Chapters (206)
- Praise for Maplecroft
- Title page
- Copyright page
- Contents
- ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
- THESE ARE THE THINGS AN EARTHQUAKE BRINGS
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- A DOCTOR, A LAWYER, A MERCHANT, A CHIEF
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- Phillip Zollicoffer, Professor of Biology, Miskatonic University
- Lizzie Andrew Borden
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- BE SURE YOUR SINS WILL FIND YOU OUT
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- I CROSS THE MAGPIE, THE MAGPIE CROSSES ME
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- Nance O’Neil
- THIS KNOT I KNIT, THIS KNOT I TIE
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- AND IF YOU HAVE A HORSE WITH ONE WHITE LEG . . .
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- THE WORST IS TO BE JUDGED WITHOUT HOPE
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- Lizzie Andrew Borden
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- BUT NETTLE SHANT HAVE NOTHING
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- CUT THEM ON FRIDAY, YOU CUT THEM FOR SORROW
- Phillip Zollicoffer, Professor of Biology, Miskatonic University
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- HAPPY IS THE CORPSE THAT THE RAIN SHINES ON
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- A DWELLING PLACE OF JACKALS, THE DESOLATION FOREVER
- Lizzie Andrew Borden
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- Nance O’Neil
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- Emma L. Borden
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- Owen Seabury, M.D.
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- Lizzie Andrew Borden
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- RIGHT CHEEK, LEFT CHEEK—WHY DO YOU BURN?
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- Aaron B. Stewart, Fire Chief, Farthington, Mass.
- Emma L. Borden
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- Gerald Macintyre, Telegraph Clerk, Western Union
- Owen Seabury, M.D.
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- Physalia, Z. University I Was Not Now
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- DEPART, ALL ANIMALS WITHOUT BONES
- Emma L. Borden
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- Owen Seabury, M.D.
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- Lizzie Andrew Borden
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- Owen Seabury, M.D.
- Phillip Zollicoffer. Physalia Zollicoffris.
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- Christoff Dane, M.D., Ph.D., University of Rhode Island, Kingston
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- Emma L. Borden
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- Owen Seabury, M.D.
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- Emma L. Borden
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- FAMILY SLAIN IN MAYFIELD
- Owen Seabury, M.D.
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- Lizzie Andrew Borden
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- Emma L. Borden
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- Owen Seabury, M.D.
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- Lizzie Andrew Borden
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- Inspector Simon Wolf
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“Well, then, everything is imprecise,” he said almost crossly, or I might’ve read too much into it. “But if we believe in nothing for a starting point, from what can we move forward? Even an educated guess is a starting point.”
“Even a superstition,” I said, hearing Lizzie rattling around down in that damnable laboratory.
“I beg your pardon?”
“My sister. Her brand of science looks like mythology, but you’re right—without some place to stand and place a lever, there’s nowhere from which to move the world.” Then, before he could ask for more, I waved my hand and said, “It’s all she has, all that makes sense to her. There is lore, you see. And no science to speak of, save what she’s managed to conjure.”
“Lore? Fairy tales, and the like?”
“Just so.”
He considered this, nodded slowly, and said, “When confronted with a problem that appears so . . . so vastly outside the reach of science, it’s not an unreasonable way to proceed. The tales of old wives have much value hidden in them, even if doctors cannot explain it.”
“I’m a bit surprised at that response,” I told him. “I expected you to be more firmly on the side of reason.”
“I do my best to remain on the side of reason, as you put it, yes. Absolutely. But the things I’ve noted as of late . . . the things I’ve seen, and heard, and recorded in my own notes, for my own reference—or as comparison with your experiences, and your sister’s . . . they are not reasonable. And I must admit that and accept it, if I wish to find answers.”
“You make it sound as if we struggle blindly, in the dark.”
“We all struggle blindly, in the dark. I did so just now, behind your house. It ended well for your sister and me,” he said, rubbing at a spot on his upper arm. “This time. Next time, we might not be so lucky. And then what should we do, when our luck runs out?”
He cleared his throat, and leaned back in the chair, casting one nervous eye at Nance, whose chest rose and fell with a mechanical jerk, and hitch, and settling, that looked like nothing so much as the mindless thrashing of a machine.
Floundering for some uplifting sentiment, I tried, “Then we find some light, and use it to guide ourselves out. Many monsters lose their power to frighten, when they’re dragged out into the morning.”
“But some don’t,” he said, too quickly in my opinion. “Some only reveal in full the awfulness of their true nature, and assure us that there is no hope.”
“Doctor!”