After the break, a spaced-out Judy is trying to figure out how to knead break in the bakery when Monsignor Howard shows up, still wearing his robe of recovery and clears the room. He's all full of apologies for how he, you know, stood idly by while Jude was accused of murder, locked up without so much as a hearing and subjected to torturous medical procedures. His bad. He's probably lucky that Jude can barely speak at the moment, much less move. Particularly when he leans into her and conspiratorially whispers that the Devil resides in Sister Mary Eunice. It's really too bad she can't slap him right now. He goes on and on, feeling sorry for himself, telling Jude about how Eunice took his virtue from him. You can't tell me he doesn't know what he's doing at least a little when he reaches his hand out to Jude's for "counsel." He's hoping a glimmer of her is still in there that is still on a string for him. To Jude's credit, even in her weakened state, she doesn't lift a finger for him. Instead, she's going to make him do it himself: "Kill her," she groans at him. I'm so torn! I want Sister Jude to win, but is a world worth living in without Devil Eunice?
Elsewhere, Dr. Thredson is looking for Dr. Arden and knocks on his office door. There's no answer, so Thredson just goes barging right in. Why of all the terrible things this man has done... okay, it's probably not as bad as the killing and the skinning and the raping. But that doesn't give him an excuse to just barge into a man's office. He's looking for sodium pentothal to use on Kit (like Kit isn't dumb enough to just volunteer the location of the tapes on his own), but what he ends up finding is Grace. On a slab. With labor pains. And Pepper, whose head pops up from between Grace's legs and announces, "She's crowning." And Bloody Face himself looks at them like, "That's fucked up."
Monsignor Howard is fiercely praying in his corner when Eunice pays him a visit and finishes his prayer for him. She offers him a second shot at nailing her, but she quickly figures out that he means not to screw her, but to kill her. She taunts him for a bit about how he might do it: letter opener to the heart? Too messy. Bludgeon her with the statue of St. Francis? Too ironic, since Francis renounced his debauchery after living a life of sin, while Howard has done the opposite. She offers her throat to him to strangle, revealing that she knows that's how he killed the Shelley Thing. He's too jittery to try anything at the moment, which only emboldens Eunice. She offers him a deal wherein they will partner up and rise throughout the Catholic ranks, all the way to Pope. It's what he wants, after all. He meekly refuses, but she tells him he's weak and she knows it. "You're mine now," she taunts, "body and soul." He follows her out to the stairwell, refusing to bend to her will. He says that he can tell there's still a glimmer of Mary Eunice inside her, which only makes the Devil angrier. She pushes him up against the bannister and warns him not to enrage her further. She rages that she's done with him and is about to "devour the last morsel" of Mary Eunice's soul. But this angry outburst seems to have left an opening for Mary Eunice to peek through again. Surprise, she's crying. "I'm sorry, Monsignor," she begs. "I'm tired of fighting." She says she wants to let go and he tells her to let go of him, then. She does, at which point Howard finally sacks up and tosses her over the bannister, down about three stories to the floor. Mary Eunice looks up at him with a kind of gratitude on her face. And as our Angel Conroy bends down to take both Mary Eunice and her demon tormentor out of Briarcliff, I'm staring at my TV with tears on my face. Oh sweet, sweet demon. Your wickedness was too pure for this equivocating world. You didn't deserve to have your vulgar light snuffed out by such an unworthy adversary. Take a few weeks off, haunt a beach house, watch the Golden Globes, then come back to torment some self-satisfied Orange County trophy wife or something. You'll be back on your cloven feet in no time.