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- I love you, Henry.
- Mr. Dawles?
- I'm Henry Dawles.
- I'm an associate of Mr. Remiel.
Please, get in.
Mr. Remiel's very appreciative
of you coming on such short notice.
We do hope it wasn't
too much of an inconvenience.
- Oh, not at all.
To be honest, I needed the work.
It hasn't really been easy to come by.
- Ah.
Well, then I hope this is the first step
toward reversing your fortune.
- Yeah, me, too.
My wife and I, we're expecting a kid.
- Congratulations, Mr. Dawles.
- Thank you.
- Is this your first?
- Yes, it is.
- Might I ask,
boy or girl?
- We actually don't know.
- Ah.
Another surprise.
How delightful.
Don't worry, Mr. Dawles.
This bridge has proven quite reliable.
- We're sorry, your call
did not go through.
- I wouldn't fidget with that too much,
Mr. Dawles, service out here can be scarce.
- Great.
My wife's gonna think I left for good.
- I'm sure she'll understand.
- I don't think so.
- Ah.
Well,
here we are.
It's a beautiful structure, isn't it?
- Late 18th century?
- Precisely.
Word to the wise, Mr. Dawles,
Mr. Remiel can be a rather demanding soul.
Just do ask he asks and I promise you
the compensation can be quite generous.
- Let me give you a little something.
- No need for gratuity, Mr. Dawles.
It's all been taken care of.
- Thank you.
When can we expect you back?
- Hmm.
Well, that is entirely up to you, Mr. Dawles.
Oh, uh, yes.
Have a good stay.
Hmm?
- May I help you?
- I'm Henry Dawles.
Here to appraise the estate.
- Mr. Remiel has put you in the north
end of the house, overlooking the pond.
Once you've settled, you're to join him
for a nightcap in the library.
This will be your room.
You'll find the bathroom at
the far end of the hall.
- It's wonderful, thank you.
- It is widely believed
that Bach died from complications of eye surgery.
An infection festered
when a traveling oculist attempted
to remove cataracts
from his eyes.
The procedure failed mightily
and within four months,
Bach was dead.
The greatest composer the world
has ever known
chose to fight his blind fate
rather than accept it.
Pride was his undoing.
- I'm not proud, but I am happy
and happiness blinds, I think,
more than pride.
- Alexandre Dumas.
- The Count of Monte Cristo.
My wife made me read it.
- Smart woman.
- You have no idea.
- Mr. Dawles, I presume.
- Please, call me Henry.
- Come, Henry,
join me by the fire.
I hope your journey wasn't too uncomfortable.
- Oh no, not at all.
- Would you care to join me for
an evening spirit?
- Yes, I would love to.
Thank you.
- Thank you, Mrs. Gates.
Cheers.
- Cheers.
You've got a beautiful home here.
- Thank you.
Sadly, I'm the last of a dying breed.
I fear once I'm gone,
the estate will follow suit.
- No family?
- My late wife was unable to bear children.
Adoption was always a conversation,
rather than reality.
- I apologize if I'm overstepping my bounds,
but without a beneficiary, why bother
with the appraisal?
- Curiosity, I suppose.
Even I don't know everything about this place.
Then again,
maybe I just wanted the company.
- Well then,
to paid company.
- To you, Henry.
My old body is begging for some rest.
Feel free to look around the place, if you like.
I'll see you in the morning for breakfast.
Goodnight, Henry.
- Goodnight.
- Mr. Dawles.
The attic is very dangerous at night.
May I suggest you wait 'til morning?
- Of course.
- Good evening, Mr. Dawles.
- Back there, about 300 yards,
my mother built herself a little
home away from home.
We lovingly refer to it as a madhouse.
A small cottage where she could
cool the daily agitations
that my father presented her.
You see, my father was a drinker.
My mother was a Methodist.
- Well, my parents divorced when I was 15.
Maybe your mother was on to something.
- Maybe she was.
Maybe she was.
The house has been vacant for over two decades.
Due to my declining health,
I haven't seen it nearly that long.
Would you mind taking a few pictures
to share with me at dinner tonight?
- Yeah, whatever you need.
- Thank you.
Holler if you need anything.
- No way.
Not bad.
Holy shit!
- I'm sad to say,
he is not the first that we've
dealt with over the years.
Transients, drifters,
even fugitives
have sought asylum in our woods.
Property this large
lends itself to stowaways.
Did you find anything else on the body?
Any sort of identification?
- No, I didn't look.
Legally, I shouldn't have even touched the note.
- What a sin.
To give up on life so easily.
- Well, we should call the police.
- I'll take care of that, Mr. Dawles.
I'll see that the body is properly disposed of.
- Disposed of?
- Poor choice of words.
A proper burial, of course.
I do hope you'll stay and finish the appraisal.
I'm prepared to offer you greater pay
to compensate for today's unpleasantries.
- I don't think that would be appropriate.
- $5,000.
On top of your fee.
- That's a sizable offer.
- $7,000.
- Mr. Remiel, I think you should find
someone else.
- Tell me, Mr. Dawles,
just what will your departure accomplish, hmm?
An ethical victory?
Moral triumph?
Because it certainly won't help
to take care of your wife.
Or your unborn child.
- How do you know about my family?
- My driver and I,
we spoke.
I understand this job is very important
to you, Mr. Dawles.
- Yeah.
It is.
- I am offering you a great deal of money.
Enough to spoil your growing family.
Please,
don't allow a fool's poor judgement
to determine yours.
- $10,000.
On top of my fee.
- We have a deal.
I do hope you enjoy lamb.
- The madhouse definitely has
some interesting stuff.
Like that, for instance.
- Yes.
We named him Henry, coincidentally.
He was a gift to my mother.
Brought back from China
nearly 60 years ago.
- Well, that's quite a gift.
- My family has never been one
for the obvious, Mr. Dawles.
Can I take a look?
That is beautiful.
You have quite an eye.
- I've had a lot of practice.
- In what way?
- I used to be a photographer.
- Professionally?
- Yep, for a number of years.
I had my own studio
in this broken down warehouse.
I mean, we had brown water
and the occasional rat, but
I loved everything about that place.
- What changed?
- It's a long story.
- I have all the time in the world.
- One day, this drop-dead brunette
walked in my doors.
She had these little cut-off shorts,
porcelain skin.
Honestly, she was the most beautiful
thing I'd ever seen.
She asked me if I took head-shots.
She wanted to be an actress out in Hollywood.
Now, I had never taken a headshot in my life.
But I lied right to her face and
said with a smile, of course I do.
Tragically enough, that young lady
never did make it to Hollywood.
- Oh?
- Because I married her three months later.
About a year after the marriage,
my business was failing.
The market was diluted.
My father-in-law had thrown me a line,
he offered me this gig.
Steady pay, good benefits
and we wanted to start a family,
so I couldn't afford to say no.
Closed the studio, sold all of my equipment
and that's that.
- How easily we betray the things we love.
- Yeah.
- That's enough reminiscing for one night.
Now try to get some rest, Mr. Dawles.
I have something special to show you
in the morning.
- Looking forward to it.
- Have a good night, Henry.
- You, too.
- We're sorry, your call
did not go through.
- We're sorry, your call
did not go through.
- Ahh, shit.
- Good morning.
- Coffee.
- Thanks.
Big tray for a little cup.
- May I get you anything else?
- No, ma'am.
- Something on your mind?
- You got any horses in that stable?
- Not for many years.
I never took much to them.
And in return,
they never took much to me.
Shall we?
This farm has been in our family for generations.
Centuries of history under our very feet.
At one time, the main house was an inn.
A bed and breakfast of sorts for
travelers heading north into the mountains.
Many nights, I've imagined all the souls
that must have passed through here.
Each with their own story to tell.
Ah, here we are.
- We've been looking for you.
- Tell me that their beauty
isn't absolutely undeniable.
- These are incredible.
- Each and every piece
machined from scratch.
10,000 hours to create.
- Did you build these?
- Oh, no.
I'm not nearly patient enough.
'Twas my father who made them.
- Amazing.
Do they still run?
- Of course.
Though I wouldn't dare venture
them out on that old track out there.
I can't help but feel
that the majority of people take
the world's beauty for granted.
It's time spent incepting,
designing, creating
all that is.
These objects in space.
Needless to say, I feel it is my
God-fearing responsibility
to preserve that beauty
and, when need be,
give it a little polish from time to time.
- These are works of art, Mr. Remiel,
there's no question about it.
But I'll be honest, when it comes
to their worth,
I don't even know where I'd start.
- That's easy, Henry.
They're priceless.
- Yeah.
- Through there, you'll find a staircase
on your left leading to the storage garage.
Between that and the machine shop,
you should find plenty of work to fill your day.
- Henry.
- Hello?
- Oh, shit!
- What's wrong?
- Run.
Ugh.
- Mr. Dawles.
A word.
- Who the hell was that?
- You need to calm down, Mr.
- Don't you tell me to calm down!
Do you see that?
I was attacked on your property, understand?
- Are you threatening me?
- I need to know what's going on right now.
- You're in shock, Henry.
You have suffered a sharp blow to your head
and I suspect are victim to a concussion.
- You didn't answer me.
- Take a moment, Mr. Dawles.
Calm your nerves.
And when you have done so,
meet me in the kitchen
for a civilized conversation.
In the meantime, I shall fetch Mrs. Gates
to tend to your wound.
You have taken liberties with my
hospitality, Mr. Dawles.
- There is something in that barn.
- A rail thin creature
ravaging an unlucky hen.
Is that correct?
- You saw what was left of that bird.
- What I saw was the rotten remains
of an escaped farm animal.
Nothing more.
- I'm telling you the truth.
- See it through my eyes.
I find you in the stable, alone,
your head bleeding and your camera smashed,
an empty glass of bourbon on the porch.
Can you at least appreciate my perspective?
- I understand how it must look.
- What's really troubling you, Mr. Dawles?
It's in your eyes.
Something deeper.
Something personal.
- I'm just trying to do my job and that's it.
- You are here to perform a service, Henry.
One that means a great deal to me.
Can I count on you?
- Yeah.
- Good.
I had faith you'd muster the will.
Besides,
I am growing quite fond of your company.
Get a good night's rest.
I'll see you in the morning.
♪ Will the circle
♪ Be unbroken
♪ By and by
♪ Lord, by and by
♪ There's a better
♪ Home a'waitin'
♪ In the sky, Lord, in the sky
♪ Will the circle
♪ Be unbroken
♪ By and by, Lord
♪ By and by
♪ There's a better
♪ Home a'waiting
♪ In the sky, Lord, in the sky ♪
- Salena?
You can't be here.
My wife.
Please.
No, I am not doing this.
- May I?
- I don't know what's happening here.
- I'm not sure I know what you mean.
- You're telling me you don't feel something
evil?
Nothing?
- I was raised in a house of refuge, Mr. Dawles.
A reform school for teenage girls.
By societal standards, we were classified as
undesirable.
But to the sexual appetites of deep-pocketed
men, we were quite the opposite.
And when we matured and lost our
childlike appeal, we became something else.
Disposable.
To answer your question, Mr. Dawles,
I have felt evil many times.
But never in this place.
- Hello?
Mr. Remiel?
Who are you?
- I'm you.
Oh, shit.
- Henry?
Henry, is that you?
- Hi, Rebecca.
- Where have you been?
I was so worried.
- I'm working.
- I've been calling you.
- There's no service here.
- You sound tired.
- I am.
- Are you with her?
- I have to go.
- I love you, Henry.
- You overslept, Mr. Dawles.
- I wasn't feeling well, I'm sorry.
- Are you leaving us?
- My wife needs me home.
- Is that all?
- I need to be home.
- I thought we had a deal, Mr. Dawles.
- Well, you can keep the money.
- Let us amend our agreement.
I detest ending on poor terms.
It is clear that you are headstrong
in your decision, but my driver
will not be available until morning.
So here is my compromise.
If you will work through the night
to make up for your daytime repose,
I will see that you are fully compensated.
- I appreciate the offer, Mr. Remiel,
I really do,
but I can't finish this job in one night.
- That's quite all right, Mr. Dawles.
There will always be others.
- One more night.
Full pay.
And I leave at dawn.
- That's fine, Mr. Dawles.
You'll find the barn a quarter mile
south of the main house,
just past an old fishing pond.
I'm sorry, Jesus.
I didn't want to hurt her.
- Hello?
It's hers, not mine.
I promise I'll be good.
- Hello?
Please, Jesus.
I just want to go home.
- Oh!
I'm Henry.
What's your name?
Why are you praying?
Is someone out there?
- Stop!
- No, no, no.
I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you.
Will you take that off?
Please?
I just want to talk to you.
Can I take it off?
Ah, oh!
Who did that to you?
We need to get you out of here.
We gotta get you some help.
Hey, where'd you go?
Hey!
Oh, goddamnit.
What the hell was that?
Oh, shit.
- Ah, you've awakened.
Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa.
Okay, my friend.
- Who the hell are you?
- My name is Ahmad.
I found you unconscious near the woods.
I hope you don't mind, I took the liberty
of cleaning your wounds.
- How'd you get out here?
- I may ask you the same question, my friend.
- You're a fugitive.
- Ah.
I thought I had escaped.
But I am far from free.
- What did you do?
- I took what is not mine.
I bring you no harm.
Please, sit.
Are you hungry?
Take it easy, my friend.
The meat is rich.
You'll make yourself ill if you eat too quick.
- Thank you for this.
- The pleasure's mine.
I must confess,
I haven't shared a meal in many days.
And I fear the solitude breeds madness.
- Well I suspect if you were gonna kill me,
you wouldn't feed me first.
- Well, that would depend on
the degree of my madness.
I'm just messing with you, my friend.
- So where you from?
You hear those?
- How could I not?
- I've been hearing things.
I've been seeing all kinds of things
that don't make sense.
- I fear these things are quite real.
They accompany my day
and my nightmares as I sleep.
- Yeah, what the hell are they?
- I do not know.
But the fire seems to keep them at a distance.
In my religion, when you're very young,
we are taught of the djinn.
Are you familiar with this term?
- Only the liquor.
- I am Muslim.
Not the liquor.
The djinn are dark beings created by Allah.
- You're talking about demons.
- Not demons.
But not human, either.
They are depraved creatures
caught between worlds.
Living in the shadows, forever wandering,
until their day of judgement.
- Maybe you have been out here too long.
- Well, that may be.
But then I must ask you a question, my friend.
Do you have a better theory?
Stay close, my friend.
As the darkness grows,
so too does their impatience.
I plan to move at first light.
Will you join me?
- Let's get the hell out of here.
- I'll be quick, my friend.
Until then, you keep the flames bright.
- Yeah.
- What are you doing?
- Don't move!
Please,
don't move.
- What are you doing?
- I know you.
You've been here before.
- I don't know what you're talking about.
- They didn't follow you here.
You led them to me.
You're one of them.
- One of who?
- The djinn.
- That's insane
- They're here.
If it is my time, I will take you with me.
I swear to you.
- I"m not one of them.
You fed me.
You treated my wounds.
I'm human, flesh and blood, just like you.
- Don't lie to me!
- I'm not.
You heard me.
I'm your friend.
Ahmad, please.
Please.
Ahmad, please.
- I'm sorry.
I'm sorry.
I'm so sorry.
We must run.
- What are you doing?
Ahmad!
Ahmad, what's going on?
Hey, what's happening?
Ahmad, what are you doing?
We gotta get out of here.
We gotta go now!
- Go on!
- No, goddamnit, I'm taking you with me.
Come on!
Come on, get up.
- Get out of here.
- Come on!
- Go alone, my friend.
Now!
- Remiel!
I am done with your bullshit!
I found that body you disposed of!
And Mrs. Gates.
You son of a bitch!
Goddamnit, Remiel, you face me!
- Of all the music of man,
this is undeniably the most sorrowful.
Don't you agree?
I apologize for that.
It was purely self defense, I assure you.
- Is this hell?
- Oh no, Mr. Dawles.
This most certainly is not.
- Why did you kill Mrs. Gates?
- Kill?
For shame, Mr. Dawles, I am no murderer.
She has been freed.
- She's dead!
- That
was rude,
Mr. Dawles.
- Why am I here?
- To appraise the estate, of course.
- Bullshit.
- You have a visitor, Mr. Dawles.
- A visitor?
- What is it about visitor that you
don't understand?
- Who?
- See for yourself.
- Rebecca?
How did you get here?
- Same way you did.
- I don't understand.
We need to leave, Rebecca,
we have to go right now.
- How was she?
- Who?
- Lying only makes it hurt more, Henry.
- Oh, no.
Oh, shit.
Oh.
Oh, Rebecca.
Rebecca, what happened?
- I knew from the beginning
and I tried to convince myself
that you wouldn't do that to me.
To us.
To our baby girl.
I held it all in.
The pain and the heartbreak.
I thought I'd been strong.
But I wasn't strong enough for both of us.
- What are you doing?
Rebecca, put down the gun.
- She died inside me, Henry.
I was pregnant with our dead child
while you were out there sleeping
with that woman.
That whore!
- Rebecca, please.
- I loved you.
I loved her.
- I do love you.
Ever since the first time I saw you,
I've always loved you.
- You brought her into our home, Henry.
Into our bedroom.
In our bed!
- I know.
It was a mistake, it was a horrible mistake.
And I ended it.
- It's over?
- Yeah, it's over.
I swear.
That's right, baby, just put down that gun.
We need to get you to a hospital, okay?
- Love is the true seed of every virtue in you.
And for all acts for which you must atone.
- No.
- I love you, Henry
- I'm sorry,
I'm so sorry.
- Many nights I've imagined all the souls
that must have passed through here.
Each with their own story to tell.
- They're depraved creatures
caught between worlds.
Living in the shadow, forever wandering,
'til the day of judgement.
- But I can't finish this job in one night.
- That's quite all right, Mr. Dawles.
There will always be others.
- Rebecca?
How did you get up here?
- The same way you did.
- Are we dead?
- Yes, Henry.
- I'm sorry.
I never meant to hurt you.
I was lonely.
And I was weak.
I'm so sorry.
- You broke my heart.
But I put us here.
- What can I do?
- You must repent.
Just as I will.
- How?
- He's waiting for you.
- So good of you to join me, Mr. Dawles.
- What is this place?
- And so he created a place of purification.
A land of provisional torment
for those who are not yet worthy.
A place where the glutton shall starve,
where the envious shall be blinded,
where the slothful shall never rest,
where the prideful shall serve,
where the greedy shall be chained,
where the wrathful shall mourn,
and where the lustful shall burn.
I'm proud of you, Mr. Dawles.
You are doing far better than ever before.
- What do you mean before?
- Don't you remember?
You have failed
many times.
- So what are you?
- Isn't that entirely clear?
I am the overseer of this land
and the guardian of the process.
My role is quite simple,
to purify.
- What do I have to do?
- The flames will judge the lustful soul.
And if it proves worthy,
the spirit will ascend.
- And if not?
This is insane.
- There is no alternative for repentance.
The lustful soul
must cross the flames.
- I can't.
- You must!
- I won't leave her!
Not again.
- She is one of the suffering.
It is not yet her time.
- Then I will wait
however long it takes.
- This is your final opportunity for salvation.
Deny it and you will be damned.
- Then I'll be damned.
- And you will.
- Henry.
Cross the fire.
Repent.
I love you.
- That's it, Mr. Dawles.
Walk into the flame.
Become
penitent.
- Mr. Remiel can be a rather demanding soul.
Just do as he asks and I promise you,
compensation can be quite generous.
- May I help you?
Mr. Remiel has put you at the north end
of the estate, overlooking the pond.
Once you've settled, you're to join him
for a nightcap in the library.
- Ma'am.
Your room.
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