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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She’s within easy reach, being held and cared for by my only full and knowing allies, and if she does continue to deteriorate, well, I’ll have a firsthand case study that will ultimately surpass the usefulness of the Bordens, and their sad demises. At the risk of sounding morbid, they fell victim to the ailment and became violent, and eventually were killed . . . but all the while, Lizzie had no inkling that it was anything other than an isolated case. She told me herself that she hadn’t paid close enough attention (a fault that makes two of us, I fear), and hadn’t recorded their downfall in any useful fashion. With nothing to rely on but her memory, several years old at this point, the details have become muddled and the progress unclear.
But now we have Nance, and she will be my subject. I do not mean to suggest I’d experiment on the poor dear. That’s not my intention at all; but I have no earthly idea how to treat her—and I can only cross my fingers that I’ll stumble across some pattern of symptoms that might give me insight into her condition.
If I can figure out what’s wrong with her, I can devise a system to address the problem.
I say that as if it’s fact. I know it isn’t. People die from known causes every day, and this isn’t merely an unknown cause—it might be a supernatural one. Little wonder the Maplecroft ladies have discovered so little with any certainty.
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I now describe the general progression of symptoms, compiled from my own notes previously recorded, and from a conversation with the ladies last night. Below is a general flow, not a positive timeline of events. Different people manifest the symptoms in different orders, though the general arc seems more or less the same across the board.
1. Distraction, accompanied by obsession.
2. A change in appetite, followed by a significant decline thereof.
3. Skin takes on a strange pallor, bloated appearance.
4. Dilated pupils, and the cessation of blinking.
5. Excess saliva, sometimes accompanied by digestive issues.
6. Fever (Sometimes. This one is by no means consistent.)
7. Slowness of movement, speech.
8. Cessation of talking, except certain words or phrases, which are repeated at length.
9. Difficulty controlling the limbs and joints, resulting in jerky, violent movements.
10. Difficulty breathing, resulting in a distinctive rasping sound.
11. Full-fledged madness, manifesting in self-harm or harm to others.
Lizbeth suggests that it’s possible . . . God help us . . . that the final stage in this affliction might be a transformation into the wretched, twisted, shuddering, glass-toothed creatures that have been making themselves known at Maplecroft. But I’ll not yet write that down in the list of symptoms, because I have my doubts. The anatomy was all wrong—not merely a warping of human physiology, but a different form altogether, some different species. It’s always possible that I’m off the mark, but I think not.