|
At From Hell Court:
Godley *descends carefully the narrow steps down to the basement, where his eyes are clouded
by
smoke.* We are all soon in a point where there's nothing more to lose. *looks
for Abberline, finally spots him on a shabby couch in a corner.* Get up. *Tries to wake him but doesn't get any response.
He sighs deeply* Get up! *Drags
the inspector up, and staggers supporting him towards the stairs* Fred, old chum,
time to go home.
Malachi *at bar, watches Godley and Abberline
emerge from the basement into main room of tavern. As they come closer, Godley supporting Abberline, Malachi holds a
hand out* Just one second, Sergeant ... *reaches into pocket, pulls out small glass vial with a small amount of amber
liquid* Give this to the Inspector when he's able to take it. It'll put him right again. *smirks at Godley's
suspicious expression.* Don't worry, it'll do him nothing but good, I promise. I knew of the Inspector in
Fiji years ago. We didn't cross paths, but I knew of
him. He's got a strong gift, and it just so happens I have the same gift, or you might say a variation thereof.
*holds vial closer* Go on, take it, give it to him later. I swear it'll clear his head.
Godley:
Stranger, I don't know who you are and I don't know what stuff this is, but I am going to accept it. *Grabs the vial and looks at it suspiciously. If it is poison,
I'll taste it first myself, he thinks.*
Malachi *grins* You can try a taste of
it yourself if you're worried. Can't say I blame you. Hell, you've never laid eyes on me. If you try it,
you won't feel a thing. But for someone who's over-indulged in opium and absinthe ... *nods toward Abberline* ... well,
this stuff can be a godsend. Far more effective than dousing your head in a basin of water. *looks at Abberline
again, then back at Godley* Take care of him. It'd be a shame to have his gifts overshadowed by his demons.
At Manouche and Blake’s house:
Blake *enters, having spent the day working
at Pam’s house, getting studio ready for the grand opening. He’s carrying a bottle of champagne and some
wildflowers he’d picked in the woods near the house. Closes door behind him, squints to try to see through darkness*
Honey? You here? Why are all the lights out? *Enters kitchen, puts things down on counter, continues through
house. Hears a soft coughing from Raven’s room, opens door, stares at sight of Manouche lying on floor, coughing,
cradling rum bottle – the one she’d brought back from Chez Roux earlier – now completely empty.*
Honey, you all right?
Manouche *looks up, dazed, focuses, grins*
Ahhh, there ‘e is! Th’ future Mr. Will-yum Blake. No, wait, that ain’t right, that ain’t
what’ll change ... MY name'll change … I’M th’ future Mr. Blake …
Blake *grins* You’re not gonna be
the future anything if we don’t get some black coffee in you. *Walks over to her, crouches down next to her, kisses
her neck. Picks up bottle, frowns*
Manouche: Gimme that! *snatches
bottle from him, tries to drink from it, realizes it’s empty. Scowls, flings it at opposite wall, where it smashes
into pieces* Bollocks. Either I juss’ lost th’ deposit on tha’ bloody bottle, or I ‘ave
seven years bad luck comin’ me way. *laughs*
Blake *eyes wide* D-did you drink that
whole bottle by yourself?
Manouche: Wellll, I wa’ on me onesies
when I start’d, an’ I wa’ on me onesies when you got ‘ere. So unless there wa’ guesssties
'ere in between, then, aye, I reck I did. *gazes at him, eyes bloodshot* Where y’ been? Naah, never
mind, it ain’t me bizniss … *looks away, reaches in pocket, brings forth cigarette, manages to light
it*
Blake *growing worried* Honey, what’s
wrong?
Manouche: Did’je know I c’n
blow a smoke ring, luv? Look … *takes drag from cigarette, holds smoke for a moment, blows perfect smoke ring,
followed by explosion of coughing. Swears, wipes tearing eyes as coughing subsides* Ahhhhhh, y’ ask’d
a questionn, didn’t ye? Whass wrong? Y’mean whass right, s’ what ye mean, luv. An’
I ‘aven’t a bleedin’ clue. Sure as hell ain’t anythin’ right wi’ …. wi’
all thiss … *sweeps an arm toward the room* S’all wrong, thiss izz ….. s’ all t’
cock …..
Blake: C’mon out of here, come in
the other room, I’ll make some coffee. *smiles slightly* I’d brought home champagne, but I’m
thinkin’ it can wait …
Manouche:
Champagne! Ahh, t’ be sure … t’ celllebrate our upcomin’ nuptials, eh? I muss’ say, though,
I think one-a Abberline’s absinthe an’ laudanum speshulls’d be more app-propo, wouldn’t y’ agree?
*sneers* Oh, aye, less’ ALL toast th’ bloody buggery ‘appy couple, eh?? *lowers voice, imitating
whispering gossiper* An’ ain’t it a shame, tha’ han’some young man ain’ never gonna be
a dad … crikey, what a waste … act o’ charity, it izz, ‘im takin’ up w’ th’ likes
o’ her …
Blake: Manouche …
Manouche *eyes wide* Oooh, I’m fer
it now, he’s displeeased! He ain’t callin’ me ‘oney, he’s usin’ me name. Honeymoon’s
o’er before it started, innit? Juss’ as well, this’un’s doom’d b’fore it can even
get off th’ ground, an’ we both bloody well know it. *takes drag off cigarette, swings foot around, snuffs
cigarette out on sole of boot, tosses butt on floor*
Blake *face pale, swallows* Wh-what’re
you talkin’ about? C’mon, get up. *Starts to stand up, gently takes her arms, pulls her to her feet.
She mumbles, shakes his hands off as soon as they’re standing* It’s – it’s this room, honey,
you shouldn’t be in here by yourself, drinkin’. You’re just upset about everything that’s been
goin’ on. I told you nothin’ matters to me, as long as I have you, an’ I meant it. An’
Raven … he’ll be back, we’ll see him again …
Manouche *shakes head* It’s no good,
luv. It ain’t t’ be. Thiss sorta ‘appiness weren’t meant fer me, don’tcha see?
Y’need t’ fin’ yerseff a girl, mate … not … *looks down, waves hand at herself* …..
not thisss … *runs hand through her hair, sniffs loudly, looks up at him, eyes red* I – I’m
goin’ back t’ me ship … now, tonight. Y’ stay ‘ere. Pam needs y’ ‘ere
t’ help out … an’ … w-we want someone ‘ere juss’ in case lil’ mate shows …..
I promiss’d ‘im he could come back ‘ere any time ‘e wants.
Blake *murmurs* P-please don’t do
this. *tears in his eyes* I won’t let you go. *He starts toward her, stops, shocked, as she quickly
pulls her pistol, aims at him*
Manouche: Won’ let me go??
Think again, mate. *frowns* Get out’ o me way. *Blake, though shaky, stands his ground. She
scowls* By th’ pow’rs, yer so BLEEDIN’ STUBBORN. *Cocks pistol, shoots floor at his feet.
He cries out, jumps; she roughly pushes him aside, weaves toward the door, grabs a small canvas bag she’d set by the
door earlier. Turns, looks at him, shakes head* So pure dead brilliant w’ th’ poetry, an’ not
a lick ’o common sense. Can’t ev’n reckiggnize when someone’s doin’ y’ a favor.
Per’aps a cliché’ll help. Writer’s device, as it were. Right, ‘ere goes: Ye’ll
thank me later. *contempt vanishes from her face, replaced with despair; eyes fill with tears* Au revoir, fallin’
star. *she turns abruptly and leaves house*
Blake *stares after her, stunned, then snaps
out of it, runs after her. Races to door, runs outside, looks all around, doesn’t see her; as if she’s disappeared
into thin air.* MANOUCHE! *Calls her name very loud, only once, then drops to ground, unable to stop the tears*
At Godley’s apartment:
*Abberline and Godley are in the kitchen, Abberline
slumped over the table, Godley playing with the vial. Godley has opened the vial
and tasted it and has been waiting for any effects to set in, but just as the stranger promised, nothing has happened. He has lost count of how many times he has been in search of Abberline and dragged
him away from those ghastly dens that he frequents. He had hoped moving to Deppville
would have brought about a change, but matters seem to have taken a turn for worse.
Damn the pirates. Damn Commander Portsmith. And, last but not least, damn Fiji. The Inspector was assigned an investigation that took him as far as Fiji, and he
has never shared any of his experiences there with Godley. He keeps so much to
himself, despite their long friendship. Slowly Godley pushes the vial across
the table towards Abberline.*
Abberline *raising his head with an effort,
winces as pain shoots through his head* Sergeant.
What's that?
Godley:
Something new in the way of self-medication, I assume. But maybe you already
are acquainted with this strange beverage, as it hails from faraway Fiji and is a
gift from a compassionate stranger. He was uncomfortably knowledgeable about
your vices, which proves that he really knows you.
Abberline *fumbles for a cigarette, lights it with an
unsteady hand, trying to make sense of Godley's words.* Who? Fiji?
Godley:
I was hoping that you could enlighten me on that. I am hoping that this
will cure you and clear your head.
*Abberline, hearing the word absinthe, looks
hopefully for his absinthe bottle, but the only flask on the table is the vial.* I
am not taking that.
Godley:
I am afraid there is no alternative. You know I like to wallop you every
time you chase the dragon ...
Abberline:
Drop it ...
Godley: … and Inspector, Fred ... This
time I am going to do it. *He rises menacingly slowly from the seat and takes
the vial into his hand.* You can't even imagine what it is like to watch from
aside you slowly poisoning yourself. But there are more important matters than
my concern for your well-being. Commander Portsmith is waiting for you.
Abberline:
What?
Godley *very patiently* Commander Portsmith has generously stepped in for you on this most unfortunate custody matter, and I surmise
she will decide it in your favor. Or whatever she wants to decide. Maybe she has some interest in the boy as well.
Abberline:
What ... why .... No! I can't let her do that!
Godley:
Then it is best to do something about it. *Hands over the vial. Abberline looks at it in disgust, then reluctantly takes it.*
On The Libertine Trailer:
Manouche *stands in front of large mirror on
wall. Looks down at items on table before mirror: syringe … empty
vial, which, until twenty minutes before, had contained the last remaining amount of formula she’d received from Malachi
when first trying to capture Nate … and an earthenware crock with 390 holes drilled into it. Checks arm,
sees the bleeding has stopped from her self-injection; rolls sleeve back down, pausing only briefly at the sight of the "P"
that Nate burned into her arm. Places hands on table, leans over, grimacing from nausea brought on by the drug,
waits for it to pass. Feels steady after a moment, straightens up, notices Blake’s
ring on her finger. Tears fill her eyes, she brings it to her lips, kisses it.* It were f’ yer own good, my love.
*Sniffs, wipes tears away, reaches into pocket
for item she’d taken from Portsmith’s desk during their talk – a small medal of sorts, with the words "Anger
Management" etched in the gold. She smirks at it, then gazes at it intently,
concentrates … Sets medal down, removes lid from earthenware crock, sees
tiny white bones, just like her experience in Fiji with Alifi. This time, knowing
it’ll make the power much stronger, Manouche has performed the ritual from start to finish herself – killed the
male frog (being too tenderhearted for certain aspects of dark magic, she cried tears of remorse and said a prayer over it)
… placed it in the crock, set it in the old cemetery on top of an ant hill, nine days before, on the night of a full
moon. Now she takes the bones, one by one, putting each in her mouth briefly,
waiting to see … she finally comes down to the last remaining bone, puts it in her mouth, looks in the mirror, sees
her image disappearing.* Bloody ‘ell, the last one again! Story o’
me life. *In two minutes, she’s invisible. Removes bone, looks at
it * There it is, me draba. *pockets
it, gathers items from table, puts them into the table’s drawer, rolls it shut.
Leaves ship, heads for Portsmith’s castle.*
At Portsmith’s castle:
*Manouche enters quietly, completely invisible. Heart pounding, makes her way through the huge house.
Passes one room, something catches her eye, she steps in to take a peek. Sees
walls covered with blueprint-style mechanical drawings of hats – some labeled "Commander Portsmith" some labeled "Lisa,
Vice-Mayor" – all with intricate dimensions and sizes noted. Also indicated
are the differences in sizes between the two, scrawled in strident red marker ... Lisa's hat always being the larger one. Manouche stares for a moment, eyebrow arched, then ducks out of room, continues her
search.
*Continues on to the lowest level of the castle,
finds a door that she kept seeing in her visions; tries it, it’s locked. The
lock is a simple one; she scoffs as she easily picks it, swings door open slowly, winces at its squeaky hinges. Hesitates for a moment before something tells her exactly where to go – a closet at the far end of
the room. Opens door, finds what she’s been looking for – a strange wooden box with odd carvings. Though unsure of what it is, she recognizes the style of the carvings, whispers*
Blimey … Fiji. *Picks
up box, cautiously makes her way upstairs, through the rest of the castle, out the door.
Breathes huge sigh of relief, heads back to ship.
On The Libertine Trailer:
Manouche *boards ship, takes stairs down to
lowest level, to her little lab. Unlocks it, enters, locks box in large cabinet;
leaves room, locks door, dashes up stairs back to main cabin. Stops short at
sight of Blake, sitting on deck, leaning against cabin door, asleep.* M- Mr.
Blake …
Blake *stirs, hears her voice* Manouche? *looks around sleepily* Wh-where are you? I – oh, god! *jumps as he sees her slowly becoming visible before his eyes*
Manouche:
Steady, love, don’t be afraid. It’s like what I told ye about
in Fiji, savvy? *The effect finally wears
off, and she stands before him, back to normal.* What’re ye doin’
‘ere?
Blake *stares at her as he slowly stands up* I … I, ah … *gives up, grabs
her, takes her in his arms, kisses her deeply. Pulls back, gazes into her eyes* Honey, I love you. I won’t leave
without you.
Manouche *gasping, clings to him* B-blimey, I may faint … *catches breath, looks at him,
frightened* Y-ye shouldn't 'ave come. Ye
... ye don’t want t’ be involved in what I’m doin’ –
Blake: I’m
not leavin’.
Manouche:
It could be dangerous, I don’t even know what it’s all about jus’ yet. I only know it's somethin' that has t' be done fer everyone's safety.
I – I’ve taken somethin’ from Portsmith. From ‘er
house.
Blake *stares at her* You … you what? Oh, honey, why would you do that?
Manouche:
It’s somethin’ dangerous, she never should’ve had it in th’ first place. I’m takin’ it far away, where it won’t do innocent people no harm. Also … well, I’m hopin’ th' loss distracts Portsmith from messin’ about with
Kat an’ Abberline. She’s been givin’ him trouble long enough. What he an’ Kat do about Raven ain’t her affair, damn it. *pauses, looks at him* We – we may not come back. We may not … we may not be allowed t’ come back. So get out now, go back to th’ house, be safe … I’ll understand. I can’t bear y’ bein’ in trouble ‘cause of what I’m doin’. Savvy?
Blake *without hesitation, shakes head* Not leavin’. You’ll have
to shoot me this time.
Manouche *tears in her eyes* Oh, my love … *throws arms around him* Can ye ever fergive me fer that? I were very drunk …
I didn’t want y’ to be part o’ me trouble … it were t’ keep ye from harm, is all. *sobs* By th’ powers, I never want t’ be without
ye again.
Blake *holding her tightly, murmurs* Then we have an accord. *Pulls back, tenderly wipes tears
from her face.* So what do we do now?
Manouche *looks worried, but can’t help
but beam at him* I’m about t’ hoist anchor. Takin' a little
voyage, as it were. L-let's set sail, an' I'll tell y' more.
Blake *nods*
At your service, Captain. *kisses her again.* I told Pam I’d be away for a time, that we needed to sort out a few things, an’ she’s
fine with it. *grins* She may be
too romantic to be a good businesswoman, puttin’ off her grand opening because we had a quarrel! She also said she’d watch out for Raven if he comes back.
Manouche:
Very well, love, let’s ‘ave at it. Sooner we go, the sooner
we can return. *looks down* If we return.
Blake *puts hand under her chin, brings her
face back up, kisses her.* I don’t care what happens, long as we’re
together. We’ll take it on. *She
sighs, smiles slightly, and they set to the tasks at hand.*
*Soon The Libertine Trailer is sailing away from
Deppville Harbor, its crew of two unaware for the moment of the
small boats in another part of the harbor, and of their passengers … shadowy figures that slowly stir …
At Portsmith’s office:
Portsmith *reading* "It has never been proved if the notorious Fijian soul boxes really existed. According to the legends, there were several soul boxes in Fiji since times immemorial, used to store the souls of powerful shamans. Originally, they were used for preserving the wisdom of the ancients and used mostly for healing purposes,
but soon the Fijian discovered how powerful the boxes were and began using them for sinister purposes and black magic and
to obtain power. It was believed that the owner of the box could rule the world,
providing he could perform the right rituals.
“The struggle for
soul boxes led to civil wars and the fall of the ancient civilization of Fiji. The Dark Circle of Fiji, said to consist of immortal Fijian shamans, decided to destroy all but one of these boxes and
sealed the last box in an unknown location. Since that time, many secret societies
have been looking for the soul box without success ..."
Portsmith: Idiots! They did not deserve the soul box. *continues
reading* "About ten years ago, some ancient documents began to appear on the
black market. They were said to come from Fiji and contain
the formula for opening and using the soul box. According to a police report,
the documents were real and a secret society had managed to confirm the existence and location of the last hidden soul box.
The police sent a detective to Fiji to trace
the society … "
Portsmith *slams the book shut.* Soo, a detective
was sent to Fiji ... what a coinkydink. Very interesting, very interesting indeed. This means that
he knows more than he has told ...
On The Libertine Trailer:
*Far out at sea, late at night, Manouche has
decided to drop anchor for awhile, due to extreme fog. She and Blake finish tasks
to secure the ship, then stand on deck, drinking coffee and looking out into the night.*
Blake:
Y’think Portsmith is gonna know it was you?
Manouche:
I don’t see how she could surmise it right away, but I reckon she’ll figure it out eventually. I ‘ave to give her her due, she’s a worthy adversary, as it were. Very sharp.
Blake:
What’re we going to do with it?
Manouche *shrugs* Not exactly sure. It’s one o’ me feelin’s,
savvy? Fer now, I’m jus’ followin’ me instincts. I … I feel certain that … that I’ll know—
Blake *finishes for her* —when the time comes. *smiles, puts an arm around her*
Manouche *snuggles closer to him* It’s glad I am that yer ‘ere, Mr. William Blake. Still,
ye shouldn’t ‘ave come …
Blake:
Hush. *leans in, kisses her cheek*
No matter what comes, I’d much rather be here, face it with you, than sittin’ at home wonderin’ what
the hell’s goin’ on. Besides, you never know … things might
work out better than you think they will, you might be surprised.
Manouche:
Aye, that’d be a surprise, all right. *takes drink of coffee, stares
out at water* An’ they ain’t exactly easin’ me mind.
Blake:
They? They who??
Manouche *nods toward sea. Blake peers out, squints through fog, is barely able to make out shapes of two small boats bobbing on the
water some distance away.*
Blake:
Wh-who are they? …
Manouche:
Wish I knew, love. Not sure when I first noticed 'em. But they been followin’ us fer awhile, always keepin’ th’ exact same distance from us.
Blake *tries to keep his voice light* Well …… I suppose unless they come closer, we should just keep an eye on ‘em, not do
anything beyond that. Odd coincidence, though.
Manouche:
Very.
Blake *finishes coffee* I think we better keep watch all night. Why don’t you
go in an' get some sleep, I’ll stay here awhile.
Manouche *nods*
In a few minutes. I’m still a bit too awake at th’ moment. *She
shivers; Blake sets his cup down, takes hers from her, sets it next to his. He
draws her close, standing behind her, arms wrapped around her protectively. She
leans back against him; they stand in the embrace, saying nothing, watching the small boats, from which come no light, no
motion, no sound across the water.*
On the small boats:
*The shadows watch how the pair on the deck embraces,
and how one of them disappears below deck.*
1st Shadow:
When shall we board the ship?
2nd Shadow:
Too much starlight.
3rd Shadow:
Marchand is getting uneasy.
1st Shadow:
The time is running out.
2nd Shadow: What
shall we do with the watcher?
At Portsmith’s office:
Commander Portsmith *leafing through the latest
issue of 'Spectacular Uniforms', she stops to take a longing look at the photos in 'Go for a bigger hat'. She is contemplating ordering a feather that is half an inch longer than the Vice-Mayor's, when Corso interrupts
her thought by knocking at the door.*
Corso: The
Libertine Trailer has departed.
Portsmith:
Good riddance. Probably gone plundering and pillaging. Did you get the manuscript yet?
Corso:
It hasn't arrived yet.
Portsmith: When
you get it, go to the castle and bring me the soul box. And see if the Inspector
has arrived yet and tell him I am expecting him.
At From Hell Court:
Malachi *early morning, asleep in his walk-up
apartment after a night of varied indulgences, stirs uneasily from a dream. Vision
foggy at first, then becomes clearer. He sees a figure in a cloak, in a wooded
area, setting a box down on the ground, spreading cards around it in a circle, muttering something unintelligible. Jumps at the response to the ritual – a whirl of icy wind, a bloodcurdling howl … the cards
fly and spin, and the box is filled with a blinding flash of red light. The figure
slams the box shut, and Malachi hears its words: “Well well, Marchand,
there goes your power and your might. I got your soul trapped in the box, and
you ain’t getting free. Not without the Dark Circle of Fiji.”
Malachi *moans, turns over, and the dream takes
another direction. Sees The Libertine Trailer, out to sea, and two small boats
nearby … sees Blake on guard, Manouche asleep … vision moves down to lowest level of ship, to securely-locked
lab room … and the cabinet that contains the box … the box shudders on its own, and Malachi hears a sinister laugh,
and words spoken in a voice he doesn’t recognize: “Heart and soul
… Gypsy blood … “
Malachi *awakes, cries out, pops up in bed,
covered with sweat.* Oh my god … the last remaining soul box from Fiji
… MARCHAND ... Manouche, you fool, you don't even know what you've done. They’ll kill you. *jumps out of bed, quickly dresses, grabs coat, dashes out into street, not quite sure what to do but knowing
something must be done soon … thinking, perhaps Abberline … *
On The Libertine Trailer:
Manouche *awakes groggily next morning,
rises, comes up to deck where Blake is still standing guard, watching the small boats diligently. Comes up to him, kisses
him, looks out at boats* Any change with ‘em?
Blake *shakes head* No, but at
one point, I saw some figures moving around on board one of ‘em. It was still so foggy, I couldn’t make
‘em out. *looks up at sky* Glad that blasted fog is gone. Looks like we’ll have an overcast
day, but at least we can see.
Manouche *nods* Let’s get
goin’, raise th’ anchor. I … I think I know where to go. Help me get us under way, then I want
you t' get some sleep. I'll be sound on me onesies for awhile. *runs hand through hair* Blimey, I had
some bloody strange dreams …
At Portsmith’s castle:
Corso *steps hesitantly down the stairs to the
basement in the castle and takes the big old-fashioned key out of his bag to open the door where the soul box is hidden and
stops in astonishment. The door is open.
He takes a quick careful peek inside to note that the box is gone, thinks of Portsmith and trembles. There is no way he is going to break the news to the Commander.*
At Kat’s house:
Kat *sleeps fitfully on the
couch at Sparrow Lane. Raven,
back in his true form, watches her. Kat opens her eyes, finally sees Raven, jumps
to her feet.*
Kat:
Raven? What are you doin' 'ere?
Where's Manouche?
Raven *bites his lip* I-I wanted to be with you. I was afraid for you. *with sorrowful
eyes* Manouche is gone. Sh- sh-
she left me. I saw it in my mind. She's
in danger but I can't see why.
Kat *pulls him into her arms* Raven it'll be fine. It'll be alright. Someone must know something. *thinks of Abberline, sighs* Into the devil’s den. *They leave
the house in search of Abberline; Kat decides to try Portsmith’s office.*
On The Libertine Trailer:
Manouche *alone on deck, steering the ship,
Blake sleeping in cabin. Nervously checks her compass more often than necessary. Keeps glancing back at small
boats, which continue to keep exactly the same amount of distance away from her ship. Senses a rumble far below,
as if the ship is scraping against something, but she knows this is impossible; they're in the middle of the ocean. Mutters
to herself* Bollocks, calm down. Panic's a hindrance, mate. *Tries singing, voice shaky* ..... "an'
really bad eggs" ......
Outside Security Building:
Malachi * stands hidden in alleyway, most of
his face obscured by dark glasses, hat and collar on long black coat. Keeps an
eye on the Security building entrance, hoping to catch Abberline.*
Inside Security Building:
Godley:
Are you all right?
Abberline:
Yea. *He looks disheveled and tired to Godley, but at least he is sober. They enter the Office*
Godley:
Oh, the morning glory...
Abberline:
A mere good morning would suffice, Sergeant.
Kat *having seen Abberline enter office,
glances at Raven, considers having him wait outside but discards the notion. They
enter and stand at Abberline’s door. Kat, with Raven at her side, knocks hesitatingly
knocks*
Godley *opens door. Abberline, who had been expecting Corso and preparing himself for a confrontation with the Commander, starts. They exchange glances with Godley, who stubbornly blocks the door*
Abberline:
Godley, let them in.
Kat *holding Raven's hand, glances at
Godley as they enter, nears Abberline’s desk, looking at Abberline* I think
we should be talking privately. *nods toward Godley*
Outside Security Building:
Malachi *sees Kat and Raven enter building.
Feels sudden throbbing in his head, thinks* "Heart and soul" ....... *shakes head to clear it, considers following
Kat inside. Finally, although he's worried about Manouche and knows time is of the essence, he decides to remain in
hiding, and wait and watch a little longer*
At Abberline’s office:
Godley *shrugs* I think I heard my phone ringing. Can you spare my company
for a few minutes, Inspector?
Abberline *who suddenly
doesn't want Godley to leave, tries to say something, but Godley interrupts him*
Godley *to Raven with a wink* You want to stay, boy, or explore the secrets of the Office with me?
Kat *looks fearfully at Abberline* Where's Portsmith? Can this one be trusted
to keep Raven away from her? I won't have him endangered.
Abberline: If there is someone to be trusted in
this world, it is Sergeant Godley. But ...
Godley *interrupting once more* What would you say 'bout a trip to the snack machine and then we'll sneak to my office to look at my badge
collection. I bet you never seen anything like that. Sorry, Inspector, the phone!
On the small boats:
1st Shadow:
He is breaking loose.
2nd Shadow:
They are going to perish.
1st Shadow:
She is a dreamer, too. Call the fog.
On The Libertine Trailer:
Manouche *feels ship shudder again, grasps wheel
tightly, fear growing in the pit of her stomach * Ohh, what’s happenin’?? *looks up, dismayed to see
fog rolling in again* Wh-where th’ hell did that come from? *Wonders if she should call Blake, hates to
wake him; tries to shake off fear* Blast, yer actin’ like a child! A lil’ dodgy weather an’
a strong undercurrent, is all … *swallows fearfully, checks compass again. Eyes widen as she sees its needle is
revolving lazily. Cringes as head throbs, sees a vision of Kat and Raven* By th’ powers, what’s put
them in me head all of a sudden?? *looks back at boats; wonders whether they’re actually a tiny bit closer than
before, or if it’s her imagination … *
At Abberline’s office:
Kat *nervously watches them go, turns
back to Abberline* I know you see me as an opponent, and not to be trusted. I own I've given you much reason for that.
But I was only ever trying to protect Raven. *hesitates* No it was more than that. I feared Portsmith's power over
you. That she'd take him from me to end anything that'd link you to pirates. I was even afraid that … Raven might prefer you to me. I know I'm not exactly the best mother material ... Abberline, Raven's had disturbing visions. Something about Manouche having sailed away on her ship and in danger.
There was also visions of that box that Portsmith's so obsessed with, frightening visions. You were the only one I thought might understand.
Abberline
*has been waiting for harsh words and accusations and denial of his rights. He
is at first baffled and relieved at Kat's words, then he grows pale when Kat mentions the box*
No! Bloody fool! Manouche
does not know what she's doing, that box is a danger to all, even to the adepts. *jumps
agitated from the seat.* If she has already left, I don't know if there's anything I can do ... *Stops right before Kat, almost touching her* There is one thing I want you to know. I had decided to give up all my claims about Raven, even ready to renounce that he's mine, to protect him
from Portsmith … he needs you more than me, Kat, and you will be a good mother.
*Abruptly turns to the door* Sergeant Godley!
Kat *momentarily stunned for a moment
by his words, is silent until the danger to Manouche sinks in.* We can help. There's the Apparition, and Raven can find Manouche, wherever she is, also Refugee. Manouche is my friend, I won't stand by and do nothing.
On The Libertine Trailer:
*The small boat touches the Libertine Trailer and
the Shadows climb effortlessly up to the deck*
1st Shadow:
The box will be lost.
2nd Shadow:
It is better that way.
*They glide silently right behind Manouche
and see pictures of different people flashing around inside her head*
Manouche *jumps
at loud crash from below. At the same time, the sea gradually grows rougher, waves churning, and she grips the wheel
as tightly as possible, face pale. Yells for Blake at the top of her lungs; the fog, growing thicker still, seems to
smother her voice. She catches movement from the corner of her eye, to her left; turns, relieved, expecting Blake.
Relief turns to sheer terror, and she feels she’ll drop as she recognizes the looming figure approaching. Whispers*
M –M- Marchand … *is aware of tears running down her face* Ohhh, where's me Mr. Blake ....
Outside Security Building:
Malachi *swears,
throws cigarette to the ground, leans against wall as vision enters his head – jumbled, difficult to see, images in
heavy fog, but he senses something terrible has happened. Waits for the feeling
to pass, then crosses street, enters Security building.* Abberline! Abberline, are you here? I need to talk to you, it’s
an emergency …
On The Libertine Trailer:
Marchand *smiling, moving closer to Manouche, but still
maintaining a distance* Well, well, Gypsy scum, so we meet again. And we’ve removed the middleman, such
a relief. Nate was a fool of high order. *Manouche stares at him, tries to go for her pistol, panics as she finds
she can’t remove her hands from the wheel, as if they’re tied down. Marchand laughs softly* Yes, I’m
keeping you to the wheel for now. We have a long way to go, and I can’t have the captain deserting her post.
Manouche: H-h-how did ye ….
Marchand: There’s much you don’t know.
Not always the wisest course of action, to act without knowing why. You took the box because you sensed it was dangerous,
at least you got that much right. Your cargo consists of the last soul box from Fiji, did you know that? It’s a little
the worse for wear, but it’s still intact, as are its powers. At first, I was furious about you taking it.
I was rather looking forward to working with Portsmith once I was released …
Manouche: P-P-Portsmith …
Marchand: She knew what she was doing, she planned
to use the box and she knew exactly how to use it. Here’s the irony – she didn’t realize what was
needed. Oh, she knew blood was needed, but she didn’t know it was yours. Funny ol’ world, innit?
I believe that’s the phrase you’re fond of …
Manouche: Y-you was in th’ box, weren’t
ye? Necromancer …… H-how’d ye get out? I had it under lock an’ key …
Marchand: You did everything quite well, don’t
reproach yourself. As a matter of fact, had you succeeded, you would’ve returned quite the hero. Of course,
chances are Portsmith would’ve insisted on either your exile or execution, and the good citizens of Deppville would’ve
gone about their business, having no idea what you had saved them from. However, one thing went wrong, though you couldn’t
possibly have foreseen. Think carefully … remember everything that happened when you took the box and locked
it up in the cabinet below.
Manouche *tries to control her trembling, tries to think*
I- I don’t know what y’ mean. I locked th’ bloody thing away, there were nothin’ else to it
…
Marchand: Think reeeally hard, Gypsy.
Manouche *concentrates, recalls every step. Remembers
entering lab room, opening cabinet, swinging door open. She picked up the box, slipped it inside the cabinet.
Her eyes widen as she remembers what happened next … she scraped her hand on a sharp edge of the door, causing it to
bleed.* Ohhh, my god …
Marchand: And there it is. See, this is what
happens when we act in haste. We grow careless. You bled over the box, spilling just enough … the soul box
is powerful, but it’s also very old, it has numerous cracks in the wood. It was to my great fortune that one of
those gaps afforded me a few drops of your blood. It wasn’t a lot, but it was just enough to give me strength
to break loose. Even that took some time, though, nearly a full day, I believe. It’ll be different when
I have all I need. I must say, to have finally tasted it … I see I made the right choice … *eyes her hungrily*
Manouche *closes eyes, fearing she’ll faint.
Opens them again, gathers her courage and looks him over carefully, notices he looks much weaker than when she last saw him.
Tries to sound brave as she goads him* Y-ye’ve seen better days, ain’t ye?
Marchand *unruffled* Yes, I have. I am quite
weak. But that will change soon enough, now that I’m finally free. *Some of the mock-cordial tone leaves
his voice as he continues* Now, here’s what we’re going to do. I can’t navigate a ship, so I’m
going to use all of what little power I have to make sure you do exactly as I say. We’re going back to Deppville
to collect the remaining two, the whore and the brat. Heart and soul, remember?
Manouche *thinks of Kat and Raven, stares at him in horror*
N-nooo …
Marchand: I’m not trusting any of this to
Nate again, I’ll handle it myself. He can rot in that lockup, for all I care. This will work out quite well.
Once I have the power afforded by the three of you, I’ll be immortal AND have control of Fiji’s last remaining soul box. I won’t
have to put up with that toffee-nosed Portsmith getting in my way. *smirks* All her foolishness about bathtubs
and big hats ……
Manouche *scowls at him* Y’ monster!
I’ll never help ye hurt Kat an’ Raven, on pain of death. An’ once I’m gone, y’ can jus’
manage th’ bloody ship on yer onesies, fer all I care. Savvy?
Marchand: So you refuse to do as I say? *Manouche
nods defiantly* Strange, I thought you were more devoted to your Mr. Blake than all that.
Manouche *pales* M- Mr. B-Blake …
Marchand *looks rather bored* I can put him through
unspeakable torments before it’s all over. You’ll have the privilege of listening to him scream for death
for quite some time before relief finally comes to him. No worries for the time being, he’s safe. He’s
in a very deep sleep, but he’s fine. And he’ll remain so, if you follow my orders. I have no use for
him. Waste not. Savvy? *sneers*
Manouche *wants to fly at him in a rage, feels as if
her heart will burst. She struggles to break free of the wheel, but it’s futile; she’s held fast.
She slumps over it from exhaustion, breathing heavily, then looks up at him, miserable.* Y-ye win, mate. *She
prepares to return to Deppville, all the while her mind racing, trying to think of a plan.*
The Shadows retreat slowly and disappear in the mist*
1st Shadow: Too late.
2nd Shadow: He has grown stronger in
the soul box.
At Abberline’s office:
Commander Portsmith *throws her door open so violently that one of the paintings hanging
on the corridor floor, depicting her in a parade uniform, falls.* Inspector! Immediately to my office! There has been
a theft! *Sees both Malachi and Kat and listens impatiently how the man rambles
something incoherent about an emergency. Sergeant Godley, who has heard the Inspector
shout for him, retreats hastily into his office and locks the door*
Godley *to Raven* Let's change our plans
and save the badge collection for later, we'll do a hide and seek instead … without the seek part.
Abberline *in confusion between Portsmith, Malachi and Kat, sees Godley disappear. He pushes Kat back into his room out of Portsmith's view.* I've got to attend the emergency, Commander ...
Portsmith: Throw that old bugger out
or you are yourself in the emergency. Are you disobeying my orders! I said there has been a theft! That is a real emergency. Either you will immediately come to my office or I can let Constable Crane arrest
you for disobeying the orders of your superior officer. Don't be a fool, Inspector.
Malachi *quietly to Abberline* Better go along, Inspector. See what she needs, try to get
back as quick as you can. I’ll wait here for you.
On The Libertine Trailer:
Manouche *at wheel, sailing back toward Deppville slowly, hoping Marchand
won’t notice. Buying time, trying desperately to think of something to
save them, but she’s drawing a blank. Marchand has released her hands from
the wheel, but took her weapons. She turns to look back at the two small boats
that were following her ship the whole time. Peers through the fog, can barely
make them out, notices that they’re not as near as they had been earlier. Thinks
of Blake down below, blinks away tears before they can form in her eyes. * Blimey,
I wish I could communicate with Mr. Blake like I can with Raven … *She
brightens a little at the thought – Raven! Thinks to herself* By th’ powers, lil’ mate, I’d never drag ye into this if I could help it. But it’s to save ye an’ yer mum as well, so I reckon it’s justified. *concentrates, tries to send message to the boy, calling for help.
Is interrupted by rough blow from something heavy to the back of the head, nearly knocking her to her feet. She blinks, seeing stars, starts to sink to the deck; feels herself roughly pulled up by the collar back
into position in front of the wheel.*
Marchand: KEEP TO THE TASK, GYPSY TRASH.
At Abberline’s office:
Kat *peeks out of doorway and watches Abberline depart the room with Portsmith. Emerges and goes to get Raven. She must
do something.*
Godley *looks out and sees the Commander's door slammed shut after Abberline. To Raven:* Come boy, time to get to your
mother. *takes him back to Abberline's office, speaks to Kat* What is this all about? I believe it is best that you two
depart as quick as possible. The Inspector's in trouble, and if he doesn't manage
to sort it out with Portsmith, you will be in danger too.
Kat *takes Raven by the hand, looks at Godley* She won't really arrest him will she? I mean he 'asn't done
anythin' wrong.
Godley: Right or wrong - that
depends entirely on the viewpoint. I should be there with him. The Commander is very displeased with him at the moment. I
fear the worst.
Malachi *frustrated, feeling helpless*
That blasted Portsmith. *steps forth from corner of room where he’s
been listening carefully. Speaks in a very quiet voice* I can shed a little light on this, Sergeant, but … I don’t think we should talk here. We mustn’t be overheard. *looks
at Kat and Raven* I’m afraid it concerns you both, too. *smiles slightly at Raven* But you already know that, don't
you? You an’ I have a similar talent, kid.
An’ so does your father. *glances back at Godley* I need to know I can trust you. If there’s anything
you can do to prevent the Inspector bein’ arrested, do it. I don’t
know how much he can help, but … *lowers voice to whisper* … I was thinkin' we could use some of the knowledge he gained during his assignment in Fiji.
Godley
*worried, glances at Portsmith's door. It is closed, but they can still hear
her voice rising* Bloody hell! *Looks
at Raven* Sorry 'bout that, boy. *To
Malachi* There's nothing we can do here now except wait and hope that he can
handle Portsmith once again. If you are a friend of the Inspector, then you can
trust me. But this is not the place for any discussions. Let us get out of here.
Malachi:
The Inspector doesn’t know me, but I’m aware of many things about him. I know you’ve meant well, Sergeant,
tryin’ to keep him in line with Portsmith … but as of late, his instincts are correct. Anyway, if you're
sure there’s really nothing we can do here to help him … *glances at Kat and Raven* … let’s all
go somewhere more private.
*They
leave the office, walk outside, are surprised to see the weather has turned. Sudden cold gust of wind blows from the
direction of the harbor. Malachi senses something, quickly looks at Raven, whose eyes are wide, deeper and darker than
usual. He shivers, leads them away from the building, toward From Hell Court.*
At Portsmith’s office:
Abberline: How can you be sure it was Manouche?
Portsmith: The soul box is gone. And what a strange coinkydink, the Libertine
Trailer is also gone.
Abberline: No evidence. With due respect.
At Portsmith’s castle:
*Dean Corso is sitting at
the Roman Temple ruins at Portsmith's castle. He has informed Security about
the missing soul box, but he has a greater problem than Portsmith's wrath. For
a week, he has been carrying in his bag the old document that unlocks the powers of the soul box, an old frail parchment with
symbols that remind him of the cards the Commander used when trapping Marchand. But
now both the box and the cards are gone. He knows that he should destroy the
parchment for the good for all, even for Portsmith, who seems to be blinded with power hunger. What worries him even more is that someone else has been looking for the document in Fiji, someone else knows it really exists. By the descriptions of the detective
who was so close to discovering it, Corso discovers to his dismay that it was Inspector Abberline.*
At Portsmith’s
office:
*Inspector Abberline starts
when the cold wind rattles the large window in Portsmith's office. Something is happening, but he can't see anything, only
a brief vision of the eyes of Raven full of concern, he is barely listening to Portsmith who is accusing him of disloyalty.
He senses Raven moving away. At
least they were able to leave the office, then.*
Portsmith: I could arrest you.
Abberline: Then go on and do it, by all means. But then I won't be able
to hunt your precious soul box, will I?
Portsmith: I don't have any trust in you anymore, Inspector. You will
keep away from the soul box and this investigation. You seem to have developed
very close relationships with pirates, not to say intimate ... Interesting news, this about a boy and a custody case ...
Abberline: That is just unsubstantiated rumour.
Portsmith, smiling but the
smile is an unpleasant one: Indeed? Why have you taken such an interest
in that boy then? And here I thought I could congratulate you upon your new family.
Abberline: No. *wishing to change the subject* You will need me, Commander. Even if you recovered the soul
box, you still don't know whose blood you need.
Portsmith *growing angry* I could start with yours, Inspector. *She
leafs through some papers and thinks for a while* You will find me the answer.
But remember that you will be closely watched.
On The Libertine Trailer:
*As if
there isn’t enough trouble … *
Manouche
*exhausted, struggling to maintain as the ship encounters a terrible storm, one of the worst she’s ever seen.
High winds, driving rain, crashing waves tossing the ship like a cork. She yells to be heard above howling winds*
M-Marchand! I can’t do this … I – I can’t bring us out o’ this storm on me onesies, savvy?
Y- ye’ve got t’ let Mr. Blake help me.
Marchand:
I’m afraid I can’t allow that.
Manouche:
Don’t be daft! This’ll be th’ end of us all if ye don’t. An’ y’ can kiss yer
soul box goodbye while yer at it, ‘cause it’ll be at th’ bottom o’ the bloody ocean. S’up
t’ you, mate. *eyes him carefully* An’ if y’don’t mind me sayin’ so, yer lookin’
a bit worse.
Marchand
*shudders with fury, knows she’s right; he’s weakening. He moves closer to Manouche; she clutches the wheel
tightly, tries not to swoon at the wave of rancid air around him, intensified by his anger* Very well. Go, bring
him, and don’t even think of trying anything. There’s nothing you can do out here, and I can make your Mr.
Blake suffer.
Manouche
*stares at him, nods, braces wheel, dashes down to cabin where Blake is sleeping. Enters room, is shocked to find he’s
not there. Runs out of room, searching other parts of the ship, finally runs down stairs to lab room. Sees door
is ajar, lock broken from Marchand’s escape; peeks in room. Catches her breath at the sight of Blake, on
the floor, the open soul box in front of him, cards spread around it in a circle. She hears him mumble something she
cannot understand … followed by a cyclone of wind unrelated to the storm, and an icy blast that fills the room.
She ducks her head as the cards spin around the room, trembles uncontrollably at the sound of a bloodcurdling scream …
then looks up again in time to see a flash of red light fill the box. Blake slams the box shut, leaning over it, breathing
heavily. He looks up at her and she feels she’s looking at a stranger, sees no recognition in the deep brown eyes.
Whispers gently* W-William Blake … love …
Blake
*blinks, lowers his head for a moment, then looks up at her* Wh-what happened …..
Manouche
*rushes to him, drops to the floor, takes him in her arms* I – I don’t know, love … *looks around
the room, picks up one of the strange cards* Wh-where did these come from?
Blake:
I – I don’t remember anything. I was sleeping, really heavily … next thing I remember, all this …
*looks down at soul box, his hands still spread over the lid* Honey, what is this?
Manouche:
It's dangerous, is what it is. It’s more dangerous than I thought, even when I took it. It’s …
it’s th’ last remaining soul box in existence, all th’ way from Fiji. We mustn’t open it. Marchand were in it, an’ he’s escaped … he’s …
*voice trails off, thinks for a moment, looks at Blake in amazement* By th’ powers! Love, I think ye may
‘ave jus’ recaptured Marchand.
Blake
*stares at her* B-but I don’t even know what I did … I – *His words are interrupted by
a terrible crash from above, and the ship takes a nauseating pitch in the waves. They cling to each other*
Manouche:
Well ‘ave to sort this out later. We’ve got t’ get back on deck, we’ll capsize in this storm
if we don’t get back at it. *They stand, pick up the box, manage to lock it in another storage unit, weaving as
the sea rolls the ship. Before they can leave the room, the ship is knocked practically on one side; all the lights
go out, plunging them into darkness.*
Meanwhile,
in faraway Fiji:
Alifi
*on her knees before her fireplace, exhausted, trembling, face covered with a sheen of sweat. Woman sitting next to
her holds her by the arm, to keep her from falling over. She looks at her, smiles through her weariness.* Thank
you, Corrine … I’m all right now, dear.
Corrine:
You shouldn’t do things like this, it’s too much for you. You'll send yourself to an early grave.
Alifi
*laughs softly* It’s a bit late for that, isn’t it?
Corrine
*snorts indignantly* Well ……. anyway, did it work?
Alifi:
I believe so. Mr. Blake is a sensitive soul … *looks at Corrine, concerned* They’ve recaptured Marchand.
They’re safe from him … but they’re still in danger …
Corrine
*pats her arm comfortingly* You can’t save Manouche from everything, Alifi. Sit here a minute, get your
strength back, and I’ll make some tea. *Stands to put water on to boil*
Alifi
*stares into fire, sighs* It’s never over.
|
