Ilonka?
Hey, I'm sorry. I don't know…
I'm okay. I'm okay.
What the actual hell is this place?
You guys haven't really answered me.
What were you doing down here, together?
I mean, do I need to call Katherine just to…
Oh, my god.
Oh, man.
-North, south, east, west. -Maybe not right now.
North.
You exit the elevator.
You're standing in a dark space with no visible exits in sight,
aside from the one you just came from.
Examine room.
There is a painting on the floor.
Examine painting.
Painted walls and painted floor.
Look up.
Pause the fear response
just long enough to appreciate how hard it must have been to paint that.
Someone slept down here.
More like lived down here, it looks like.
Reminds me of my bedroom at home.
What the hell?
This was a meeting place.
Guys.
What the hell?
No fucking way.
This is…
This is a roster for The Midnight Club.
Names and years. I mean, these are all…
These are all members.
And look here.
"This commemorates The Midnight Club founded January 5th, 1969 by…"
-No way. -No way.
The Midnight Club was founded by Julia Jayne.
"To those before, to those after, to us now, and to those beyond.
Seen or unseen. Here, but not here."
I guess those rumors about the secret basement were true.
But a lot of this stuff here, it's way older than the 1960s.
Yeah, and I don't think they painted the walls or broke the elevator either.
I think they found this place just like we did.
Met here for a while.
Wonder why they stopped.
We need to leave.
What?
It's, um…
Cultists. Great.
Quit it with the talking, everybody.
I'm done.
She's right.
A place like this is best left undisturbed.
Second.
Exit room.
Change pants.
I'm staying.
Fuck it. So am I.
You guys should really come with us.
Just go ahead.
At the very start, there were eight members just like…
Just like us.
Julia seems to be the one taking the minutes.
There are a few details.
These must be their stories.
The Visitors, Spellbound, The Starlight Crystal.
And then the pages just…
What?
Sensing a bit of fatigue today.
Anyone want to share what they were up to last night?
Well, if people don't feel up to it this morning,
these meetings aren't compulsory.
I have something I'd like to share.
Sandra. Yeah.
I think we're all…
Well, we're all still mourning Tristan.
Every time someone here passes, it reminds me of my time, I guess.
And I think we're…
Or a lot of us, we might not know how to handle that.
And we may turn to things that aren't good for us
if we're not careful,
poking at things that should be left alone.
-Say some more about that. -Or maybe don't.
Before we go looking for…
for whatever we might be looking for to cope,
what if we tried something else?
What if we embraced the good?
I mean, I've said before I wanted to show you my church.
Church?
Not mass per se.
There's Bible study or just social mixers.
I mean, they usually have really great music--
Sandra, not today.
I just think a little fellowship and a few prayers
would do us good for everything.
For Tristan, you know?
For Tristan?
Yes.
And we all have moments where we feel empty inside.
And if we don't let God into those empty spaces
where we leave room for all kinds of other things,
dark things, if we're not careful, so we have to…
Well, we have to not do that. We have to reject that.
We have to…
focus only on the good, deny the bad.
And who says what's good and what's bad?
-God does. -Really?
Just like that, he tells you what's good and what's bad?
-Yes. -Bullshit.
Now is a good opportunity to remind everybody
that it's okay to air your feelings but try to keep it respectful.
Respectful?
I'm sorry, but you want respect, you got to give it first.
I don't see how I'm being disrespectful.
Anya said it best. The world isn't black and white, Sandra.
It's just not as fucking simple. It's right, wrong, good, bad.
I promise, no disrespect. I'm just sharing my faith.
Your faith cost me my community.
Your faith ruins families.
They fucking disowned me.
My mother won't even talk to me anymore because of her faith.
Your faith, Sandra. Your God said I'm an abomination.
Go to church. I grew up in the church and they…
One of us died yesterday.
And that is not…
not a chance to recruit.
Your faith's pretty clear. Fuck me, right?
Nah. Fuck you. Fuck your God.
Fuck any god if that's how he feels.
No disrespect.
-Spence-- -Fuck this.
Well, well… What are the odds?
Ilonka, right?
It's a hard name to forget.
First, you were down at the spring,
and today you're just a stone's throw away from the blackberry patch.
You're making the rounds.
The blackberry patch?
There's blackberries scattered throughout the forest,
but just over there is a huge patch.
Don't eat the berries below the waist, right?
That's right.
Oh, I've been carrying around just in case I bumped into you again.
Oh.
Oh, I love these. Good Humor.
Yeah, you're familiar with us, then?
Good Humor Wellness. Yeah.
It's my company.
I have these. I mean, I have a few of these.
Good Humor Naturopathic Wellness.
These woods up here are filled with blackberry, lemon balm, lavender,
comfrey, yarrow, burdock, dandelion.
A lot of the stuff that I use.
We're small.
We mainly pedal stress relief supplements to corporate retreats and all, but…
I believe we make a difference.
I love this.
If that's something you're interested in, naturopathic treatments…
I am.
I very much am.
Well, I will bring you more, then.
What are you doing out here?
I'm looking at a few of these carvings.
You know, there are three more of those out here.
What do you make of them?
Well, to be honest,
I think they're from a group that used to live here
a long time ago.
Have you ever heard of the Paragon?
They were-- Well, they were a wellness group also
with a little more cult stuff, I guess.
Well, I don't know about cults.
But I do know about teas. Here, give me that pad.
Here's my number.
You call me when you or anyone else at Brightcliffe needs anything.
And listen…
Don't just take their word for it.
I know, old Stanton is a good doctor,
but those kind can disregard how healing nature can be.
I hear you have a big old library up there.
One of the biggest in the county.
-That right? -That's right.
Do yourself a favor and read.
Same in all libraries, I'm guessing you know how to use the decimal system,
smart kid like you.
Section 600 is Medicine, 615 is Therapeutics,
and 619 is Experimental Medicine.
Unless she's pulled those.
Does Stanton know?
That you stole her blackberries, I mean.
Oh, no, honey, this isn't her land.
This is mine.
Brightcliffe's property line is over there.
It's just past there.
I saw you on the monitors.
-Figured you wandered. -Oh.
Uh… I'm so sorry.
It's okay.
You're welcome anytime. And every time.
Have a fine day, bright girl.
Thanks for doing this.
I asked Anya, and she laughed right in my face.
That tracks.
Look up.
I spent all afternoon getting a blood transfusion just to be ready.
Do you think I'm crazy?
For going to this thing?
I'm jealous.
I didn't go to mine.
I wish I had in hindsight.
I missed mine, too.
This isn't mine. It's Katherine's. It's all she's been talking about.
Senior prom feels like years now.
I mean, you're showing up with a body full of fresh blood
and a pocket full of face masks.
As far as gestures go, you win.
Close your eyes.
And you, my friend, are done.
What do you think?
I look like a skeleton that fell face-first into a bucket of paint.
Which is a definite improvement.
Thank you.
-Come in.
Hey. Hey, guys. Uh…
Sorry, I just…
-What am I interrupting? -Prom.
Oh, that's so great. Um…
I was just looking for Spence.
I haven't seen him in a bit.
Yeah, listen, when you see him, can you tell him…
Well, tell him it wasn't cool, what he said.
I don't know. He's pretty pissed.
-He's pissed? Why is he pissed? -Maybe you should ask him?
-I mean, group didn't go so well. -He's pissed.
Him.
Group was a mess because she kept us up all night
trespassing in a place we absolutely shouldn't have been.
-Hey now. -So I was the only one
with enough energy to talk.
And I had the nerve to say, what? "Church is good,"
and he just blows up like a grenade and he's pissed at me.
I'm not the problem, you know? And I'm not just black and white.
I didn't say you were.
Some things are black and white, though.
Like, don't drag a group of immunocompromised kids
into a basement full of bacteria and mold and Lord knows what else that--
oh, yeah, we aren't allowed to be in anyways.
That's… That's pretty clear-cut.
Who are you mad at, Sandra?
-Because I don't think it's me. -Also, why is that an insult?
What's wrong with things that are black and white?
I mean, my favorite movies in the whole world
are those old detective movies, and those are black and white.
I might be a little old-fashioned,
but I'm not like what Anya said
or what's been said, that's not me.
And it's really…
It's really shitty that they keep saying that.
Okay.
I got it.
What was that?
I don't know.
I'm mostly proud that she said "shitty."
Oh, my god.
You look so handsome.
You guys be home before 12.
Save room for the Holy Ghost.
Yeah, invite the Holy Ghost to join in.
I will see you later.
Oh, God, I hope not.
It's prom.
You should be neck-deep in…
necking.
-I hope he has fun. -Oh, he won't.
Not even a little.
He just signed up for about a thousand petty conversations
and hours upon hours of lingering and crying on the stairs.
Odds are they'll crown him prom king just out of pity.
I don't get why they call it necking.
Like, all the areas involved.
The neck doesn't even crack the top five.
Stay cool. Don't overthink it.
You okay?
Hmm?
Yeah.
No, it's just, um…
I don't know, doing his makeup made me think about
all the things this takes from us.
Before it takes everything, I mean.
And how it requires, like, actual effort to look like ourselves.
Or at least how we see ourselves.
You did a great job, and he looks great.
And I think he's going to have a good time.
-Don't care what Spence says. -Yeah, I guess.
I don't know.
You know what I miss?
My hair.
I miss it a lot.
Sorry I'm getting to this so late.
Clinical coordinator showed up for a site visit.
Oh, the uh… the right arm's got the good veins, remember?
Okay.
Left arm it is.
Anyway, she was grilling me on OSHA standards.
Took me forever to walk her through it.
Don't worry about it.
Oh, I saw your dad on his way up yesterday.
I missed him the last few times.
-He's a nice guy. -Thanks.
It's none of my business and, you know,
you can tell me to shut up if I'm way out of line, but…
even nice people can be wrong.
-Excuse me? -My folks are nice.
When I came out, they flipped out.
My dad nearly burst a blood vessel.
My mom was a little better.
If I show you something, you promise not to make a big deal about it?
Yeah, of course.
What's up?
-Okay, so the meds-- -Aren't working anymore.
They're developing better antiretrovirals,
longer-lasting cocktails that will, you know, keep up with this.
-How far off? -I don't know.
A year, maybe two.
Well, shit.
I've known people way worse than you who lasted a lot longer than that.
It's okay.
Spence.
Hello?
Hello.
Spence, listen.
-Someone's in the recovery room. -What?
Someone's in there and the door is locked.
-Those rooms are never locked. -It's locked.
Okay.
It was locked.
It was.
I'll be out in a minute.
Just use the bathroom in the hall.
Rough night?
Never better.
Don't they have you on something for nausea?
They do, but the side effects include nausea.
I have some orphaned morphine pills if you…
Orphaned morphine pills.
I can't believe it took this long for "orphine" to come to me.
I have some orphine if you want some.
I'm good.
-You look great. -I'm good.
And you should watch it, Anya.
I know.
Puns that good will attract unwanted attention.
Lorne Michaels will chase me down.
I mean, they hand out pills every day with, like, a lot of specificity.
Like, taking more or less might not be, you know, safe.
Thanks, but if I wanted a downer, I would have stolen some…
Fuck. Morphine is a downer. Oh, the joke's ruined.
There you go.
-Fuck. -Damn, Anya?
What's with the fancy shirt?
Our intrepid warrior went to prom, remember?
How'd it go?
-I was very brave. -Oh, so brave.
-Yeah, very brave. -Very, very brave.
-Oh, so brave. -So brave.
Everybody said so.
Anybody tell you their grandmother died of cancer?
That's always a big, fat thank you.
I did get compared to a couple of grandparents,
an uncle, and a dog.
And then I was made prom king.
Are you okay, pal?
Fine.
To those before,
to those after.
To us now,
and to those beyond.
To those before,
to those after.
To us now,
and to those beyond.
Seen or unseen,
here but not here.
Seen or unseen, here but not here.
I have one.
Anybody else? Could do without the angel porn this evening.
It isn't that. It's something different. It's a detective story.
Old school, you know, with murder, betrayal.
Maybe even a ghost.
It's called… "Give Me a Kiss".
That okay, Spence?
You do you.
It begins on a stormy night.
Saturday, April the 11th.
Two dead, one missing, and one in a box.
A boat trip gone bad.
A burnt cabin and some charred remains.
Raining cats, dogs, and the rest of the pet store outside.
As though God himself had called the storm to wash away the blood.
-Alice Palmer.
Detective Fisher.
Can I get you anything before we start?
-Water? Bottle of pop? -No, thank you.
Curious habit. A nervous one?
A healthy one. Instilled by my father. You know him, of course.
Are these your friends?
Or rather,
were they your friends?
I have two dead, one missing, and you're here with me, aren't you?
I'm not sure where to begin.
We usually begin with "on the day of," if that's any help.
Well, it really began Friday morning in homeroom.
It was like any other day.
There was Sharon, my childhood buddy.
Kirk Donner, my ex-boyfriend.
Patty, queen of the upper crust.
And the boy her glare is burning through, Jake Retton.
My best friend.
It all began with Jake's journal.
What was he writing about?
Something he and Kirk had done,
in secret.
Whoa, whoa, whoa! Just what the hell do you think you're doing?
Because I'm pretty sure you aren't doing what you think you're doing.
Especially after this morning.
Spence, I promise you, I have a very good reason.
Your best friend and your ex, that's gotta smart.
Stings a little. It's not like I wasn't enough for him.
I was never gonna be what he needed
so that pillow the blow a touch, doesn't it?
Still, I can see someone taking that personal.
Anyways, that journal was the fire to the fuse.
That tawdry bit of truth-telling.
A dear diary that could topple Kirk's tenure as king of the gridiron.
A landmine in blue ink just waiting for a foot.
Jake Retton to the vice principal's office.
You see the school paper this morning, Mr. Retton?
-Took a gander. -Oh, there's a column on the new gym,
a review of the spring musical, then this…
"Doping on the Field: The Illicit Drugs That Drive Our Athletes" by Jake Retton.
-Explain to me why you ran that. -I didn't run it.
I wrote it, the editor run it.
-You snuck it in. Don't deny it. -Suppose you let me off with a warning.
-Suppose I suspend you. -Suppose I pen a piece about a crooked VP
with a kiddy's pullstring where his spine should be.
Better a pullstring than a target.
Because where these football uniforms have numbers, you've got a bull's eye.
Pull the story, or it's your badge, your notepad, and you off the beat.
Damn it, Retton, with all those smarts, can't you tell a friend when you see one?
Show me a friend and I'll let you know.
Turns out, the VP was only half right.
Jake had a target on his back, to be sure,
but retracting the story wouldn't have helped him.
The knife had already hit home, you see.
Buried to the hilt between my best friend's shoulder blades.
He just didn't know it.
Our fingers laced and our lips touched.
There's who we see and then who we are.
I didn't know you, Kirk, until today.
Next time we pass in the halls and the silent nod, the half-smile.
Some might see a fond hello.
We'll know it's more.
Not a greeting but an ache, a shared stare,
a quickly diverted gaze, which put into words, might simply mean
give me a kiss.
Come on, guys. You shouldn't read this, it's private.
No matter how perverted and, like, incredibly detailed it is.
So the cheerleader posted it.
Jake thought so,
but reporters make enemies like spring musical engineers make admirers.
Jake was no exception.
Sounds like a dangerous friend to have.
Maybe. But Jake was worth it.
How did he take it?
Bad.
He'd been wronged, he'd been humiliated, and he was angry.
He was angry because he wasn't attacked for something he did.
He was attacked for something he was.
-The way I hear it,
he ends up at Sharon's,
and he talked just a little, but he said an awful lot.
And most of the words were "revenge."
Patty and Kirk. Patty posted the note. Kirk denies it.
It's the perfect one-two. Fatal blows, both.
But then he got an idea.
If they wanted to kill his reputation, if they really wanted him dead,
maybe he should give it to them.
So let's finish the job.
Or make them think he had.
Let's make them kill me.
I provided the backdrop, though I didn't know it yet.
My father was away and I bribed the captain
to throw one of my famous boat parties.
Turns out, everyone's a friend when a gal's got a yacht.
The plan was simple. Jake picks a fight…
-You're fucking shameless, Patty. -Nice to see you, too, Jake.
You want a Zima?
Put Patty and Kirk on the hot spot,
and turn up the temp until someone boiled over.
-Come on, Patty, he clearly means… -Stay out of this, Kirk.
That's what you're best at, isn't it? You know, looking the other way.
Well, that and getting down on your knees.
What the fuck did you just say?
Sorry to air your dirty laundry, but I didn't start this.
She did.
-Take it back. -Wow, you really are getting heated.
Ready for round two?
-Oh my god!
Jake goes overboard, doesn't come up.
Lay as low all weekend while Patty and Kirk twist in the wind,
thinking they killed him.
Then Jake walks into school Monday morning.
Damn, that's actually pretty vicious.
Shit, Sandra, who knew you had it in you?
Vicious, indeed.
So when did things go wrong?
It started out just fine.
Sharon just had to hide her scuba gear off the bow for Jake to grab
once he went in the drink.
And then, he was off to Sharon's parents cottage to wait it out.
Where she'd hid a key.
Search continues after the tragedy earlier today off the coast
when local student, Jake Retton, presumably drowned
after falling overboard.
Suck it, assholes.
The tragedy compounded minutes later by the drowning death of Kirk Donner,
drowned after diving into the waters after his friend.
He just jumped in after him.
But when he didn't come up right away, I did the only thing I could think of.
I…
I dove in, too, but…
I couldn't find him anywhere.
-I couldn't him.
I couldn't find him anywhere.
And then the body floated up and it was…
it was the worst thing I'd ever seen.
Kirk!
Kirk was dead.
Sharon was inconsolable.
She'd always loved Kirk.
I think a part of her thought
she might be there to pick up the pieces after this mess.
But now those pieces were floating in the bay,
and her fantasy future gone with it.
And then she spilled it.
Told me the whole thing, how Jake had faked it,
how she had helped him,
how no one was supposed to get hurt.
So I assumed Sharon went to her parents' cabin like they agreed.
But she went there to kill Jake,
-not to help him.
To kill Jake for what happened to Kirk.
And if she's missing, I can only assume she started the fire
to destroy the evidence.
Got to admit, it adds up.
It's a sad story.
Looks like you lost three friends today.
Two to the morgue. One on the lam.
-Am I free to go? -You always have been.
-None of this is-- -Compulsory.
I know.
There was no kindness in this, Detective.
I wish I had never come.
Hello, kid.
Surprised to see me?
Thought I had been drowned, shot, or burned alive?
Reports of my death have been exaggerated.
-Oh, Jake, I'm so glad you're all right. -Mask off, angel.
We've known each other too long for that.
-How'd you know?
I've got the guns so I'll do the asking.
Funny how that's your first question,
as opposed to how I escaped that blaze you started.
-I assume you're wearing the answer. -Ah.
Sharp as ever.
You'll need more than witty retorts to get out of that rope.
Oh, you'll untie me. We just haven't gotten there yet.
Gave me quite the fright when you peeked through the window of the police station.
I got some more for you.
I'll tell you what I know when you fill in the blanks.
-Will I? -You'd better.
-So I was in the cabin. -I couldn't find them anywhere.
Sharon came to the door to tell me what happened to Kirk.
He's dead, Jake.
I don't know what happened.
He went into the water and Alice went in after and he just…
We got to come clean. Tell everybody you're okay.
I don't know how to go back, doll. Do you think we can?
Put the pomade back in the tin after what we--
I think maybe it's never too late.
I think maybe we all make mistakes, and in the end--
Sharon.
You shot her, and you torched it,
and you were ready to shoot me if I fled, weren't you?
Locked and loaded. Waited almost five whole minutes.
I checked on Sharon.
She was dead.
But the fire didn't give me the time to mourn.
I filled the bathtub with water and grabbed my scuba tank,
waited as long as I could until I couldn't anymore.
And I risk the blaze.
I swam through fire last night, angel.
But the dental records, they said the body was yours.
I snuck into your father's dental office and switched the records.
Figured I'd buy myself just enough time to solve the crime.
-And lo and behold, here we are.
There's only one person in the world Sharon would have trusted enough
to tell about our plan, and that's you.
That's you, angel.
Also,
I found this near the tree where the shot came from.
Nervous habit.
No. A guilty one.
You know, no matter how many guests
showed up to the boat parties over the years,
I only ever had two real friends.
Sharon and you.
Why'd you do it?
You want to know why I shot Sharon?
Why I set fire to the cabin?
Why I killed Kirk, and photocopied your journal?
Didn't notice those last two, did you?
I could say it was Kirk. I knew you had been seeing him on the sly.
Kirk, my ex, and my best friend.
-Man, that stinks-- -So that's it.
-You were jealous. -I could say that.
I mean, I dove into the water after him, and I knocked him out.
The thing about being underwater,
it doesn't matter if you're a football player or not,
only matters how long you can hold your breath.
I killed him for the same reason I posted the journal,
to break you two apart.
He ruined me, you know.
Gave me something.
Something I'll always have.
Untie my arms and I'll show you.
No funny business.
Cross my heart and hope to die.
That's the thing. No one looks too close.
Not a little unassuming me.
The makeup covers it well enough, but not perfectly.
Never perfectly.
Wait.
A cold sore?
Oral herpes. It's a big deal.
It is. It's with you your whole life. It's an STD, Kevin.
I'm aware just…
She killed him because he gave her herpes?
-Yes. -Yes.
Yes, that's my secret shame.
And that's the thing about secrets, kid.
Curiosity… meet the cat!
Oh, damn, kid. Look what I did.
I'm sorry.
Tried to send you to your maker. I stamped my own envelope.
Ain't that a thing?
-I'm sorry. -No, this is all my song.
Lyrics and music by Alice Palmer.
All because of some nasty grievance I can't even remember anymore.
Now, in the end…
I'm sorry.
I did it because I'm sick, see?
Jealous, I guess…
Who else would ever attack love?
See the truth is, handsome,
I'm just an angel looking for wings like anybody else in the city,
and wings…
Wings…
Forget it, Jake. It's murder town.
And if this is the stuff dreams are made off,
then I wanna wake up.
I'm sorry, Jake.
Spread those wings while you still can.
Love like there's no tomorrow.
Oh, and forgive a cow, will you? If it's not too much trouble.
I spoke too soon.
I guess.
City of Angels.
Maybe that's my stop after all.
Holy shit.
I'm sorry, guys. I'm realizing now that…
Yeah, that totally went into angel porn towards the end, didn't it?
I have no idea why I can't not do that.
I guess what I'm trying to say is,
Spence, I'm sorry for the way people treated you.
I never would.
Not on purpose.
Doesn't mean I'm not an idiot sometimes.
And for the record, God never would treat you like that.
I mean, I know that. So I'm sorry.
For me and on behalf of…
All on behalf of anyone who loves God, because you can't love God and hate love.
You just can't. So, on their behalf, I'm sorry.
Like, legitimately fucking sorry.
Can I clap now?
-Yes, you can clap now. -Okay.
Good night you, guys.
Good night.
So… Mm. I'm good from here.
Are you sure?
Mm-hm.
Are you sure you're okay?
Good night, Spence.
Shoo.
I know better than to argue.
Good night, Anya.
I'm sorry about prom.
Me too.
You deserve better than that.
Thanks. It, uh…
Yeah, it hurt a little more than I wanted to let on.
Come on.
What?
Oh, shit.
What?
The Dewey Decimal System.
No.
It couldn't be.
It shouldn't be, but…
Just in case.
You think so?
Maybe. Where the hell is it?
Section 292.
Where the hell is it?
200. Here, 200 is religion.
220, Bible Study. 230, Christianity.
Uh… 290, other religions. 292…
Classic Religions. Ancient Greeks.
290, 292, 13…
Already gone.
I'm still here. I'm still here. I'm still here.
Anya, we found it. You're not gonna believe…
Oh, God. No.