The Lesser Dead - Castle Gone Red - Season 1 - Episode 3

Episode Date: June 6, 2023

Margaret calls a “family” meeting to discuss the horrific events of the previous night. The deadly exploits of the rogue vampire are putting them all in danger. He must be found and stopped before it’s too late. Joey visits Studio 54 and has a run-in with a powerful old vampire before he and Cvetko (Saul Rubinek) find a surprising clue in Central Park.

Echoverse Echoverse presents The Lesser Dead Thursday night, Margaret's called the town-weeding for all the family in the town. There is about 16 of us, including Luna, the prostitute who hunts in the porno-wills and time-square, Billy Bang, the bus crew sings like Sam Cuck, Chinchilla, is kind of a punk. The boring, naughty East Europeans fat-cutting.

He likes to bite all the ladies. Is this all of us? Luna, we're Sandy. Did I not tell you she's green and needs a watcher? I don't know where she is. She said she wanted to be alone. She'd follow me back later. And you just let her? I'm sorry, Margaret. I know I fucked up. I was tired. Oh, you were tired!

She's a handful! You don't think I get tired? With a bunch of years acting like eaglets? She's not gonna make it anyway. Oh, you black talk me one more time tonight and we'll see if you make it. So you're telling me the Corazone is have a man missing and now we've lost the new girline as well. I wonder found where Jalassia. Times Square.

She shoulda you know Midtown. You look for her too, but separate so you cover more ground. Alright, we're starting this thing. town. You look for her too, but separate so you cover more ground. Alright, we're starting this thing. That's Margaret, our mayor. Really our Chief Dis. Mayor just sounds more like we all at the same, which we didn't. She's wearing her dirty pink Japanese bathrobe with little birds on it and her fungacy flip-flops you can get a good look at her feet, which are ugly and full of veins. I mean she's a handsome woman, but those feet... maybe it's an Irish thing. Is there something fascinating about me feet, Mr. Pecock?

No. Well, there's a blessing. Now look here. Missing Yorktown girl goes up in flames. But that's a good headline, isn't it? Can't really butter you fucking bread and turn to the crossword page just yet, can you? Let's crack on! Read it for us, Fetco! I'm too angry! Where my fucking finger is? Sorry. Stephanie Larsen, four who disappeared near Central Park in the early morning hours of February 15, exploded in a furious pillar of fire

last night near Brum Street in Little Italy. Furious pillar of fire. That's grand. That's positively biblical. Now Sveko, does the article say regarding that pillar of fire practically over our thick, comting heads. Hmm, it does. Look.

What a shot! At the edge of my vision, I see a vampire named Balduchi roll his eyes. Balduchi used to be an employee of a certain family of Italian entrepreneurs. Baldy got turned in Philly, then turned his buddy Dominic. The Sicilian guys they used to run with for all their whacking people and busting legs and whatever are all cat-like as hell. Nobody wanted anything to do with their creepy asses when they showed up again. You know how they say you're never out of the mob?

These two? They're out of the mob. Shall I continue reading? By all names. Yeah. Tragically, Miss Larsen is not the first child to go missing in Manhattan this year. Oh, Doherr's is the first alleged case of spontaneous human combustion, since the emulation of Margaret Hogan in Dublin in 1970.

Now that Hogan woman was a vampire too. Mark my words. Did you know her? What? She's from Dublin, right? I'm not from the pale. Am I? And even if I were a Jack-Ean, Dublin isn't exactly a hamlet. I suppose you know every old gal sitting around Manhattan waiting to burst into flames.

Svekko does. Dominic and a couple others laugh. She fixes Baldi with a stare that I hope he knows what it means. with a stare that I hope he knows what it means. My point is that spontaneous human combustion is always a fucking vampire. When you're trying to keep a low profile as we are, getting vampires shite like this in the newspaper is the Olympic gold medal of incompetence. We don't peel people and leave their dead arses laying around,

not because we're sweethearts, but because we don't peel people and leave their dead arses laying around, not because we're sweethearts, but because we don't want attention. Any weirdness at all, anything that looks unnatural, especially in our own backyard, risk questions getting asked. And one thing I'll say for the breather's upstairs, is they're getting better and better at answering questions. Now we've got the girl's father, dead with his eyes torn out to boot, a taxi driver in Chinatown just the same, and the girl herself, a human fucking torch.

We're going to find whoever's making all these messes and put his head so far from his arse that it'll need a busting at Tacoma's hair. Oh, you're funny. Oh, funny, is it not, Mr. Rank? I am being funny when I see we're gonna find this sloppy specimen and put an end to him before he brings the guards down into these tunnels with dogs and fire. Now, from what Mr. Peckock told me about the mysterious biker who gave the Chinatown Greek a back with facing head, he is trying to keep things hidden.

But I have the uncomfortable feeling he's trying to hide them from us. We got a good here. The best we're ever gonna have it. And as your mayor, I don't intend to let anyone, including Sandy or any of you, has ruined it for the rest of us. We're none of us taken or leisure till we find out whose pale in citizens and where our own stray lambs have gone. I don't see why Sandy not showing up for roll calls

with some kind of international crisis. So what? None of us get to take a night off go out to Jersey? Huh, the fuck wants to go to Jersey? My mother's in Jersey. Watch your fucking mouth, you fucking Before Billy can jump on Baldi and he was about to Margaret slaps Balducci so hard, his mother probably heard it in Jersey. And practically the same motion she showed her's billion knocks him on his ass before he can kill Balducci, which it looks like he was ready to do.

Dominic moves between Margaret and Baldi real aggressively. He shouldn't have. Remember, she's still holding that shovel. Baldi tries to cut left of his sack up to his neck and weins on it. Mr. Baldouch, I'll lead her up this little tribe. I cannot broke division. And there is nothing so divisive more so toxic as racial bigotry. If I hear you use another racial sewer of one of your family and earnest again, that'll be the end of you. Do you understand? family and earnest again. That'll be the end of you. Do you understand?

How to talk? I just take a little weight off your neck. Now, do you understand? Yes, yes, yes, yes, it's crazy! You take the Lord's name in vain at your peril, Mr. Boutucci. Great are his instruments and we are tokens of his wrath. Joseph Pecock, you'll go with Svetko tonight, no more grab ours with your Puerto Rican till whoever turned these little chislers is found. You hear me? Yeah. Well, I'm glad we've all had this talk, aren't you? Well, I'm glad we both had this talk, aren't you?

pair up, fan out and find out and if you can't handle it pack up and get out I'm in the mood to cut turf this week, and if I can't cut off a dangerous head faith and I'll take a useless one I'm done talking now And off she walks into the darkness dragging her shovel behind her so it makes the occasional spark. Ruth and old boy follow behind her like thing one thing too. Quiet. So quiet. So we pair up and I get stuck with Fettco. To find the creep-turning kids, we should probably try to find the kids.

We're on the sixth string, where I first saw those little shits, just riding up and down, looking. The guys with magic markers really fucked this car up with all their shitty graffiti. What else have they got to do? He's just reading National Geographic. What else have they got to do? He's just reading National Geographic. They point up at one of the Black graffiti squiggles and nudges shoulder. Hey, what do you think Mac Pussylips is? Maximilian or Mac Pussylips was a 19th century barbarian king who roamed the streets of Munich playing a drum all hours of the night,

inciting German poetry out the window of his tower. And the highest part of his castle. Is that true? Of course not, I'm supposed to know some graffiti vandal. So you just made all that out? I improvised. Why? Would you entertain you?

Yeah, I guess. So, you know, this is what people used to do with their free time. What? Lie? A mundane lie hiding an exotic truth is deception. An exotic lie hiding a mundane truth is storytelling. Deception may be necessary to preserve life, but storytelling makes life worth living. So, make my life worth living.

You want me to lie to you? Lie, tell the truth, I don't care. Just talk to me, entertain me. Tell me, for example, what is your favorite place in the city? And tell it in such a way that you make me want to go there. That's easy. Studio 54. Ah, ha, ha, ha.

You don't know that he is perhaps the most dangerous vampire on the island. And he doesn't like other vampires near his operations. Fuck that guy, you don't scare me. Yes, he does. And he should. Well, fuck it, it's not enough. We can't go anywhere at all while the sun's out.

We got to have places we can't go at night, too. Especially a good place like that. Anyway, they lived the other way as long as you don't hunt. Do you hunt there? What am I? Ashmuck? So, you hunt. We just clear that the thrill of forbidden fruit is part of your attraction.

You like to go to the enemy's castle. Tell me what else you enjoy about this studio 54. It's full of great ass and they got an actual fuck room in the basement. What's not to like? Yeah, you're lucky enough to be an immoral eternal adolescent who finds something a modern-day metropolis with a pleasure palace worthy of ancient Rome in it. And this is all you have to say.

What do you want from me? Very well. In your vernacular, so you understand me? Tell me about Studio 54 and don't be so fucking boring. Well, why didn't she say so? The first thing about Studio 54 is getting in. It ain't that easy, especially if you look bridging ton like some smock from Jersey or the out of burrows, trying to be cool. There's this little tyrant, one of the owners, one of the public owners I mean.

He looks like a melted Paul Simon, and he says who gets in, and who does. Like I said, not you. Next time, lose the hat, nobody looks cool in a hat. What you do, and you don't, look at that. Who's it helps to be famous? Yes, you, I already told that. Grace, John, Grace, Grace you that. John, we're in a great place. Great, great, sweetheart. Come on.

Look, wonder. It also helps to be a vampire. Anything they want. Oh, hold on, man. Who the hell are you? I'm with Grace Jones. I'm her...rabber. Oh, well. Come on in.

But once you're in, you're in. Imagine its fits. You see some lady, and you think you might recognize her from the last King Kong movie they met. Yeah, don't see it. It's mostly garbage, but the lady's starring in it? She's going places. Foxy, but smart.

Dirty blonde hair. Well, there she is in a little black dress. Dancing like... But like a fox. So you get a little closer. You're just about to make your move. Well, you're just fermentating or feeding about them. I'm not sure yet, which is why I don't go turning on the charm.

You don't want to ball somebody you just hypnotized. It's like slipping in my Mickey. It's, you know, wrong. I am pleasantly surprised by the ethical distinction you have made here. Yeah, well, you get closer to her. And you drop your big line. Hi. But she's not having any. closer to her, and you drop your big line. Hi! But she's not having any. She just discos away.

All right, she's not your type anyway. So, you're just gonna bite her. But you gotta be careful about it, because you're not supposed to do that here. Maybe get her up to the balcony where people are doing whatever. So you sort of boogie back in her line of vision, and she gives you an eye roll. When her eyes look back down, you got her. You start dancing with her. You're about to move her towards the stairs when she's... Ah! Excuse you, lady! Jesus.

Lady, Jesus! I like that. I think that's my name tonight. Why don't you just watch where you're going? Shut up and dance. She's tall but built. Bright blue eyes. She's got this bob haircut like she's a flapper or

Egyptian or something. And she's putting down some funky moves. Real forceful life. She kind of dances you backwards across the floor right into the wall. You like the rust off huh? You have no idea. What are you? What are you doing here? What do you think? That's a good question. Because you're real close now. And she grins and lets her charm down a little. So you see your fangs.

Holy shit. That's right. And you're not a... You're a fan. That's right, too. Now stop talking and listen. Jessica wouldn't give you the time of day You're gonna understand. Look lady, mister, what are you anyway? Whatever I want to be, darling, and you can be too, just not in here. You should know better.

That's when I see the Hessian up in the balcony holding court. Big is life, even in a glimpse, even in shadow. He nods his head, and that's when Lady Jesus frog marches me up to stairs. Pass the tight ass buzzboys in their short shorts. Pass one of the Charlie's Angels putting more blow-up her nose than you could fit in a subleo. And there I am in front of him, the Hessian. And just for now, know that he's fucking big, and he looks at you like a bug he could squash, which you are, and he could.

He squashed things that got him his way before. You know Joseph, the civilized world is built on understandings. If you walk when the light is green, the bus, the grease not to hit you. If you want to own a dog in the city, you must clean up its shit though, and this is a bad example because nobody does this, but at least there is a law now. It is just not enforced, unless your dog shits in front of the police station, then it will be enforced. I don't actually like enforcing dog shit laws. It's tedious, but without it, you have a mass.

Do you understand me? Where they really were, so... So then what happened? I apologized, and they let me go. But what happened between your apology and your departure? How do you always know this shit? It's creepy. You understand me?

Yeah? Yeah. I understand. I'm sorry, it's just, you have a place like this. It's the most fun place in the city. You gotta let people in. I got a, a do I. Yeah, you can't just, you know, take everything and sit on it like some old dragon.

I don't mean any disrespect. Mr. Peacock, your presence here is a form of disrespect. But one that I was willing to tolerate, in case you failed to notice, I know that you were stopping you from coming in here, despite my understanding with Miss McMamie's about territories, we would have pretended not to see you if you were just here to dance and fuck.

But you are hunting in my club. And that is very important. Are you going to kill me? What do you think? No, I don't think you should kill it. Thanks, Lady Jesus. Lady Jesus. Ha! I like this.

And you've given me an idea about what happens next. Yeah, this will be exact. The heft glamour. And if you yell, it will happen twice. Don't yell, he says. Not so easy not to yell in a big, big fang drag bitch is biting through your hand And I mean through the bones and everything But I didn't take it personally, and I hate the guy, but I weirdly respect the narcissistic murdering asshole too

I fucked up I hate the guy, but I weirdly respect the narcissistic murdering asshole too. I fucked up, whatever. I'll go back if they, you know, let me. At least your story, however, this moment of nothing, was not for it. Speka, little kids just got on. You see them? I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry.

I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm Samuel Artinian and this is my son David who is a musical prodigy. We are saving up to send him to music school. He would like to play a song for you while my little daughter Miriam,

grateful accepts any tip you wish to give her. Gypsies are millions. I can't really explain what happens to me when the kid starts playing. I feel the whole world I've been missing for 40 some years come in all at once, all full of fruit and spices and colors and love. The kind that isn't just a heart on the whole, and sunshine, that doesn't hurt but feels good. That's what this music feels like.

It's sunshine on your face through the kitchen window. It's like a hand, like... God's hand or something. Just for a minute. I remember. You want taste, Javi Bird? That's Vilma. The first cook in our house when I was a kid, Hungarian.

I loved Velma. You could even say I was in love with her, you know, like in a kid in a way. I still miss Velma. I was her Joey Berg, and I was never that for anyone else again. What is it? First you say you like it after I tell you about it. So you don't like to film? Mmm. I like it a lot.

Can I have some more? It's palachinta with tuna, a kind of cheese. Hot damn! Ah! I put sweet and mouth out come sour. And then it's over. The train's slowing down, the man starts doing the hat line. I am the girl of dollar.

And she takes it from me like she's taking it from the jaws of an animal. She won't look me in the eye. I think she knows. Sometimes they know. We pull in the bleak, the Armenian family leaves, new people get on. That's New York. One minute beautiful, one minute ugliest fuck. I decided to go to Central Park on my own without Svetko. He puts up a little bit of a fuss, says he should go with me,

but I want to be alone, and he gets that. Sometimes, I just need to be alone. Central Park at night, 1978, a place evil can evil wouldn't jump his motorcycle over in a stunt. I love it, but then I'm usually one of the worst things in it. I'm pretty hungry, but there's not likely to be any clean blood here. That's okay. Eden's not everything. The park's actually beautiful in the winter.

I still got a little feeling of enchantment from that kid playing violin on the train. So I noticed stuff like a half-moon playing peekaboo behind the clouds, lighting up the snow in the sheep meta. I walk practically the whole park before I see anybody biteable. And this guy is beautiful. Evening officer. Black guy. Mid-30s.

A bachelor. You can tell because his mustache is lopsided, a wife would have made him even that shit out. He smells like brute after shaving for Paya King. What you doing out on the park this late? You know this in a place that good boys girls, right? I, couldn't sleep. I haven't eaten in a while.

Well, I know a place where to give you a hot Nikon, if you're clean. You're clean? Oh, that's a whistle. Officer, I, um, I, um... And that's when I make with the fainting spell. Shit! Hey, hey, hey, kid!

You all right? He rushes over like a good protecting server. Nails down, puts his hands behind my head. I flutter my eyelids open like a damsel about to behold her night, then look him in the eyes. I said, lean closer, put your neck by my mouth. Like this. Fuck off of me! Stand here, S.O.B.

You didn't fate. You're too late, cull for the shit. Don't let me catch you messing around the ramble or run you in for public indecency. You got me. Yes, uh, yes. Now, scram! Run you in for public indecent, you got me? Yes. Yes. Now square. Well, that blue.

That, by the way, is what I call a hard case. No matter how good you are at charming, and I'm pretty damn good, some people just don't charm. Psychics, new mothers, Buddhist monks, forget it. And weirdly, sometimes, just sometimes, cops. I kind of wanted to end up by the Delacor Theater, which is good hunting and Shakespeare in the park season.

But it's deserted now. So I make for the dripping forest, bare sticks and shadows that is the rambling winter. It's like I'm walking somewhere in my feet know to go, but they're not telling me. And that's when I see the light, like a beacon flicking on and off in the trees. On and off, on and off, a winter firefly. My feet follow my eyes. The ramble is definitely not a place for a regular citizen after dark. As I ran the clearing, I see a pair of really scrawny dudes.

They see me too. One gets up from where you've been squatting in the shelter of some branches hung with garbage bags. The magic light I had seen was where you'd been squatting, and the shelter of some branches hung with garbage bags. The magic light I had seen was where he'd been burning the edges of a plastic orange frisbee with a lighter. Don't ask me why. Doesn't look like he knows himself. Hey, little man! Hi.

Hey, little man! He's fanning himself with the smoking, plastic, sninking fucked up Frisbee. Then his friend who's creeping up on me too, gets a better look at me. Hey, hold up for me. He's, he's one of them. I said hold up. I, I mean, I, I won't go do no.

So what, you were gonna invite me to play Frisbee? Go, get out, get out of here, man. Going back to the castle now. You know why, I, we're dirty. Even as he said that, I felt the crunch of a syringe under my feet. And he said dirty, he was talking about his blood. As in I wouldn't want junky blood. As in he knew what I was. Hold on, there's more of us to Castle?

Belvedere Castle, more like me. I don't know nothing about nothing. But at the castle. Some nights, the castle's gone red. I got nothing to do with that place. He's got a hand holding something in the pocket of a shitty jacket. I don't think he's really packing,

but I'm not in the mood to get shot. It hurts. Shot in the head will scramble your brains for a minute. Anyway, I head towards the castle. I walk up the steps to the Bellevue deere. A 19th century make-believe castle right out of a fairy tale. The fairy tale ran out of money though. The windows are boarded up with plywood,

and all the stonework and doors have sprouted graffiti. I need to stay focused. I smell blood. I feel nervous. I mean, what I'm looking for is an unknown, you know? The only times I'd met other vampires, they were pretty much like me. But Sfecko thinks there might be other kinds. Vampires that fly. Vampires that are really insects. I don't know, flying vampires sounded pretty dopey, but I still look up into the sky. Just in time to get rain in my eye. It's starting to rain rain and cold rain too.

Great. I take off my shoes and socks and skinning up the side of the building. I know the round window at the top just looks in on weather equipment. This is where they take the temperature readings for the city. So I aim for a busted and slot window below. Too small for a person to fit through, but I'm not a person anymore. Now I'm about to do one of the best things family can do. All that shit about vampires turning into bats or smoke or whatever? I don't know about all that,

but everybody I know can get small. See that's how you get through anything bigger than a nail slide. You gotta squish your skull, dislocate your joints, mash your pelvic bones flat, then build it all again on the other side. It's like a bitch and your outfit gets fucked up, but it feels weirdly good when you get put back together again. good when you get put back together again. I'm going quiet. So quiet. I have a bad feeling about what I'm about to see. I want to bail. The only thing I'm more scared of than meeting some freaky pedophile, vampire carnival, is Margaret. I can't go back home without telling her what I find here,

which means I gotta find something. Then I hear it. Someone else is in here, but it isn't one of us. He's breathing. I decide to take the rest of the stairway on the ceiling. Gravity isn't real harsh to us. It's got like loopholes. So up I go, like a spider, belly against cold stone.

I take it slow, and when I get to the second floor, I see him. A man stripped to the waist, bloody to the the waste tied to a metal folding chair and gagged with a knotted bandana. He's barely conscious, heavily charmed. Dying. His stuff is all around him like he exploded. Keys. A wallet. A corduroy jacket. Driver's license says, Gary something or other. His head nods, he can't keep it up. His throat is a mess a gouged meat. Somebody worked his thighs and wrists over too. Blood on the floor, but not pulled like little dabs or something

Whatever blood fell there was lapt up And then I see them bloody footprints bear feet made and on the wall a Handprint There's something funny about them A handprint. There's something funny about them. This poor fucker, I crawl closer, sideways on the wall now. His foot twitches and sends a can of grapefanta rolling. Family doesn't drink soda.

I see other cans. A Burger King wrapper. Somebody's trying to keep this guy alive. I get off the wall, creep closer. I loosen the knot of a bandana in its mouth so it can maybe breathe a little. Gary. Hey. Gary. His eyelids flutter. He looks at me. White guy.

Kind of funky. Grangotie. I pour a little charm into a harmless lie. You're okay. You're going to be okay. I did this to you. You. Me?

You. You're one too one two right? I'm I'm sorry you're not so bad don't mean I can't help it say kerry

you know how many of us there are would you? give her count No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, Where it, huh? What kind of birch you got? Pretty. He shivers hard now. What? Cool. I don't see any coke. There's a Pepsi can. Let me see if there's something. Oh. Cold. Cold. Cold. Code. That's when he said the first time. Poor bastards in shock, and it's February after all.

I'm looking around, I see a crumbled code. As I'm reaching for it, he kind of groans again. Okay, okay, okay. You're okay. Got it right here. But weirdly, the coat doesn't budge when I pull on. I look back around at it and see why. There's a little barefoot standing on it. Attached to a leg. Attached. About eight. Pale. Dead. Cold. Cold to the knee. That's when I realized what was wrong with the bloody hand and footprints. They're child-sized. Have you come to play? Episode 3.

Castle Gone Red. The lesser dead was performed by Jack Kilmer as Joey Peacock, mini driver as Margaret McMinnis, Danny Houston as the Hessian, Saul Rubeneck as Fetgo, directed by Dan Black, written by Christopher Buelman, series created by Christopher Buelman, based on his book The Lesser Dead,

executive producers Mark Stern, Joshua D. Mauer, Christopher Buelman, Mini Driver, and Jack Kilman. Producer Alexandra Whitley, Original Audio Production, Music and Sound Design by Salt. Producer Ali Strobel, Original Music and Composition by Salt. Producer, Ali Strobel. Original music and composition by Benjamin Sterley. Sound design by Christopher Bondis. You