Our Lost Girl obsession is still going strong! Be sure to check out all of Kiersten Krum’s recaps, from Season 1 up to the most recent Season 2 episode aired on SyFy (episode 1, episode 2, episode 3, episode 4, episode 5, episode 6, episode 7, episode 8, episode 9, episode 10, and episode 11). All caught up? Good. And now, on to the recap for last night’s episode, 2.12, “Masks.“
Spoiler Policy: Please remember that there is a strong NO SPOILERS policy for any and all comments. We are ONLY DISCUSSING episodes of Lost Girl that have ALREADY AIRED IN THE UNITED STATES. Be kind and respectful by not ruining it for those who have yet to watch all of Season 2. Thanks!
At Hilton Hovel (drink!), Kenzi is sitting at the kitchen table when Bo comes down from upstairs. Bo notes how early it is for Kenzi to be up and at ‘em, so it must be somewhere around the noon hour. “Rise and shine!” Kenzi chirps. “My new mantra.” Bo asks if she has something special planned and Kenzi downloads about her Aunt Vera who is having a Russian family do with a lot of Russian-infused description of which I cannot make heads or tails. Handily, the closed captions have the English translations in quotation marks. This leads me to think that Ksenia Solo subbed in the Russian on the day, which I find delightful. So, here it is: “My Aunt Vera, you know the one with the man-hands, she’s having this big scattamattgork (‘long Russian’) party. You know? All the borscht and the rupjmaize and маринованные грибы (‘pickled mushrooms’) a girl could ask for!” Okay, I may have used a Google translator on that last one.
Tying her running shoes, Bo notes that it all sounds festive but Kenzi demurs that no-one’s ever used that word to describe one of her family’s gatherings. “More like noxious, semi-psychotic, deviant but never festive.” She invites Bo along if she’s not doing anything else. “My cousin Juris (though I swear she says ‘Ural’) will be there and he’s been dying to meet you.” Bo: “Didn’t he just get out of jail?” Kenzi: “No, that’s my cousin Pavel. Juris is the one who works as a mortician’s apprentice. And once you get past the smell of embalming fluid, he’s actually kind of fun!” Bo passes anyways and heads out for her run. Kenzi runs down a list of instructions, which include avoiding small bite-y dogs, but as soon as Bo is gone, she’s on the phone and with a satisfied smile promises someone that Bo is “totally clueless. We’re on.”
At The Ash’s compound, Doctor Lauren is escorted into the throne room. She is pale and wan and really, really pissed off. Jerking her arm out from the grasp of a guard, she confronts Lachlan. “So what’s next on the agenda? Torture?” Lachlan says he’s hoping the doc was ready to go back to work and Doctor Lauren laughs sardonically. “You lock me in a dungeon for four days. I’m supposed to be so grateful to be let out that I’ll head back to the lab as though nothing happened?” Quietly, Lachlan notes that Doctor Lauren has forgotten her place there, but the doc decides it’s just that she refuses to play anymore. “I’m gonna pack my things and take my chances with The Morrigan because she seems to know a hell of a lot more about (Coma)Nadia’s condition than you do.”
Lachlan: “I can assure you that if you so much as attempt to make contact with The Morrigan, punishment will be swift and severe.” Personally, I would’ve let her decamp and reap the consequences. Doctor Lauren is too furious to be cowed by his threat. “As severe as five years of indentured servitude?” Interestingly though, her situation didn’t really start to bother her until she met and fell for Bo. Hmmm.
With an attempt at a charming smile, Lachlan decides that they got off on the wrong foot this morning, what with all the defiance and threats. “Well, that will happen when you lock someone in a dungeon,” Doctor Lauren snaps. All right, all right, we geddit! He locked you in a dungeon! Bad Ash. Do you want to go back? Then move on already, doc!
Lachlan comes out from behind his desk and tells Doctor Lauren that he called her up (from the dungeon!) because he has some new information about ComaNadia. He did, in fact, read the old Ash’s journals as Doctor Lauren “suggested” before he threw her! In a dungeon! Lachlan discovered it was the old Ash himself who ordered the curse on ComaNadia. I am not at all shocked by this revelation. It was the only option, really.
Doctor Lauren, however, is shocked, horrified, and, if possible, even more furious to learn this; her chin trembles with barely restrained rage and grief. She demands to know why, but Lachlan believes the answer is obvious. He comes down from his dais to stand before Doctor Lauren. “He needed a cure for the outbreak that was ravaging the Fae,” Lachlan explains, “and he saw in you someone who could provide that. He pulled you into the fold,” he adds, open palm extended for emphasis, “and kept you there,” his finishes, closing his hand into a fist.
Doctor Lauren struggles to rectify the last five years of her life with this new revelation. “It was a lie?” she asks in a small voice. “I worked night and day for The Ash!” she shouts, rallying. Lachlan admits he doesn’t condone the old Ash’s actions, but thinks Doctor Lauren needs to put that behind her now. “Oh and what?” Doctor Lauren asks. “Continue working here? I’d rather burn the place to the ground,” and oh boy does she mean it.
Lachlan points out that doing that wouldn’t bring Doctor Lauren any closer to ComaNadia’s recovery. “Besides, I believe I’ve located the shaman who placed the curse on (Coma)Nadia,” he reveals. The shaman is in a village in The Congo (big surprise there) and Doctor Lauren immediate insists that she can go there and talk to the shaman, but the Ash stops her in her tracks with the information that the shaman is dark Fae. Gotta wonder how the old Ash managed to do business with him in the first place. “Lauren, I will do everything in my power to help (Coma)Nadia,” Lachlan says with sincerity and I – I believe him. I do. “For now,” he continues, “I’d appreciate it if you’d just clean yourself up and go back to work.” Shell-shocked, Doctor Lauren complies and as she leaves the throne room, Lachlan sits behind his desk and thoughtfully drums his fingers.
At The Dal (drink!), Kenzi hotfoots her way into the empty bar—is anyone ever there anymore?!—and over to the table where Hale (Hale!) sits quietly, reading the newspaper. “Just the kind and generous man I wanted to see,” she trills. Long wise to her game, Hale dryly asks, not without affection, “how much you need?” and Kenzi admits that she is collecting funds for the “most kick ass hors d’oeuvres you’ve ever wrapped your sweet tongue around.” She prefers cash, but will accept checks and money orders. Hale, without looking up from his paper: “Cool. Put me down for ten.” Kenzi, with disgust: “Ten will get us a bag of chips and some generic brand salsa.” She thumps her hands down on his paper to get his attention and emphasizes that this is Bo’s special, special day. “You’re right,” Hale says, yanking his paper free. “I’ll give her the ten!”
“Well played,” Kenzi allows and agrees to put him down for a “tenski, and you’re still getting the cake, right?!” Hale frowns dramatically. “Cake?!” he objects as though he never heard the word before in his life, but one look at Kenzi’s horrified expression and he can’t maintain the joke. “I’m on it,” he assures her, breaking out that beautiful siren smile. Kenzi pats his hand and jumps up as Trick enters from the back, making sure she can still count on him for the hooch. “Like I told you yesterday, and the day before that, and the day before that,” Trick explains wearily, “I got it covered.” Kenzi apologizes cutely, “I just, I don’t want to forget anything, you know?” She goes on to list all the things she still has to get in line, decorations, ice, cups, “and the band!” “The band?” Hale asks and Kenzi confirms it, insisting that this party has got to rock. “Nothing’s too good for my–”
“Bo!” Trick calls out, peering beyond Kenzi’s shoulder to see Bo entering the bar. Kenzi chirps in inquiry about her run and the next 30 seconds are so out of character for this show, Imma gonna sum it up by saying everyone asks about everyone else’s plans and they all lie to Bo—Hale especially badly—about what they’re doing because of course they’re all going to be at Hilton Hovel (drink!) for her surprise party. For her part, Bo tells Trick she hopes to try and talk to Doctor Lauren as she hasn’t for a few days–like, say, four maybe?–and see if the doc can’t get some shore leave for the evening. Just as she finishes saying that, her phone rings, prophetically so, as it’s Doctor Lauren calling. I’m amused by the fact that Bo draws her mobile from her boot. One boot for the dagger and one for the phone makes a purse so passé.
Except Bo’s phone conversation does not sound like the way she usually speaks to Doctor Lauren, and as she hangs up, she snits to Trick and Kenzi that it was actually Lachlan calling her because he wants to see Bo. Gee. Wonder what that might be about…
At the Ash’s compound, Lachlan is doctoring his French pressed tea, which Bo has refused, politely for her. “Why am I here?” she asks as Lachlan sips at his cup. He notes that she’s always so impatient. “You’ve got to learn to enjoy the moment, Bo,” he drawls, settling back against the white couch on which they sit, “or life will just pass you by.” Bo: “You called me here to preach fortune cookie philosophy?” Lachlan: “No, I called you here because I have some information regarding (Coma)Nadia.” Bo admits that he has her attention. Lachlan goes on to detail the deal with the African shaman. “I thought you might pay him a visit and persuade him to remove the nail and lift the curse.” Ohhhh. Sneaky Ash.
Bo wonders why he’s choosing her for the task. “The shaman is a dark Fae mystic known as Tshombe, lives in a small village in The Congo.” Since Bo is unaligned and has “a certain personal interest in the matter” he believes she is the perfect one for the job. After a contemplative pause, Bo tells Lachlan she appreciates him telling her about it, but he caveats that there is one more simple yet critical aspect. “You can never tell (Doctor) Lauren that you’re doing this.” When Bo asks why not, Lachlan explains that the nail can only be removed if the person making the request has got complete and utter selfless love, “which is then exemplified by performing a life-changing favor for someone without them ever being aware of it. I don’t make up the rules but you must accept this as fact or you will not be successful.”
Bo, being Bo, claims that she doesn’t need credit for helping “a friend”; she’s only concerned with the results. “Can I at least see (Doctor) Lauren before I go?” But he refuses her request, insisting that Doctor Lauren is in the middle of a critical analysis and can’t be disturbed.Bo accepts this a little too easily I think, but moves on to wonder(s) how she’s supposed to find to this Tshombe dude. Lachlan passes over the business card for his travel agent promising to call ahead and make all the arrangements. What? No private Fae jet? At Hilton Hovel (drink!), Kenzi is dishing on the phone in Russian as Hale slinks in, cake box in hand, and settles himself at the kitchen table. When he asks what her phone convo was about, Kenzi tells him her cousin Dima is helping her with the party favors. “Every chic hostess gives her guests a little gift!” Hale wonders what that gift would be and she admits her cousin is getting her a bunch of digital cameras fresh off the boat from Japan. “The guests can snap away tonight and then I can make Bo an album of party pics!” she predicts proudly. Detective Hale says even though he doesn’t really want to know the answer, “I gotta ask. How is Cousin Dima acquiring these cameras?” Kenzi, suddenly realizing she’s been spilling her accessory-to-a-crime plans to a cop quickly redirects the line of inquiry. “You got the cake!” she congratulates him. “Uh huh,” Hale murmurs. As Kenzi checks the cake box contents, Bo marches into Hilton Hovel (drink!), a woman clearly on a mission. Kenzi calls out to her while scrambling to hide the cake, and Bo answers that she just has to grab something from upstairs. “Girl’s focused,” Hale observes. Kenzi: “Yeah, when she gets like that it usually means trouble.” Bo reenters the common room still at full speed, now buckling on her sword belt. “Hey hon buns, where you off too?” Kenzi singsongs, hurrying after Bo. “Africa,” Bo says without ceremony and Hale’s head pops up like someone goosed him. “Africa?” Kenzi repeats while in pursuit. “As in The Dark Continent? With your sword? Is there something you want to tell me?” Bo pauses long enough to say she can’t talk right now and moves on. “Well, are you going to be home for dinner?!” WifeKenzi calls after her.
Bo bursts into The Tayyalard Agency. The wide room is empty and eerily resembles a DMV office. A clearly bored Indian woman sits behind the desk and when Bo breathlessly greets the agent, she casually asks for Bo’s number. “Number?” Bo repeats incredulous. “Number,” the agent whispers pointing to the number kiosk inches away. Bo glances at the machine and then around the empty waiting room as the muzak plays on before looking again at the agent who nods with a wide smile. With a disgruntled look at the agent—freaking Fae —Bo takes a ticket as the agent remotely changes the electronic monitor on the wall so it flips from 22 to 23. “23!” she calls out to the empty room at large. Bo gives her another speaking look—really lady?!—and holds out her ticket with a sharp smile.
“You must be Bo,” the agent gasps, though damned if I know why. Bo just stares at her with the universal look of I hate the DMV. “I am Bashirah Falak Manar,” the agent introduces herself, “But you can call me Peggy.” Great. Now all I can think of is those Discover Card adverts with the Russian customer service agent “Peggy”, which, now that I think on it, is probably the intent. Bo asks Peggy how exactly she’s supposed to get to Africa, plane, train, Fae automobile?
“Oh no,” Peggy giggles. How adorable. “For you, I fold the earth.” With that she’s actually managed to confound Bo and when she points that out, Bo stutters that she’s actually ever traveled that way. Delighted, Peggy cuts her off, “oh no, no, no, no, of course you haven’t! I’m the only Fae travel agent in this area sanctioned by The Ash,” she tacks on proudly. She explains that in conventional travel Bo would move toward the destination, but when Peggy folds the earth, the destination moves toward Bo “in the blink of an eye. You merely stand still and the earth is displaced under your feet.”
Bo wonders if it’s safe and Peggy grimaces. “Safe is such a relative term.” She lists a few common side effects, which include “in some very limited cases” death and as Bo goggles at her, Peggy produces an accidental death waiver and points out several places where Bo needs to initial and sign. As Bo signs where indicated, Peggy offers that if she’s concerned about her loved ones, she does offer travel insurance that offers excellent death benefits. With a tight smile and a final signature, Bo insists that she‘s good.
“Okay!” Bo says, smacking the pen down on the counter. “What now?” Peggy: “Happy trails!” and suddenly the room shifts around Bo and presto! She’s in The Congo standing in front of a shaman’s shack. Man, if that was real, I would so be in London in a literal blink of an eye.
I would like to pause here and note that we are at 10:43 in the episode and STILL no sign of a certain wolf man. Bad form, show.
Stunned, Bo glances around her new environs. She cautiously peers through the barred window of Shaman Shack and wisely decides to draw her dagger before entering. A man lies on the floor at the center of Shaman Shack. “Tshombe?” Bo calls out before approaching. She crouches next to the man and without ceremony or confirmation, tells him she’s there about a cursing nail that he put into a block of wood. Slowly Tshombe lifts one arm and points and as Bo follows the direction, she sees a wooden beam stretching from floor to ceiling and festooned with hundreds, nay thousands, of cursing nails. Looks like Tshombe does a neat little business in the cursing industry.
Tshombe struggles to his feet with the Bo’s help and that of a de rigueur staff. I am struggling to puzzle out who the actor is because he’s very familiar yet not evoking fond feelings. Concerned, Bo asks after his welfare and Tshombe haltingly tells her he is nearing the end of his journey. “You are here on behalf of a cursed soul?” he asks as they approach the beam. Bo confirms this and that it’s for a woman named (Coma)Nadia. He repeats the name slowly and leans against the beam. “These nails,” he says, lightly petting them, “were placed here for a reason.”
Bo is getting her righteous warrior guise on. “Aren’t shamans supposed to be healers? Do you have any idea how much pain you’ve caused these people’s families?!” Haltingly, Tshombe explains that every time a person is cursed it shifts the fortunes of others. “Who is to say the world is not a better place?” He gasps as he locates ComaNadia’s nail, as though he’s located a pet of which he’s fond. “Pull it out,” Bo demands.
Tshombe tells her the one who ordered ComaNadia’s curse paid handsomely. “Someone paid you to put a curse on her?” Bo asks and Tshombe admits that it was the old Ash of her region. Bo is unsurprised but dangerously pissed. “The leader of the Light Fae made a deal with a dark Fae Shaman.”
“The Light do not mind compromise when they feel the ends justify the means,” Tshombe confirms. “Cursing (Coma)Nadia ensured that (Doctor) Lauren would do everything in her power to find an antidote to the Fae fever,” Bo concludes, leapfrogging to a conclusion that stymied Doctor Lauren. Tshombe points out that as a result, hundreds of Fae lives were saved, neglecting to mention that the doc would’ve done the same without the incentive of saving ComaNadia as I’d be willing to bet she’d consider that pesky Hippocratic Oath she took applies to the Fae too.
“How much to pull out the nail?” Bo asks darkly. Tshombe tells her that the goddess Ama possessed a sacred healing mask that she gifted to a revered shaman in Mali. Two years ago it was stolen. “Find it. Bring it to me,” he exhorts Bo. She asks where she can find this mask and he claims it was stolen by a preta. “Last I heard, it was hiding somewhere in Madagascar. You. Must. Hurry,” he emphasizes. “I do not know whether I will survive the night.” Lying flat on a dirt floor can’t help much with that, dude.
At Hilton Hovel (drink!), Kenzi is auditioning bands and watching two clueless guys wail on electric guitars. She winds them down and throws them out, closing the door behind them on an exhale when someone pounds on the door. She groans and opens the door to—hey! It’s Ice Twin! Which is what I always call Aaron Ashmore and if you follow that link, you’ll find out why, otherwise, moving on.
Ice Twin says he’s there about the auditions but stops mid-explanation as his gaze takes in Kenzi properly. “Kenzi?” he asks after a pause, incredulous. Surprised, Kenzi takes a mo to study him back. “Nate?!” she replies. “Little Kenzi from next door,” Nate continues cautiously and wonders how long it’s been since they last saw one another, fifteen years? Kenzi: “Sixteen years and three months—not that I was actually keeping track.” She pulls him into Hilton Hovel, delighted to see him. “Where have you been? Where did you go when you moved away and why didn’t you call me?” she asks ended with a good-natured punch to the shoulder. “Ah, Seattle, Reno and—you were six,” he answers. Kenzi confesses that for the longest time she had it in her head that he’d been abducted by aliens. Nate: “Close. It was my mom.”
Changing the subject, he asks, looking around Hilton Hovel, if it’s all Kenzi’s, who says yeah and then caveats that she shares it with her roomie. “It’s actually her birthday,” she adds, pointing to the flyer in Nate’s hand. “Very exclusive party gig,” he reads from it. “High profile. No pay.” “Very exclusive, yeah,” Kenzi whispers, clearly regretting that part of the advert now that the crush of her childhood is applying for the gig. He asks if she’s found anyone for it yet and with a cute smile, Kenzi claims she has now.
At The Dal (drink!), though still empty, Trick is polishing glasses as at 15:31, Dyson finally ambles in. ‘Bout damn time, show! Trick notes that it’s kinda early for him to be there and whether he’s looking for coffee or beer. Dyson asks for a beer and Trick concludes that it’s been that kind of a morning. “(Perfect)Ciara’s house shopping,” Dyson states dropping his jacket on the bar as though that explains everything and actually, it really does. Trick needs no more explanation as Dyson shoves a brochure across the bar and Trick exchanges it for the beer, describing the listing to the rest of us. “Well, 5,000 square feet on two acres of land, 6.5 million, all that and a beautiful girlfriend and you’re stressed out?” I swear Dyson chews his beer here as he lifts his eyebrows wryly. Yep. Pretty much. Wow lady, way to majorly misread your boyfriend there.
Trick points out that most men would give up an appendage to be in Dyson’s shoes, and by appendage, I’m fairly confident he really means “left nut.” Dyson admits that he’s aware of his good fortune. “My friend,” Trick says kindly, “at some point you’re going to have to sort out your emotions.” “That’s what I’ve been struggling to do ever since (Perfect)Ciara came back into my life, Trick,” Dyson confesses painfully. Trick: “Actually, you’ve been struggling with them since you came back from the Norn.” Freaking Norn!
Speak succubus. ‘Tis your cue.
Trick has barely finished pointing out this salient point to Dyson when the real reason for his discontent slams into The Dal (drink!). “I need to know everything you can tell me about something called a preta,” she says breathlessly. Trick is not happy to hear this. “If you’re planning a preta hunt, I suggest you bring some backup.” Oh, and look at that, Dyson just happens to be standing next to you too. Quick! To the Bad Ass mobile!! Bo immediately looks at Dyson who returns the glance with a small smile. Yeah, he’s got her back, as usual.
Bo, Dyson, and Trick pore over some old books, so basically it’s a day ending in “y” at The Dal (drink!). Trick explains that preta are extremely greedy creatures “driven to satisfy their desires but unable to fulfill them.” He gives Bo a few examples—starving but can’t swallow, parched but can’t drink—ending with “others still have overwhelming sexual urges but...” and Bo finally interrupts him. “Fae ED. I get the picture,” she assures Trick. Tricks points to a specific preta in The Fae Book of Preta or something of that ilk that Bo is perusing and expositions that this particular preta has an unstoppable lust for treasures and was stealing valuables in African. Dyson: “Sounds like he could be your man.”
Bo asks Trick if he has any idea where to find this preta. “Madagascar is a big place and I don’t have a lot of time.” Trickopedia states that the preta’s last known location was in the catacombs beneath First Christ Church in Sambava. Dyson: “You know, I’ve heard a lot of stories about people going into preta dens but no stories about people coming back out.”
Bo looks at him for a moment. “Are you scared?” she gibes, flirting, but Dyson rolls with it. “Intrigued,” he corrects with a wry smile. Sigh. Even Trick is smiling at them. He informs Bo that she has to offer the preta a trade. “Something of value.” Frustrated—crap, something else?!—Bo looks up at Dyson for an answer and then back to Trick. “Well, I don’t have anything!” she cries. But Trick is on it. He holds out a lovely bracelet and tells Bo to take it. “Oh Trick, it’s beautiful!” she says, and it is. “It was my wife’s,” Trick explains softly, shocking both Dyson and Bo, though Dyson’s expression is more really? You’re going there now? I think he already knew about the wife and is more shocked that Trick is sharing the information now with Bo. “Your wife?” Bo repeats. Dyson and Trick exchange a whole stinkin’ lot in one look. “How come you’ve never told me about her before?” Bo asks, a little hurt and very confused. Trick smiles at her, almost lovingly. “I will,” he promises, “in time.”
It’s very telling on several fronts that Bo has not told either one of them why she’s after the preta nor alluded to Doctor Lauren in the slightest way so neither Trick nor Dyson know the true stakes of the situation. But Bo walked into the room, upset and in need, and the two men who love her most (whether or not the one is feeling it right now) said “absolutely, of course, whatever you need” and that was that.
Bo shakes her head. “Oh Trick. I could never take this,” but Trick is quick to waylay her, “I’m sure she’d approve,” he says. Bo, with great emotion: “I don’t know what to say.” Trick: “You’ve already said it.” It’s an incredibly lovely moment and personally, I love that Dyson is a part of it even if only as an observer. Feels right.
In a lightning quick change of tone, Trick wishes them good luck and decamps though Dyson’s looks after him for a minute while Bo admires the bracelet and wonders. She turns that emotion toward Dyson. “I really appreciate you helping me with this,” she says and means it. “Ah, I had nothing better to do today,” Dyson jests. Oh yeah, nothing but house hunt with your soon-to-be-live-in girlfriend, who you’re quick to abandon the moment your ex needs you. Small thing. “Besides, what are friends for?” he adds easily, collecting his jacket and Bo smiles wryly and shakes her head because the idea of them only ever being friends is ludicrous. “Come on,” he says playfully. “Let’s go get us a mask!” Go Team Badass!
At Hilton Hovel (drink!), Hale and Kenzi enter toting a large cardboard box between them that sports Japanese symbols. “How many people did you say are coming to this party?” Hale asks. “About a dozen,” Kenzi replies. “By the size of this box, seems like you’ve got enough cameras here for the whole block,” he grouses in return. Kenzi decides that if there are a few extras she thinks they’d catch a few rupels on eBay. “Whatdya say? Split the profits, 70/30?” Hale dryly reminds her he’s an officer of the law. Kenzi rolls her eyes. “60/40. Dude, you drive a hard bargain.” She burrows through the box and packing straw, but instead of digital cameras, she comes up with waving mechanical Japanese cats. Fan-damn-tastic.
Hale picks up a cat and examines it. “Ah, where’s the lens?” Kenzi shouts that Dima picked up the wrong box! Hale: “Ah ya can’t really blame him now, can you? It’s kinda dark out there on the docks. In the middle of the night.” Kenzi: “Dude, what am I supposed to do for party favors?!” Hale, hilariously hisses at her and sets the cat’s paw waving. “Give ‘em a creepy cat,” he says, matter of fact.
“No!” Kenzi wails. “This is a disaster!” Hale sets down the cat and pshaws that it’s not so bad. “We have cake!” he declares, perching his fine tush on the kitchen table next to the cake box. Kenzi prances over to open the cake box. “Yep, just looking at it makes my mouth happy.” Honey, from one icing whore to another, I totally get that. She reaches out for a curlicue even as Hale chides her not to, and helps herself to a dollop. “Bo will never miss a little icing,” she singsongs. Licking her fingers clean she savors the taste of the icing…and makes a face. “What’s wrong?” Hale immediately asks. Disgusted, Kenzi pulls a worm from her mouth. “A worm!” she shrieks, and Hale tries and fails to hide a wide grin. “Oh my God, I just had a worm in my mouth!” Hale: “Should’ve known an organic fairy bakery would use worms.” Yes, Hale, you should have! Kenzi swishes her mouth out with something—probably vodka—and looking at Hale with growing horror as he decides the cake probably has ladybugs in it too. Kenzi: “Ladybugs?!” Hale shrugs, “Yeah.” Kenzi gags and reaches for the water bottle again, but I’m still betting there’s vodka in there instead.
Back at the travel agency, Bo tells Peggy her and Dyson need two tickets to Samvada stat! “Number?” Peggy prompts. Behind her, the counter now reads 77. Bo: “Really?” Peggy nods cheerfully, “Yeah,” and Bo just sighs. Dyson sees the dispenser next to Bo and reaches around her to take a number and keep Bo from strangling Peggy while the agent aims her remote control at the counter and advances it to 78. “78?!” she calls, looking around the empty room at everything except Bo and Dyson who exchange glances. Beat. “That’s us,” Dyson chirps snarkily, holding up his ticket. Peggy, not getting the whole “urgent!” vibe, small talks that Madagascar is beautiful this time of year. “Honeymoon?” she asks with an eyebrow waggle worthy of the wolf. “Business trip,” Bo snaps. Peggy: “Oooh. Touchy subject.” By now, Dyson’s cluing in on the problem and as Peggy asks if they’d like a window or an aisle he and Bo exchange do you see what I’ve had to deal with?/yeah, try not to kill her yet looks before they both give Peggy the universal REALLY lady?! look. Peggy giggles. “A little Fae travel humor.”
Bo is running out of what little patience she has. “Listen, Peggy, we are in a big hurry.” Peggy tells them to fasten their seatbelts and presto! They are in the catacombs beneath the church in Madagascar. Dyson: “That’s quite impressive.” Bo: “And efficient.”
Slowly, they enter the catacombs, Bo in the lead, naturally. “Would’ve been a crappy place for a honeymoon,” Bo mutters as they round a corner. Snort. Suddenly, an older Asian man comes out from the room behind them. “You’re here to trade,” he says and it’s not a question, but Bo says yes anyway. He leads them forward in the direction they were already going, but whatever, into a room filled with various pieces of treasure. It actually looks a lot like the secret room with the Holy Grail from Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade. Here’s hoping Bo and Dyson choose wisely.
“You’ve been busy,” Dyson observes. Preta: “It’s in my nature.” “To steal?” Bo sneers and the preta snaps back that yes, “and endure the torture of not being able to enjoy the spoils.” He can’t just look at a piece of art and be satisfied; he needs to caress it, “feel its exquisite lines to have any sense of joy.” Unfortunately, the moment he obtains an object and brings it back to his den, he can never touch it again lest it crumble into dust and demonstrates. Bummer, dude. Dyson wonders why he steals all of it then. “That is my fate,” the preta answers unhappily, though he hopes one day that his affliction will be gone. “And when it is, I will bathe myself in jewels and gold and silver!” Bo: “Sounds uncomfortable.”
The preta asks what she’s brought to trade. Bo displays the bracelet and the preta directs her to put it on the table but warns her to be careful as the sand is very dangerous. “It retains the same destructive quality as my touch.” He demonstrates by sprinkling some of the sand on a gold goblet, which promptly disintegrates. And there goes the Grail.
Bo carefully steps forward, avoiding the sand like Indy avoiding the booby trapped moss pockets in Raiders of the Lost Ark, so we’re definitely doing a variation on a theme here. She places the bracelet on the table and just as carefully steps back to home base. “The bracelet in exchange for what?” the preta asks and when Bo describes the mask; he admits with a short smile that he knows of what she speaks.
In the White Room of Lies, Doctor Lauren approaches ComaNadia’s pod and smiles lovingly at it. “Hey, babe,” she murmurs. She looks much better physically, skin not as pale, hair not as limp. She apologizes to ComaNadia for not visiting the last few days, claiming that’s it’s been busy, but then she stops herself, rolling her eyes at the sheer inadequacy of that statement to describe being locked! In the dungeon! “Why am I lying to you?” she wonders. Because lying to the people you love is what you do, doc. She admits that The Ash held her prisoner. “I guess we’ve both been prisoners for the last five years, huh? But maybe that’s all going to change soon,” she adds hopefully. She doesn’t want to get her hopes up, but she thinks there could be a light at the end of the tunnel. “And maybe someday real soon you’ll wake up from your long sleep.” She smiles beautifully. “And maybe I’ll get to hold you again,” she says brokenly, tears finally breaking through.
Back in the catacombs, the preta leads Bo and Dyson to the mask which sits on a treasure chest. Between the mask and them, however, are several large piles of the creepy sand. “Retrieve it and the trade is complete,” the preta tells them. “It’s a trap,” Dyson points out, gesturing to the sand. Possibly even a trap trap. “Not a trap,” the preta disagrees. “Merely part of your quest. The most cherished treasures are the most difficult to come by. Danger only increases one’s appreciation for the prize.” It also makes you horny, but that’s a different episode.
Bo insists that she already appreciates it plenty and Dyson interjects that the preta already has the bracelet, “just give us the mask and we’ll be on our way,” but the preta snaps that he sets the terms of the trade. “By the way, the piles are the remains of the last people who came to trade.” Dun dun DUN! Bo rolls her eyes and tchtes as she and Dyson again exchange glances. “Fantastic.”
“I’ll go,” Dyson says, taking a step forward. “No!” Bo exclaims, quickly slapping her hand on his chest to stop him. “I have to do this.” Recognizing that she’s not going to budge, plus it’s in the script, Dyson steps back as Bo exhales heavily. She starts to carefully weave her way around the piles and it strikes me that as her feet are considerable smaller than his, she would’ve been the better choice, even without Lachlan’s instructions. Dyson tracks her every move as the preta stands at the back of the room watching. Bo gets half way through the maze before Dyson stops her. Frowning, he crouches down next to some cloth lying on the floor. Guess the preta didn’t feel like picking up his laundry. “This material doesn’t disintegrate,” he observes. “It’s the same as your robe. It’s not affected,” he shouts to the preta. Dyson tosses the cloth to Bo. “Try this. I think it’ll give you a safe path.” She thanks him as the preta grimaces and opens the door at his back. As Bo wields the robe like a shield before her, the airflow from the open door stirs the sand into small whirlwinds. “Dyson! We have a problem,” she calls out. Dyson turns around and see the open doorway. “That isn’t fair,” Bo spits at the preta. “My terms,” he reminds her smugly. “Here’s mine,” she snarls and throws her knife at him. But the preta merely holds up his hands and the knife disintegrates as soon as it touches him.
“Bo, cover yourself!” Dyson shouts. She crouches down and covers herself with the robe as he picks up several pieces of treasure. “You choose to take those and leave her behind?” the preta asks. “That’s not our deal.” Dyson yells, “Deal’s off!” and starts to throw the treasure at the preta but he merely holds up his hands again so that they disintegrate too. “They can’t hurt me,” he point out, still smug. “That isn’t the point,” Dyson replies. As he keeps throwing treasure, the preta realizes all his things will be destroyed if Dyson keeps this up. “They’re my treasures!” he objects and tries to back away as Dyson wrestles a sculptured head from its podium. “Not the Michelangelo!” the preta yells desperately. Dyson throws the head, knocking the preta backwards even as he destroys it so that the Fae falls onto a pile of goods, which includes Trick’s bracelet. The bracelet and several gold bars beneath it disintegrate as Dyson shoves the open door shut and the sand around Bo settles back down.
Bo comes back out of the sand maze. “I’ve got it!” she says to Dyson, holding up the mask. “Then let’s go,” he replies. “Trick’s bracelet!” Bo cries out running toward the pile that used to be the heirloom. “Bo, it’s gone!” Dyson yells. “It belonged to his wife,” she calls back gathering up the sand with a piece of the unaffected robe. “I have to bring back something!” Exeunt Team Bad Ass as the preta, lying on a pile of sand that used to be his treasure, screams in agony: “Nooooooooo!”
At Hilton Hovel (drink!), Nate sits on the couch and plays the guitar and sings for an enraptured Kenzi who sits on the coffee table before him. So frickin’ cute! Wait, where did Hale go?! Nate sings a few lines, spot-checking Kenzi a few times, and then he suddenly stops playing. “You’re staring,” he accuses, a little freaked out. “I’m just—listening. Intensely,” Kenzi corrects him. “Isn’t that what I’m supposed to do?” Nate says it’s weird sitting there with her but she thinks it’s karma or kismet or “some other K word that means we were meant to meet again.” Nate cautiously agrees that’s possible, but it’s still weird. “I mean, you were the cute little girl next door who used to dance around all day in a tutu with a big pink bow in your hair.” Now, who wouldn’t like to see that?! Kenzi: “Well you were the cute older boy next door who would sit on his bed and play guitar in his underwear.” Nate: “You did not see me in my underwear.” Kenzi: “Fruit of the Loom, if I’m not mistaken.”
A little embarrassed, he natters about heat and lack of air conditioning but when Kenzi laughs, he admits He can’t believe she spied on him. “What can I say? I was a precocious six-year-old in love.” Nate looks at her inquisitively –love?–and Kenzi is quick to backtrack. “I don’t mean “love” love, I mean–” Nate throws her a line, “you mean you were six,” and Kenzi relaxes, “yeah.”
They stare at one another for a while, not like Bo and Dyson having silent conversations, but as two people who can’t believe they just found what they’ve been looking for (no, not Bono) and are afraid to look away in case they lose it again. “So, are you seeing anyone now?” Nate asks. “Seeing as in dating as in a quasi-to-serious relationship?” she clarifies and Nate is quick to answer, “Yeah just like that.” Kenzi smiles coyly. “Well, not to sound like a total loser, but no, nothing even remote.”
Nate nods good to know. “You?” Kenzi asks right away. “No,” Nate answers without hesitation. “I haven’t found my soul mate yet.” Jeez Nate, way to go all emo right off the bat. “That’s too bad,” Kenzi says quietly. Yeah, I can tell you’re really broken up about it, kiddo.
Back at the travel agency—hey, how do they fold the world to get back without Peggy being there in Madagascar with them? Is there a hotline?—Peggy prances up to the desk. “Number?” The counter on the wall behind her is now at 99. But Bo is done playing. “Don’t!” Peggy actually frowns: “Somebody’s got a bit of jetlag.” Bo tells her that she needs to get back to the Congo right away and Peggy goes into a ramble about assisting with hotels or rental cars until Bo snaps at her, “just there and back!” Peggy rolls her eyes but shuts up and Bo turns to Dyson. “Thank you,” she says with feeling. “Very much, I could not have done it without you.” Oh sweetie, that’s the whole point. Dyson tilts his head and shrugs, suddenly laconic. “Always wanted to see Madagascar.” And get out of mansion shopping with your actual, technical girlfriend, don’t forget. “Good luck,” he says sincerely.
Peggy asks if she can interest Bo in their frequent flyer program and as she rambles on about free t-shirts, I swear I expect Bo to clock her at any minute. “Maybe next time,” she says with strained patience. “I just need to get back to The Congo,” but before she can even finish the sentence, she’s back at Shaman Shack, yeah-ea-ea-yeah. The shaman himself is laid out spread eagle on the floor. Bo rushes to his side and when he remains unresponsive she pulls out the mask and places it on his face. Ah, that may be not such a good idea without at least a Trickopedia drive by. Dark Fae shaman sends you on quest to retrieve a powerful mask and you don’t pause for a moment to wonder if you should be investing him with those powers? Why do I feel that this too will end in tears?
The mask molds onto the shaman’s head. As he absorbs it and its powers, Tshombe rouses –OH!– now I remember! He played Charlie in a couple seasons of Highlander: The Series! Phew. Glad I got that figured out; would’ve plagued me forever.
“I saved your life,” Bo reminds Tshombe with little preamble. “Now save (Coma)Nadia’s.” Eyeing her warily, Tshombe struggles to sit up and reach for a nail extracting tool. Slowly he wraps Bo’s hands around it and, covering them with his own, begins to chant. The tool glows with power between them. “By honoring our pact,” Tshombe says haltingly, “you now have the power to remove the nail.” Bo nods, goes over to the plank with the nails, and begins to pry at ComaNadia’s nail.
Back in the White Room of Lies, Doctor Lauren races over to ComaNadia’s life support monitors as they start to go berserk.
In Shaman Shack, Bo wrenches ComaNadia’s nail free from the plank.
In the White Room of Lies, ComaNadia’s pod begins to shimmer and glow with bright light as the life-support hoses pop off. Helpless, Doctor Lauren stands beside it watching. Suddenly, the glow intensifies and with a whoosh the pod opens to reveal ComaNadia lying on the remaining slab in a beautiful ice-blue satin negligee. Well, if you’re going to lie in a vegetative state for five years, you might as well do it in Victoria’s Secret.
Slowly, ComaNadia’s eyes open. She looks around the White Room of Lies, confused, until her gaze falls on the nearby Doctor Lauren who is frozen in place in shock. Of course, NotComaNadia’s hair and skin are perfect and she swings upright without any sign of muscle atrophy or bone density weakness from lying on a slab in a vegetative state for five years. Then again, it was a Fae vegetative state, so maybe it comes with immediate, full restoration as a perk. “Lauren,” she says with a lovely smile and the doc suddenly learns how to breathe again.
Back in Shaman Shack, Bo is less sanguine about the situation. She glares at the shaman, tosses NotComaNadia’s nail aside, and begins to pry at another nail. Tshombe goes into a meltdown, insisting that NotComaNadia has been freed and Bo doesn’t have the power to release any of the other cursed nails. Of course, that’s exactly when Bo successfully pries another nail free. Shocked, the shaman boggles at Bo. “No one has ever done that before,” Tshombe says with fearful awe. That’s just because they never met our girl. Bo: “Well maybe no one has ever been this motivated to right your wrongs,” and she attacks another nail.
“Stop!” the shaman insists. “You have no idea what you are doing!” Bo insists that she does, “I’m freeing innocent people!” But Tshombe quickly disagrees. “Not all the cursed are innocent people, not even by your standards,” he says. He details some of the more heinous crimes associated with a few of the cursed nails. “None of these curses were made lightly; each one has a reason!”
“You have no right to be judge and jury,” Bo counters. “And what makes you believe that you have a right?” the shaman shoots back. Bo doesn’t like that he has a point. Looking down at the box of cursed nails yet waiting to be used, she gets an idea. “Maybe,” she says crouching down to work the bag of sand that was Trick’s bracelet from her boot (seriously, those boots need their own Home Shopping Network show. How many pockets do those suckers have anyway?!), “we’ll just have to agree that neither of us has the right.” She pours the sand over the box of nails and it disintegrates before their eyes. Satisfied Bo leaves, her need for justice appeased, as Tshombe starts to hyperventilate over the destruction of his nails. And for the second time this episode, Bo leaves behind a powerful dark Fae screaming “Nooooooooo!!!!!!”
PerfectCiara is on the phone talking business when Dyson arrives home to the loft. She hangs up and does a “how was your day (dear)?” “It was good,” Dyson answers after a pause of reflection and he seems a little surprised to realize it was. “Catch any bad guys?” she asks as she sashays over to join him in the kitchen. “No,” Dyson admits, “but I, ah, taught one a lesson.” Satisfaction pours off of him; helping Bo and being in danger with her has released the tension that plagued him earlier at The Dal. That’s the world and the woman he knows and needs. Wisely, because he’s learning, he does not tell PerfectCiara who he was with but deflects the conversation back onto her, asking how her day turned out. “I bought a new house,” she confesses a little sheepishly. This is what she’s been waiting to share since he walked in the door. “I thought you were just window shopping,” he says. “I-I-I-I was but I fell in love with the third place I saw and there were five offers on it. I had to pay a little over asking price but I couldn’t resist it,” she babbles. She goes on to detail the house and how much she loves it and how she hopes he will too…
Finding her cute rambling adorable, and eons away from the catacombs of Madagascar, Dyson laughs gently and pulls her close, touching their foreheads together the way he and Bo were wont to do and I just want to cry. “Sounds fantastic,” he tells her and she babbles that she just wants him to love it as much as she does. Dyson avoids answering her by kissing her which I do not accept as an alternative conversation stopper.
In the throne room at The Ash’s compound, Bo is downloading Lachlan on what happened at Shaman Shack, almost daring the languid leader to object. “And I was able to get the mask from the preta and back to Tshombe and pull out (NotComa)Nadia’s cursing nail.” Lachlan: “So you’ve had a busy day then.” Ha! Bo asks urgently asks whether she was successful, but Lachlan merely says he believes Bo knows the way up to NotComaNadia’s room. “This time, you don’t have to arrive in a body bag,” he drawls, pointing out that he knew all along when the doc smuggled her in and out of the White Room of Lies. Bo snorts in acknowledgement, not that surprised not to have deceived him. “Thank you, Lachlan,” she says sincerely. “Thank you for making all of this possible.” Lachlan considers her for a moment. “Try to keep that in mind in the days to come,” he suggests. Bo eyes him, unsure as to his meaning, but declines to pursue it, choosing instead to head for the White Room of Lies. I notice as she leaves that her holster belt is fastened across her butt rather than at her waist, which I imagine would make one or two necessary things rather difficult.
Bo enters the White Room of Lies but stops short in the doorway. NotComaNadia and Doctor Lauren are making out, totally into one another, not even noticing Bo gaping nearby. Bo’s face is a picture of conflicting emotions: amazement at seeing NotComaNadia awake and alive, devastation at watching the doc loving on another woman. The visual contrast of Bo standing in her black leathers while the doc and NotComaNadia are in white lab coat and ice-blue nightie, respectively, is jarring. Finally, she understands the true consequence of her decision to help Doctor Lauren cure NotComaNadia and man, does it suck. She turns and quietly leaves without them even noticing she was there.
At Hilton Hovel, a weary and worn Bo returns home, but the moment she enters the room, the lights flipped on and everyone yells “Surprise!” Dyson and Trick are wearing almost matching white shirts, which is weird and they stand with PerfectCiara as Kenzi pounds a riff out on the drum kit. Both Hale and Trick have brought dates, which is—odd. Wow! Kenzi is super duper good! Hale bounces to the beat, cup in hand, as Nate and Kenzi jam. Bo smiles, ear to ear. Arms wide and a little drunk already I think, Hale gives Bo a huge hug and birthday wishes followed close behind by Kenzi. “Are you shocked?” Kenzi asked. Bo is stunned: “I’m totally shocked!”
“Um, there’s someone I want you to meet,” Kenzi says, turning back toward Nate. “Kenzi told me all about you,” he says. “Really?” Bo answers with a look at Kenzi that says she’s told me absolutely nothing about you! “Yeah, she says that you’re the big sister she never had and always wished for.” Awwww. Kenzi sends him to get Bo a drink and Kenzi again wishes her bestie a happy birthday. Bo sighs and pulls Kenzi in for a tight hug. “Oh, thank you,” she says with feeling. “Thank you for all of this,” but Kenzi insists that it was nothing. “He’s cute!” Bo says emphatically, gesturing toward Nate. Kenzi agrees and trots off after him.
PerfectCiara and Dyson are next and the fairy hugs Bo warmly and I give her points for giving Dyson and Bo a private moment, though neither one of them attempt a hug. “Hey you,” Dyson says warmly and he pulls out a long necklace box. “Happy Birthday,” he adds a little wryly as he holding the box out to her. “Dyson,” Bo chides. “You didn’t need to get me anything.” Dyson: “Well, what are friends for, right?” Methinks he’s trotting out that “friends” line a little too frequently. Who ya trying to convince there, wolf boy? Bo flinches infinitesimally as she always does when he calls them that.
Bo opens the box to find a knife inside. “It’s a—a knife,” she says with just enough of a hitch to say that she was expecting something else entirely. Dyson, being a guy, misses it. “Well, I thought that since your last one was a pile of sand in Madagascar, you could use a replacement.” Way to plan ahead there in the gift-giving department, darling.
Bo: “A girl can never have enough sharp pointy objects, can she?” particularly when she has the urge to throw them at a certain ex-boyfriend. “It’s perfect,” she says and tries to mean it. “Thank you.” Man, they are both trying so hard.
A smiling and, for once and for the moment, happy Doctor Lauren arrives hand in hand with NotComaNadia. Yeah, you read that right. The doc looks fantastic in a gorgeous if simple sheath dress that I guarantee PerfectCiara did not pick out. “Hey you,” she greets Bo tenderly and NotComaNadia shoots her a quick, shocked, very worried look before glancing at the source of such tenderness. “Happy Birthday,” Doctor Lauren murmurs. Look at the wonderful gift I’ve brought with me! Also, is “hey you” now the approved greeting when attending your former lover’s birthday party with your new lover from long ago who recently reentered your life?
Everyone stops what they’re doing and looks at the new arrivals with awe and surprise. Dyson, still at Bo’s back (as usual) assesses the situation and at once completely gets it and instantly puts the Madagascar pieces together too, I think. “Hi, I’m Dyson,” he says to NotComaNadia, holding out his hand in greeting and filling in the awkward pause since neither Doctor Lauren nor Bo sees fit to introduce NotComaNadia to the doc’s not-so-sekrit interim lover. He shoots this wicked, knowing smile at Doctor Lauren as the others gather around and introduce themselves to NotComaNadia. “Hi, I’m Hale. It’s nice to meet you.” “Trick. It’s a pleasure.” So I guess everyone is up to date on Doctor Lauren’s coma stricken girlfriend all this while? They certainly recognize what’s going on the moment the doc and NotComaNadia walk in, so…
Bo excuses herself to Dyson who eases out of her way, glancing after her briefly with mild concerned. She retreats to the couch with Dyson’s gift, exhaling sharply and playing with the bow. As NotComaNadia introduces herself to the gang, Doctor Lauren leaves her newly awakened, clearly overwhelmed girlfriend with a bunch of total strangers to go chasing after Bo. NotComaNadia looks after her and loses her smile.
“Oh hey,” Bo says with false cheer as Doctor Lauren makes herself at home on the couch next to her. “Wow, so (NotComa)Nadia. She’s here. Awake and ready to party.” Doctor Lauren says it’s incredible. “Five years under the dome and she wakes up like it was yesterday we were in Africa.” Actually, in Bo’s case, it was only an hour or so ago, but whatever. Bo smiles and ducks her head. “If you hadn’t gotten the cursing nail from The Morrigan, we would never have known the problem,” Doctor Lauren adds. “Yeah,” Bo agrees, nodding her head without looking up. I know. I only have myself to blame.
Leaning over for the gift bag she brought with her, Doctor Lauren hands it over to Bo who is now genuinely smiling because what woman doesn’t smile when presented with gifts? Bo gives the requisite “you didn’t have to” line. For the record, my birthday is in 24 days and it’s a damn big one and yes, you have to. Just saying. Well, not you you, but—oh you know what I mean!
Bo removes another small box from the bag and opens it. For the second time that night she is (not) happily surprised as she pulls out a throwing knife. So now both her former lovers have bought Bo weapons for her birthday rather than something more—intimate. Good form, guys. “Blades for my Cuisinart?” she quips holding up the star. Doctor Lauren says they’re shurikens, which Bo already knows and has as she loaded up with a few from her weapons chest when she went after Vex in season one’s Vexed episode. Hmm. Good times.
“Strange,” Doctor Lauren says, “I know, but what do you get the woman who has everything?” You get her some damn jewelry, fool! “Well, steel death stars, of course,” Bo replies lightly. I wouldn’t even know where to start to buy such a thing but then I don’t have access to the Faetsy.com.
“I worry about what you get mixed up with and I just want to keep you safe,” Doctor Lauren confesses. “You don’t have to worry about me,” Bo assures her, and the implication is that the doc has now forfeited that right. She glances over her shoulder to where NotComaNadia is chatting with Kenzi and Nate. Sweet children, running interference with your bestie’s ex’s new/old girlfriend. “You’ve got other things to occupy your mind now,” Bo adds pointedly and Doctor Lauren admits that she should get back.
Trick approaches smiling and totting a long, skinny black box with silver buckle closures and a big, red bow. “Wow!” Bo says grinning, but immediately sobers and apologizes to Trick. “For what?” he asks genuinely puzzled. Bo explains that his wife’s bracelet was destroyed. “But for a good cause, right?” Trick says, not at all bothered and Bo is relieved to confirm this. “That bracelet brought my wife years and years of happiness,” Trick tells her. “And now it’s bringing happiness to others.” For Trick, it’s just that simple.
He urges her to open her present. “It’s an antique walking stick,” he explains as Bo oohs and ahhs over the beautiful wooden carving. “And not a comment on my age I hope,” Bo says dryly. Trick takes it from her to demonstrate, “elegant, and yet practical,” as he draws out a gorgeous sword from the walking stick scabbard. “Oh,” Bo says, her joy dimming slightly but less surprised the third time. “It’s a weapon. And you had it monogrammed.” Trick’s smile dims slightly. “A very long time ago,” he says. “It was hers?” Bo asks, no longer flippant. “Your wife’s?” Trick, smiling again: “And now it’s yours.” Bo is incredibly touched by this. “Do me a favor and keep it close,” Trick requests earnestly. “You never know when you might need it.” He may not be able to be there to protect her, but he will damn well make sure she has the tools to protect herself. He loves her so very much.
Bo thanks him. “Happy Birthday,” Trick replies, smiling broadly, and he reaches out and strokes her face affectionately and so incredibly sweetly.
His spot before Bo is quickly filled by a man in a suit. “I understand birthday wishes are in order,” he says. Bo looks up at him. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be rude, but do I know you?” The camera shifts to show him in full and boy! howdy! he is a fine looking man, dark haired with light-colored as yet to be determined eyes. This guy is totally my usual type, unlike a certain wolf who manages to suck me in nonetheless. “From an admirer,” SuitBoy says, holding out a white box. “An admirer,” Bo repeats heavy with doubt. SuitBoy frowns, “Enthusiast?” he suggests. “Devotee,” he tries out. “A fancy-er,” he settles on. Try ‘supplicant’, hot stuff. See where that gets ya.
Bo heavy with snark: “Thanks for clearing that up.” SuitBoy, equally droll: “Yeah. Happy to be of service.” Oh, I like him. Bo pulls off the top of the box and stops, a little stunned. Quite satisfied with her reaction, SuitBoy smirks to himself and rocks a little in place, waiting. She extracts a stunning, hammered, gold cuff bracelet. Finally, somebody got this poor girl some bling for her damn birthday! And a stranger, no less. Way to drop the ball there, Fae family!
“It’s beautiful,” she says a little breathlessly and with a broad smile. “And it’s not a weapon,” she adds happily, but SuitBoy objects. “Don’t be so sure,” he warns. “I was told to pass on the following message: Read the inscription first,” he whispers. Bo tilts the bracelet and peers at its underside where a few symbols and numbers are etched. “I can’t really…what is it—what?” she asks looking up, but SuitBoy has already left and is nearly out the door, passing by a canoodling Doctor Lauren and NotComaNadia.
The camera pulls back from Bo on the couch. She slides the bracelet on and sits there, alone, Trick’s sword stick in her lap. Dyson and PerfectCiara cross the room, arm in arm, walking right past her without even looking at or speaking to Bo. To her right, Kenzi and Nate are flirting heavily, delighted with each other and framed by several waving cats, which I love. Bo sighs and picks up her wine glasses. “Happy Birthday,” she sneers to herself. Poor chickiboo.
At Hilton Hovel (drink!) next morning, post party, Bo enters and peruses the now empty common room that is still strewn with streamers and balloons. She’s wearing her—my—red kimono and as she pauses by a cat, she uselessly tries to stop it waving. I adore the fact that we see she’s wearing Isotoner slippers, a t-shirt and yoga pants. Succubus at home. Kenzi waltzes into Hilton Hovel (drink!) and singsongs “Good Morning, Sunshine!” She’s brought Bo her favorite high-octane coffee. “Get that sexy heart a pumpin’!” As she sips her java, Bo thanks Kenzi again for the party. “That was so thoughtful. I especially like the cat décor.” This is a cute Meta moment as Anna Silk is a total cat person.
Kenzi: “So was yesterday jam-packed with headline news or what?!” Bo admits that it was eventful. “Says the blue ribbon award winner of this year’s understatement award!” Kenzi announces. She goes on to recap for us all. “You jetting off to Africa, which I totally need the deets on by the way. Dyson and (Perfect)Ciara buying a freaking mansion together with walk in closets bigger than this whole place.” Bo glares darkly at Kenzi over that one. “And (Doctor) Lauren’s lady love finally awakening from the curse of the poisoned apple.” Her voice trails off toward the end of this last one as she realizes exactly what she’s saying and to whom she’s saying it.
“And you,” Bo rallies, trying not to ruin things, “reunited with your childhood crush.” Kenzi: “And can we please talk about Mr. Tall, Dark, and Weapons of Mass Destruction Handsome?” Bo nods, frowning, “Yeah, who was that guy?” Kenzi: “I assumed you knew him.” Bo: “No, I’ve never seen him before.” Kenzi decides it’s trés mysterious-o and suddenly remembers that she didn’t give Bo her birthday present. Bo: “Hmm. Lemme guess. A knife? Maybe a pistol?” Kenzi: “Dude, you wanted a weapon? A saw a pair of really cool brass knuckles but I thought they’d be kind of impersonal.” Bo: “Well, you would be right.” I wouldn’t say that Dyson and the doc’s gifts were impersonal, but they certainly weren’t intimate. Trick’s present, though, was very meaningful. Love how Kenzi knew right away what to and what not to get Bo for her birthday though. BFFs!!
Bo pulls a sketch book from Kenzi’s gift bag and Kenzi urges her to open it. Inside are a series of sketches first of the gang surprising Bo and then of Bo herself, sitting alone, with waving cats in the background. They’re quite good. “Oh wow,” Bo says when she sees them. “This is amazing.” And immensely better than having mere photos of the same events.
“Nate,” Kenzi explains. “Talented lad.” Bo looks at her best friend, suddenly serious. “I’m happy for you,” she says sincerely. Kenzi: “I want to be happy for you too.” Bo, quietly, with a sad smile: “I know.” Popping up from her stool, Kenzi hurries around the table to hug Bo as she turns another page in the sketch book. “Oh wow,” Bo says again, hugging Kenzi back. “Thank you.”
At The Ash’s compound, Doctor Lauren enters the throne room back in her lab coat. Lachlan looks up from the book he’s perusing as she enters. “Ah,” he says, smacking the book closed and giving her his full attention. “How’s the patient?” Doctor Lauren smiles happily. “She’s good,” she informs him. “She checks out completely. It’s astonishing.”
“No,” Lachlan counters. “It’s Fae.” Doctor Lauren, with great emotion, tells The Ash that she is extremely grateful to him. Ponderously, he descends the steps to stand in front of her and, without being bidden, Doctor Lauren kneels before him. “And I honor my promise,” she says formally. “(NotComa)Nadia’s life in exchange for my recommitment to you.” What the huh now? I—don’t remember hearing that one. Wasn’t the deal that she committed to The Ash until NotComaNadia was restored? So…?
The Ash-hole doesn’t deter her. “And for now on,” he says, drawing out her emblem of ownership, “the necklace stays on,” and he puts it back on her. Doctor Lauren, submissive sheep that she is, ducks her head and accepts it. “Forever,” she says softly, looking up at The Ash with such subservience I am seriously squeaked out. Lachlan cups her face in his hands and stares down at her in total control of everything.
New Fae Folk:
Tshombe the dark shaman: Pretty self-explanatory. Lives in a shack in The Congo. Big on curses.
Preta: Extremely greedy dark Fae creatures, preta are driven by a specific desire but completely unable to fulfill that desire, which fails to stop them from continuously trying. Tricksy too.
Origin: Pan-Asian; Chinese; Tibetan
Bashirah Falak Manar/Peggy: Light Fae travel agent with the power to fold the earth.
Next Week: Episode 12: Barometz. Trick. Pressure.