All language subtitles for The Collector - S01E10 - The Childrens Book Writer

Isn't there anything
that we can do for her?

I shall be dead in a few hours.

Hush, little baby. Your mummy will
have to put you in the cellar again.

Where'd you get that?

Come now, dear boy,
you're over 600 years old,

and we still have to talk
about where babies come from?

Did you steal it?

I created this baby myself.

It's getting lots of
compliments in my nursing mother's group.

You wouldn't believe how susceptible
those women are from postpartum depression.

They'll sell their
souls for a night's sleep.

Something on your mind?

It's you.

You're doing it.

What?

I can't stop it.

All I think about is the plague.

Death.

You're pushing the memories into my mind.

I'm doing no such thing. I'm putting
all my energies into little Damien now.

Not while you're on duty.

You have a name for me?

Edwin Yancey.

Isn't it lovely?

These are all my little souls.

I used to gather them myself, but by
the 14th century, I needed some help.

That's how I found Morgan. He was a
monk back then, so he played hard to get,

but I found that with the right
bait, you can catch any fish you want.

In the end, he came to work
for me. He became a collector.

Then recently he made me
the most interesting proposal

he wants to seek
salvation for his clients.

I decided to let him try.

For now.

When Mother Mouse came back
to her little blue house,

she found that Michael and
Matilda had eaten all the cheese.

All of it!

And their bellies were so big
that they looked like furry

little basketballs with
snouts and pointy tails.

Well, Mother Mouse was so mad that
even her whiskers turned bright red.

And Matilda and Michael got very nervous.

But all they could do was roll back and
forth, trying to point at each other,

saying, he did it. No, she did it.

What do you think Mother Mouse did to
naughty little Michael and Matilda?

Well, I'm not going to spoil it for
you. You'll just have to read the book.

Mr. Yancey.

Yes.

My name is Morgan Penn.

I've come to talk about your deal.

I've tried so hard to put it from my mind.

I stopped keeping track
of the date years ago

so I don't think about it all the time.

Now it's time to go.

You still have 48 hours
and a chance at redemption.

You mean I could live?

Let's go somewhere we can talk.

Oh, hi, Blair.

I'm just finishing up
the article right now.

I'm sorry it's late.

No, no, no, no, I can
handle it. I'm sorry.

If I don't have something to
do, I really will go crazy.

Okay. Okay.

Hey.

How you doing, fuzzy?

I know you.

You're Edwin Yancey. I recognize you
from the picture on the back of your books.

They were my favorites when I was a kid.

Well, can I have your autograph?

Sure. I can't believe
you know Edwin Yancey.

Well, Kate, grab a
booth. I'll order for you.

There's a reason I'm a bachelor.

Pretty girls make me all flustered.

But I think that one has her eye on you.

Mr. Yancey, I've seen a
lot of strange deals.

But I never met anyone who sold their
soul just to write children's books.

Oh, yes.

Ideal.

I know it's odd, but just
about all I ever wanted

was to gladden the hearts of children.

Writer's cliché.

But I myself have had, well,
a pretty horrific childhood.

My father was an alcoholic
who worked for the railroads.

One day, he was drunk on
the job. It was horrible.

He slipped under a
train and lost his legs.

After that, my mother, Viola,
she had to support us and, well,

she took it out on all of us.

Especially me.

So, it may seem silly to
you, but it was worth it to me.

If Maya grew up with your books, you
must have been successful before your deal.

Oh, I was, here in Canada.

But now, my books have been
translated into 32 languages.

I've traveled all over
doing readings for kids

like the one I was doing in
the bookstore. I love those.

I've been so lucky.

I just wanted to use
my talents to do good.

Are there really only two days left?

This is all the time we have.

Did you get this phone from him?

I wrote a whole book once
about a boy who wanted to

push a mysterious button
to see what would happen.

That's the button that takes your soul.

Why would you have a button
like that if you help people?

I've taken a vow never to push the button.

Always start with dessert.

Then eat dinner if
there's room. Dog in the

Log. That was my favorite book. You okay?

Yeah.

Edwin and I have to talk now.

Okay, I'll leave you guys alone.

It was really great to meet you.

Goodbye.

What's wrong?

All right, the key to
redemption is finding

out who was harmed as
a result of your deal,

who suffered for your good luck.

It may be obscure in your
case, but can you think of anyone?

There is one person.

She's a woman. Her name is Donna
Barnes. She lives here in Vancouver.

She's a housewife, but she wants
to be a children's book writer.

What happened to her?

Her book was rejected by my publisher,

and she seems to have
convinced herself that I engineered

it somehow to keep a
rival out of the market.

She sent me some very nasty letters.

Creepy, really threatening.

This woman, I'm afraid she's not
well. I think we better pay her a visit.

What?

Hello, uh, Ms. Barnes.

My name is, um... Edwin Yancey.

You little weasel!

How dare you come to my
house after what you did?

What's the matter?

Are you afraid that I'm
going to tell everybody about

how you stomp on other
writers and steal their ideas?

Because that's the only
explanation for your getting

rich off those books which
are so treacly and stupid,

unlike mine, which at least has some edge.

I could speak to my publisher, see if
he'd be maybe willing to take a second look.

Don't do me any favors.

Is it all going to be this difficult?

And then in August, this
is still three years ago,

I did a reading at the cutest little
bookstore in Edmonton run by a married couple,

Nancy and Bill, and had 13
children come to the reading.

Edwin, I don't need to hear every
minute of your life for the last 10 years.

Can you think of anyone else besides
Donna Barnes who's been hurt by your deal?

I'm sorry.

I'm sorry. I'll try to focus more.

It's just that whenever I think about
why we're doing this... Take a break.

Morgan Pym.

Mr. Pym.

Jerry Slate.

Hi. I'm working. Can I call you back?

I just need to ask you a question.

Okay.

Have you had any contact with my son?

No.

Why?

Well, a few days ago, Gabe
took your card off my desk,

and apparently he was trying to call you.

Which is really weird
because he doesn't talk.

I've never met him. How
would he even know about me?

Maybe he overheard us the
night you came over to our house.

Slate.

Oh, and another thing.

He's in the hospital right now.

But the night he was admitted...

Yeah, thanks.

Sleeping like a baby. What are you up to?

Why did you put me at the
hospital when Jerry's son went in?

Could just be a coincidence.

Coincidences don't smell like brimstone.

This whole thing stinks. The hospital,
these visions I keep having of now Edwin.

He spends his time
reading stories to children.

He hasn't hurt anybody except
maybe one grouchy housewife.

Yes, it is a mystery.

I think you may find the balancing bad
luck in this case a little surprising.

Bombs out. You want a boost?

It's just loose.

That kid in 401 must have left that here.

That's what the corpse looks like.

Assuming all the body
parts in the ball are his.

You know what?

Exports.

Interesting line of work.

It's challenging.

Well, I think I've got
everything I need from Miss Kandinsky.

Can I see her now?

Yeah, sure.

You're not suspects.

You'd think it's a serial killer.

The hand in the ball,
the pinky was severed.

I know serial killers have a
habit of keeping souvenirs.

I'm going to have to ask you and Miss
Kandinsky not to talk to the media.

We've been keeping the pinky thing quiet.

Helps eliminate the false confessions.

There's a lot of crazies out
there who want to take credit.

How many victims? Mr. Pym. You
want us to keep quiet about this?

22 that fit the pattern.

Yeah, it's Edwin.

I got some sleeping pills, but you have
to call me first thing in the morning.

I will.

Maya, it's me.

The police are sure it was random.

Yeah, they told me the
same thing, but still.

It makes you realize how much
bad stuff is going on around you.

You don't even think about it.

What's the matter? Are you okay?

I'm sorry.

What? Why? Where?

I've got to go.

I want to ask around the neighborhood.
See if anybody knows anything about this.

Morgan, it's the middle of the night.
Whoever did this is still out there.

I'll be back in a few hours.

Call me if you get scared.

After that and another
Viola, she had to support us.

It's such an amazing
coincidence, isn't it?

I'm a collector too.

Then you told me it was a lie.

Is that why you sold your soul?

So you could kill
people and not get caught?

How did you know where I live?

He told me.

I wanted you to find out.
I need to unburden myself.

That's why I left you
that present in the hallway.

You sick bastard!

You murder people and then
write books about it for children.

Actually, I write the books first when
I'm planning it, but it's just the titles.

The stories are very enjoyable. How many?

How many in your ten years?
How many fingers in that bag?

Oh, there were more than that.

Sometimes when I'm watching TV, I
run out of Cheetos. Your time is up,

Edwin Yancey. When I let you go.

He's been killing people for
decades before he made his deal.

Why would you make a deal
with Unless, of course,

they seal it themselves by making
a deal with me. For everyone else,

there's always that chance of redemption.

Well, he's not getting redemption from me.

You better help him, same as the
others, or our little deal is off.

Don't you remember what
you said when you asked

me if you can try and
save their pathetic souls?

They're all deserving.

That's the point.

Nobody ever understands what they're
getting into when they deal with you.

I guess now we'll find out just how
full you are of the Lord's forgiveness.

Please, don't hurt me.

I'm not going to hurt you.

But if we're going to seek redemption
for you, you can't lie to me anymore.

Thank you.

It makes sense.

I'm sorry. I'm so
sorry for what I've done.

I can't help myself.

Ever since I was a little
kid, I've killed things.

Bugs.

Small animals. I tried
for so many years to

control it, but finally, I just couldn't.

I've done such terrible things.

If you're so sorry,
why'd you make a deal with

the devil so you could
kill even more people?

No, that wasn't it at all.

I really made my deal so
I could do good. Good?

It's true. I sold my soul so I could kill
anyone I wanted. I couldn't stop myself.

But I also asked for
guidance about who to kill.

I asked the devil to guide me
toward people, bad people like myself.

And ever since then, the only people
I've killed were people who deserve to die.

People who were committing horrible
crimes and getting away with it undetected.

Oh, like the man in the beach ball.

His name is Arthur
something, a homeless man.

He was killing other street people.

Look, I've been following him
for a month. I have pictures.

I can use a flash, obviously, but my
telephoto lens really worked nicely.

Anyway, now he's dead.

So really, it's like I'm an angel, sort
of, protecting people from killers like me.

That's true.

Don't you believe me?

I've heard this before. You could
help me cleanse the world of the wicked,

the selfish, the monstrous.

Please.

You have to believe me, because it's true.

And I want to be a good person like
you. I want you to be proud of me.

The only way I'll ever be
proud of you is if you truly

make amends for all the
evil things you've done.

I will.

I swear, I will.

And the good news is,
since I've done so much good,

I'm sure my amends won't be very
difficult. So it should be an easy week for you.

Oh, do you mind if I put
my pinkies in your fridge?

I don't want them to spoil.

They're not going to spoil.

Because the first thing we're
going to do is take that bag to the

police so they can identify your
victims from the fingerprints.

No, I don't think that's a very good idea.

Who would expect to
ever make amends if you

don't take
responsibility for your murders?

Well, I think there are two obvious
reasons why we can't go to the police.

One, they'd immediately
take me into custody,

and then I wouldn't be able to
see you again before my deal ends,

which would be bad because...

You're really my conscience now, and I
need you to make sure that I seek redemption.

And two?

And two, I still have one more person
to kill before my deal is up. What?

You've met her, actually.

That Donald Barnes woman.

She's a black widow.

That's what we call a female
serial killer in the trade.

She's already done her husband.
She's about to kill her stepchildren.

I have to finish her before my time is
up. If I didn't, that really would be a sin,

wouldn't it? You're insane.

If the Barnes woman is a
killer, we'll tell the police.

Please.

If she were stupid enough
to get caught by the police,

she wouldn't be a
serial killer, would she?

And besides, there's no
death penalty in Canada.

Even if they caught her, she'd be out in
ten years. Where's the justice in that?

You're not the angel of death.

Who dies, who gets punished?

It's up to God.

Well, personally, I think there are
times when God is very lax in his duties.

Sometimes I think he doesn't even care.

If he does, why did he make me?

Sorry.

Sore subject.

I didn't mean to depress you.

Look, just come with me. If
you're going to help me save myself,

you need to see what I
see, know what I know.

I'm not going to let you kill anyone. No.

No killing. Tonight. Tonight.

You're right.

My powers must be waning.

Straighten my back putting
that man into the beach bowl.

I love children, you know.

I was a normal child
myself till I got hit in

the head with a swing.
No more games, Edwin.

What do you mean? Your first
childhood belonged to Henry Lee Lucas.

This one belongs to John Wayne Gacy.

You've been studying up on serial killers.

I took a soul.

Show me what you want me to see.

She killed her husband last year.

Accidental drowning.

She won't start spending the insurance
money until she gets rid of the kids.

She bought it last week. Used, no traces.

She's gonna do the kids while
they're sleeping tomorrow night,

and set fire to the house to cover it up.

It's all written down in
her diary in your bedroom.

You wanna see it, I'm
sure she won't wake up.

Let's get outta here.

What is it?

A real sleeping pill.

Oh, I don't need this. I
actually sleep like a baby.

How do I know it isn't poison?

If I were going to kill
you, you'd already be dead.

I know what you think of me.

I'm a liar and a monster.

And I am.

God, I am.

But I'm still one of
God's children, aren't I?

Don't we all deserve a chance
to prove that we can be good?

All I'm saying is please,
please don't give up on me.

You're my last chance.

Who are you, boy?

It's Morgan Pym.

Hello?

I need to see you.

They scheduled these readings weeks
ago, and I hate to let the children down.

Hello!

This better be important.

I need your advice.

About what?

If you knew something was going
to happen to someone who was evil,

punishment they deserved, that they
wouldn't get any other way, what would you do?

Would you keep quiet?

Are you kidding? I tell the cops.

I don't want that stuff on my shoulders.

There's a woman named Donna Barnes.

She lives on Powell.

I have reason to believe that
she killed her husband and others.

And something's going to happen to her?

But I'd like you to
tell the police about her.

Another anonymous tip, huh?

Under one condition.

Tell me why you left the priesthood.

Did you find out that
there was no God or something?

It was more complicated than that.

When I tell my son about my husband Danny,

I tell him angels took his
dad because God needed him.

Sounds good, huh? But the
truth is, Danny just died.

Come on, Peter. Just wait a second.

Let's start over.

Talk to the cops. Leave my name out of it.

And tell them if they don't get
there soon, she'll already be dead.

Dr. Barnes, open the door.

Edwin.

Jerry Slate.

I'm at the house.

The police aren't here.

I've done a little
checking. Whoever gave you that

tip about Barnes is
wrong. Her husband is alive.

He's on a business trip to Seattle.

You told them everything!

Careful. You'll arouse
my maternal instinct.

Everything was a lie.

He was going after Maya from the
beginning. And you helped him!

You're the Great Redeemer.

I thought it would be
a better test of your

faith if there were some personal stakes.

I've had my test of faith.

I failed it.

Where is she?

Why have you been shoving
hints into my brain for

two days if you weren't
going to help me now?

My ways are mysterious.

Solve your own problems.

Why he's not a killer?

Wasn't that Edwin's
deal? To murder the guilty?

Edwin asked for guidance.

But like any omnipotent being, I like
to leave my adherents their free will.

This is his choice.

And until his time is up, he
gets to kill anyone he wants.

I haven't got much time left, you know.

You wanted me to fight you.

Who's here? Is somebody
here? Please, please,

oh God, please, no, please. Maya, it's me.

Morgan, please, please, no,
please, Morgan, please, please.

Of course I wanted you to find me.

I want you to understand me,
Morgan. That's why I kept secrets.

I wanted you to see that there's
more to me than just monsters.

I wanted you to know me
as a writer, as a friend.

Are we friends, Morgan?

Liar!

I know you're just lying to
save her, but it won't work.

If you're going to stop
me, you'll have to fight me.

I'm not here to fight you.

I'm here to help you.

All right.

You can't fight me.

You have to make me
repent. I feel the Holy Spirit.

I'm not gonna let you hurt her, Edwin.

Hallelujah!

She was just a bait.

To get you into my
playpen. You could have saved

me with love and
understanding, but you didn't.

So instead, you're going to be my finale.

It's possible.

Looks like the devil
didn't tell you everything.

But this can't happen.

This wasn't my deal!

I get to kill whoever I
want, and I wanted to kill you!

What does it mean that it's
not counting down anymore?

It's over.

Is that it?

I'm saved.

My deal.

He didn't give me what I wanted.

The deal is broken. He did it on purpose.

He knew that I
couldn't kill you. I'm free.

Ah, my, oh, God, no.

The devil didn't tell me
about your immortality,

but he did tell me that you
can't leave the city limits.

I guess we won't be seeing each
other anymore, but it's been fun.

It doesn't matter where you go.

I'll turn you in.

And if you do, I'll wait
till my big televised trial,

and when the cameras are rolling,

I'll tell everyone who's watching
that I made a deal with the devil,

and we'll all go
straight to hell together.

He told me that rule, too.

You win some, you lose some.

But hey!

You saved my soul.

You'll get it sooner or
later. You'll still go to hell.

Never know. I might
repent right at the end.

After all, no one's
fate is ever truly sealed.

There's always that chance at redemption.

Even for you.