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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
  7. •   •   •
  8. •   •   •
  9. •   •   •
  10. •   •   •
  11. •   •   •
  12. A DOCTOR, A LAWYER, A MERCHANT, A CHIEF
  13. •   •   •
  14. •   •   •
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  17. •   •   •
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  20. Phillip Zollicoffer, Professor of Biology, Miskatonic University
  21. Lizzie Andrew Borden
  22. •   •   •
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  24. •   •   •
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  26. BE SURE YOUR SINS WILL FIND YOU OUT
  27. •   •   •
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  29. I CROSS THE MAGPIE, THE MAGPIE CROSSES ME
  30. •   •   •
  31. Nance O’Neil
  32. THIS KNOT I KNIT, THIS KNOT I TIE
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  34. •   •   •
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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
  44. •   •   •
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  46. Lizzie Andrew Borden
  47. •   •   •
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  52. •   •   •
  53. BUT NETTLE SHANT HAVE NOTHING
  54. •   •   •
  55. CUT THEM ON FRIDAY, YOU CUT THEM FOR SORROW
  56. Phillip Zollicoffer, Professor of Biology, Miskatonic University
  57. •   •   •
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  62. HAPPY IS THE CORPSE THAT THE RAIN SHINES ON
  63. •   •   •
  64. •   •   •
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  67. A DWELLING PLACE OF JACKALS, THE DESOLATION FOREVER
  68. Lizzie Andrew Borden
  69. •   •   •
  70. •   •   •
  71. Nance O’Neil
  72. •   •   •
  73. •   •   •
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  84. Emma L. Borden
  85. •   •   •
  86. •   •   •
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  88. Owen Seabury, M.D.
  89. •   •   •
  90. •   •   •
  91. Lizzie Andrew Borden
  92. •   •   •
  93. RIGHT CHEEK, LEFT CHEEK—WHY DO YOU BURN?
  94. •   •   •
  95. •   •   •
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  101. Aaron B. Stewart, Fire Chief, Farthington, Mass.
  102. Emma L. Borden
  103. •   •   •
  104. Gerald Macintyre, Telegraph Clerk, Western Union
  105. Owen Seabury, M.D.
  106. •   •   •
  107. Physalia, Z. University I Was Not Now
  108. •   •   •
  109. DEPART, ALL ANIMALS WITHOUT BONES
  110. Emma L. Borden
  111. •   •   •
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  115. Owen Seabury, M.D.
  116. •   •   •
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  119. Lizzie Andrew Borden
  120. •   •   •
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  130. Owen Seabury, M.D.
  131. Phillip Zollicoffer. Physalia Zollicoffris.
  132. •   •   •
  133. •   •   •
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  135. •   •   •
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  137. Christoff Dane, M.D., Ph.D., University of Rhode Island, Kingston
  138. •   •   •
  139. Emma L. Borden
  140. •   •   •
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  144. Owen Seabury, M.D.
  145. •   •   •
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  149. •   •   •
  150. Emma L. Borden
  151. •   •   •
  152. •   •   •
  153. FAMILY SLAIN IN MAYFIELD
  154. Owen Seabury, M.D.
  155. •   •   •
  156. •   •   •
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  165. Lizzie Andrew Borden
  166. •   •   •
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  176. Emma L. Borden
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  186. Owen Seabury, M.D.
  187. •   •   •
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  197. Lizzie Andrew Borden
  198. •   •   •
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  204. •   •   •
  205. Inspector Simon Wolf
  206. •   •   •

He passed the second test as well, when we sat up late in the night with Nance. Lizzie had gone downstairs into the laboratory to finish the last of the cleaning up and locking down, leaving me and Doctor Seabury to entertain one another over the sleeping, drooling form of my sister’s lover—who never much stirred, and never much whimpered . . . except to cry softly from time to time. And to repeat that unsettling mantra: out . . . out . . . out . . .

So the doctor and I kept each other company. He asked me questions, and I answered them as best I could. If my sister had been there with us, she might’ve slipped me sharp gazes, or cleared her throat pointedly, to keep me from sharing too much. She’s so very careful, always, and I do not mean to diminish the necessity of this—I only admit that I find it tiring. More tiring than being ill. More tiring than ringing bells for minutes and minutes on end, my heart racing with terror that the bells may ring forever and not be answered. Not by her, at least.

And when I can’t ring the bells any longer, and when I’m all out of bullets . . . what would become of me then?

Same as Father and Mrs. Borden, I guess. Same as the Hamiltons.

•   •   •

Except . . . there’s this. I’ve wondered a terrible thing, a time or two—then quickly shoved it from my mind, like the decent human being I remain thus far. What if I were to become afflicted, or infected, or . . . touched . . . with whatever strange taint is creeping through the town? What then? Would I become like Father, with the strength of five men and the temper of a minotaur, angry and hungry, but full of power? Would I turn into Mrs. Borden, fast and heavy, with fists that could break down doors and a back that could overturn a cart? Or Matthew? Who . . . if the doctor’s report is accurate, via Ebenezer Hamilton, was able to lift his mother aloft with one hand and hold her in midair.

Such strength. Like I’ve never known, or can’t remember. I don’t recall the last time I was able to walk unaided into town, or dash up and down a set of stairs. I can’t remember what it feels like to run, and I doubt I ever shall feel that joy again. Not without some unnatural intervention.

But I didn’t tell Doctor Seabury about any of that.