01x08 - Strigoi

Episode transcripts for the miniseries "Houdini and Doyle". Aired: March 2016 to May 2016.*
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"Houdini and Doyle" is a supernatural crime drama based on the friendship of Harry Houdini and Arthur Conan Doyle. "An Edwardian X-Files".
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01x08 - Strigoi

Post by bunniefuu »

(BELL TOLLS)

What the...?

Bram?

(BREATHING HEAVILY)

You're certain that the man was following you?

Did you confront him about it?

Of course not. You know me.

Any heroics are confined to my fiction.

No whiskey?

All I have is Scotch.

And I know better than to offer Scotch to an Irishman.

I'll choke it down.

You honestly believe that the man meant to harm you?

I'm certain of it.

Just like the cab driver last week?

Reckless fool.

And the fishmonger?

That mackerel was off.

I know you've been unusually anxious, as of late.

And with good reason. Your book is being released in paperback, when?

(SIGHS) Monday, week.

With that release, comes lecture requests and dinner parties.

Everyone wants to hear from the brilliant author of Dracula.

Bram Stoker, who absolutely loves public appearances.

I know that anxiety well.

No, you don't.

You're completely at ease speaking in public.

A few more sips of whiskey and you'll be at ease as well.

Then I'll take you home and all will be well by the morning.

I never tire of your platitudes.

Easy now.

I'm fine.

It's all that Scotch.

Thank you, Arthur.

Thank you.

Oh, my God!

Ah. Bram Stoker, Harry Houdini.

It's an honour, sir. I loved Dracula.

I've read everything you've written, even your theatre reviews from back in Dublin.

(SILENCE)

I didn't know the two of you were friends.

Very close, since childhood.

My mother says we're distant cousins but I could never follow the genealogy.

Mr Stoker, when was the last time you saw your maid alive?

Yesterday morning.

Glynnis was in fine spirits.

I left for the day.

Where did you go?

A meeting with my publisher, then a few errands.

What kind of errands?

(SILENCE)

Mr Stoker, I need to know your whereabouts for the entire day.

If you're looking for a suspect, I suggest you start by finding the man who followed me last night.

Bram, is there anything you haven't told me about him?

Last night wasn't the first time I encountered him.

Bram Stoker?

How did you get in here? Who are you?

A protector of the innocent.

Get out of my house!

Your filthy book has glorified evil.

Soiling the pure with its v*olence and obscenity.

Well, I'm sorry if you feel soiled.

You will stop this plague from spreading.

Stop the book from being published? Impossible.

Oh, you will stop the release.

Or I promise you, there will be retribution.

You should keep your back door locked. I thought I had.

It's not unusual for obsessed fans to come by.

Self-professed "vampires" seeking autographs, or "vampire hunters" accusing me of destroying the moral fabric of our nation.

Your book rattled a lot of people. I like that.

I underestimated the appeal it would have for those banished to the fringe and those wishing to exterminate them.

But... I'd never had one of them actually enter my home, thr*aten me.

And yet, you didn't call the police?

If you engage with these people, it just emboldens them.

But now Glynnis... lies dead, due to my mistake.

I'll forward a description of the man to Scotland Yard.

Not much to go on without a name.

Please, employ the utmost discretion with this case.

Bram hates his name in the papers, even in the best circumstances.

Your friend's an interesting guy. Wouldn't shake my hand.

It's nothing personal. He's just not fond of any form of touching.

Kind of a quirk, you might say.

Like wearing make-up?

Up close, I could tell.

Yeah, I got that too.

As if it were any of your business.

So you believe his story?

Of course I do.

As much as it pains me to agree with Doyle, I do too.

I know what it feels like having obsessed fans hounding you.

The number of times I've come back to my hotel to find a woman in my room.

They're called housekeepers.

It's got to be especially hard for Stoker, having created the most famous character in all of fiction.

I'm not ruling out anyone as a suspect, including Mr Stoker.

Bram is incapable of such a crime.

Yes, he's socially awkward. But he's a loyal friend, who provided great encouragement when I decided to stop practicing medicine and write full time.

Hm-mm. That's great. Good luck with that.

Should we consider asking Bram's publisher to hold off on the book, until we get to the bottom of this?

Giving the k*ller what he wants?

That's your solution?

No. Of course not.

But isn't our paramount responsibility to keep Bram safe?

Surely there are other ways of doing that?

Bram, you're coming with me.

All settled in, Mr "Hollister?"

I'm not settling in.

My suite's just down the hall, if you need me.

My suite's just down the hall, Duly noted.

And the dining room here is amazing. You'll love it.

I'll take my meals in my room, thank you.

Don't worry. You'll be safe here, as long as you don't arouse suspicion.

I'll leave that to the large man sat conspicuously in the hallway.

I employed him for protection.

He's under strict instructions not to engage you in conversation.

And to enter, only if invited.

Which will be never.

You're right. Quirky.

The man who just checked in down the hall, it's Bram Stoker, yes?

Hopefully you're the only one who realized that.

Why is he here?

He's taking a little vacation, hoping to get some rest.

Why? Is something wrong?

No, I just...

When I read Dracula, it stirred memories of my childhood in Hungary.

People on the edge of the village. Strigoi - undead.

Said to change shape into wolves, or bats, even mists.

Old world superstitions. So silly.

Well, if you want, I can pick up some garlic while I'm out.

Oh... (CHUCKLES)

Go.

I have to get back to Stoker's house.

Up here, in the maid's room.

What's wrong?

We were gonna ask you the same thing.

You seemed a tad... curt earlier.

We were wondering if something might be troubling you?

I assume you believe this is from the anarchist group your husband was involved with?

May have been involved with. Yes, I think so.

For a group of anarchists, they're surprisingly well-organised.

You shouldn't be left alone.

I don't need a bodyguard.

No fingerprints were found on the wooden stake.

I spoke to Mr Stoker's neighbours. They didn't see anyone come or go.

But they have heard loud arguing in the past. Now I've found this.

A letter the maid was writing to a friend, "Bram's changed.

He's grown hostile. Our relationship is at best difficult."

Bram? First name basis.

I think he may have dropped his 'no touch' rule.

Highly unlikely.

"He revolts me now. Bloodless freak of a man, nagging at every turn."

Sounds like motive for m*rder.

And then he uses his good friend, Dr Doyle, as an alibi.

Conveniently showing up at your house, so the two of you can find the body together.

That's ridiculous. And I'm not going to spend any more time on it.

Hey, where are you going?

Bram referred me to a professor, who's an expert in the vampire cult.

If the man who threatened Bram is indeed some kind of vampire hunter, then perhaps this expert can shed light on how to find him.

Vampire expert? Not ridiculous at all!

The legends date back at least 4,000 years to the ancient Assyrians and Babylonians.

Most of these legends arose from fears of moral degradation.

Bram said these superstitions all but d*ed away with the Industrial Revolution?

They did... until he exhumed them with Dracula.

Sadly, he's had to deal with some tragic repercussions.

I tried to warn him while researching his book.

Is he all right now? I hope he's somewhere safe?

Is he all right now?

Yes, very safe.

The man who threatened him, he gave no name?

No.

He only said he was a, "Protector of the innocent."

I've heard that title.

It's what the Vanatori often call themselves. Vampire hunters.

This is a cult of opposing forces.

Troubled, often mentally ill people claiming to be vampires, and the self-righteous zealots who hunt them.

My fans don deerstalker hats and pipes, Bram's fans drink blood. with both groups, I've had my share of encounters disrupting my lectures.

They've also been known to k*ll cattle to drink their blood, vandalize cemeteries.

Any cemeteries in particular?

Try Southwood. There's a group who've taken to sleeping in coffins, discarding the bones of the deceased who were resting in them.

These cults do not take kindly to the outside world interfering in their w*r.

I fear they won't hesitate to k*ll again.

What's that?

Cricket score sheets, hundreds of them.

But only matches Doyle played in.

Stoker went to every single one of them.

Took copious notes, from start to finish.

Don't those matches take days to play?

A loyal friend indeed.

Oh, and look at this.

They're an advertisement for tweed.

That's Italy.

Happy memory?

My husband took me there before we were married.

Unchaperoned?

We both told her we were sick one morning, staying in our rooms.

Snuck off, rowed out onto Lake Como.

He wanted to teach me how to fish.

Tied on his prized fish hook, guaranteed me we'd catch a boat-full.

Let me guess, not a bite?

Not even a hint.

Well, that can't be the end of the story?

The weather turned. Trapped on the lake for an hour, soaked to the skin.

My aunt would have k*lled us.

Except, before we rowed in...

...Benjamin surprised me with the real reason he brought me there.

He proposed to me in the pouring rain.

He sounds like a hell of a guy.

What's wrong?

Nothing.

Um...

I too found something interesting.

Several payments Mr Stoker made to his maid.

So? She worked for the man.

Then she's the highest paid maid in history.

(PHONE RINGS)

Hello?

Blackmail? Over an affair?

Neither of them is married, it's hardly scandalous.

At least not for him.

Perhaps she discovered something incriminating?

There's nothing incriminating. It's a wild goose chase.

Unlike being called to the cemetery to look for vampires.

This expert you met, does he really believe vampires exist?

No.

Doyle, however...

I remain willing to consider all scientific possibilities.

Yes. Problem is, you think there's no end to scientific possibilities.

According to Darwin, species continually adapt to higher forms in order to survive.

The ultimate form of which is immortality.

Nothing lives forever.

Exactly.

The only path to immortality is fame.

People will be talking about me for hundreds of years.

And you... for at least a dozen.

You're trespassing in our home.

No, your home is the basement of your mother's house, where you spend 20 hours a day reading fantasy.

This is where you act them out.

We mean you no harm.

I'm Constable Stratton of Scotland Yard.

We're investigating the m*rder of Bram Stoker's maid, Glynnis Conway.

We have a suspect. A man in his late 20's.

Tall, dark hair, athletically built, scar below his left eye.

We know nothing about him.

Your face says otherwise.

Where is Mr Stoker now?

Well protected.Impossible.

Only we know how to protect our own.

If you have any knowledge, you must come forward.

Our own?

(OPERATIC SINGING)

What's wrong?

Mr Stoker has left the hotel.

Where did he go?

Mr Stoker? Nowhere.

Open the door.

What are you doing?

You promised me...

Did you go out tonight?

Why would I do that?

I would have seen him leave.

I've been here all night.

Maybe he went out the window?

We're on the top floor.

You could have lowered yourself on a rope or climbed down the drain pipe.

Or perhaps I crawled down the wall?

Now if you'll excuse me, I'm trying to work.

Come on, Mum.

(ECHOES OF SCREAMS AND EXPLOSIONS)

(ECHOES OF g*nf*re)

I'm certain it was him.

He turned toward the street and then he was gone.

Ma, you look tired.

What's wrong?

I'm so grateful to you for bringing me here.

But sometimes the hotel gets so quiet. Empty.

I find myself thinking...

About what?

Salt water taffy.

Coney Island.

The Steeplechase Horse Race.

Your favourite.

You and Theo would ride all day, if I let you.

You're homesick.

It's selfish of me to keep you here.

You should go back to New York, see the family.

No, Harry.

I want to stay here.

Where you are, I am.

That won't be necessary.

How did you get in here?

I don't have much time.

The others would be angry if they knew I was speaking to you.

My name is Liliana. I know the man you seek.

The man who k*lled Mr Stoker's maid?

A vanator.

A vampire hunter by the name of Lachlan McBride.

Where can we find him?

I don't know.

But it's important the police find him before the others do.

I must go now.

Wait.

Why are you telling me this?

The maid was not part of our world.

McBride brought dishonour by k*lling her.

Her death should be dealt with by your authorities, not ours.
(BREEZE BLOWS)

Was Glynnis having any financial difficulties?

No.

She never mentioned any debts she owed?

Or that she was having difficulty making ends meet on her salary?

Nonsense. I paid her well.

Yeah? How well?

You searched my private records?

How could you allow such an invasion of my privacy?!

Dr Doyle has no say in this matter.

She's blackmailing you, isn't she?

Mr Stoker, your silence only enhances suspicion.

Bram?

Glynnis... discovered something about me.

Something extremely private.

She threatened to reveal it publicly.

I paid her to remain silent.

What did she discover?

Will you tell me in private?

(CHOKED) I can't.

I'm sorry, Arthur. But it has nothing to do with this crime.

You have my word as a friend.

So that's it? He says, "You have my word," and you're fine with that?

It doesn't matter what the maid discovered. It's still motive.

I'm saying we need to be pursuing other leads as well.

One of the vampires from the cemetery came to see me last night.

The crazy people are actual vampires now (?)

She gave me the name of a vampire hunter - Lachlan McBride.

She said he's the one who threatened Bram.

I'll track down his address.

Are you all right?

Did you get any sleep at all last night?

Yes.

I had a terrible dream.

I dreamt you left me forever.

What?

That's crazy.

Hm-mm.

I've never given dreams much weight, but this one... It was so real.

You're just spooked.

Ever since the 'Count' moved in down the hall.

You need to go home.

No.

I'll never leave you.

I fear something terrible may happen.

Oh, I'm going with you.

I'll book us two tickets, Liverpool to New York.

See the family.

Eat as much salt water taffy as we can stuff in our faces.

You don't have to do that.

I know I don't.

I want to.

I'm not leaving you, Ma... ever.

(RAPID KNOCKING)

(RAPID KNOCKING)

Who's there?

Your best pals in the whole wide world.

Ready for action. Good girl.

We have the address.

Which was interesting. That we got it, instead of you.

Why are you here and not at Scotland Yard?

What's all this?

That photo of Lake Como... had me thinking.

The anarchist group was involved in various assassinations around the world.

England, America, Russia, Spain, Switzerland.

And one in Milan, Italy.

Which occurred during the exact time of our trip to nearby Lake Como.

He travelled a lot, usually without me.

Hey. The Adventures of Tom Sawyer.

I love Twain. What?

I like great literature.

That was my husband's favourite book.

I'll return it.

I went through his records and I discovered that on the exact date of all seven assassinations, he was within 50 miles of the event.

Dear God.

Benjamin was trying to expose this group. I'm sure of it.

I think he may have been a government agent.

He was in all these places and yet he couldn't stop any of the assassinations?

You didn't know him.

I agree.

Only those we know us best, know what we're truly capable of.

And only those who know us best, know the easiest way to deceive us.

My husband would never deceive me.

And Stoker would never deceive Doyle.

What's the address?

(DOOR UNLOCKING)

(DOOR CREAKS)

Hello? Mr McBride?

Look at this.

Mr McBride?

He's dead.

Doors and windows were all locked, you say?

Yes. No sign of forced entry anywhere.

Oh, vampires can shape-shift, right?

So the m*rder*r just... slipped under the door, did he?

More likely McBride knew the m*rder*r and let him in.

The only thing we know for certain is that Bram is no longer a suspect.

He's been locked up and under guard for two days.

Sir.

What happened?

I don't know.

I thought I heard a noise inside, so I knocked and there's no answer.

I entered to find Mr Stoker gone.

Perhaps he fashioned a way to climb down the wall.

Why?

We'll ask him when we find him.

I know where to start looking.

Why this street?

My mother thought she saw Stoker leave the hotel last night.

He denied it, so I let it go.

But she said she saw him turn down this street.

Does Mr Stoker know anyone near here?

No.

Not that you know of.

Yes, I get it.

It's starting to appear that I may not know Bram quite as well as I'd assumed.

And that upsets you?

Shouldn't it?

Does he know you? Does he know all your secrets?

No-one knows what goes on behind closed doors.

Unless you live with someone.

Even then.

It's not the doors that keep secrets from getting out.

Look.

I didn't k*ll anyone.

I have a condition.

It makes me anaemic.

I've found that drinking cow's blood provides relief.

Confined to that dreary hotel room, I'd grown desperate.

But I went only to the butcher shop.

Bram, your teeth...

...they're like fangs. I've never noticed them before.

I've always had bad teeth.

They've grown worse in recent years.

I hide them, by not smiling or engaging in conversation.

I have many peculiarities, Arthur.

But being a vampire is not among them.

Fetch some garlic, or a crucifix if you wish to test me.

My condition also renders me sensitive to sunlight, but as you can see, I've not turned to dust.

I also cast a shadow, and a reflection.

I cannot summon an army of rats or a storm in the sky, because all those vampire traits are fiction.

An ill deed it was, to breathe life into Dracula.

An albatross that hangs heavily upon my neck.

All this time, the truth has been staring me in the face.

Tertiary syphilis. The final stage of the disease.

Symptoms include anaemia, trembling, sensitivity to sunlight and erosion of teeth.

Apparently I'm the only one he wouldn't touch.

How he contracted the disease is irrelevant.

Those afflicted are needlessly saddled with great embarrassment and shame.

Their disfigurement becoming a hideous Scarlet "A", alerting the world to their past sins.

Now we know what his maid was blackmailing him about.

So, you believe this "vampire hunter" is the man who k*lled the maid?

I do.

The vampires then k*lled him in revenge.

They're not real vampires, you understand?

Just a cult of crazy people waging a kind of Gothic feud.

And you believe this as well?

I'm not as willing to dismiss Mr Stoker as a suspect.

He still has motives for k*lling both his maid and Mr McBride and no way of proving his whereabouts.

For years I've tried to protect him, defending him when others were quick to marginalise him from "polite" society.

He has his eccentricities but I know he's not a m*rder*r.

Stoker's escaped.

I broke out of the same exact cell, two years ago.

How did you do it?

Flawlessly.

The point is, it can be done.

Merring's reprimanding the guard on duty.

He's been called to task for falling asleep in the past, though he swears he didn't this time.

Perhaps someone drugged the guard or hypnotized him?

We have every available constable out searching the streets.

I suggest we join 'em.

You don't need to tell us how you did it, but tell us this.

Is there any way that Bram Stoker could have done what you did, without assistance?

Uh-uh.

The vampires said, "Only we know how to protect our own."

We should be searching the cemetery.

You didn't happen to bring a g*n, did you?

No.

Crucifix?

Shush.

It's a big cemetery. We should split up, cover more ground.

That is a terrible idea.

All right.

Come on, if we stay together, we'll be searching this place all night.

I'll err on the side of caution over expediency, thank you.

All right, fine, if you're afraid, Adelaide can stay with you.

What I am is not stupid.

If someone did break Mr Stoker out, and he didn't go willingly, his life may be in danger at this very moment.

(SIGHS) Fine, we'll split up.

If you find Bram or the vampires, give a sharp whistle.

(MUMBLES)

I don't know how to whistle.

You're American. I thought that was the first thing they taught you?

Just put your fingers in your mouth and blow like this.(WHISTLES)

(BLOWS OUT AIR)

No, no, place your fingers like so...

(WHISTLES)

(GROANS) If you find anyone, just shout out.

(GROANS)

(BLOWING OF AIR AND WHISTLING)

(GRUNTS)

Help! Help!

Get me out of here! Please!

Somebody!

Bram, is that you?

Please! Please!

(DOOR GRINDS OPEN)

Arthur. Thank God!

(WHISTLES)

What happened?

A woman took me from the jail.

She claimed to be a vampire.

She brought me here, she sealed the door!

It's no word of a lie, Arthur. It happened as I say.

Mr Stoker.

Where is this woman now?

I don't know. She left me. She went off into the night.

Were there other people with her? No.

She spoke of other vampires but said they'd fled London when they heard that McBride had been k*lled.

They feared they would be accused of the m*rder.

If they didn't do it, who did?

(RUSTLING)

Houdini?

Go back inside, stay there.

Professor Havensglin.

What're you doing here?

I'm here to k*ll Mr Stoker.

You're a vanator?

I'm a protector of the innocent.

The Strigoi have terrorised this world for hundreds of years.

What about Mr Stoker's maid? She was no vampire.

I didn't k*ll her. Mr McBride did.

He was an overzealous follower who disgraced himself by k*lling that maid.

So you m*rder*d him and drained his blood to make it appear the vampires did it?

He needed to be punished, as does Bram Stoker.

His book emboldened the Strigoi, attracting more into the fold, spreading filth among the virtuous.

So tell me where he is?!

I will not.

Quite the contrary.

You're under arrest -

Tell me where Mr Stoker is, or I won't tell you where Mr Houdini is.

Help!

(MUFFLED)

Hello?!

(KNOCKING)

Somebody help!

HELP!

HELP!

Mr Houdini is buried in one of these graves.

Even with his skills, escape is unlikely.

I'll tell you where the grave is, when you take me to Bram.

Stoker!

Search the graves, look for fresh soil.

Houdini won't last long!

(EXHALES)

(BREATHY WHISTLE)

(WHISTLES)

Come on. Do it again.

(WHISTLE)

Bram?!

HOUDINI?!

(LABOURED BREATHING)

(GRUNTS)

Bram, I know you're in here.

Show yourself, or I will cut Dr Doyle's throat.

(STRAINS AND CREAKING)

Show yourself, Stoker!

Don't do it, Bram!

He'll k*ll me anyway. Save yourself.

(CRASH)

(STRAINS)

Houdini?!

I'll toss you in the flames.

You can burn with the other paupers.

(YELLS AND STRAINS)

(SCREAMING)

Dr Doyle?!

I heard him whistle.

(EARTH RUMBLES)

(SHRIEKS)

(COUGHS AND SPLUTTERS)

(BREATHES DEEPLY)

I gotta put this in my act. (COUGHS)

Where's Mr Stoker?

Dead.

He and Professor Havensglin... fell into the furnace...

Bram?

As you can see, I'm still very much alive.

Only Havensglin went in.

I fell to the side, rendered unconscious behind one of the crates.

Your fans are crazy. (COUGHS)

I just realised something.

Your vampire hunter from Dracula, Van Helsing, that name is an anagram of Havensglin.

I chose it as an homage to the professor.

It's quite ironic he turned out to be an actual vanator.

Ah, they're for friends.

Will you inscribe it?

If I must.

You know my secret.

I'm a doctor.

How long...

...before I lose my mind?

My final years, spent in madness?

At least your book will live on.

And through it, so will you.

Let us each embrace the albatross around our necks.

Well, most people are fickle and forgetful.

Most.

You needn't escort me all the way home.

I just want to make sure there are no anarchists lying in wait.

I found a telegram sent from my husband to a Mr Walbridge of Buffalo, New York, enquiring about firearms sold at Mr Walbridge's hardware store.

Firearms? Well, that can't be good.

The gate's ajar.

Just wait a second.

I'm a police officer.

You're also the target.

Oh, God.

What?

Benjamin's things. They've taken them.

All of them.

This was about him.

We're going to Buffalo.

I'm taking my mother back to New York anyway.

No big deal.

Thank you.

Ma? Ma? Ma?

(SOBS)
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