Our Lost Girl obsession is still going strong! Be sure to check out all of our recaps, from Season 1 up to the most recent Season 2 episode aired on SyFy (episode 10, episode 11, episode 12, episode 13, episode 14, episode 15, episode 16, and episode 17). All caught up? Good. And now, on to the recap for last night’s episode, 2.18, “Fae-nted Love.”
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!
********SPOILERS*********
At Hilton Hovel (drink!), a sword stabs into the coffee table. Bo leans on the sword, panting and bloody as she struggles to pull up the contact list on her mobile. ANDERSON BROCK DYSON ELLIS. I wanna know who those guys are. Her instinct is for Dyson and her thumb hovers over the wolf man’s name. “No, no, no, no, no, no,” she moans. Grimacing, she considers a different choice but her wounds are too bad to be picky and she makes the call. “Hey,” she says, breathing heavily. “It’s Bo.”
There’s a knock on the door. Bo wrenches it open and yanks Ryan inside. “Hey! Whoa!” he says, but goes easily for all that. She flings him against the half wall and yanks his jacket off. “Upstairs,” she demands. “Now.”
“Did you forget ‘we aren’t right for each other’ and ‘it’s complicated’…?” Ryan quips until he gets a good look at her condition. “Wow. Looks like you’ve only got one thing on your mind.” Bo agrees that she does. She keeps trying to kiss Ryan and he keeps trying to examine Bo’s bandaged forearm and bloody face. “You realize that none of my ’doctorates’ are in that medical stuff, right? In fact, most of them are made up.” Snort. Bo tells him how she needs to heal. “Yeah, you look like hell,” he admits and they make out.
“You should see the UnderFae that tried to kill me,” she tells him between kisses as Ryan backs her up toward the couch. They kiss and moan and Bo grabs Ryan by his rapidly disappearing shirt. “Sex,” she demands. “Now.” Ryan: “All right, Succubus. Shall we?”
Cut to Bo’s bedroom when sex is definitely and enthusiastically underway. Not content with the standard bump and grind, Bo rakes her nails up Ryan’s bare back. In her passion, the open wound on Bo’s forearm brushes against the bloody rivets she’s left behind on Ryan’s back. Ryan rears up and shouts with pleasure/pain and Bo sucks his chi down. The slice on her forearm – now bandage free – heals as they continue their – um – session.
In some random kitchen, a man paces as a woman watches. “You said free gift with purchase,” she reminds him with acerbity. “I should’ve smelled religious freak all over you and slammed the door.” In a plumy voice, Man insists he’s not there on behalf of religion but rather on behalf of Woman’s faith. He unbuttons his sleeves and rolls up his cuffs as he says this. Woman insists that she’s got no faith. But you gotta have faith da faith da faith. Oooo gotta have faith da faith da faith –ah.
“I don’t believe in anything ’cept Jimmy Bean,” Woman insists, picking up her whiskey glass. “I worship him alone.” Heh.
Man points out that all of her neighbors have become followers. “They’d be pleased to welcome you.” With a sad smile, Woman says that she doesn’t know her neighbors and doesn’t want to change that state of affairs. “See, I don’t like people,” she tells him and motions for him to leave.
Instead, Man reaches into her sink. “Behold,” he whispers. Woman leans over to see electricity crackling around his arm which he’s immersed into the water. Wait, why did she have an empty sink full of water in the first place? “It’s beautiful,” she says with awe and leans over for a closer look. Instantly, Man shoves her head under the water (duh, lady) and holds her there while the electricity continues to crackle until the screen goes white.
Credits.
The door to Hilton Hovel (drink!) swings open from the inside to reveal Bo leaning against the jam and dressed in her (mine!) red kimono ready to usher Ryan out. Behind her, Ryan stands in an open shirt and zips up his pants as he ambles down the hall and complains that Bo really knows how to make a guy feel wanted. “Oh come on,” she grouses in return, “you’re always happy to skip cuddly spoon hour. Besides, you’re the one who told me ‘post orgasm claustrophobia’ was a medical condition.” HA!
Ryan pauses next to her in the doorway. “That was a joke,” he admits, in case she hadn’t already realized. I’m betting she did. He frowns. “Now I want to spoon.” I’ll admit, I can’t tell if he’s still joking. “Can we spoon? As long as you want,” he promises a reluctant Bo, embracing her. “What I want is for you to go,” she says baldly keeping her bent arms between them. But Ryan is intent.
Bo tells him she’s really impressed with his “paramedic impersonation, but this is over. This is the last – time – oh man, even I’m sick of that song,” she admits when he smiles at her. “Thank God you’ve such a beautiful voice. Now let’s spoon,” Ryan murmurs.
Bo frowns. This is not typical Ryan behavior. She forcibly shoves him out of Hilton Hovel (drink!) – “See ya” – even as he still protests – “I want to stay!” – and shuts the door in his face. “Oh come on, Bo!” he calls from the foyer. “I just wanna cuddle.” Hee.
At The Ash’s compound, the doors to the throne room swing open and Dyson and his long-legged stride saunter in. Hiya lovah. “You wanted to see me?” he says to Lachlan who is on the dais with a wide-screen monitor showing several CCTV feeds. There is also a tall, triangular shaped box on his desk, which he closes before addressing Dyson. Lachlan instructs Dyson to interrogate an Under-fae named Archerwho currently resides in the dungeon. Dyson wants to know what Acher did to merit a stay. Descending the steps, Lachlan explains there’s been a rash of Fae deaths lately all ruled as suicides. “I’m guessing there’s more to it than that,” Dyson growls in that voice. Lachlan explains that a Fae elder was poisoned and his bodyguard Petros fell 20 stories the night before. “And you don’t think he went voluntarily,” Dyson states. “No. He was guarding Acher’s cell earlier in the day,” Lachlan reveals. “I need answers, Dyson.”
“As you wish,” Dyson intones. I’m willfully ignoring the Princess Bride overtones here to avoid genre confusion. As Dyson exits, Lachlan warns him to be careful. “I haven’t told Acher anything about you. I think it’s wise to keep it that way.” Dyson leaves without further comment.
At Hilton Hovel (drink!), Bo is working her way through a number of gift boxes when a delivery man enters with another pile of packages. Bo protests that there’s been a mistake. “I didn’t order any of this stuff! I mean, matching love birds? A surfboard?” Delivery Man shrugs and tells her she must have an admirer. She’s a succubus. The entire world “admires” her. “Name of Ryan Lambert,” he adds, checking his clipboard. Bo doesn’t believe it. “That’s gotta be some kind of mistake!” Smiling Delivery Man denies this and hands over the clipboard for her to reluctantly sign.
As he leaves, a singing telegram takes his place. “Beautiful Bo-Bell, come back to me,” he sings. “Without you my life is one big tragedy.” Chanting, “no, no, no” again, Bo shoves him out the door, slamming it shut for good measure. Crossing her arms, she leans back against the door to contemplate the loot – and immediately falls backwards as Kenzi opens it. “There’s a guy dressed as a bellhop crying in our hallway,” she says, puzzled. Bo quickly yanks her inside and hustles her down the hall. “Yeah, it’s a tourism Fae; he needed directions.” Heh.
She asks how Kenzi is as though she hasn’t seen her in a while, which is strange. “Well,” Kenzi chirps. “On today’s episode of Kenzi, our heroine’s moxie is tested when she’s confronted with…a stalker!” she finishes in a whisper. Bo murmurs that they’re everywhere these days. Kenzi goes on to remind Bo of the graffiti artist Tryste, “that wankster that was completely obsessed with me…!” Someone pounds on the door, calling Kenzi’s name. She emphatically gestures toward the door and, rolling her eyes, Bo grudgingly goes off to deal with him. “Yo, I’m looking for the offices of Tryste’s Angels,” Tryste calls. “Where they be?” Kenzi yells at him. “They be CANCELLED!”
Bo lets him in and Triste tells “Shorty” not to play with him because he needs help, “and I know y’all be private girl dicks.” I’m just gonna let that one lie. As he sits down, Kenzi tells him she knows “y’all be leaving”. Triste tells them he has a very special lady in his life that’s in a world of pain right now. Kenzi: “Aw, you’ve got some poor girl knocked up, huh.” She offers to send her condolences but Triste corrects that he’s talking about his Gran-gran. “Who knocks up their Gran-gran?!” he asks Bo, horrified and bewildered. Heh. Kenzi coughs up a hairball, or at least sounds like it. “So not where I meant to go,” she whispers to Bo, disgusted, and she decamps.
Bo intervenes telling Triste that they’re booked solid with other clients. But, distracted by Tryste, Bo has failed to prevent Kenzi from discovering Ryan’s gifts. Ruh roh. “Bo Bo, what the –” Kenzi gasps lifting the wooden animal carrier as the love birds song chirps through Hilton Hovel (drink!).
“Later Kenzi!” Bo says with some quick thinking. “Tryste needs us! Shizzle, Kenzi, it be his – Gran-gran.” It’s the shizzle that slays me. Tryste is awed by Bo’s commitment. “Respect,” he offers, nodding. “That is why you are my second favorite biatch – Biatch!” Bo warns him not to push it, which wipes the smile from his face.
Tryste details the situation as Bo casts a wary eye on Kenzi who is working her way through Ryan’s loot. He has Sunday dinner with his Gran-gran every week. “I was checking out her telephone desk, it’s where she keeps her secret stuff,” and it turns out some “evil dude be changing her will.” Her house and money are now going to a corporation “and she’s too confused to answer any questions about it. Way confused.”
Bo, checking over her shoulder again, agrees to see if she and Kenzi can help. Tryste casually adds that street art doesn’t pay so can they do it for free? “You know, what do they call it?” He snaps his fingers in realization. “Pro boner!” Bo just stares at him.
“Bo, where did you get all this stuff?” Kenzi murmurs with awe. Bo insists that it’s all going back. “Put it down!” Kenzi cradles the boot protectively. “Put it down!” Bo demands again. “No,” Kenzi whispers. “Kenzi,” Bo warns. Kenzi: “No.”
In The Ash’s dungeon, Dyson makes his way through several locked gates before he is handed the key to Archer’s cell by a frightened guard. Dyson looks at him with distain. Puzzled, he looks around the apparently empty cell and then inhales deeply. “There’s no point in hiding, Acher,” he explains.
Acher’s disembodied voice wonders how The Ash knew he wanted a visitor. “And a Celtic wolf pretending he’s still a police detective. Someone must think I’m very special indeed.” Dyson wonders if he should be impressed by the man’s insight, but Acher ignores him, instead saying that the smell of oil on Dyson’s hands tells him Dyson cleaned his handgun today, “but you’re not carrying it where you would if you still had the authority to carry it.” After a pause, Dyson admits Acheris observant as the prisoner finally oozes into view. Acher: “One of my many talents.” He approaches the cell door and invites Dyson to come closer. “I could use the companionship.”
“I’m not here to be your friend,” Dyson sneers, but Acher only smiles very creepily. A part of me kind of expects him to croon Do the lambs still scream for you, Dyson?
The succmobile pulls up in front of the address Bo and Kenzi got from Gran-gran’s check stubs. “Strip mall church!” Kenzi notes. “Sexy.” Bo warns her to stick close. As they enter, the man from the cold open preaches that the love of Brother Douglas must carry them. “If you struggle, the rocks beneath the surface will win.” A congregant stands and entreats that they are thirsty. On cue, the rest of the small crowd stands, arms collectively extended in supplication. “And I will slake your every desire,” Brother Douglas promises.
“Oh-kay,” Kenzi the Grifter acknowledges. Brother Douglas puts his hands in a copper bowl of water, electrifying it as he did before so it sparkles like a glow stick. “Office,” Bo mutters to Kenzi. “Cover me.” Bo nods as Brother Douglas places a wand in the bowl which he then uses to cast water over the congregants, sprinkling them with the glowy, glowy light and they gasp and glow as it lands on them.
Bo makes her way through the large storage room that’s doubling as an office. She pauses before a shrine complete with a mural for the “Dougallerian Society Celebration Center” that looks eerily close to the Masonic posters my grandfather has in his apartment. Creepy.
The woman from the cold open approaches Kenzi, all friendly like, and introduces herself as Carla. Calling herself Kendall, Kenzi tells her she’s there exploring Douglarianism and Carla gushes about the amazing Brother Douglas. “He has changed my life.” She pressures Kenzi to come have some tea and cookies, brushing off her protest that she’s not there to stay.
Naturally, Bo immediately finds the pertinent paperwork right on top of Brother Douglas’ desk. Snatching up an account book, she quickly flips through it. With a tight arm around Kenzi, Carla drags her across the room as she goes on about how she loves to talk to people. “I love you already,” she says, giving Kenzi an extra squeeze. “Just like a sister!” Kenzi fake giggles and tries to extract herself again. Carla says the cookies are made from scratch and Kenzi finally caves and tries one. Trapped, she can only watch as Brother Douglas picks up the copper bowl and goes to his office.
“What are you doing?” he asks Bo rather casually when he finds her there. “You first,” she demands. “Why are people giving you so much money?” Brother Douglas claims it’s all offerings of thanksgiving and hope. Except, Bo is quick to point out as she tosses the account book down, it’s more than his congregants can afford. “It is difficult for a nonbeliever to grasp the generosity of others,” Brother Douglas patronizes. Bo: “You read that in a fortune cookie?”
With more than a little amusement, Brother Douglas observes that Bo is very rude. “You know, what’s really rude,” she counters, “is taking people’s houses and money to build a celebration center when what you really want is for them to worship you.” As she pontificates, Brother Douglas calmly puts his hand in the bowl and start – um – churning the waters. “What is that sound?” Bo asks without missing a beat.
Muttering a chant in a foreign language, Brother Douglas slowly stalks around the desk to face Bo unimpeded and the sprinkles her with the glowy, glowy water. Bo recoils as her face and chest – well - glow. “Wha – where am I?” she asks just as Kenzi barges in. “Yo holy man! Bo doesn’t do water sports!”
Brother Douglas chucks the entire bowl at Kenzi, but she ducks in time to avoid dousing. Bo scurries past the fake preacher as Kenzi picks up a discarded mannequin arm and clubs him with it. “And that concludes today’s service.” She asks “Bo-bo” if she’s OK, and Bo points a finger at her. “You stay away from me,” she demands, pulling down boxes to block Kenzi’s path. Confused, Kenzi chases after her, but when she gets outside, the succmobile is empty and Bo is nowhere to be seen.
In The Ash’s dungeon, Dyson peers through the cell gate and demands to know how well Acher knew the dead Petros and Acher deep thoughts something about how well anyone can really know anyone else. “There are no natural predators for a wolf,” he muses, rubbing his bald pate with a scaly hand. “True? Except for humans of course.” Dyson isn’t deterred. He notes Acher spoke to Petros on the day he jumped and he wants to know what it was they chatted about.
“No natural predator means you’re king of the animals,” Archer continues on his topic, ignoring Dyson’s. Actually, that would be a lion, but I’ll allow it. “Do you feel invincible?” Dyson demands Archer answer his question but Archer doesn’t see why he should since Dyson won’t answer his. Unfortunately, Dyson takes the bait. “I don’t feel invincible and neither should you. Fair enough?”
Apparently it is, as Acher admits that he and Petros spoke about his sad little life, “he was a simple man even by the lowest of standards. I can only imagine his life must have been a series of brutal disappointments.” He thinks death probably came to Petros as a relief. Dyson points out that Petros had a family. “Is the lone wolf suggesting that families are a reason to live?” Acher mocks. “I love the irony.”
Dyson tells Acher not to pretend to know him but Acher insists that indeed he does know the wolf. “Maybe better than you know yourself.” He claims to have known Petros better than himself, asking Dyson if he knew Petros’ wife had left him. “Women do that.” After centuries, Petros suddenly found himself single. “Must have left him in a lonely, lonely place wondering if it was something he did. Wondering if perhaps he didn’t deserve the joy.” Finally, Dyson flinches, this last comment coming too close to home. “Did I strike a nerve, Detective?” Acher crows mildly. For a second time, his eyelids click, flickering in and out from the sides like a reptile. Dyson scowls and glares.
At The Dal (drink!), Kenzi scurries inside, frantically gesturing for Trick. “What’s wrong?” he asks. “I lost Bo!” she whispers harshly then clarifies that she actually ran away. “Her bodacious brain just went kablooey!” Trick blinks. “OK. From the beginning and as much English as you can manage.” HA! She explains that they were on a case they thought was human-related, “some scammer preacher type who we thought might be stealing from old broads. But then Brother Jerk threw some H2O at Bo…”
“Water,” Trick immediately repeats and at first, I think he’s instructing her on the whole English bit but he wants to make sure that it was just plain water. “It looked like it, yeah,” she agrees tentatively. “But it made her act like some wide-eyed Dorothy type and she didn’t even know me! I mean me!”
Trick says it sound like an addonc (not to be confused with a badonk-a-donk), a water Fae who soaks you and thus erases your memory. Kenzi: “Like shaking an etch-a-sketch?” Trick says that’s it exactly. “You revert back to a blank slate, child-like, more innocent.” He adds that like babies (ducks), people who’ve been addonced basically imprint on the first person who is kind to them. “Oh no,” Kenzi whispers in horror.
Seeing that she’s in over her head, Trick immediately passes the keys to The Dal (drink!) to a nameless waitress to use to lock up “it’s kinda an emergency,” and hustles Kenzi out. “Bo isn’t herself,” he tells Kenzi she won’t have her own wit or skills and then pauses before an epiphany. “She might not even know she’s a succubus.” Kenzi: “Uh oh. If she gets hungry, she could kill a whole NBA team – with a WNBA team for dessert! Let’s go!”
Bo randomly wanders one of the many industrial alleys Toronto seems to feature in abundance when a sleek, expensive, black car pulls up next to her. “Hey, gorgeous!” Ryan calls out. But Ducky Bo doesn’t recognize him and scurries away. “Hey, Bo!” he calls out keeping pace. “You’re the second person to call me that!” she says. “Well that’s because it’s your name,” he says heavy with the duh. This makes her stop in her tracks and Ryan likewise parks the car and gets out looking drop dead smokin’ in a suit. Hoo shah, Mister Lambert. Bo apologizes and admits that she doesn’t know who Ryan is, so he introduces himself, more than a little confused. “I’ve been looking all over for you.” And you decided she’d be down a dirty alley? He tells her he can prove it, that he gave her the bracelet she’s wearing and knows the inscription. “REL 12 3 42.” Wary, Bo removes the bracelet and finds the inscription.
Kenzi and Trick enter the temporary housing of the Dougallerian Society Celebration Center. “First step? Any water we find, we dump it,” Trick instructs. “No way!” Kenzi objects. “If I find some, I’m pouring it all over Ryan Gosling’s beautiful melon!” HAHAHA!! Brother Douglas comes out and immediately accuses Kenzi of assaulting him earlier. “I’m calling the police!” Trick tells him it’s not a good idea. “They send Fae cops and I’ll tell them you’re a criminal, addonc.” Brother Douglas asks for Trick’s identity. “Someone who knows the trickery you’re capable of,” Trick smoothly counters.
Brother Douglas is insulted. “It’s not trickery. I sell grace to those who badly need it.” Already weary with the spiel, Trick closes his eyes for a moment then demands to know where to find Bo. “How should I know?” Brother Douglas dissembles. He says she ran and didn’t return “before I had a chance to wash out her filthy mouth and put her in a modest blouse.” Kenzi is horrified. “A blouse?!” She lunges forward, but Trick holds her back. “You monster!” she snarls at Brother Douglas. Heeeee. Trick says they gotta go but will be keeping an eye on Brother Douglas.
Bo dithers in front of a mural of a clinch tagged with graffiti “BLANK 1984,” which might be the year to which her memory’s been erased. Ryan walks up behind her, cup in hand, and I get a serious John Hughes vibe, circa, well, 1984. Handy. He offers her the hot chocolate with extra whipped cream – “It’s the best remedy.” Giggling, Bo tells him he didn’t have to do that. “Sure I do,” he counters, “I care about you.” She insists she’s OK, only wishes she could remember more. “Was it raining?” Ryan confused again: “Today? Ah, no why?” Bo remembers getting a bit wet – I’m gonna let that one lie there too – and we know it’s due to the glowy, glowy water, but she doesn’t remember that. “I’m sorry. I’m confused. Are you cold? I’m still cold.”
Ryan sweetly asks her to let him help. She smiles and says OK and he hugs her tightly making her exclaim “Oh!” Wait, did he, did Ryan just – prod her? Surely not. Did he? Bo apologizes for not remembering him but really appreciates him helping her, so much so that she goes right in for a kiss, which Ryan is all too happy to provide. They start to mack, getting into it so much Ducky Bo spreads her arms and drops her hot chocolate. Immediately she shoves back from Ryan. “What?” he asks. “Wow!” she exclaims. “Wow?” Ryan repeats. “Wow! Wow! Wow!” she chants and I swear if the next words out of her mouth are “it’s like the Fourth of July in my mouth!” I am going to go bat shit crazy on this show.
Thankfully, they are not. The world rejoices.
Ryan smiles and repeats “wow” again, ready to dive back into the kiss, but Bo springs back further. “No!” On the wall behind her now is scrawled BLOODY, appropriately in red paint, across a Diviere Diamonds advert. “No, we can’t!” Ryan wonders why not but Ducky Bo is stammering. “We can’t! No. It’s too much. It’s too tempting!” Ryan heartily agrees with this. “I mean – sheesh! – we could end up way over our heads, I mean maybe even having, you know, S-E-X,” she spells out in a hushed voice. Yeah because that she remembers. Oh my giddy aunt, Ducky Bo is too adorable.
Ryan takes a beat. “You really don’t remember who you are, do you?” Now you’re getting’ it! Bo shakes her head no. Ever the opportunist, Ryan tells her she’s his girlfriend. Bo: “I am?” Ryan: “Yeah. We’re in love.” Bo: “We are?” Ryan: “Madly.” In fact, he admits to have been planning something for a while and thinks now is the perfect time. Oh noz. Oh no, no, no, no, nooooo.
Sure ’nuff, Ryan pulls out a ring box and gets down on one knee. In a dirty alley. Classy. “Oh wow,” Bo gasps. “That is sparkly.” OK, now you’re just channeling Kenzi completely. The camera pulls back and now we see the full tattered and tagged billboard for Diviere Diamonds of a turn-of-the-20th-century bride and groom with the tag line “Keep Her Yours, Always.” Anvil!! Anvil alert!!
“Marry me,” Ryan pleads. “I want to be with you forever; I need to be with you forever.” OK, this is wonky, even for the Loki – especially for the Loki. Tossing the ring box over his shoulder, Ryan shoves the ring on Bo’s finger. “We can be at The Falls in an hour,” and I’m assuming he means Niagara, the Gretna Green of the Western World. Panting, Bo looks down at the ring, handily on the same hand (heh) as Ryan’s bracelet, and then at Ryan himself, which is when her eyes eerily go succubus blue.
“Why not?” she queries with a grins. “Yes! Let’s get married!” Exuberant, Ryan leaps up and spins her around as they kiss again. “Oh wow!” Bo says one last time, but no Fourth of July crack, so I do not go all Jersey on it.
Ryan carries Bo across the threshold of the honeymoon suite, calling her “Mrs. Lambert.” Bo: “Holy sugar, this is fancy!” Ryan explains that it’s some industrialist’s old country home. “Nothing too good for my girl.” They kiss.
“You ask to fly my private helicopter, I make it happen,” Ryan teases and Bo tells him that was his idea and the most terrifying 20 seconds of her life. How would she know? “Oh not even close!” Ryan says, “You’ve forgotten so much incredible stuff, babe!” Bo wonders if he thinks she’ll ever remember it. “I think,” he says, lying her back across the bed, “that we’ll just have to make some new memories. Having your life begin again as Mrs. Lambert? Could be a lot worse.”
But Bo shoves him off her and climbs out of the bed. Ryan moans into the mattress as Bo orders him to stop calling her that, “you bad man. This isn’t official yet.” That gust of wind you just felt was both sides of the entire fan base heaving a collective sigh of relief. Ryan leaps up and promises that they can fix that in fifteen minutes. “I want a dress,” Bo says quietly. Ryan stops in his tracks. “She wants a dress…” he repeats to himself. “I was thinking ivory Crepe de Chine,” Bo says earnestly. “I don’t even know what Crepe de Chine is, but doesn’t it sound delightful? I just, I wanna be really pretty,” she finishes, bouncing up and down in place. It’s not prom, Bo. Oh yeah, she doesn’t know what prom is. Carry on!
Ryan promises her that she couldn’t be any prettier. “I would marry you in hip waders and a space helmet.” Oh Ryan, you rogue. Bo agrees that he can wear that if he wants to, “but I want a dress.” Do not argue with a bride in search of a bridal gown, dude. You will lose every time. See, now I’m imagining a Bridezilla episode with Fae brides. I would so watch that show!
At The Dal (drink!), down in Tolkien’s Lair (drink!), Kenzi is thinking the worst. “What if Bo hitched a ride outta town and is dancing topless in a bar despite rival girls trying to bring her down?” I was wrong; this would be the Very Special Episode. Trick grimaces: “She’s not living in Showgirls!” Kenzi shrugs that this is her go-to worst scenario. I gotta admit it’s a solid one.
She gets up and joins Trick at the desk, insisting that there’s got to be some kind of cure. “Well, if she has relations with anyone, she could get healed,” Trickopedia posits, consulting a book. Kenzi closes her eyes and clasps her hands in prayer. “Oh come on random banging!” she entreats. HAHAHA! Ignoring this, he also suggests the dunking could wear off. “Fae are less susceptible than humans.” Kenzi groans. “My stomach hurts.”
Trick however decides that to be safe, they need to get Bo to drink the water from the River Mnemosyne, which is very rare and costs a fortune. Kenzi: “Well what are we supposed to do? Hold a telethon?!” Her voice breaks as she tells Trick they have to do something now, “Bo is out there!” Trick reassures her that addoncs usually keep a small stock of the River Mnemosyne on hand, “for emergencies.” Kenzi: “Oh, well, Brother Douglas better prepare than for the Second Coming of Moi!” Trick chuckles at her vehemence. Quick! To the Trickmobile!
Back at The Falls, Ryan has brought an exclusive bridal shop doyenne and her hot assistant to the hotel. Bo stands above them on a small dais as they display several gowns for her from the rack nearby. Doyenne gushes that this particular gown is from their Diamonds Are Forever collection, “if that’s your style,” but Bo doesn’t know. “Is it?” she asks, holding the gown before her. Doyenne: “Well, you would know better than me, kitten.” Um, kitten? Oh no.
Bo is unsure and asks after the cost but Doyenne assures her that Mister Lambert said money is no object, “which is just exactly the kind of groom I like!” Bo heartily agrees. Doyenne thinks Ryan seems perfect. Bo: “Oh yeah. He is handsome and generous, and, between us girls, he is unbelievably sexy – pardon my French!” Everyone giggles. Ducky Bo is so freaking cute in her innocence. Also, more than a little freaky.
Doyenne thinks all this is a good start and wonders how long Bo and Ryan have been together. “I don’t know!” Bo chirps with a wide smile. Doyenne decides this means practically forever then asks how they met. “I don’t know that either!” Bo chirps again. After a small pause, Doyenne decides it’s the love between them that matters and Bo agrees that she thinks she really does love Ryan. “I really like…his jacket!” she says with enthusiasm. Finally, Doyenne realizes something here is Not Right, which is just about the time Bo starts to weave her wiles on the hot assistant, who easily falls under the succubus spell. “You are stunning,” Bo says with awe. Doyenne quickly intervenes, telling Assistant she thinks they should show “our lovely bride-to-be something from the Empress line.” The spell broken, Assistant shakes her head and goes back to the dress rack with Bo nearly trailing after her.
“Kitten,” Doyenne assays gently, tugging Bo back. “Is anyone coming here to be with you?” As she asks, Ryan returns, pausing just out of sight outside the room to listen. “You know,” Doyenne continues, “family or friends?”
Bo stares off into space, remembering. “There’s a girl,” she says slowly. “She has pink hair –no blue! – black! – oh, platinum!” All of the above, sweetie. Doyenne frowns up at her but Bo is on a roll. “Oh! There’s a man! He teaches me. He’s like an uncle – like a bartending Uncle,” she says to Doyenne, getting excited. Doyenne prods Bo for any names or numbers for these people but Bo suddenly gasps. “THERE’S A WOLF!” she exclaims waving her hands, thrilled to remember Dyson. Her face crumples into empathy and love as she clasps her hands together. “He’s uh – this beautiful, beautiful broken wolf man.” Sigh. Yes, yes he is. “He’s uh – who’s a cop!” she says with conviction. “A wolf cop?” Doyenne queries, clearly thinking Bo is cray cray. Heh. I am intrigued and utterly delighted that, tellingly, Doctor Lauren is nowhere to be seen in Bo’s flash of memory of the people she loves…
Outside, Ryan has heard enough and gets out his phone. “Kitten,” Doyenne asks gently while laying a new gown across Bo’s shoulder. “Have you seen a doctor recently?” Bo insists she feels fine. “I feel better and better actually,” she says, clutching the gown against her. She glances at the Assistant and again the hunger comes over her. She reaches for Assistant who again comes willingly and – again – Doyenne intervenes, asking assistant to hand her another gown. Bo looks between the two women as Doyenne smiles up at her. “She’s lovely, isn’t she?” she says conversationally. This lady is good.
On the phone, Ryan frantically asks “Desmond” to pull up the database on any Fae in Kingsley Business Park, “Especially those connected with water. Mermen, ogopogo, addoncs…”
Down in The Ash’s dungeon, Dyson has his face pressed up against Archer’s cell gate. “I want some answers,” he tells the UnderFae with menace. Acher is unimpressed. “I want some questions – you do understand how this works, don’t you? Tell me what you want to know,” he invites. Dyson wants to know why Petros would jump and Acher wonders why he wouldn’t. “Why wouldn’t you? Surely it’s better than walking around swallowing epochs of pain. I mean, not killing yourself starts to look like cowardice, and you’re no coward! Or are you?” he enquires.
“Killing yourself,” Dyson grits out, “is the greatest form of cowardice.” On this, I agree. “Not if it’s done for honor,” Acher is quick to counter. “Tell me, detective. Are you an honorable man?” He used to be, jackhole. He can be again. Dyson ducks his head, miserable and guilty.
At the temporary home of the Dougallerian Society Celebration Center, Trick and Kenzi are tossing the joint with no sign of Brother Douglas. The doors to the cabinet open out from the camera so we can see Kenzi and Trick’s faces as they rifle through its contents. Grabbing a random bottle, Kenzi demands to know which one is the right one. “Mnemosyne water smells like lilies with an undertone of sewage,” he details. Immediately, Kenzi blanches. “OK. You work on that. I’ll toss the desk see if I can come up with something else.” Trick continues to smell various bottles as Kenzi flips through various pieces of paperwork until he recoils violently from a small vial. “Ugh. I found it,” he calls out. Heh. Kenzi has success too, “an address and something that looks like a license plate number.” She reads off the number. Trick: “Let’s get Hale.”
Back at the lodge, Bo is wearing a robe and examining her engagement ring when Ryan enters the room, a beautiful bouquet of calla lilies in hand. “Where’s the hairdresser?” he asks, looking around the empty suite. “You’re not going to be ready in time, sweetie.” Without ceremony, Bo tells him she can’t go through with the wedding. She says she’s absolutely certain they have strong feelings for each other, “but memories are starting to come back and I’m less certain that this is what we should be doing.” Ryan, desperately, “Don’t say that.” Bo goes on to plead that there will be loads of other right times, “if this is right!” and that Ryan is handsome and fascinating. “Stop talking,” he entreats. “Stop.”
Bo whinges that it’s very weird, but, “I kind of had feelings for the young dress girl,” she confesses “Which is not exactly the wedding night that one hopes for.” How would she know? She has no memory of anything she’s ever hoped for! Ryan is beginning to understand what’s happening. He turns away from Bo, processing, “Oh.” Bo apologizes, so sweetly that Ryan turns back towards her and cups her face in his hand. For a moment, it seems he’s about to reassure her – when he sticks one of his gadgets in her neck, stunning her into unconsciousness. As she falls back across the bed, Ryan hovers over her. “I’m sorry too, Mrs. Lambert.” OK, that’s a bit much, even for an amoral playboy like Ryan.
Back at the temporary home of the Dougallerian Society Celebration Center, Kenzi and Trick are perched on the desk while Kenzi reads a text message from Hale saying the numbers are to a private plane that took off for The Falls. “Presumably, with our addonc on it,” Trick grouses. He posits that the water might have some control over Brother Douglas. “Or he’s jonesing for a wax museum and some fudge,” Kenzi quips. Trick snorts and points out that either way, they don’t know that Bo is with him. “Except,” Kenzi adds, reading the rest of Hale’s text “the plane belongs to Ryan.” Trick: “Ryan Lambert? I thought he and Bo were done dating.” I feel like there should be air quotes around ‘dating’.
“So did this sucka,” Kenzi says, pointing to herself. Back to the text again, she reads that Ryan’s credit card was used at Stonemont Creek Inn. Trick shrugs. “Road trip to The Falls!” Kenzi: “Yeah, we better find her so I can kill her!”
At the inn, Ryan greets Brother Douglas who insists that he’s at Ryan’s service. “It’s a spiritual crisis, Brother,” Ryan lies. “There’s a woman here making a very big mistake.” Brother Douglas promises to correct her and Ryan passes over an envelope while reminding Brother Douglas that he’s prepared to make it worth his while. Translation: dope up the chick so she does what I want and I’ll give you millions. Such a romantic our Ryan. He leads Brother Douglas into the absolutely amazing bathroom where a terrified Ducky Bo sits bound and gagged in the half-filled tub. Panting, she looks between the two men and fixates on Brother Douglas. “She recognizes you,” Ryan is surprised to realize. “You dunked her the first time.” Brother Douglas protests that it was self defense. “It was the best thing that ever happened to me,” Ryan tells him. “Do it again and make it last.”
Brother Douglas reaches into the tub and Bo cowers back from her. In moments, the water is churning and doing the glowy, glowy thing. Bo is in full panic, staring accusingly at Ryan while still hoping he’ll save her. Brother Douglas ponderously raises his hand, places it on the top of Bo’s head, forces a whimpering Ducky Bo under and holds her there. Some wedding night.
Down in The Ash’s dungeon, Acher is now in a dentist’s chair. The Ash uses dental procedure to torture his prisoners?! The fiend! Dyson is not only inside the cell pacing around like a – erm – caged wolf, but also now holding his gun. Not like that! So despite not carrying it where he would have been carrying it had he the authority to carry it in such a place, he’s still carrying it! Guess it was one of those-tucked-into-the-back-of-my-jeans-so-I-might- actually-shoot-my-ass-off sorta things. Also, I really think a scene got cut here, because that’s a significant change in positioning that is in no way explained.
Dyson confirms that Acher did know Petros (haven’t you been listening?) and asks after the dead elder, Sybil. Yeesh, who cares anymore? Bored now. Acher calls Sybil a sad lady who thought she had no future, job, or life. Dyson points out that she was poisoned and Acher corrects that Sybil took pills, which is different. He pulls out Dyson’s phone –how did he get that?! – and reads from it. “Kenzi! Called eight times.” Dyson is as shocked as we are to see Acher with his phone. “What the hell?” he mutters. Harker: “Is she the one who broke your heart?”
He goes on that someone called Trick has called seven times. “Sounds like a pet name for a prostitute, someone you call late at night when the silence is too much and the lone wolf needs to empty his… soul into someone.” Dyson prowls forward as Acher natters on and snatches the phone from the Under-Fae’s hand. Acher chides him for his temper and asks why Kenzi and Trick bother Dyson so much. “They’re clearly not important to you or you’d answer their calls.”
Dyson snits that he’s busy working and Acher calls him on his bullshit. “Talking to one piddling UnderFae. Are you so self-absorbed that you haven’t a moment for your loved ones?! What if they needed you?!” Acher gets up from the dentist chair and slowly crowds a frowning, guilty Dyson against the bars of the cell. “What if they’re about to breathe their last breaths and you can’t see past your own ass long enough to help them?” To be fair, it is quite an ass. “Or is that what you do?” Acher asks getting in close. Dyson growls as the Under-fae continues to goad him. “So unfeeling. Hurting those you love every chance you get.”
“I don’t love anyone!” Dyson growls, losing control and this is what Acher has been waiting for. “Then what’s the point of living?!” Dyson breaks. Growling and shouting, he grabs Acher by the lapels and reverses their positions, slamming the Under-fae against the bars. But Acher just laughs at him. “You poor pathetic animal.”
Breathing hard (sigh), Dyson yells at him, “YOU – DON’T – Know me,” he insists his vehemence ebbing as the sentence trails off. “Don’t I?” Acher taunts. “You’re the one who doesn’t know himself. Why do you exist? What’s the point of you?” Defeated by the question he’s been asking himself for a while, Dyson tosses Acher aside and growls miserably. Aw. Poor dented wolf. C’mere and lemme make it all better.
Ahem.
At The Falls, the Wedding March plays as Bo makes her way down the aisle, the train of an elaborate and gorgeous wedding dress rustling in her wake. Naturally, she is absolutely stunning. She smiles at Ryan who waits for her at the altar. He helps her up to stand beside him and they look at one another without speaking, just smiling and sighing. Ryan takes the bouquet from her and sets it aside as Brother Douglas climbs up the back of the dais, barely making it between the sheer curtains without falling, which would have been hilarious.
In another part of the inn, Kenzi power walks down the corridor toward a waiting Trick. “Concierge says they’re in the Hummingbird Room. Don’t panic! She also said there was a wedding dress involved.” Clearly, it’s Kenzi who’s moments away from panic. Trick moans and Kenzi reassures that she thinks they can just get a quickie divorce like their quickie wedding. “Fae don’t believe in divorce,” Trick tells her, stopping Kenzi in her tracks. “Not for the first thousand years,” he clarifies. “What?!” Kenzi hisses. “What, like it’s so wrong to expect people to give it a real shot?!” Trick shouts after her as she zooms away. Hee.
In the Hummingbird Room, Brother Douglas makes some absurd motion around Bo and Ryan. “Here before the moon and stars and great gods –” which is as far as he gets before Trick and Kenzi burst into the room. “Stop the insanity!” Kenzi shrieks. That one never gets old.
“Don’t stop,” Ryan orders Brother Douglas. “One million dollars,” he reminds the fraud, “don’t stop.” Frantic, Kenzi swats Trick on the arm. “In the name of Clan Fin Arvin, I declare an objection!” he announces and Kenzi is quick to second it. Brother Douglas ignores them and announces that Ryan and Bo are combined as husband and wife and I swear Prince Humperdinck is back there hissing “Man and wife! Say man and wife!” Also, second Princess Bride allusion in the same episode? Someone’s laying breadcrumbs…
Kenzi and Trick are having a meltdown as Ryan and Bo kiss after which Ryan presents her as Mrs. Ryan Lambert. Bo and Ryan smile giddily at one another as Brother Douglas begins the ring ceremony. “OK Clan Fin Arvin – Fail!” Kenzi accuses Trick. “There has got to be a loophole!” When Trick just stares dumbfounded at Bo, Kenzi grabs him by the lapels to get his attention. “One thousand years, Trick!” she reminds him desperately. “One thousand years of marriage to an oversexed, goofy-haired, seven-year-old boy!”Ha!
“She doesn’t have the ring on yet,” Trick points out quickly. “The ring’s compulsory.” So is saying ‘I do,’ but we sorta skipped that one. “You get the bride,” Kenzi orders with renewed hope, “I’ll get the bling. Go!”
She scampers up to the altar, smacks Ryan on the arm, and grabs the ring pillow. Ryan is quick to pursue. “She’s mine!” he shouts, quickly in pursuit of Kenzi, but she shoves him off hard enough that he knocks over a bunch of chairs. Trick hurries up to join Bo, giving Brother Douglas such a look that the faux preacher flees.
“I had her first!” Kenzi shouts back at Ryan looking for weapons to throw. “Pets can’t marry their owners,” Ryan says obnoxiously. Kenzi throws a bunch of poises at him that hit him in the chest. “Flowers? Really?” he says, unimpressed, so Kenzi starts throwing the glass vases instead. Ryan ducks one, than picks up a silver tray and starts blocking the missiles.
Up at the altar, Trick is trying to remind Bo who he is to her. “Drink this,” he implores, holding up the vial of Mnemosyne water. “It’s OK.” Bo takes the vial but looks between it and Trick tentatively, greatly confused. “It’ll make you feel better, love,” Trick reassures her softly. That’s an – odd endearment for him to use. Hmmmm. In the background, the sound of shattering vases continues. Snort. “It’ll make this all better,” Trick promises Bo as she raises the vial. Bo smiles at him and, apparently not at all bothered by the base note of sewage, downs the water flat.
Kenzi throws another vase, which slams into the silver platter before Ryan lowers it, revealing his exasperation. Bo finishes the potion and Trick smiles with relief. “Bo?” Bo gapes at him. “TRICK?!” Kenzi finally runs out of vases to throw and yells for Trick. “Give me the ring,” Ryan says to her, more amused I think than anything, and holds out his hand. Kenzi denies him again with a shot to his chest for good measure.
Bo picks up her skirts and scurries over to Kenzi’s aid and promptly clubs Ryan across the back of his head with her elbow. Good shot! Ryan grunts with pain and goes down, out cold. “Good one,” Kenzi hisses at Bo. Heh. She brushes broken glass out of the way of Ryan’s head as Trick joins them both in gaping down at Ryan.
“Who was the water guy?!” Bo demands to know out of nowhere. Trick explains how Brother Doug is an addonc. “Total brainwashing,” Kenzi adds. “You thought it would be fun to get on a plane with Ry-ry and marry his creepy self.” Trick assures her they stopped it before it became official and Bo compliments them both on a good day at the office.
“You look really beautiful, Bo” Kenzi says with awe taking in her bestie and Bo smiles and looks down at herself. “I never really thought I’d pick this giant, puffy marshmallow dress.” Kenzi: “Me neither! But it totally works!” Bo: “I know, right?!” And they high-five it out, so much better than hugging it out, as Trick smiles up at his girls.
Kenzi glances down at Ryan. “OK, we need to get some more fancy, fix-it water for Groombot here.” Ha! Groombot. Love it. Bo can wrap her mind around it. “I mean, we don’t even like each other.” That’s not exactly true, but OK. “Although,” she admits reluctantly, “I, ah, did call him – to heal,” she adds quickly as Kenzi looks at her with shocked disbelief. “What?!” Bo admits that it’s true. Trick takes a moment to process. “Okay,” he says. “It’s all becoming clear.” Maybe to you, Trickopedia. “We’re going to need candles, white cloth…and Kenzi.” Handily, you have them all there at nuptialous interruptus.
Back in the dungeon – STILL?! Come on, show!! We geddit already! – Acher is still taking shots at Dyson. “If I had what you have as a proper Fae, I’d be happy! I’d enjoy life!” he whinges. “Those of you in the master class, moving among humans as though you were men.”
“I am a man!” Dyson yells back. “And a wolf; I live in both worlds.” Acher says that’s his problem; he’s actually neither. “You think you fit in both worlds, but you don’t fit in either.” Dyson snarls that Acher has no idea what he’s talking about. Acher counters that the does, Dyson just can’t bear hearing it. “You’re a lost soul searching for an identity, searching for something to hold on to, but everything you touch turns to dust.”
Dyson loses it again, grabbing Acher and demanding he stop talking as he shoves the gun barrel against Acher‘s throat. Acher says something about Dyson being afloat in a sea of self doubt, and whatever dude. “You’re tired. Dyson, you’re tired and defeated. Life without love has become unbearable.” Again, Dyson hisses for Acher to stop. Naturally he doesn’t, but goes on to tell him that his life isn’t worth living and doesn’t Dyson agree? As he continues to goad Dyson, the gun slowly moves from Acher’s throat to Dyson’s. Show, if you think this causes me a single moment of concern, you have seriously misjudged your audience and, clearly your writing staff. Please.
“Save your friends from the pain of betrayal of their love for you.” Oh my giddy aunt, this guy is still talking. That’s it. Dyson? Shoot him, please. Instead, Dyson puts the gun under his own chin. “Go on,” Acher taunts. “Five pounds of pressure on the trigger and all your misery will simply go away!” He says it’s time for Dyson to put it all behind him. “You’re a failure as a man. And you’re a failure as a wolf.”
But, much like this show, Acher has seriously misjudged his target. Weary and drained, Dyson shoves himself back from Acher and lowers the gun. “I am still a wolf,” he declares harshly, stepping back from the brink. He swallows hard and takes Acher’s measure. “This is what you did to them, isn’t it? This is how you killed them.”
Acher says he only held up a mirror to show them the ugly truth, “just like I’m doing with you.” Dyson tells him the only ugly thing there is Acher. “You’re empty and you’re alone. The only joy you get is causing misery to real Fae.” This successful pushes Harker’s buttons who is quick to insist that he is a real Fae. “No!” Dyson disagrees. “You hate yourself and you prey on the weakness of your masters. You think that if you can rise above them for a moment it will mean you’re not a – sad and unwanted pathetic abomination.”
Acher snaps that he’s killed dozens of Fae with little more than his intellect, “you’re not better than me!” As drained as if he’d done actual, physical battle, Dyson admits that he doesn’t think he is. He opens the cell door and steps through it. “But I do think I just got a confession,” he says with satisfaction and slams the door in Acher’s face.
As Dyson continues to make his way down the hall and through various gates, Acher calls out with rising agitation that Dyson didn’t win anything there tonight. “You’ve only prolonged the inevitable. When you take your life, the victory will be mine!” Dyson shoots him one disgusted look, but doesn’t reply. His job is done. He might even have survived it. “Detective!” Acher shouts after him. “I’m still in your mind!” Probably, but, thankfully, no longer on my screen.
Back at the inn, Ryan is still unconscious on the ground, but now he lies on his back with a triptych of candles circling his head. “Make a tiny incision on his wrist,” Trick’s voice instructs Kenzi. “Just a tiny one?” a disembodied Kenzi clarifies, disappointed. Trick: “Tiny!” I am loving the Trick and Kenzi Hour tonight! Sighing heavily, she does so, grousing about why she’s the right person for the job. Trick wraps the aforementioned white cloth around Ryan’s not bleeding wrist, places the bleeding one atop it and finishes off by binding both with the remaining cloth.
He tells her it doesn’t matter why, “just be careful; you might feel a little faint.” The camera pulls back to show they’ve also bound Ryan’s legs with white cloth. “Ugh,” Kenzi scoffs. “Fainting is for wimps.” Together, they hold Ryan’s bound hands between them and Trick invokes the spell: “With harm to none thy will be done,” which Kenzi repeats. Trick: “The wrist I cleave and the other leave.” Again, Kenzi repeats the incantation. The camera continues to pan up to reveal Bo sitting at Ryan’s feet, the wedding dress spread out around her. “Thou cannot harm him, Bo,” Trick finishes and Bo recoils as Kenzi repeats this last bit with a question in her tone. “Wait, what did I do?” Bo asks, but Trick shushes her, which, hee, and quickly turns back to monitor Kenzi.
“Head rush,” Kenzi slurs, tilting. “Ohhh.” Bo: “Here she goes,” and as Kenzi passes out, Bo catches her across her pristine white lap. Ryan instantly wakes up with a gasp. He looks down at his chest, grabs his tie with shock, and goggles at Bo. “I thought I was dreaming but you are wearing a white dress!”
“Actually, it’s champagne,” Bo snits, cradling Kenzi’s head. “We almost got married.” Ryan: “I need a whiskey. And a beer. With a side of strippers.” Hee hee hee hee hee hee. I love that line! He frowns at Bo and Kenzi, “She OK?” Trick speaks, startling Ryan, and says that Kenzi will be fine in a couple of minutes. Bo smacks Ryan on the shoulder. “For the record, I was out of my mind too.”
“Sure you were,” Ryan mutters and then asked what happened to them. Bo explains that an addonc whammied her, “something else happened to you, which I am dying to hear about,” she adds with a pointed look at Trick. But before Trick can come up with something, Ryan reacts. “Oh, it’s my bad! I was with this huldralast night, Sonya, that’s when you called for your little emergency service call and, God, she went totally ballistic, crazy jealous. She has been known to melt portions of people’s brain to control her enemies, so…” Simultaneously, he and Trick declare that that must be it.
As they look at one another – jinx! You owe me a stripper! – Kenzi comes to with a loud gasp. “Did I catch the bouquet?!”” Ryan immediately stands up and offers her a hand. Kenzi glares at him sullenly and smacks it away, crawling to her feet on her own. Ryan sighs, grimaces, takes a step forward and with a raised brow, offers the same assistance to Bridal Bo. Bo isn’t much friendlier about it, but realizes she can’t get up in that dress on her own. Rolling her eyes, she lets him haul her to her feet. “I’m gonna have us flown back and we’ll go kick some addonc’s ass.” Bo agrees that just what she was planning to do. Ryan regards her with open amusement and appreciation. “One more beating for old time’s sake?” They shake on it, “deal”. Satisfied, Ryan flings the curtains back from the door and stalks through them letting them go without a second thought so they drop back into Bo’s face. Bo stands before the curtains with resigned exasperation. “Wow.” Yep. Ryan’s back.
Back at the Dougallerian Society Celebration Center, Brother Douglas – wait, he got there how now? Hitchhiking? ‘Cause I don’t think Ryan was offering the private plane for the return trip… Eh, whatever. Brother Douglas is presiding over his congregants, pontificating that a “generous donor” has enable them to work in the “Turks and Caicos” and thus the need to pack up quickly when Ryan and a de-wedding dressed Bo saunter in all righteous with indignation. “I want my money back,” Ryan tells him. Brother Douglas: “In the words of our Lord…no.” Heeee. Gesturing to the two guards who flank him, Brother Douglas adds that they can offer Bo and Ryan a baptism for their generosity.
“Well, that’s a very generous offer,” Ryan says, strutting forward to stand in the middle of the congregation. He holds up a narrow, cylindrical container. “Bring it in folks! Refreshing taste of Mnemosyne!” He places the container on the floor and presses a button. Immediately, compressed Mnemosyne is converted to an aerosol that spreads through the room, waking all the people from their collective brainwashing. “Zero calorie, mind-altering beverage,” he quip, with a wave of his hand. “Breathe deeply.” Heh. Naturally, Fae Tony Stark was able to build and/or acquire such a gadget during their flight from The Falls and, no doubt, he either, 1. Bought up all the Mnemosyne in Canada or 2. More likely, had a stock himself already somewhere in his bag of tricks.
Brother Douglas moves to stop him –“No! Don’t! You can’t!”–but it’s Bo’s turn at bat as she grabs Brother Douglas by the lapels. “Prepare to lose your religion,” she says and administers the succubus kiss. Dazed, Brother Douglas gets that sycophantic look on his face. “He broke the mold when He made you,” he murmurs and tries to kiss Bo for realz until she shoves him aside and orders him to sit down, “while I call my friend, The Ash,” she adds.
Ryan high-fives her, “Hey! Nice work!” and she returns the sentiment. “Almost makes me sad we don’t get to do it again,” he adds and holds her in a loose embrace. Again, Bo is in accord. “Well, it had to end eventually,” she says with no regret. “Oil and water.” Ryan murmurs agreement as he studies her. I like that they’re both on the same page here without needing a painful heart-to-heart. One of the appeals of Bo and Ryan’s “relationship” is that they both knew from the start that it wasn’t serious and go therefore have fun and come and go as they pleased.
He looks down briefly and, surprisingly, asks if she’ll still wear the bracelet he gave her, which she is presumably still wearing from earlier in the episode. As it gave her resistance against the djinn’s powers in Midnight Lamp, I’d keep that puppy on daily. Bo warily notes that it’s a strangely sentimental request for Ryan. “It’s got a chip in it,” he cuts her off. “It’ll warn me with you’re within 50 feet.” Bo chuckles; that’s more like it. “I’ll walk the other way; I won’t be tempted,” he adds smiling with ample charm. Grinning, Bo agrees that this is a good plan.
They stare at one another silently one last time. “Goodbye Ryan,” Bo says firmly. “Bye beautiful,” he returns easily and kisses her cheek, one last tender moment before he leaves.
Bye Ryan! We’ll miss your charming grin, questionable morality, and blatant insouciance. Come back soon, ‘kay. Honestly, I am going to miss him.
In some random alley – where else? –Dyson straps a bed roll to the back of his motorcycle (sigh) giving it a firm pat for good measure. Leather jacket collar up, he swings one of his long legs over the bike and gets settled. God, he’s hot. Strewth. Bike. Leather. Man. I may need a moment.
The wolf man’s face is a picture of resigned misery as he pulls on helmet and gloves, powers up the bike, and burns rubber as he streaks on out of town. Also, normally, the mad love the lighting grips have for the yellow gel saturated everyone and everything in mellow yellow drives me bonkers, but I like the way it’s used to complement KHR’s natural – um – visage here.
At The Dal (drink!), Kenzi slurps her drink through a straw as Bo looks on, Ryan’s bracelet front and center in the shot. Kenzi sighs heavily and Bo barely manages not to roll her eyes. “I can’t believe you lied to me about Ryan,” Kenzi says quietly, painfully. “Kenzi, I know,” Bo replies for like the thousandth time. “I’m sorry. Verbal apologize number 84 if you’re keeping track.”
An unusually serious Kenzi points out that if Bo had told her the truth, she could’ve found her earlier and again Bo agrees and apologizes more sincerely. “Verbal apology number 85, for the folks at home,” she teases gently. I’m gonna go right ahead and take that as a shout out. Kenzi smiles weakly but does look at her bestie. “You really shouldn’t fib to people who are close to you.” Like Nate?
There’s a pregnant pause and I nearly miss the next line from dodging all the anvils that plummeted out of the sky with that line, which increase as Trick silently arrives to fill it. Thank God for the DVR.
He places a bowl of peanuts or whatever in front of them and wipes down the bar as Kenzi continues. “Especially when you expect them to be your maid of honor,” she says, pointing to herself. “When it’s for realz. You know?” Bo nods and smiles, relieved. Kenzi takes one solitary snack from the bowl and heads off, promising to be back in “two shakes.” Think you’re missing an essential body part for that maneuver, sweetie, but whatever. She kisses Bo’s cheek – all forgiving – and heads off.
Trick asks if Bo’s beer is cold enough, “Been having a bit of trouble with the taps.” But Bo isn’t dissuaded by his bar keep patter. “Did you hear what Kenzi just said? About lying to the people who are closest to us?” Trick nods with a small grimace. “I heard.” Bo tells him she doesn’t think Ryan’ girlfriend melted his prefrontal cortex. “I think that I bled on him,” she says, heavy with import.
Trick is more casual about the event. “It happens. You’ve bled on people before.” Bo points out that this is the first time someone’s gone all gaga from it and started stalking her. Not Lady Gaga. Though she probably would. She has that “Crazy Stalker” vibe.
“Something was different,” Bo says. “He [Ryan] was acting like one of Aoife’s – my mom’s – Chippendale boy toys.” Thank you, show, for reminding us simple-minded fans as to Aoife’s role in this Faedom. “Perish the thought,” Trick jokes, but I think he means it most sincerely.
Bo isn’t about to let him off that easily. “I just thought that you might know more, as a man who can control destiny with his blood,” here Trick does more than grimace, “and who knew right away how to bring Ryan back!”
Finally serious, Trick leans forward, “Are you asking me something,” he asks with some earnest, and for once, I think he’s prepared to spill given the right incentive. But Bo retreats…slightly. “Not yet.” She says they have to focus on the battle ahead. “But when I ask you the questions that I have – I am gonna want answers.” Her voice breaks a little. “Real, honest answers.” Trick, however, has been playing this game a lot longer than Bo, and merely lifts his brows at her demanding tone. “Message received,” he responds baldly, recognizing the line she’s just drawn in the sand but refusing to be ruffled by it. “Loud and clear.”
Oooohh. There gonna be a reckoning!
They smile faintly at one another, still faemily, and Trick moves down the bar as Bo exhales audibly.
End Credits
Fae of the Day
Addonc: A water fae who uses water to erase people’s memories and thus control them. An addonc’s victim becomes a blank slate and will imprint on whomever they ping on first.
Origin: Unknown
Huldra: a seductive forest creature. Does not like to be left behind for a booty call with another woman
Origin: Swedish/Norweigan
Quotes of the Night:
Ryan: You realize that none of my doctorates are in that medical stuff, right? In fact, most of them are made up
Bo: You’re the one who told me post orgasm claustrophobia was a medical condition.
Kenzi: There’s a guy dressed as a bellhop crying in our hallway.
Kenzi: On today’s episode of Kenzi, our heroine’s moxie is challenged when she’s confronted with…a stalker!
Triste: I know y’all be private girl dicks.
Kenzi: I lost Bo! Her bodacious brain just went kablooey! Trick: OK. From the beginning and as much English as you can manage.
Kenzi: If I find some, I’m pouring it all over Ryan Gosling’s beautiful melon!
Kenzi: A blouse? You monster!
Kenzi: What if Bo hitched a ride outta town and is dancing topless in a bar despite rival girls trying to bring her down? Trick: She’s not living in Showgirls!
Trick: If she has relations with anyone, she could get healed. Kenzi: Oh come on random banging!
Bo: THERE’S A WOLF! He’s a – this beautiful, beautiful broken wolf man. He’s a – who’s a cop!
Trick: Fae don’t believe in divorce, not for the first thousand years. What, like it’s so wrong to expect people to give it a real shot?!
Kenzi: One thousand years of marriage to an oversexed, poufy-haired, seven-year-old boy!
Bo: I never really thought I’d pick this giant, puffy marshmallow dress. Kenzi: Me neither! But it totally works!
Kenzi: We need to get some more fancy, fix-it water for Groombot here.
Trick: Make a tiny incision on his wrist. Kenzi: Just a tiny one? Trick: Tiny!
Ryan: I need a whiskey. And a beer. With a side of strippers.
Next Week: Episode 19: Truth and Consequence
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.
