Verbatim: "No one -- not a priest, shaman, doctor -- can draw a spirit out of a body."
Crew: "Thank God you're here, white guy."
Kurt: "It has to be forced out from inside, by Lincoln himself. The way you do that is, tell him you love him."
They do. (And by "they," of course, I mean Emmet. All that matters are daddies and sons.) The demon is vanquished pretty much immediately after Emmet tosses around some casual references to basic banal facts of Lincoln's life -- including his first kiss, at 19, which was surprisingly enough with Russ Landry, who is dead now, but still probably pretty hot if I know the Boiuna like I think I do -- and then everybody does a great big group hug.
Salsa capers, AJ films it, Clark is sober as a judge, everybody is down with it. Except for poor Cappie, who is pieces, and except for Lena, who now has several more reasons to feel weird about Lincoln and is not in the mood for hugs. It went like this:
Big Old Russ Landry: "I've waited so long for this moment!"
Tiny Creepy Lincoln Cole: "I can name all the bones in the human hand!"
Bet you're sorry you faked that seizure now, honey.
Emmet: "Man, finding out everything was true seemed like a good idea at the time, but suddenly taking on this retrograde heteronormative nuclear-family stance makes me feel so much more like a Republican. Who needs magic or adventure when you can happily get bitched at by your wife and son from the comfort of your own home? Where it's only white people, all the time?"
Tess: "I will absolutely be much happier in the regular Amazon, where actions have consequences and you can't just go swimming around with giant gaping wounds because of the creatures and diseases. I just have a feeling like today's the day we're 2 km from the mouth of the Boiuna, sailing for home."
Crew: "Yay! This worthless show is over... OR IS IT?"
Suddenly the Boiuna begins to morph itself into new shapes around the Magus, fencing them in, taking them offline, killing the GPS, hiding the helicopter, sealing them in a jungly envelope of torture and terror and death that we will never, ever have to watch again. Finally we can score one for the good guys.
Have fun, bitches! I hope you never get out. There may be magic out there, but I'd rather enjoy life out here, thanks.
JACOB CLIFTON is a freelance writer and critic based in Austin, Texas. He currently recaps Gossip Girl, The Good Wife, Pretty Little Liars and True Blood for TWoP. Jacob can be found online at jacobclifton.com, on Twitter, and on Facebook. IRL work appears in BenBella's SmartPop series of anthologies, most recently A Friday Night Lights Companion and Fringe Science.