of him is not going to use it to trim hedges.”
The gang is gathered back at The Dal (drink!), Trick and Bo on the threesome couch while Dyson leans on a table across from them, his long legs stretched out, and Kenzi and Hale complete the circle. Bo asks Trick why the Sluagh would even want the Sword of Argos. Trick says they need it to help them steal something greater. “What?” Dyson snaps. “Our land,” Trick answers and explains that in order for light fae to claim a district, The Ash has to make a covenant with the land in a mystic ceremony called the Bo See Nah Ta La, which basically means that he marries the land. The Ash swears to protect the land and in return, the land is good to his people. Dyson fills in that this used to mean better crops and less disease, now it’s longer lasting infrastructure, more wealth, and less crime. Trick picks up the exposition ball by stressing that the ceremony works only if the “marriage” is consummated. Kenzi: “Define consummated.”
Trick: “Well, without getting into the grander, more mind-bending metaphysics of it, the soul of the land takes on corporeal with which The Ash will mate.” Nothing metaphysical about that at all, Trickster. Kenzi whispers to Hale, “talk about laying some turf.” Hale: “pounding some ground,” and the two snicker as Trick rolls his eyes, “you done?” Killjoy Dyson doesn’t crack so much as a smile.
With The Ash on the verge of death and thus losing his bond with the land, it’s exactly the opportunity the Sluagh have been waiting for, “binding themselves to the earth and claiming it for their own.” Bo wonders what’s so bad about that, and can’t we all just live together in peace and harmony. “If they steal our covenant with the land,” Dyson portends in a deep, dark voice, “all the light fae who live here will be forced into exile.” Hale adds that the city will thus be left as an open playground on which the dark will run rabid, “not good news for the humans who remain.” “Yep,” Bo chirps, “those are both bad.”
Trick says the Sluagh will first have to fully sever The Ash’s land bond before they’ll be able to forge their own. They’ll need the Heartstone, the physical manifestation of the land bond, which they will then break with the stolen Sword of Argos, breaking The Ash’s bond for good. Bo wonders where they can find the Heartstone, and Dyson opines that the information was probably on Martin’s tattoo, which is now too degraded to be of use. “Hello,” Kenzi chimes in, “you’re our Trickopedia!” Trick: “Oh, I was never local government.” He’ll have to tap Buzz since, as acting Ash, there are some things only he is privy to. “Sit tight.”
Bo pops up, wine glass in hand and stands next to Dyson, rhetorically asking if anyone wants to get some air while Hale and Kenzi pretend not to watch. Dyson and his long legs don’t move as he ducks her again, “I’m good, thanks.” “Great,” she repeats tightly. “That’s just Jim Dandy,” and stalks away. Kenzi sighs and gets up, climbing over Dyson’s immobile legs to follow Bo. “Dude, what’s been up with you lately? That time of the wolf month?” Dyson, with a soft smile of affection: “Missed you too, Kenzi.” She gives him the “I’m watching you” street hand jive and goes.
Hale waits till she leaves, then tells Dyson that Kenzi has a point. “You seem a little off your game since you came back. Something I should know?” Dyson: “Not really.” Hale sighs, climbs over Dyson’s legs (one more person does this and I’m instigating a (drink!) meme), and gives him that look that a friend gives you when he/she is done waiting for you to fess up your crap. Dyson stares back for a moment and gives in. “Okay.” He asks if Hale remembers the story of King Leopold and the tribute he made as a sacrifice to the Norns. Hale nods; he remembers. “Well, I asked a Norn for help when Bo went to face her mother.” Hale: “So?” Dyson gives him a prodding look, and Hale catches on. “Oh maaaaan. All right, bold move,” but he chides Dyson for just running off. Hale rocks hard core. Even with Dyson being a jackhole, Hale gets the whole male alpha source of it all and has his partner’s back. Dyson is all defensive about being in shock and denial. He looks across the room where Bo is hanging with some extras and her smile fades as they make eye contact. She knows he’s talking about her. “Wounded animals like to lick their wounds in private.” Oh, bite me, wolf boy. (No really, feel free.) Lame excuse.
Hale notes that it explains the tension between Dyson and Bo and wonders how Bo took the news. Dyson, staring across the room at Bo again: “I haven’t told her yet.” Hale: “Why are you shuttin’ her down and tryin’ to avoid her, fool?” Oh Hale. Such a good question. Hale thinks Dyson should be trying to get up close and personal instead but Dyson doesn’t understand why. “To be sure,” Hale stresses nice and slow so wolf boy can understand. “Otherwise,” he checks over his shoulder to make sure no one is in hearing range, “how do you know the curse really took?” By the look on Dyson’s face, this option never occurred to him. “There’s a reason our fae tales end with a magical kiss,” Hale continues, “and your girl’s lips are supercharged. What the Norn took from you, maybe Bo can get it back.” Dumbass. Oh, wait, that last bit was me. With a supportive manly smack on the arm, Hale leaves Dyson to ponder the sliver of hope he’s given the wolf. For his part, Dyson continues to stare meaningfully across the room at Bo who stares back.
Trick drags Buzz into The Dal (drink!) as the boozer goes on and on about old times. Kenzi is perched on the corner of the suddenly empty bar flanked by Dyson and Bo on opposing sides. Trick tells Buzz they need to know where “it” is. Where what is? Buzz duhs back. “The Heartstone,” Trick says slowly, and there’s the sense that this isn’t the first time he’s gone this round with Buzz. “What about it?” Buzz asks and Bo cracks, “there has to be a better way of doing this or someone else who knows? I mean, how many old rocks representing The Ash’s link to the land can there be?” Buzz: “You mean the Heartstone? Why didn’t you just ask? You there, meatbag,” he says gesturing to Kenzi. “Get me my glasses and a pen and I’ll write you a map.” Majorly offended, Kenzi nonetheless slides down from the bar and takes the pad and pen Bo hands over, pushing them at Buzz before she drags his glasses from his forehead and shoves them on Buzz’s face. “Meatbag?!” she whispers to Trick as she turns away from Buzz. “I’m sorry!” he mouths back and hustles Buzz away.
Alone now at the bar, Dyson tells Bo that once they get the map, he and Hale can handle the stone on their own. “Maybe you and ah...” he begins, turning away from her, but Bo has had enough. She grabs his hand to hold him in place and jumps up to face him. “Stop avoiding me!” He denies it, but they both know it’s true. “You know what we do well?” Bo asks but doesn’t wait for a lame ass answer. “We fight. Each other. The world. Whatever! As a team, we’re pretty unbeatable and that is what is needed right now, you and I being Team Badass!” I WANT THAT SHIRT! “We’ll deal with our personal shit afterwards, but right now? You’re gonna put on your big wolf pants and you’re gonna come with me and kick some tail or I’m gonna start kicking your tail. Agreed?” And that, ladies and gentlemen, that right there is why they are perfect for one another. Team Badass, indeed.
Dyson is actually smiling. It’s faint, but it’s a little bit of the old Dyson as though he just remembered why he fell for her in the first place. He gives her a little salute. “Yes ma’am,” and she’s a bit taken aback at his swift compliance, but adds “thank you,” and leads the way out. But then the smile falls from his face and he’s just sad Dyson again.
The two of them approach a locked gate and Bo wonders what they do with the Heartstone once they find it. “Should we have hired a crane?” Dyson shushes her, warning that the Sluagh may be there already. They look around by don’t see anything “heartstoneish” and approach the building. As Bo pushes open the small door, Dyson’s wolf sense hear the release of a weapon and he tackles Bo to the ground an instant before knives come flying through the air. He’s lying on top of her, covering her with his body, the first time they’ve been this close since their homecoming embrace. Bo looks at him over his shoulder and they exchange a fast, charged look before Dyson quickly pushes himself to his feet. Bo rolls her eyes, and her face is all, oh right, wouldn’t want to hold me too long, I might be diseased or something!
Dyson checks the door then pulls one of the knives from the wall and smells it. “It was them,” he confirms. Bo: “Great. Lovely.” They pedeconference as Bo expositions that this isn’t the place but the Sluagh still knew that they were coming, “just like they knew where to find Marvin and that The Ash’s books were in Trick’s lair.” Dyson looks like he’s beginning to follow her bouncing ball. “They’ve always been two steps ahead,” Bo muses. “How is that?” She and Dyson exchange looks again, this time completely in tandem as they simultaneous reach the same conclusion without having to verbalize it. With a small, humorless smile, Dyson nods his head in perfect agreement – Mmmm Hmmm.
At The Dal (drink!), Trick roughs up Buzz, smacking him back into a chair. “Talk sense or suffer,” Trick orders. Buzz goes for offended: “You threaten your acting Ash? I should call the high council.” Trick: “Let me get you the phone and I’ll beat you with it! And after that, you can explain to the council why you committed treason! I don’t’ think you’ll find much mercy there.”
Buzz, all drunken foolishness gone, snarls that he saw an opportunity and took it. The Sluagh promised him the wealth and power he thinks he deserves. Trick demands to know how they can stop this, but Buzz says it’s too late. “Can you feel it? The land? She’s awakening.” By the look on Trick’s face, yes, he can definitely feel it.
The Heartstone sits in a forest glen and Zale takes the Sword of Agros and splits the stone asunder. Where the hell is Merlin when you need him?! A light flashes and a beautiful blonde (naturally) in a white, diaphanous dress (ditto) lies gasping in the glen in its wake. “Hello lover,” Zale croons as the woman sits up. “You’re not The Ash,” she observes brilliantly.
At The Dal (drink!) Kenzi, Dyson, Bo, and Trick are interrogating a defeated Buzz. I wonder what Trick did to bust his bravado. Bo demands to know what was in the books that Tesso ate. “An incantation,” Buzz confesses. Zale needs to shore up enough chutzpah for the “fastening ritual.” Kenzi: “Yeah, yeah, the magical boinking. We know. Go on.” Buzz explains that Tesso will have to perform the chant in order to funnel the sexual energy from a mass of revelers into Zale. Bo: “What, crowd source Viagra?” And to Trick, “we do that?!” Trick explains that there’s a reason fae and pagan rituals are performed around big ass parties. “All that sex and joy essence is a powerful energy source.” Kenzi: “Playboy Grotto must be like,” here she throws in a groin thrust, “bam!”
Trick reminds them that the easiest sources of food for fae are always humans and Dyson muses that Zale is going to be looking for an event or something that would gather humans together and Bo adds that it would be very last minute as they only just split the stone and stole the land avatar. Kenzi is twitching in place as they speak and suddenly realizes, “Guys? Are we looking for some kind of sexy pagan underground flash rave tonight? Seriously, I got this covered just give the human five minutes, tops!” She is so excited to be the one throwing the Hail Mary pass this time!
“So!” Bo teases Dyson as dance music begins to flavor the scene. “Anyone looking for a sexy, sexy neopagan ritual dance party?” He meets her gaze but –again! – looks away and Bo doesn’t say anything further but is clearly thinking asshole. I finally notice that Dyson is wearing a black shirt, black tie, and one of his sexy black detailed vests all covered by a black leather jacket. Baby, come to New York already! You’ve already got the wardrobe!
At the rave, the music is pumping and the strobes lights flashing. Hale, Dyson, Bo, and Kenzi walk in past the abandoned school bus that marks the border of the dance floor. Kenzi has dressed the part, her hair up high in a banana-clipped Mohawk that would do 1985 proud. As Hale and Dyson scan the room, Bo avidly peers through the gyrating crowd and starts to get that hungry look on her face. Kenzi, recognizing that look, eyes Bo carefully as she asks if her friend is OK. “You look a little...nipply.” Bo admits that she’s just hungry, which Dyson, standing behind her, hears and flinches in response. “This place is dripping sex,” Bo says excitedly. Kenzi agrees that the Tesso is channeling some strong hoo doo that even she can feel. Hale steps up next to Kenzi and suggests that they split up. Dyson is already moving past them and into the crowd without a word for anyone. “Me and D can try and muzzle Tesso, stop the incantation.” Kenzi agrees and says that she and Bo can—but Bo is no longer next to her. “Bo?!” Kenzi calls, but Bo is already dancing with a group of girls, eyes glowing blue and she pets one of the chippies before Kenzi drags her away. “Can you make it through on your own? Or do I have to cuff your muff?” And we’ve arrived at the line of the night. Bo insists that she can manage and with one last flirty smile for the chippies, she lets Kenzi pull her through the crowd.
A calmer Bo is weaving through the dancers. BTW there are a lot of yellow accents on these extras. Kudos to the costume department for the sprinkling of saffron. About five feet behind her, Dyson is stalking Bo through the crowd and I really wish I didn’t find that so incredibly hot. Baby, you can creep up on me anytime. Bo stops as she spies the NotEloise girl from the Cirque du Sordid compound. She’s bouncing in place to the music, scanning the room as Dyson slinks up behind her. A little startled to find him suddenly there, she faces him as he invades her space. Dyson is massively projecting subtext: Here. Now.
They are in the midst of the dancers as Dyson takes her in his arms and they kiss, tentatively at first as though relearning each other’s taste, then more deeply as they sink into one another. The camera circles them twirly, twirly twirly. They clutch each other tightly and the camera zooms in on their faces. As Bo strokes his furry cheek, Dyson opens his eyes and, oh my giddy aunt, he is feeling nothing but pain. My face is burning like the Sahara just watching, but wolf boy is zero for a broke. The kiss ends with Bo none the wiser. “Go,” Dyson softly orders. “Good luck.”
Breathless (you’re not alone there, honey!), Bo turns from him and pauses to get her bearings. They’re framed together in the shot, her back to his front with only a small, telling space between them. As Bo exhales, it’s clear she thinks they’re on their way back to one another. Behind her, Dyson’s face is misery incarnate, which only gets worse as she walks away taking the sliver of magical kiss hope Hale had given him with her. Oh, I just want to wail and gnash the teeth.
In a back room (it’s always a back room. Why don’t they just make a beeline for the back room every time?), the land—let’s just call her Gaia and be done with it —is lying on a spinning glass box stationed about six feet from the ground on a dais. The disco lights bounce off the glass in zig zags as Zale climbs on top of a passive Gaia. She’s not sexually active; she just lays there. Zale tosses his hat aside—such a gentleman!, as Bo enters the room and pulls this massive lever (phallic much?), which...does absolutely nothing. Oh! No, wait it stops the box from spinning. “So,” Bo says raising her hand in measurement as Zale looks up from mounting Gaia, “do you have to be this horny to ride this ride?”
Back in the rave, Tesso is sitting cross-legged, eyes closed, chanting as Hale and Dyson approach. “OK,” Hale shouts at Dyson, “I’ll sing him into submission while you—”, but, finally pushed to the edge, Dyson breaks, taking it all out on Tesso as he steps forward snarling and snaps the Sluagh’s neck with one blow. In the back room, Zale recoils from Gaia as the stream of fae Viagra is abruptly cut off. Back in the rave, Dyson tosses Tesso’s body aside with a disgusted glare. Hale: “Or, we can do that.”
In the back room, Bo is mocking Zale’s loss of...enthusiasm. “Oops. Lost your mojo.” Zale scrambles off the glass box, saying it’s no worry, “I’ve enough virility by now.” Bo: “That’s what they all say.” She tells Gaia to go and the blonde doesn’t need to be told twice, which could be a first. Zale tries to convert Bo to his side as they circle one another on the dais. He tells her Buzz told him all about her and that she, Bo, has more in common with them, the Sluagh, than she does with those others out there, presumably Hale and Dyson as the representatives of the light fae. Got all that? “We’re all outcasts just like you.”Bo: “Don’t sell yourselves short. You’re also ritual murderers and thieves.” Oh, well, if they’re thieves then they’re definitely irredeemable, horrible creatures. Hold up a sec, isn’t your bestie a klepto there, Bobola? Also, where the hell did Kenzi go anyways?
Zale insists he’s just doing what’s necessary for his people. “We’ve been wandering for centuries. We just want to stop.” This pings with Bo, who wandered for 10 years before finding a home here with Kenzi et al, a home the Sluagh nearly took from her. “Buddy, I understand! Believe me.” She roundhouse kicks his ass up onto the glass box and straddles him. “I know exactly what it’s like to be an outcast,” she snarls, grabbing his lapels, “to have no home. But this one? This one is spoken for.” She gives him the succubus kiss and sucks him all the way down discarding him when she finishes the way Dyson tossed Tesso. “This one is mine!” she tells Zale’s unconscious body.
In Tolkien’s Parlor, Dyson and Trick are sharing a nightcap. “To Zale and the Sluagh being run out of yet another town,” Trick toasts with wry humor. “To the Bo See Nah Ta La,” Dyson counter toasts. “May our bond with the land be restored before someone else covets it.” They clink glasses in camaraderie. Trick admits that it all ended better than he’d feared. “Thought the Sluagh were going to win?” Dyson asks, and Trick admits that he thought the Sluagh were his punishment. He explains how he used his blood the night Dyson left to try and keep Aoife from harming Bo. Dyson gets all frowny face again. “And?” Trick admits that it seems to have worked, “but there’s always a cost when I use my gift.” Dyson inhales deeply and swallows. “Well maybe this time it’ll be different,” and I’m not sure if he doesn’t think his loss of love might be Trick’s cost in some way.
“It’s good to have you home,” Trick tells him. “I was beginning to think we’d lost you out there.” Dyson grimaces, you did, but instead of saying it out loud, he holds out his hand to his friend and downs his glass. “Thanks for the drink,” he says and grabs his jacket and leaves. See, a pair of women would’ve taken another 20 minutes to part ways, what with gathering the purse and wrapping the leftovers and you know there’s gotta be a pee break in there somewhere, maybe two depending on how much they’ve had to drink. Guys just shake and go (not like that!). God, I love men.
Dyson enters The Dal proper and stops short. Bo is sitting at the bar, sipping at a glass of wine, patiently waiting for him. He pauses in the doorway before she sees him, and you can practically see the weight of this next conversation settle on his shoulders before he finally, finally wolfs up and joins her. Bo smiles, encouraged by their earlier scorching kiss. “Should we start this reunion over?” she asks, her words and smile heavy with double meaning. Dyson nearly smiles. “That depends. Are you going to punch me again?” Bo admits wryly that she’s tempted. Don’t count it out yet, kiddo.
She asks if he’s going to tell her where he’s been all this time and he admits that he barely remembers, brushing it aside as unimportant. “It’s important to me,” Bo stresses. “What were you running from?” But Dyson remains stubbornly silent. Bo sighs and decides that she’ll start, recapping that before he left, she’d asked him not to get interfere in her battle with Aoife, and Dyson cocks his head in acknowledgement. I remember. “But that night I swear I could feel you with me,” Bo says with feeling. We flashback to that moment in the fight when Bo’s eyes went wolf gold and she tossed her mother over the edge of the stairs as Bo voiceovers, “and it made all the difference.” Back in the pain-filled Dal, Dyson absorbs the blow that is the knowledge his sacrifice was not in vain. “Thank you,” Bo adds, sincerely.
“I asked a Norn to give you my strength against your mother,” Dyson explains, filling in the gaps for Bo. “But you should know; it came at a price.” Bo insists he tell her, that whatever it is, they can handle it together, but he knows this isn’t true and repeats the litany, “Norn’s take in payment what you value most.” He admits that he didn’t know what it was at the time. “I offered her my wolf.” Bo is shocked and more than a little afraid that he went through with it. “Dyson!”
Dyson: “That’s not what she took.” Bo is trying to process the fact that there was something more valuable to Dyson than his wolf and that it was taken from him. “Well, what did she take?” she asks, tentatively, afraid of the answer. Dyson pauses on the threshold of ripping their life together to pieces. “Us,” he finally whispers.
Bo flounders: “You’re not even making any sense. How can—how can someone take ‘us’?” She tries a small smile, as though the idea is simply ridiculous and he must—he must—be joking.
Dyson ducks his head for a moment and then brutally rips off the bandage. “By making it impossible for me to feel anything for you. Ever!”
Shocked, Bo denies it. “That’s ridiculous (toldja). And anyways, at the rave tonight, that kiss, it was—” “Our last!” Dyson vows emphatically. You. Little. Shit. The force of his assertion stuns Bo into silence. He quietly apologizes, claiming that’s not the way he wanted to do it but that he had to know. “And now I do,” he says with awful finality as though she’s a one-night stand he’s done with. Bo still gapes at him, mouth open, completely and utterly gob smacked. Dyson apologizes again—big freaking whoop—and leaves, rejecting her emotionally and sexually in one fell swoop. Real heroic there, jackhole.
I am overwhelmed by his cruelty. He’s had three weeks to shout and rage and fight against what’s been done to them, what he allowed to be done however well-intentioned, but dumps it on Bo in this savage manner and then just abandons her to figure out the implications on her own. Dumbass.
Bo stares after him, heartbroken, confused, desperately trying to process the fact that the man she loves just told her he sacrificed that love in order to save her life and so see ya later then, babe.
I have a lot of problems with this plotline, most notably, if he can’t feel anything for Bo, why then has he at various times in this episode displayed affection, loyalty, pain, misery, protectiveness, and even amusement on her behalf? Those are all feelings he’s having for Bo, many of which are based in the love he claims to have had taken from him, so what the huh now? See what I mean?
With a whoosh of sound, NotEloise is suddenly there in the bar with Bo. “You lost, sweetie?” Bo asks. “Cause I am not in the mood to go chasing after Zale and—”, but NotEloise disabuses her of that notion. “I’m not with the Sluagh,” she explains. “What are you, some glandularly challenged circus groupie?” NotEloise doesn’t answer and Bo, losing patience, demands to know what NotEloise wants from her.
NotEloise imparts that she’s not there to take, she’s there to warn. “My nature draws me to impending disaster. Terror, tragedy, plague. To bear witness.” Bo wonders what’s drawing NotEloise here now, “my love life?” Snort. NotEloise says it’s just Bo who draws her and she doesn’t know the specifics yet, but she can feel it coming. “Because the light fae’s bond with the land was broken,” Bo suggests, but NotEloise says that will repair itself with time. “Something old has awakened. And it’s coming straight for you.” Bo turns away from NotEloise for a moment when she turns back, the girl is gone.
Alone now in The Dal, Bo crosses her arms on the bar, and contemplates the metric ton of shit that has landed on her shoulders and ripped through her heart.
Holy shit, I am never going to make it through 22 episodes if they’re all like this!
New Fae Terms:
Peuchen n. A shapeshifter underfae, often described as a giant flying snake that produces a whistle-like sound. Legend says its gaze has the power to paralyze victims sot the peuchen can suck on their blood.
Origin: Chilean. Peuchen are often found in Mapuche and Chilote mythology, which mainly come out of southern Chile.
Doonie (also Dunnie): n. Brownie-like, doonies may be “helpful road fae” in the Lost Girl world, but in Anglo-Saxon folklore, they are considered to be a ghost of a reiver who hoarded his loot in the fells and guards his ill-gotten gains to this day, or so sayeth Wikipedia.
Origin: Northern England, most notably along the borders of Northumberland.
Tesso: n. A rare Japanese fae, or rat demon, Tesso also means “The Iron Rat,” as it comes with metal teeth and claws that can shred and tear nearly all materials. The Tesso is also a bit of a pied-piper who can call legions of rats to do its bidding, so when dealing with one, be sure to bring along plenty of cheese. Preferably sharp cheddar, cause you might want to nibble a bit yourself along the way and who doesn’t love sharp cheddar cheese?
The Sluagh: n. pl. Cursed to wander the world forever, friendless, brainless, helpless, hopeless, unemployed, in Greenlan–wait, no, that’s The Princess Bride. The Sluagh tried to play both sides in the wars between the light and dark fae but fooled neither and were cursed for their efforts. Thieves, carnies, industrial art performers, and ritual murderers, the Sluagh are not to be trusted and wander the wastelands being troublesome and destructive.
Origin: Celtic folklore lists The Sluagh as spirits of restless dead who are sometimes tagged as sinners or generally evil people who were neither welcomed in heaven, hell, or even in the Otherworld and have been rejected by the Celtic deities and the earth itself.
The land (or Gaia to her intimates): Not, in fact, a fae. The Land is may be claimed by the light fae when each Ash makes a covenant with it during a secret, mystical, likely head-banging, human-sexual-energy-fueled ceremony called Bo See Ah Ta Lahve(BOH-see ahn Ta-LAHV). In effect, The Ash marries the land swearing to protect it and in return, the land is good to the people but only if the marriage ceremony is consummated, which can happen when the land takes corporal form as Gaia. If this sounds eerily like the bargain between the Land Wight and its squatters, you are not off the mark there.
The Heartstone: n. the physical manifestation of the mystical bond between The Ash and the land. Also known as a big honking rock in the middle of nowhere.
The Sword of Agros: n. the sword used to cleave the Heartstone and shatter the bond between the land and The Ash.
Guardians: n. Fae who commit themselves to a life of servitude, at times donating their actual bodies for the protection of something of portent. Can involve physical sacrifice via mystical means, but only if they’re really, really committed.
Quotes of the Night:
Hale: Your mom is the one who went all Vigilante Barbie
Bo: So we’re the fae SPCA –Yay!
Kenzi: I’m tired of getting her emergency takeout!
Kenzi: Underfae! Collect the whole set!
Doctor Lauren: Neat!
Hale: What do you have to say for yourself, detective? Dyson: They started it.
Bo: What are there no phones in Douchetown?!
Hale: Can you – ah – get your –sniff sniff – wolf on?
Kenzi: God I miss the old days when chasin’ your momma was our biggest headache.
Bo: Sit. Eat. Defer you imminent coma.
Doctor Lauren: Right. Less geeking, more eating.
Trick: Kenzi. Give me the rat.
Kenzi: Take one more step and I’ll call PETA. Or, I guess, Feeta?
Kenzi: Talk about laying some turf. Hale: Pounding some ground.
Kenzi: You’re our Trickopedia!
Kenzi: Dude, what’s been up with you lately? That time of the wolf month?
Hale: There’s a reason our fae tales end with a magical kiss. And your girl’s lips are supercharged.
Bo: You’re gonna put on your big wolf pants and you’re gonna come with me and kick some tail or I’m gonna start kicking your tail!
Trick: Let me get you the phone and I’ll beat you with it!
Kenzi: You look a little – nipply.
Kenzi: Can you make it through on your own? Or do I have to cuff your muff?
Next week: Episode 2: I Fought the Fae(and the Fae Won)
Kiersten Hallie Krum writes smart, sharp & sexy romantic suspense. Find her snarking her way across social media as @kierstenkrum and on her web site and blog at www.kierstenkrum.com.