This week on Salem, Mary and Tituba are frantic in their attempts to revive George Sibley. The gift of all gifts from the Countess is George’s final act: death. Without George, Mary will be a widow in Salem, and I can’t think of anything worse—except for being “Isaac the Fornicator.” Mary slices her tongue, scatters her blood and the toad’s blood over George’s belly, kisses him passionately as if her life depends on it. And it does. But nothing works. He just keeps spilling out more water.
John Alden continues to follow Anne Hale, but his medicine bag is making him root out again, and it’s worse than ever. Is there some kind of expiration date on this protection amulet? This Puritan should’ve known he couldn’t keep it up for long. Meanwhile, the Countess and her son are discussing another kind of hunt. Sebastian seems desperately excited to keep his eyes on Mary at all costs. Part of that comes from some other sick desire in him to make his mother jealous. The Countess is mildly humored by all of this, but somehow Sebastian and his power is a huge asset to her. This is some Savage Grace shit. The Countess shoots her breath into a canister of bees, perhaps the same ones that killed Thomas J. They all drop dead and scatter into a circle, minus one outside the hive. This is the one the Countess will take with her, for some future spell.
The Select Men are being jolly and men-like at the local pub, tossing back a beer and stomping their feet. Cotton Mather and Magistrate Hawthorn are having an ongoing debate about the future of Anne Hale. Cotton doesn’t know that Anne put a love spell on him, and the Magistrate could care less what Cotton says—his father Increase said he was good for nothing, so Hawthorn will be the judge of what he is entitled to. That means marriage, and marriage means property, not love. But he’ll still “shatter her doors, uncork her cask, and drink his full.” FIGHT!
Cotton knocks Hawthorne to the ground. This punch is for love. This punch is for Anne, not being your property. This punch is for your shitty comments about Increase, if you idolize him, you can get another punch while we’re at it. The entire town is now out on their doorsteps watching the brawl exit the bar out into the streets. Mary and Tituba eye Anne on her front lawn looking glassy eyed and turned on. Tituba, being the sharpest point on a witch’s hat there is, knows Anne “spelled” Cotton. Mary hopes Cotton will kill Hawthorn. This would surely rid her of her troubles, since if he died, he wouldn’t come knocking on her door any longer to see the ‘man of the house’ is alive, or make an ass out of her in town meetings. Yes, kill him! Get him! But wait: “Cotton’s not a killer,” mutters Anne under her breath. His knife stabs the ground beside Hawthorn and in a dash, Mary has the men arrested and sent to sleep it off in a jail cell.
At daybreak, the sky is blue and the fur is purple. Our fearless, head witch Countess has arrived at the docks of Salem to greet the sick and feed the poor. Mary meets her with bells on, so long as the Countess keeps her killing a secret. Their deal is crystal clear. If Mary remains an ally to the Countess, no one will know about George and everything will be fine. Right? The witches do the walk and talk to the talk, strolling about town as Salem folk clap and cheer. But what will come of all this fantasy “utopia” envisioning. Is it possible these alpha witches have something to offer one another, even if their ability to work alongside each other remains something to be seen?
As Cotton wakes up in the cell, he’s blurry-eyed from booze and what felt like a too-real dream about having sex with Anne Hale in the woods. But no forest pines surround him, only brick wall and the smelly man in black pacing the gate, Mr. Hawthorn. The Countess spots them bickering and makes her way over to introduce herself. She publicly scathes Mr. Hawthorn and announces she’s bailed them out. But can we just take a moment to pause and appreciate the pathetic, defeated look on Hawthorn’s face when he announces he is “Magistrate” through prison bars?
Anne Hale is keeping up to date in her Book of Shadows when she hears something at her foot. It’s BROWN JENKINS. The mouse is alive. But, how? As she writes, she pens the epiphany that Brown Jenkins must be her familiar, like Mary described. But now she’s not sure if she has a soul, because she killed her familiar without knowing he was such.