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Chapters (206)
  1. Praise for Maplecroft
  2. Title page
  3. Copyright page
  4. Contents
  5. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  6. THESE ARE THE THINGS AN EARTHQUAKE BRINGS
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  12. A DOCTOR, A LAWYER, A MERCHANT, A CHIEF
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  20. Phillip Zollicoffer, Professor of Biology, Miskatonic University
  21. Lizzie Andrew Borden
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  26. BE SURE YOUR SINS WILL FIND YOU OUT
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  29. I CROSS THE MAGPIE, THE MAGPIE CROSSES ME
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  31. Nance O’Neil
  32. THIS KNOT I KNIT, THIS KNOT I TIE
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  37. AND IF YOU HAVE A HORSE WITH ONE WHITE LEG . . .
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  43. THE WORST IS TO BE JUDGED WITHOUT HOPE
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  46. Lizzie Andrew Borden
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  53. BUT NETTLE SHANT HAVE NOTHING
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  55. CUT THEM ON FRIDAY, YOU CUT THEM FOR SORROW
  56. Phillip Zollicoffer, Professor of Biology, Miskatonic University
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  62. HAPPY IS THE CORPSE THAT THE RAIN SHINES ON
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  67. A DWELLING PLACE OF JACKALS, THE DESOLATION FOREVER
  68. Lizzie Andrew Borden
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  71. Nance O’Neil
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  84. Emma L. Borden
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  88. Owen Seabury, M.D.
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  91. Lizzie Andrew Borden
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  93. RIGHT CHEEK, LEFT CHEEK—WHY DO YOU BURN?
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  101. Aaron B. Stewart, Fire Chief, Farthington, Mass.
  102. Emma L. Borden
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  104. Gerald Macintyre, Telegraph Clerk, Western Union
  105. Owen Seabury, M.D.
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  107. Physalia, Z. University I Was Not Now
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  109. DEPART, ALL ANIMALS WITHOUT BONES
  110. Emma L. Borden
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  115. Owen Seabury, M.D.
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  119. Lizzie Andrew Borden
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  130. Owen Seabury, M.D.
  131. Phillip Zollicoffer. Physalia Zollicoffris.
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  137. Christoff Dane, M.D., Ph.D., University of Rhode Island, Kingston
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  139. Emma L. Borden
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  144. Owen Seabury, M.D.
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  150. Emma L. Borden
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  153. FAMILY SLAIN IN MAYFIELD
  154. Owen Seabury, M.D.
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  165. Lizzie Andrew Borden
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  176. Emma L. Borden
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  186. Owen Seabury, M.D.
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  197. Lizzie Andrew Borden
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  205. Inspector Simon Wolf
  206. •   •   •

The creature fell backward, and Lizbeth’s axe caught it on the downswing, striking the base of its neck and almost completely decapitating it.

Its head lolled to the side, and back, and down to dangle against its chest. The creature fell to its knees, and Lizbeth struck it some more, again and again, well past the point at which it must have been dead.

•   •   •

(But . . . once I thought I knew of death. Now I’m not so sure. The line is finer than I would have ever guessed, and with these inhuman things? Are they mortal enough to die? And if so, do they die on the same terms as the rest of us?)

•   •   •

Finally the monster lay on the ground, looking like some bony pulp with a loosely humanesque structure. I climbed to my feet and stood over the mess, wishing for all the world that we had a light and I could see it better—for this whole battle had been fought in pitch-dark, save what slivers of ambient glow the small town afforded us. The whole thing took place in silhouette, in outline, in vague impressions like strokes of paint intended only to suggest an event, not portray it with any real accuracy.

Half of what I’ve composed here has likewise been conjecture, informed by those brushstrokes. Conjecture, combined with Lizbeth’s account. Between us, I think we’ve recorded it with as much truth as we could muster.

We’ve done our best, and then some.

But the creature . . . it lay flat upon the earth, oozing onto the grass. I thought perhaps it twitched, but again, the light was so poor that I would not swear this was the case. Lizbeth was panting, leaning on the axe for support, and clutching at her stomach as if she could scarcely catch her breath.

“Lizbeth,” I called her by the name she suggested, the one I always tried to remember, but didn’t, And my own breath had hardly been corralled enough for even that lone word.

“Doctor?”

“Are . . . are you all right?”

Grimly she informed me, “Not yet.” She straightened up, sniffled hard, took a deep breath, and brushed her hair out of her face—for all the good that did. “We have to get this thing inside.”

I thought I had misheard her. “Inside?”

“Yes, inside. You wanted to see the laboratory, didn’t you? No—” She gestured with the axe and shook her head. I’d been leaning down to touch the thing. “Don’t touch it,” she told me. “Not with your bare hands. It’ll only hurt later. We’ll . . . you and I, Doctor. We’ll put this thing to rest for good.”

“Is it dead?”

She sounded exhausted when she replied, “I have no idea.”