We're delighted to once again bring you recaps of Lost Girl, now airing its fourth season in the United States. Don't forget to check into all our Lost Girl coverage, but be warned there are discussion posts for later episodes (we've been talking about the show as it airs in Canada) that contain SPOILERS. Thanks, and please weigh in with your comments!
This post contains spoilers for all aired episodes of Lost Girl, including last night’s 4x09, “Destiny's Child.”
The Death Train roars down the tracks of…well, death I guess. Inside, the carriage shakes and pieces of the walls fall down as a man in a welder mask sits on the floor and welds parts of the carriage back together. Sparks fly. No, literally, there are electrical sparks in the air. It’s clear his efforts to keep the caboose from falling apart are failing rapidly. A noise snags his attention and he pauses to glance over just as a piece of the wall rips off into the nebulous black beyond. Wonder if it got transcendental sickness? Oh Clio! How much do we not miss you at all? Welder goes back to welding with increased haste. The camera pans down to show the metal crown with “Isabeau” inscribed on the inside at the welder’s feet.
At The Dal, Bo stands before the bar with the main players seated at a table before her. I sense a speech coming on. Trick asks what this call to order is all about. “Time,” Bo says. She sums up the last five or so episodes for those following along at home but not paying attention: She’s Dark. She was taken by The Wanderer. She doesn’t know who he is or what happened when she was with him. Blah blah blah. “I don’t like it one bit.” And you hide it so well too.
Bo’s gonna get to the bottom of it now, though, and pointedly thanks Kenzi for giving her the mystery box. Dyson ducks his head to side-eye her (should’ve known) while Kenzi points her finger at Bo. “Got it, Bobo!” Bo says she’s starting with “this” and Dyson and Doctor Lauren exchange speaking glances as Bo opens the mystery box and pulls out the jar o’smoke. There’s a pause as they all take in what she’s holding. “Are you out of your mind?” Trick finally asks. Oh Trick. How I’ve missed your moments of no bullshit accusation. Bo warns him to back off and Kenzi tries to figure out what’s going on. “Just wait a minute, Patty Hearst. Is that not the same black smoke that took you from this shithole in the first place?” Trick physically reacts to Kenzi slandering his first love—shithole?! —while Bo snaps at Kenzi. “Kenz, if you have a hel shoe in your boot collection, now’s the time!” Kenzi launches up from the table and insists she’s taking the jar back, but Dyson, sitting in front of her, holds her back. “Kenzi! It is her decision.” Bo, a little surprised (I don’t know why; he’s backed her on crazier notions before), thanks him for his support. Doctor Lauren quietly admits that she agrees with Dyson, not that anyone asked her. Kenzi can’t believe what she’s hearing. Bo seems equally surprised to have her support, possibly just to hear them agree. “Which is why…”
“We need to stand by her now,” Dyson interrupts fervently, getting to his feet to address Trick, Kenzi, and Doctor Lauren, “and help her face this Wanderer. Together.” Wind taken out of her sails, Bo nonetheless tries to reclaim the attention. “Yes, but…” This time, it’s Trick who takes over the convo. “I feel like I’m in a room full of children.” It’s taken you this long to figure that out, Trickster? “Guys! Please!” Bo calls. They go on ignoring her while they talk about her, which entertains me greatly. “She could be taken! Again!” Trick points out. “Lost! And we might not get her back this time.” You say that like it’s a bad thing. “Damn it, people!” Bo whines. Doctor Lauren argues that if Bo opens the jar, she could also…but she’s interrupted by Kenzi who has used everyone’s distraction to slide past Dyson and now snatches the jar from Bo’s hands. “Not happening!” she cries. Bo demands Kenzi give the jar back immediately but Kenzi isn’t about to sit back and watch Bo be taken again. Poor Kenz. She’s the one who has PTSD. Kenzi runs for the door, Bo on her heels. “I said give it back!” Bo shouts. She yanks Kenzi back. “Isabeau!” Trick chides as Bo tosses Kenzi back across the room and bobbles the jar, barely keeping it from falling to the ground.
Everyone is shocked to see Bo manhandle Kenzi of all people. They all take a breath. “Don’t you see what is happening to me?” Bo cries to Kenzi and Doctor Lauren. “Not knowing is making me crazy!” she says to Dyson. “I’m sorry, but this has to end. Now.” She unstoppers the jar. Immediately, Trick takes two steps and kicks at a nearby mop to break off a make-shift Bo staff. I love bad ass Trick. Dyson growls and wolfs out. Revved up, Kenzi snatches a…fork from the bar. She does a double-take when she realizes what she’s grabbed. “Oh what the hell,” she says, breathless and wields it anyway. Ha! And Doctor Lauren…readies a hypodermic needle? Ohhhh. Dat smoke monster be in trouble now! She’s gonna shoot it up with a cold! Oh nos!
Bo releases the smoke. Everyone pretends to be watching it fill the air. Dyson is the most believable and no, I’m not just saying it ‘cause it’s Dyson. At first, Kenzi, Trick, and Dyson look right at it in Bo’s arms while Doctor Lauren looks at the floor. Kenzi and Dyson follow it to their lefts while Trick stares at the floor and groans as pain overtakes him. Doctor Lauren continues to look at the floor while Dyson tracks the smoke fairly accurately, his gaze following it up as it (naturally) rises toward the ceiling while Kenzi checks if the groaning Trick is all right. The smoke fills out and gets larger and now everyone is looking in the same direction as it takes the shape of a man. There’s a lovely red streak in the back of Bo’s hair that’s visible as she faces the Smoke Man. Shades of the season one Bo who wasn’t a complete asshat. Smoke man is dark haired and dark complexioned wearing black clothes with black feathers at the collar and dark scruff on his face. “Friend or foe, pal?” Bo demands. You have to ask? Did you not see all the dark/black trimmings? This costume department isn’t that subtle. Smoke Man glances behind Bo at her armed and ready posse. “By the look of you lot, I’d say you were betting on ‘foe’,” he says in a London accent. No doubt the hypodermic in the doc’s hand has him deeply frightened. Dyson snarls. Kenzi better aims her fork. Trick glares and twists his Bo staff. Doctor Lauren…blinks.
Smoke Man introduces himself as Hugin, the “most humble” servant of The Wanderer. “And for the time being, I mean you no harm.” Show, you name-checked the Fae of the Week immediately after the cold open! Oh how you’ve grown! It’s like seeing my child graduate…from kindergarten. The gang and Doctor Lauren do not relax. Hugin spies Kenzi. “My, my. Aren’t you a pretty little thing.” Kenzi giggles and preens and then combs her hair with the fork Ariel-style. Darling, you’re one episode early. “Thanks.” Doctor Lauren frowns. To be fair, they’re not exactly giving her much else to do, which is why she should go.
Bo sets the jar on the bar, hard. “I am, or at least have been, The Wanderer’s thought,” Hugin continues. “A vessel really, travelling from plane to plane gathering information about certain…women.” Bo states that they’ve met before and Hugin confirms it. “My brother Munin and I took you from this, ah, shithole,” here Trick narrows his eyes—why is everyone tonight calling my baby a shithole?—“and brought you to his train. Our father’s train. So it was written…so it is said.” Bo sneers at the “father” part. “Yes, The Wanderer is a great man and a father to many,” Hugin says unruffled. Trick wants to know why then The Wanderer doesn’t show his face, what with being so great and all. “Why does he hide behind cheap lies and theatrics?” Hugin mocks distress over not knowing the answer. “But perhaps you could tell me why The Blood King has to hide behind a bar at a local watering hole?” Burrrrrrn. Trick stands the Bo staff on its end. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says prissily. Hugin tsks at him. “Your poker face is lousy. But then again, it always was. My liege,” he finishes pointedly and gives reverence with no mockery whatsoever. Bo snaps at him to focus. You’re not paying attention to me! “I need to get back on that train.” Hugin is eager to return too but claims not to “have the foggiest” idea where to find the damn thing. “Bullshit!” Bo shouts but Hugin assures her he doesn’t lie. “My brother Munin trapped me in that jar just as soon as you got on that train. Where it is now, I know not.” I do like the way he speaks. Bo snarks that Munin must’ve not liked Hugin’s jokes. “Didn’t like that my wife wasn’t his,” Hugin corrects easily. Bo asks where Munin and Hugin’s missus are now. “Honeymoon?” Hugin: “One could only hope.” Heh. I like this guy.
Bo leaves off her failure to bait him and reiterates that she needs to get back on the train now. Hugin agrees to help her, “but only if you help me take revenge against my back-stabbing brother and that repulsive quim I used to call my wife.” Ohhhh. Somebody just took a page from Loki’s insult list. Wonder if it’ll make it past the U.S. censors. (Updated to add: it did.) He tells Bo that Munin will know the location of that train. “Waiting on you, pal,” Bo quips. “Yeah, let’s go,” Dyson agrees. “I’m ready,” Doctor Lauren adds. To what?! Vaccinate someone?! Both of them step forward in tandem, but Hugin is already objecting. “We go alone or we don’t go at all,” he tells Bo. Dyson: “That’s not going to work for us.” Doctor Lauren: “Where she goes, we go.” Hugin decides if that’s the case then he’ll leave, but Bo isn’t about to let that happen. She turns and steps over to the two of them, staring at Dyson the whole way. She glances at Doctor Lauren. “I love you both,” she says emotionally. “So much.” Behind them, Kenzi ducks her head as Bo fails to include her in the sentiment. Not that it has to be said with her, but still. Way to stab your best friend in the heart there, Bo.
Behind Bo, Hugin, who clearly could not care less about any of this, cranes his neck around to sneer at The Dal. Hee. “But right now,” Bo continues to Dyson and Doctor Lauren, “I need you to watch me walk away.” Would a kick in the ass help get you going? Bo clasps the outside of each of her lover’s faces. “Because I have to do this.” She looks away from Doctor Lauren and stares again at Dyson. “It’s never gonna get easier.” She rubs the doc’s cheek once with her thumb and strokes Dyson’s beard. “Is it?” Well, I do have an idea that would help… Bo tells Hugin she’s ready, which pleases him. He takes her hand and tugs her to stand next to him. “Oh and by the way, when we do get on the train, if I find out that you’re an enemy of my employer, I will flay you to his liking.” That sounds fair. “I knew it!” Kenzi crows. “So nice meeting you all,” Hugin says flatly. “Ta.” He drops smoke and he and Bo vanish. Immediately, Tamsin strolls into The Dal. She stops short when she sees the other four obviously post facto of something. “What did I miss?”
Dyson and his long-legged stride stalk through the boxing gym with profound purpose. He makes a bee-line for the lockers but stops when he realizes he put a combo lock on it. In the next second, he lets loose a bit of temper and smashes the lock off (denying us the entertaining moment of him trying to remember the combination). Slamming open the locker, he snatches up his gun and checks that there’s one in the pipe before he stashes it in his waistband. First of all, he wears a shoulder holster and secondly, since when does Dyson use a gun when he’s not doing the cop thing? Sigh. I miss the cop thing. Someone slowly walks in behind him. Dyson goes on alert but relaxes when he recognizes the scent. “What took you so long?” he asks Doctor Lauren with a wry smile. The doc says she was getting her “science stuff”. As Dyson turns around, she holds open her blazer to reveal vials she’s readied for deployment on one side and needles on the other. Ignoring that pesky Hippocratic Oath of yours again, huh doc? So much for first, do no harm. Dyson chuckles to see it and then realizes she’s serious. Not for nothing, but by the time she loads one of those needles the fight will either be over or she’ll already be killed during the delay. “You’ve got your weapons and your wolf.” And how. “I’ve got my brains and we both have…” She trails off as Dyson lifts his head. Yeah? “Let’s just go get our girl, okay?” she finishes instead. I feel compelled here to remind you, again, that you broke up with Bo three times AND gave her the brush off…twice. She is hardly “your” girl at the moment. But whatever.
Dyson considers Doctor Lauren’s demeanor. “You’re um…” “I am ready to kick some crow ass, yes,” Doctor Lauren interjects with fervor. (When exactly was Hugin identified as a crow again?) “I was going to say terrifying but yeah, that’ll do,” Dyson quips, adorably. How in any way is she at all terrifying unless you’re afraid of needles?! Oy. Serious again, he reaches back into the locker and deliberately places a sheathed dagger in the doc’s palm. That leather sheath is gorgeous by the way. “I know you have your brains and your science, but it would make me feel a lot better if you also had a knife.” That’s because you know better than to bring a needle to a Fae fight. Touched by the gesture, the doc thanks him sincerely and Dyson replies in kind. They stare at one another for a moment. “You know, I’m not sure if I could either,” Dyson gently allows. Doctor Lauren doesn’t follow. “Choose,” Dyson clarifies with one of THOSE looks. Oh give me a break, already. She experiments on Fae for science and blows up humans. Yes you could. Doctor Lauren smiles broadly. “I could,” she quips and Dyson laughs. Oh show. It’s so amusing when you use Dyson as a pro-doccubus mouthpiece and then have Doctor Lauren rip him down in the next breath. C'est drôle. “Yeah,” Dyson says sobering. He slams the locker shut. “Let’s do this.” Without waiting for her to agree, Dyson strides back out into the ring room. The doc frowns and fingers the dagger thoughtfully for a moment before following.
Down in Tolkien’s Lair, Trick puzzles over all that just happen, brow furrowed in pain as he tries to make sense of it all. Suddenly, an epiphany! He leaps up and grabs his jacket just as Kenzi and Tamsin trundle in. “Trickster, why are you PMSing over that gorgeous, smokey, crowy, ass-face, hot jerk?” Kenzi asks. Trick insists he doesn’t know what she’s talking about, but Tamsin doesn’t believe him. “I’m sorry,” Trick snaps, not sorry at all, “weren’t you once an employee of The Wanderer?” Kenzi makes him slow his roll about Tamsin. Trick again insists he has to go, but Tamsin and Kenzi block his way. “You’re our Trickopedia!” Kenzi cries. “You gotta know something! You’re freaking Yoda! Force must use problem to answer find, yes?” Trick snaps that he doesn’t have time for this and tries to push past the women, but Kenzi shoves him back and loses her shit. “I’m sorry, you don’t have time?! You haven’t done one thing to help Bo since The Wanderer took her! I want the old Trick back, the one who knows things and cares about people and why haven’t you figured this out yet?!”
On his last nerve himself, Trick shoots back. “I don’t have time to explain myself to a human and a lowlife!” he grits out between his teeth, glaring first at Kenzi and then at Tamsin. There’s a shocked pause. Trick hears what he just said and has the grace to duck his head in shame. “I’m sorry,” he offers on a heavy sigh. “Just…leave it be. I’m begging you.” The girls let him go this time and then exchange uneasy glances. “He really is hiding something, isn’t he?” Kenzi says to Tamsin who admits that it does look that way. “Well, there’s only one thing left to do,” Kenzi declares. Tamsin: “Take a dump in his bed?” WHAT?! Gross! “I was going to say…EW!” Kenzi answers for us all. Tamsin fidgets and apologizes. “What do you want to do?” Kenzi aims to
misbehave snoop. “Look around his place. Not…you know.” Tamsin agrees to snoop.
The smoke reconstitutes to reveal Hugin and Bo in a rundown if atmospheric graveyard. There may even be kudzu. Confused, Bo looks around and takes a step toward the overturned ground of a fresh grave. Hugin grabs her arm to stop her and warns her not to step on any graves. “This is a Fae burial ground.” Bo: “Meaning?” Hugin clarifies. “Meaning you put so much as a pinkie on one of these sacred burial plots and you’ll be sucked down to Irkalla by the Leviathan. “Irkalla?” Bo parrots. Hugin again info dumps for those of us following along at home. “Yes. Some call it Hel, some call it the netherworld. I call it France.” HA! Bo shoots him an arched look. “Hmm. Usually kills in Britain.” Bo lost her sense of humor around the end of the back end of season two. Don’t let it phase you.
Bo wearily asks what they’re doing there and Hugin informs her that he and Munin used to live there. “We crows are always more comfortable around death, travelling as we do between the living world and the afterlife. To us, it’s quite homey.” Oh sure. Low rent, electric not included, but plenty of off-street parking. Who are these guys again? Oh right, nobody bothered to explain that part. Bo politely says the place has its own…“no, this place sucks,” she corrects midsentence. “Let’s just get what we came for and get out of here.” What is it that you went there for, hmm? Because when you left The Dal together, it was to find Munin, not pick up snacks. Guess they’re there to look for Munin then.
There’s a flutter of wings and then a crow calls. Bo and Hugin watch as the newly arrived crow pecks at some nearby carcass. “Hello brother,” Hugin says. The crow transforms into Munin who looks like the uncouth sibling you only break bread with on holidays. He deliberately swipes a piece of carrion from his mouth. “‘Ello, ‘ello, ‘el-lo,” he drawls as he saunters toward Hugin and Bo. Without taking his gaze from Bo, Munin snarks at how their presence is a pleasant surprise. “Like being eaten by dogs or having your knuckles rapped by a nun for horsin’ around in class. That kind of pleasant.” Hugin snarks that Munin is a poet. “Dumb as dog shite but a poet nonetheless. Shall we?” he asks Bo. “Oh yes, please,” she replies eagerly with a menacing step toward Munin. Munin immediately caws for reinforcements. A murder of crows descends on the graveyard and one by one transform to their human counterparts. Hugin and Bo count them off as they do, Bo, for her part, slightly bemused to be able to follow along with the British nursery rhyme though they’ve played with the original lines to suit the show’s purposes, as per usual. “One for sorrow. Two for mirth. Three for a funeral. Four for birth. Five for heaven. Six for hell.” Munin finishes off the nursery rhyme. “And seven is the devil…his own self.” Bo thinks their change in circumstances is excellent. “Cause I like them odds.”
Despite her bravado, Bo and Hugin run through the cemetery fleeing the crows. She’s stopped short when another crow smokes into her path. This one is blonde, so I expect Bo to start macking on her at any moment. Alas, she’s Hugin’s estranged wife. She pleasantly greets her “little treasure” and Hugin replies in kind. “Can’t tell you how much I’m going to enjoy eating the heart right out of your chest.” Marriage counseling with them must be a hoot. Two other crows instantly flank the wife. “If you’d been better at eating certain things when we were together, I never would’ve left you for your brother.” Me-ow. She fans herself with both hands. “Not hard to see who got the passion in that family,” she tells Bo. “It’s Munin. He got the passion,” she tacks on. Yeah, we followed that bouncing ball all by ourselves, thanks. “Let me guess,” an annoyed Bo says to Hugin. “The wife?” Hugin: “Isn’t she a
repulsive quim peach?” The wife gives Bo a “eh” look and shrugs. Hugin calmly asks Bo if they should run. Against those odds? Please. “Why not?” Bo replies equally unconcerned. They take off, crows in pursuit. The wife smiles.
Down in Tolkien’s Lair, Tamsin opens Trick’s leather portfolio and briefly fingers the old parchment on which is depicted the flying horse that breathes fire. This rings no bells for the Valkyrie. “Ugh! Books!” she exclaims, closing the portfolio and stalking over to yet another of Trick’s bookcases. “Old books. More old books. Older than the other old books.” Heh. I’m mean, that’s Nirvana right there for me, but I geddit. “Oh look at this!” she calls lifting up another large tome from the end table. “It’s another old book that is…blank.” Across the room, Kenzi kneels before a shorter stack of shelves choosing and discarding books in rapid succession. Hearing Tamsin found a blank book brings her head up. She asks what Tamsin said. “About the books? Or the more old books?” Tamsin replies. Heh. “About the blank,” Kenzi clarifies as she gets to her feet. Tamsin hands over the book in question. “Empty. Nothing doing.”
But Kenzi realizes that Tamsin has found the holy fael. “This is what we have to do!” Tamsin: “Oh like, you mean, draw weird dicks in there?” Why, because you came into your last life with the sense of humor of an eleven-year-old boy?! What the hell, writers?! Kenzi explains that after Bo’s fight with her mother Aoife (in season one. Good times.), “I found Trick passed out down here near death. He was writing in this book with his own blood. He opened his veins and rewrote the future to save Bo.” Tamsin thinks that’s “heavy” and Kenzi wonders what weight has to do with it. Okay, fine, Kenzi agrees and adds that, “it unleashed a shit storm by the name of the Garuda. It was before your time,” she tacks on with faint apology. Tamsin slaps the book closed and wisely suggests that messing with blood writings might be a really bad idea, “even for us.” Kenzi wonders if Tamsin saw Trick’s extreme reaction to the crow’s smoke and what it did to him physically. “I have a feeling in my gut that he’s wrapped up in all of this.” She reminds Tamsin that Trick has kept things from Bo before. “I think that the answers lie in this book in his past. Or his future, I guess.”
Tamsin again cautions Kenzi, but Kenzi goes on about how Bo has always had her back
until season three, “even from the minute she didn’t know me. I think it’s time I had hers. You know?” You’ve had hers from the moment you woke up in Hilton Hovel on her couch. Stop selling yourself short. Tamsin gets it. “I’m in.” She asks what’s next and Kenzi casually reveals they need some of Trick’s blood. Tamsin: “Oh, well, that’s good. ‘Cause I thought it was gonna be difficult.” Heh. But Trick once told Kenzi that he used to keep his blood in an inkwell ready to write at a moment’s notice. With a grossed-out sneer, Tamsin surmises Kenzi thinks the blood is somewhere in Tolkien’s Lair. “He’s a creature of habit, our Trick,” Kenzi allows. “It is definitely in here and knowing him it is not going to be easy or safe to find.”
Speaking of Trick…
An unhappy Trick enters a house. “Fitzy,” a woman fondly calls from off screen. “Is that you?” Trick grimaces. “Dao-ming. What a nice surprise,” he acknowledges flatly. An Asian woman appears in the foreground tending her plant. She laughs. “Are you really going to stand there and lie to a luduan?” Trick recognizes the futility of that and asks after Dao-ming’s sister who he’s come to see. “Have you come to…win her back?” Dao-ming asks without turning from her plant tending. Trick states that Dao-ming knows why he’s there, though she insists she’s not a mind-reader. “Just a simple Fae that can find the truth even in the most…formidable of opponents.” She finally turns toward Trick with this last. “I no longer live as royalty,” Trick says with a weary tone. It’s so trying when people adulate you all the time. “I meant men,” Dao-ming snaps. Heh. “Liars. Every last one of you.” Man hate drink!
Trick drops the pretense and fervently insists he needs answers. “Now.” Dao-ming is pleased to have reduced him to pleading. “So sorry,” she says, not sounding sorry at all and adds that her sister, Wai Lin, is off helping out with important international negotiations. “She’s back at the UN?” Trick clarifies. “
Faenatics discussion boards Facebook,” Dao-ming answers. Good luck with that one. She notes that the world has changed. “What can I say…Barkeep?” Trick sighs heavily and asks her to help him but she denies him because she doesn’t feel like it. She reminds Trick that he’s wanted answers before and she’s not sure it did him much good. “There’s a memory,” Trick confesses. “And it’s been blocked by someone very powerful.” Dao-ming supposes that Trick thinks if she forces him to tell the truth, “this memory will just poke its little head back out into the light?” Basically. Yeah. Trick offers her money but Dao-ming goes on the offensive. “Why should I help you after everything you have done to my family?!” Trick offers that Dao-ming should help because she hates the person who has blocked his memory. “Who might that be?” she asks. Trick grimaces. “Me. I think I did this to myself.” Dao-ming finds that very interesting.
Slowly, she sits down at her desk. Trick notes that she’s not using magic herbs for the session. Dao-ming glances at the long cigarette held in her fingers, the only herbs she seems to need, and for the first time we see she has the same long fingernails her sister sported. “I thought they helped you luduans engage the realm of truth.” That would be a different kind of cigarette, Trickster. Dao-ming scoffs at such antiquated parlor tricks and insists they’re hardly worth it these days. “Have you seen my sister’s teeth?” Heh. Trick snorts. Dao-ming agrees to help on the condition that she gets to ask him any question she wants, “and you must let me get the truth no matter how painful.” Trick agrees. “For my granddaughter’s safety, I give you my blood oath.” This pleases Dao-ming as she already has her first question primed and ready. “Why did you pick my sister over me?!” Trick: “Oh boy.” Ha!
Back at the cemetery, the crows back Bo and Hugin up against a headstone. Bo decides they have to do this the old-fashioned way and fight their way out. She asks if Hugin is ready. “Succubus, I was born ready.” That’s usually her line, but whatever. Hugin looks at his brother Munin who nods. With a broad grin, Hugin ambles over to stand next to his wife. “Wait, what are you doing?” Bo asks. Hugin apologizes without meaning it. “Ever since my father…” “He Who Wanders,” Munin drawls with mockery. The other crows chuckle as one of them comes up behind Bo to block her escape. Hugin continues. “Ever since He Who Wanders banished me to that jar, well you know, I’ve kind of grown to hate him.” Bo figures out that he and the wife are not actually on the outs and Hugin confirms it by instantly macking on the blonde. Sorry Bo. Guess he beat you to that one. Bo gives them a disgusted look, because only she gets to make out with people in public, and I notice that the color streak in her hair is actually purple. Love the purple. She snippily points out that Hugin’s boss is the one who screwed him over, not her. “What does this have to do with me?” Hugin and the wife are too busy macking to answer, so Munin explains that it seems Bo is of particular interest to their decaying former employer. “So I thought,” Hugin comes up for air to interject, “my brother and I…” “Would slit your throat,” Munin finishes conversationally. The crows laugh again. “So why the charade?” Bo asks. Hugin bemoans the lack of fun if they just killed her outright. “No thrill? No chase?” Munin complains. “It’d be like the king just shooting the fox in the head point blank. Where’s the fun in that? Better to release the hounds and make a game of it.” Hugin particularly likes seeing the expression change when the prey realizes it’s been double-crossed. Munin agrees it does get the blood pumping. “Warms the cockles of my heart,” Hugin adds while Munin grabs his crotch so Bo doesn’t mistake which cockles of his are being warmed. The crows laugh again and Bo smiles as though she knows something they don’t. “Well then I’ll enjoy the expressions on your faces when I disappoint you,” she promises. Hugin wonders exactly how she’ll pull that one off. “You’re trapped. Surrounded.” Bo glances around and casually agrees with his assessment. “But nobody is slitting my throat today…or any time soon.” With a triumphant smile, she crosses her arms over her chest as in a trust fall stance and lets herself fall back…and into the freshly turned dirt of the grave behind her. A red puff of smoke erupts from the grave as she falls through it. Closed captions: “(schwoop).” HEE. The crows look puzzled at being so neatly out-foxed. “Hmm,” Munin murmurs with a frown as he scratches his belly. “I did not see that coming.”
Bo lands with a grunt in an underground cave decorated with bones and skeletons. “Well that sucked.” Didja expect Serenity of the Seas? “Ah!” a woman’s voice echoes. Bo goes on alert: “Who’s there?!” The phrase echoes back to her. “Both brown and blue,” the mystery voice recites, her words continuing to echo through the cave. “Hello?” Bo calls again. “Both brown and blue,” the woman repeats. “Strong yet gentle.” Bo shouts that she doesn’t have time for games. “Virtuous, yet lustful,” the voice continues, undaunted. “Show yourself!” Bo demands. Again, her words echo through the cave. “I know you,” the woman calls back. “I know you,” she says again, but this time her words do not echo and Bo spins in place to face the woman as reveals herself. A beautiful woman of a certain age, she wears a beautiful light blue velvet dress and cowl and clutches an impressively gnarly staff. She’s also wearing blue lipstick. I sense a theme. “I’m pretty popular these days,” Bo snarks. She guesses that this is the Leviathan given that the woman looks like a hell monster what with her…staff. “Your soul,” the lady says. Suddenly she gasps and catches herself on Bo’s shoulder. Immediately the mark Bo discovered on her chest with Dyson at the end of Of All the Gin Joints glows to life. The woman screams in pain as it repels her. She falls back from Bo who grabs the edge of her jacket to better display the glowing hand print.
“What the hell!” she exclaims. On the ground before Bo, the lady raises her staff in defense. “Where did you get that mark?” she demands. “Oh, you mean the hand hickey on my chest?” Bo snaps back, pissed to be reminded. “Some guy on a train. I had a lot to drink…” Heh. She decides the more important question is where she can find the door that leads out of wherever it is they are. The woman struggles to her feet. “I’ve been searching for that mark for six hundred years,” she says. She doesn’t sound so pleased to have found it. “It was supposed to be mine. They kept it from me!” She starts to circle Bo who does the same. “I want it! I need it!” Bo counters that she wants and needs to get back to that graveyard. “No one ever leaves here, child,” the woman cackles. “No one has ever left.” That’s not quite the same thing, is it? She demands Bo give her that mark. How?! “You want it?” Bo taunts. “Come and get it. I’d just assume stop screwing around and fight for it anyway. It’s a little more my style.” Why?! You’ve been wanting to get rid of it since it first appeared! Let her have it! Bo draws her dagger to prove her point. The woman is totally on board with this idea. “A game of riddles then it is.” Because you’re Gollum? This isn’t quite the fight Bo had in mind. “Riddles? There’s no Angry Birds in Irkalla?” Ha! The Leviathan asks if Bo agrees. “I don’t suppose you’d care to haggle?” Bo tries. “Do you agree?!” the woman repeats forcefully. Bo sheaths her knife and unhappily agrees. “Excellent,” the Leviathan crows. Heh. Unintentional pun is all the funnier for being unintentional.
Back at Dao-ming’s, the gloves are off. “When did you first use your blood to change history?!” Dao-ming demands to know. Caught in the midst of some internal struggle, Trick claims not to remember. Dao-ming flicks her wrist and a loud click sounds. Trick grunts with pain. “The Damghan Earthquake,” he gasps. “The Damghan leaders became defiant…and unruly…they needed to be taught a lesson.” Trick’s expression becomes quite maniacal as he remembers this event. Dao-ming asks how many this earthquake killed and doesn’t hesitate to click her nails again to get the answer. “Over 200,000 souls,” Trick admits, bug-eyed. “It was a massacre,” he growls with satisfaction. Creeeeeeepy. “But it prevented a larger massacre,” he quickly adds. “A genocide.” Dao-ming is not interested. “How many souls have you wiped from this earth?!” she demands. Click. “Millions!” Trick cries. “But—” Dao-Ming interrupts before he can excuse his actions again. “Who do you love most?!” she shouts. “Isabeau! You know that.” Trick grits out. Dao-ming reminds him to tell her the truth. “I…am…” Trick says with effort. Dao-ming isn’t buying it. “Who?!” Click. “Me!” Trick snarls. Blood drips from his nose into his beard. “I am the first son of this earth. I am the one to be worshipped!”
Dao-Ming falls back in her chair with a smile of smug satisfaction. Finally. Trick grunts and moans in pain, fists clenched as he struggles against remembering the megalomaniac he once was. Alarmed, Dao-Ming leaps up from her chair and haltingly insists she will not continue. Trick pleads with her to carry on. “Whatever is buried in there does not want to come out!” she shouts. “I am frightened, Fitzy! I’m frightened of what it could be. What it could mean for all of us.” Trick struggles to explain that Bo’s life is in danger. “She’s all I have left of my line.” Ah, there’s still your daughter, Aoife. Remember her? Yeah, well, neither have the writers since the season premiere. Unless you killed your daughter this time…? Trick begs Dao-Ming to continue. Reluctant, she nonetheless agrees.
Down in Irkalla, the Leviathan struts around the cave reciting her riddle. “I am black as night and as bright as day; as cold as March and as warm as May.” Unimpressed, Bo nods along behind her. “What am I?” Unsure, Bo slowly steps up to the woman. “You’re um…” She glances down at a puddle just as a cloud of smoke wafts across it. Convenient. “Yes? What am I?” the woman prompts, impatient. “Fog?” Bo suggests with a smug smile. “You’re fog, right? That’s the answer.” The Leviathan is pissed Bo got it correct. I never understand why people in these situations don’t just lie. “No, of course it’s not fog! What kind of an answer is that? I mean, fog isn’t even black and it sure as hell isn’t bright as any fool who’s ever driven through it could tell you. Dumbass.” Alas, no. Instead, the Leviathan merely growls with frustration and slams her staff into the puddle. “Your turn, Princess,” she sneers. Heh. “Oh, not big on losing, huh Levi?” Bo snarks back. Levi clenches her jaw. No, I’m not. “The game is not over yet,” she points out with asperity. “And don’t call me that. Go!” she orders.
In Tolkien’s Lair, Kenzi opens the latticed door of a cabinet on the hunt for Trick’s blood. She should swing by Dao-Ming’s and swipe it from the source. Tamsin shows up in the doorway behind her. “It’s not here!” she insists with no small level of frustration. “Keep looking!” Kenzi sing songs. “We’ve been looking for hours,” Tamsin complains, even as she goes off to look some more. A floorboard creeks under Tamsin’s foot. “Gross Tamsin!” Kenzi calls as she starts her search in the identical cabinet on the opposing wall. “It was the floor!” Tamsin calls back, annoyed. What is with all the adolescent bathroom humor this episode? I have no desire to repeat junior high, show. But as Tamsin glances down at the culprit in questions, she realizes she stepped on a loose plank. She puts it up to reveal a cubby hole in which is stored a small, red, striped box all tied up in a bow. Literally. Wait, Trick stores the all-powerful Una Mens seed in his vault but a vial of blood with which someone might change the direction of history is hidden under a floor plank? Okey doke.
“What is that?” Kenzi asks as she spies Tamsin’s find and hurries to join her. “This can’t be,” Tamsin decides not at all ominously. Kenzi asks what she means. “It’s a tametebako,” the Valkyrie explains. Kenzi: “A tomato-bacon?! Yum!” Tamsin replaces the plank. “Ah, no. This is a Japanese folding box. These markings…but this is impossible.” Kenzi drops onto the settee and suggests she “fill a brother in, Tam Tam.” Tamsin reverently explains that “in fifth-century Japan a fisherman, Urashima Taro, met a turtle.” The turtle was actually the cursed daughter of an Emperor. “She gave the fisherman a magical box.” Of course she did. “If I’m not mistaken it is this magical box,” she says in earnest as she hands the box to Kenzi to examine. Kenzi wonders if it’s a “make a wish,” magical box, “or just like have-a-late-period magical box?” Sigh. Tamsin glares a little and snatches the box back from Kenzi. “Like protect-you-from-evil-but-don’t-you-dare-open-it-unless-you-know-the-combination magical box. It opens from all sides but the combinations are endless.” Kenzi poses that if she was The Blood King… “this is where I’d hide my blood?” Tamsin finishes. “Yeah.” So, this is like having to figure out someone’s Gmail password, yeah? Can’t they just answer the security question and be done with it?
Kenzi kneels before Tamsin. “Tammy? This may be the single most irresponsible, frightening thing we’ve ever done.” Tamsin frowns. “More irresponsible that the time we snuck into the Fae Veterans Hospital and switched the charts because you were having bad period cramps—” Kenzi muffles her mouth. “Shh! We said we would never talk of that again!” she hisses. “But…yes!” Tamsin takes a deep breath and considers the tametebako. “Let’s do it.” Kenzi agrees. Go Team Tamzi! Team Kensin! Whatever!
Down in Irkalla, the Leviathan grows impatient. “I grow weary of your stalling, Princess,” she snits at Bo. Bo snaps back that she told Levi to stop calling her that, plus she’s not stalling. “I just haven’t played a lot of riddle games. They’re not really a thing. They’re kind of old fashioned…sort of like everything about you.” Insutled, Levi tells Bo not to mock her. “Yeah, yeah…” Bo starts and then an idea comes to her. “Okay, I’ve got one: She’s brilliant. He’s strong. Her life is little…his life is long. Both loves are pure. Both loves are true. If you were I…who would you choose?” She says the punch line as though actually seeking counsel. Levi repeats it with confusion. “What do you mean?!”
“Choose?” Bo repeats, drawing the word out. “As in choice.” Levi snaps that this is a trick. “Oh, lady, it is annoying. Hell, at times it is emotionally crippling.” Stop speaking for the audience, Bo. Oh and you forgot manipulative and boring. Carry on! “But if it’s a trick? Then someone up there has quite the sense of humor.” She demands Levi answer the riddle. Levi is quite upset as she doesn’t think the riddle is fair. Lady, you have no idea. “What are you gonna cry?” Bo taunts because we are in a junior high tonight. “I’m warning you…” Levi, ah, warns. “Answer it!” Bo shouts. Provoked, Levi does. “The man. He will live longer.” Bo: “Final answer?” Levi twitches. “No, wait! Ah, the woman. Uh, yes you love her.” Oh give me a break. It’s okay, show. Every single character doesn’t have to be a “Bo loves Doctor Lauren” doccubus mouthpiece. It has long since reach the “doth protest too much” stage and you only sound like you’re working too hard to convince yourself. “You wear her humanity like a shield,” Levi adds. That I’ll buy. Bo: “So we’re stickin’ with the woman, Levi?” Levi twitches some more and changes her answer back to the man. “Yes. You crave strength. The man. I answer the man.” So say we all.
Bo slowly shakes her head and Levi curses her. “Too bad. So sad,” Bo mocks. “Now send me back up, fish fingers.” And custard? But Levi needs to know the answer first. “Was it the woman? I must know.” Go ahead and tell her, Bo. At this point, none of us really give a shit anymore anyway. “Hey, I was kind of hoping you could tell me,” Bo confides, “because as far as I know? There is no answer.” Oh show. Your ability to dodge commitment and string your fans along like lemmings is a constant thing of wonder.
Levi accuses Bo of cheating. “Ah, no. I Bo-d it. And yes, that is trademarked.” Damn and here I was…never ever going to use it anyway. “I will make you pay for this,” Levi promises darkly. “Why so grumpy?” Bo asks. “I’ll send you down a snack. I promise. Now up!” Levi agrees. She waves her hand at Bo and then evil chuckles as she exits. Bo wants to know what’s so funny. “I will see you again, soon enough,” Levi assures her. Bo demands to know what she means. Levi turns back. “Someone you love very much will soon be dead,” Levi mocks in a little girl’s voice. Frightened, Bo demands to know who is in danger, but having done her damage, Levi slowly raises her arm. Red smoke erupts around Bo and quickly snaps her back up to the living world.
Back in the graveyard, Bo hides behind a large rock and listens to Hugin and Munin conspire. “What part of being rich will you like best once The Wanderer has fallen into the abyss with his pathetic choo choo and we collect all of his riches we’ve hidden about the world?” Hugin asks his brother. “Well, I will tell you,” Munin replies as though their merely sipping brandy and smoking cheroots by the hearth. “My soul is saying world domination,” here Hugin hums in agreement, which, hee, “but there are other parts of me that are saying…a different woman every night!” The crows laugh appreciatively.
Bo decides she’s heard enough. She leaps out from behind the rock and pushes a crow down to Levi through a grave before they notice she’s back. “Get her!” a random crow shouts. Bo looks at the mildly surprised Hugin, Munin, and wife (she still doesn’t have a name!) and then takes off running, the murder of crows on her heel. Hugin, Munin, and wife stare down at the grave. “Whoa,” Munin muses. “I did not see that coming.” At another clearing, Bo skids to a stop just before crossing the line of graves. Two other crows leap for the space where she would’ve been from opposite sides…and fall right into a respective grave on each end. She ducks a third who leaps over her head and into the grave behind her with a schwoop. Bo dusts off her hands and heads back for the brothers and the wife.
As she arrives, one last minion leaps for her, but Bo easily ducks her swing and shoves her into a nearby slot. “Whoa. That was a bit of bad luck, wasn’t it?” Hugin observes, nonplussed. That might be taking British stoicism a bit far, but okay. “Well, what do you know? Three for a girl,” Bo announces cheerily. I’m just glad she avoided using the phrase “threesome” again. Hugin and Munin point out that still leaves Bo still sadly outnumbered.
With a growl, Dyson comes up behind Hugin to grab him by the throat. “I wouldn’t be so sure.” Doctor Lauren rushes up behind Munin, a primed needle in each hand, which she aims at both sides of his head. Munin gives them a hilarious what the hell? look. “Run!” Hugin croaks to his wife. She takes off. “Watch your step!” he adds right before she tumbles into another grave. Schwoop. “I’ve seen marriages end in worse ways,” Munin commiserates with Hugin. Dyson stares at the captured Hugin with the expression of a wolf who has caught his prey. “How did you, ah—” Dyson cuts him off. “The stench of crow,” he says by way of explaining how he found the gravesite. “Easy enough to track.” Munin makes a show of sniffing himself. “Well, uh, see, I really did not see that coming, I swear,” he whines. Hugin yells at him to shut up. Bo looks between the two.
In Tolkien’s Lair, Kenzi tentatively lifts the tametebako. “Here goes nothing.” She opens one panel of wrapping. Immediately a blood-curdling cry erupts from the box. Kenzi drops the box as she and Tamsin cover their ears. The cry fades and they each take a deep breath before Kenzi tries again with another panel. This time a creepy recorded laugh snickers out. Kenzi snorts. “Trick is really weird.” Heh. Cautious, she opens a third panel and she and Tamsin both lean over to peer into it—and barely jump back soon enough to dodge the dagger that comes flying out with such force, it lodges in the ceiling, hilt quivering. The girl’s catch their breath. “Do you want to do the next one?” Kenzi asks, holding out the box. Tamsin gives her A Look.
Well stone the crows. Doctor Lauren steps back, needles still in hand, to let Munin drop to his knees while Dyson shoves Hugin down, hand still wrapped around the crow’s throat. Hugin protests that there’s no need for violence. “Shut it or I’ll tear your throat out,” Dyson threatens in THAT VOICE. “And I’ll pump you so full of Fae STDs your little egg fertilizers will drop right off.” Aw. She’s so cute when she’s failing to be a bad ass! Gee, if only there was something that could be used to treat STDs…I want to say “penny” something… Munin grimaces and I swear he’s thinking whatever human. “Wow. That’s intense,” Dyson praises. The doc: “Too much?” Dyson: “No, it’s good.” This sycophantic exchange inspires an eye roll so intense my eyeball got stuck for a moment.
“You must admit, brother, they do have a certain panache,” Munin offers. Shut it, Munin. Hugin: “I should’ve let Mother kill you.” Bo’s had enough of the bickering. “Heckle. Jeckle.” HA! “I need to get back on that train. Now.” Hugin points out that once you’ve betrayed someone, “they hardly welcome you back into their lives with open arms. Unless there’s a sword in each one.” Munin agrees. “If we get back on that train, we’re dead.” He tells Bo to do her worst. “Oh our worst, huh? Dyson what would your worst be?” Bo asks conversationally. “I could disembowel them. Let them swim around in their own entrails for a while,” he threatens. “That’s painful,” he says to Bo with cheek. “Oof. Excruciating,” Doctor Lauren agrees. Bo prompts her to contribute her own horror. “I could inject them with the larvae of a Fae bot fly. Little bugger would take over their central nervous system, make them do all sorts of horrible things to themselves. You know: self-mutilation. Internal bleeding.” First, do no harm… Bo likes that last one, being the granddaughter of the Blood King.
Hugin gives in and offers Bo a proposition. “My brother and I will get you back on that train…” Munin: “If you promise to let us leave as soon as your…” “Feet touch the rotting floor,” Hugin finishes. Bo instantly agrees to the deal and pulls the brothers up to get it all started. Surprised, Dyson protests Bo going with the crows alone. “You can’t just leave us here,” Doctor Lauren seconds. Bo reminds them how she told them both she needs to do this on her own. “We’re your family,” Dyson says softly. “Your weird,” Doctor Lauren says and then looks at Dyson, “complicated…” “Completely dysfunctional family,” Dyson finishes. “But we are your family nonetheless,” the doc concludes. Bo doesn’t discount this. “You are my family. And I am the luckiest girl (woman) in the whole world, which is why I cannot let you risk your lives for me.” Because they’ve never, ever, done that before. Doctor Lauren protests one last time. Bo looks between them as she coquettishly kisses her hand. “Catch, lover.” She blows the kiss from her hand and immediately links arms with Hugin and Munin. “Fly,” she orders them. The three disappear in a puff of black smoke, leaving Dyson and Doctor Lauren standing there alone. They take a breath. “You know that kiss was for me, right?” the doc snarks. “Yeah, you just keep telling yourself that,” Dyson shoots back with confidence.
Dao-ming is still working on Trick. “What is the worst thing you’ve ever done?” Trick repeats that he doesn’t remember. Click. “Tell me!” Click. In great pain, Trick clenches his fists and groans loudly…and then stops. Evil, maniacal laughter rolls from his throat. “You ridiculous, cheap, low-born Fae,” he sneers at Dao-ming. “Do you have any idea how powerful I am? I could open my veins right now and write you out of history for good.” Oh really? Click. “Like I did Rainer!” Trick grits out. A fierce wind picks up inside the house, blowing Dao-ming’s hair and rattling her jars and empty bird cages. Fearful, she glances around as it subsides and her things settle down. “Agh,” Trick groans as he comes back to himself. “That’s it. I remember. I remember who The Wanderer is. How he came to be. What he is now. I know why I haven’t been trying to…it’s because I…” He starts to weep. “Did I do this?! Did I do this to…” He pauses and looks at the frightened Dao-ming. “I created all of this, didn’t I?”
“So sad, Fitzy,” Dao-ming taunts. “You’ve tried so hard to walk away from you power. To make things right. But in the end, the past will always find a way. Even you, even the all-powerful Blood King, even your power is a curse. Even you cannot escape Fate.” She chuckles to see him brought so low. Trick wonders what could possibly funny at such a moment. “With all of your ability to change the future, no matter what you do you’re still powerless to change your nature.” Anvil alert! Trick sighs. “I have to find Bo,” he says, getting up with effort. “I have to warn her.” Dao-ming taunts that she’ll tell her sister that “Fitzy” stopped by, but Trick leaves without looking back.
In Tolkien’s Lair, Kenzi and Tamsin both work on opposing ends of the tametebako and finally reveal the compartment in which Trick has hid a few small vials of his blood. Kenzi’s gorgeous eye is for a moment framed in the box. “Oh, shit just got real,” she says. Tamsin asks what they should do as Kenzi carefully removes a vial. “Fingerpaint?” Kenzi offers. “Kenz!” Tamsin objects because she didn’t think of it first. Kenzi admits she’s only half-kidding and is open to other ideas but Tamsin doesn’t have any. Kenzi opens the blank book, flips to a page in the middle, and carefully pours some of Trick’s blood onto the page. “Ah! Fire in the hole!” she screams, dodging backward as though expecting the page to blow up on contact. Tamin lifts a brow at her as nothing happens. “Yep. Okay,” Kenzi says. She sits upright again and adds more blood to the book. With a moan of disgust, she uses one finger to rub the blood into the parchment. Nothing happens.
Kenzi slams her hand down on the table. “It’s not working!” she shouts. She gets up to pace as Tamsin scrambles for an explanation. “Maybe Trick needs to write in it or someone Trick has written about?” As she speaks, Tamsin picks up the book and smears her thumb through the large circle Kenzi has smeared into the parchment above which she’s written “BO.” “I’m sorry, Kenz,” Tamsin says with regret. Suddenly, power moves through her and her hands locked onto the book. Struggling, Tamsin stands but she can’t let go of it. The girls struggle with the book as a wind blows the pages. “What is happening?” Tamsin asks fearful, but Kenzi doesn’t know.
Cut to Bo back on the train. The caws of the departing crows sound as Hugin and Munin abandon her there as per their deal. Bo looks around the abandoned dining car. Setting her jaw, she heads off in search of The Wanderer.
Down in Tolkien’s Lair, Kenzi orders Tamsin to let go of the book. “I can’t!” Tamsin cries. Suddenly her name appears in the book in blood three times. TAMSIN. TAMSIN. TAMSIN. Tamsin goes abruptly still. She closes her eyes as her eyes goes all Valkyrie skeletal. “I must take his soul. It belongs to me,” she snarls. “Oh boy,” Kenzi gasps.
Cut to the
Renaissance Festival the past. Under a ragged make-shift tent, Tamsin kneels next to a fallen knight. She too is in full armor and not looking shiny. She lays her hands on the knight. His visor has been lowered obscuring his face. In his medieval lord garb, Trick steps up on the other side of the knight to stop her. “But this is a warrior’s soul,” Tamsin objects weakly in a guttural voice. She looks up and is very worse for wear. There’s a healed scar across her nose and her eyes are sunken in her face with dark natural shadows beneath them. “I must take it. It is my purpose,” she pleads. Trick again denies her and there is pleasure in his ability to do this. “You know this, Blood King!” Tamsin protests. “He has fallen in battle and I must take him to the Einherjar in Valhalla. It is written!”
The Blood King scoffs. “Written. Written? If it wasn’t written by me then what importance could it have?” Her voice thick with tears, Tamsin reminds the Blood King that he knows what will happen if she doesn’t take the soul. “You overstate your importance, Vulture,” he snaps back. “That’s right. You’re nothing more than carrion. A greedy bird pecking at the helpless dead. My helpless dead.” Anyone else wanna bitch slap him right about now? Yeah. “I am a Valkyrie!” Tamsin cries, sobbing, “and we are a proud race!” The Blood King snarls that if she is so proud, how could she let herself become so…ugly? “So disheveled? So disgusting? You’re a shadow of your former self, Tamsin.”
Broken, Tamsin admits that her lives are ending. “For good this time. And I have made so many mistakes,” she sobs. “And I fear my soul is…” “Damned?” the Blood King fills in without any care. Tamsin: “Yes.” The Blood King: “To hel.” Tamsin clenches her teeth: “Yes.” He reaches out to stroke her chin in not at all a comforting way. “Don’t you want to be beautiful again?” he taunts. “To re-write your path? To have new life?” Tamsin wants this more than anything. “If only I had more time, I would do things so differently. I would cleanse my soul. And wipe my sins away.” Rachel Skarsten is killing it in this scene. Big time. The Blood King hums with a new idea. He offers to give Tamsin what she desires, “but for payment, I must have his soul.” Tamsin dares to ask why. “So I may curse him with the words of my blood. For his defiance. For his arrogance. For thinking he could change the laws of the king. So that he will never rise and take arms against my will again.” The Blood King lifts Tamsin’s chin to glare into her eyes as he says this last as a warning to her too. “So that his soul will wander in eternity. For no one will remember his name.” Fame! Sorry. I got caught up there. “No one will remember Rainer the Defiant.” Trick spits on the fallen knight then gives Tamsin a look. Well? Tamsin ducks her head, but accepts his terms. The Blood King pulls out a dagger, wipes it clean on a rag, and then slices the palm of his hand.
Ya know, not for nothing, but it looks like Aoife comes by her crazy naturally. Did she get nothing from her mother but her succubus power?
The picture flickers back and forth between the Blood King’s bleeding palm and Kenzi freaking out in Tolkien’s Lair. She grabs a heavy brass candlestick holder and slams in down on the book, ripping it free of Tamsin’s grip. Tamsin snaps out of her flashback and drops on the settee unconscious. Kenzi frantically tries to rouse “Tammy.” “Wake up! I’m so sorry! I’m so sorry! I was just so worried about Bo! Tammy, wake up! Wake up! Come on!” She shakes Tamsin and slaps her cheeks, but to no avail.
Back on the train, Bo shoves open a door to enter the carriage where the welder works. He gets up and walks away from her without acknowledgement, slowly stripping off his gloves. “Are you him?” Bo accuses. “Are you Rainer?” Welding mask still on, Rainer takes off his jacket revealing a tight black tee-shirt and jeans. Bo draws her dagger. “I asked you a question. Are you The Wanderer?” The welder sighs heavily and then spins around, removing the helmet in the same motion to reveal the bearded hotness that is actor Kyle Schmid. Hey, I’m loyal; I’m not dead. “Oh,” Bo murmurs. “Not really what I was expecting.” He’s not even blonde either. “I knew you’d come for me,” he says with conviction. “That makes two of us,” she says between her teeth and then attacks. He easily dodges her lunges and finally grabs her wrist and yanks the dagger from her hand. Reaching out, he grabs her in the same place as her glowing mark and then forces her to grab his neck in the same place. Immediately, they both glow with a golden handprint hickey. Bo’s eyes go wide and she forgets to breathe as restored memories sweep over her. She relaxes and, clasping his hand on her shoulder, she smiles at him lovingly. Nifty.
In Tolkien’s Lair, Kenzi is desperately trying to get Tamsin to wake up. She finally does, violently sitting up without warning to grab Kenzi’s shoulders. “Whatever you do,” she gasps, “don’t trust Trick.”
At The Dal, Dyson leans over the bar as Doctor Lauren paces behind him. Trick rushes in. “We have to find Bo! Now!” he announces without ceremony. “Yeah, but we lost her!” Dyson admits. “She’s back on the train!” Trick orders them both to “arm up. Call Hale. Call Kenzi. Call Tamsin. Hell, call Vex!” Heh. The doc demands he tell them what’s going on. “I know who took Bo. I know who The Wanderer is. His name is Rainer. He’s my mortal enemy.” Gee, wonder why?
Bo chooses that timely moment to return, prancing into the bar as though there’s nothing untoward going on. “Bo! Thank the gods!” Trick exclaims. Dyson rushes to her side, the doc close behind. “Hey, are you okay?” he asks intently as he takes her hand. “Yeah,” she gasps with a broad smile. “Yeah, I’m great. Never better, actually.” Worried, Doctor Lauren looks on as Bo stares at Dyson. “I um,” Bo glances at the doc. Releasing Dyson she spins around toward the door. “Whoa. I found out why I agreed to be Dark,” she tells them while wringing her hands. She’s still smiling too. “I found out it was my idea, actually,” she explains. “What are you talking about?” Dyson asks. “Yeah. It was so I would move heaven and earth to get back on that train,” Bo says. “To Rainer. Willingly.” Trick starts to freak out. He looks to Dyson. “Willingly?” Dyson repeats, unease evident. “So I could break his curse and free him from the train,” Bo continues. Ruh roh. There’s nothing Bo likes better than to be the savior of a lost cause. Look how many times she’s had to rescue Doctor Lauren. Even the doc boasts that’s Bo’s role in their relationship. This Rainer guy is quick.
“With the whole memory-gone thing, well, it became quite the dilemma,” Bo chuckles. Dyson, Doctor Lauren, and especially Trick are not amused. “God, I’m sorry that I put all of you through that,” Bo says. “Bo, I don’t understand,” the doc says warily. “What’s happening?” But Trick has noticed what lost cause Bo has brought home with her this time. “That’s him,” he tells the others. “That’s Rainer.” Entrèz Kyle Schmid. Bo looks at Dyson a little guiltily and then glances at the doc before turning around to Rainer. She locks arms with him. Dyson growls and his eyes go wolf gold. “Dyson, don’t!” Bo admonishes. Confused, yet he dials back. Rainer gives him a smug alpha look. “Just listen! All of you,” Bo demands. “I did all of this because he’s not my enemy. And he’s definitely not my father.” Bo and Rainer look at one another. She takes his arm and runs her hand down to clasps his. “He’s my destiny.” OH HELL NO. Dyson looks utterly gobsmacked, like his love just got ripped out again. Doctor Lauren frowns at Bo. Have you lost your mind? Trick silently freaks out.
Next week: “Waves”