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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“Please, don’t lie to me, Doctor. I don’t want to play games with myself, or fool myself into thinking there’s some improvement if there’s none to observe—and I watch her so closely, I know her body more thoroughly than my own. I’m not arguing with you; it’s just that I prefer no hope at all, if the only other option is false hope.”
“That’s brave of you, and reasonable, too.” I then explained why the toxoid might provoke a more vigorous reaction, and did my best to reassure her without being cruel. “It may help her, or at the very worst, it will have no effect.”
“It won’t infect her with tetanus? I’ve heard infection is a concern with some inoculations, but I know almost nothing about this one.”
“It will not,” I promised, uncertain of whether or not I was lying. But it’s as I said: the girl is dying anyway. Our best hope is to see her improved, or passed away before she can harm anyone else.
Lizzie accepted my promises, and I felt a twinge of guilt—but nothing I couldn’t ignore. This was for the best. And for all I knew, I was telling the truth.
It’s a hard line to take, but I’ve taken it before.
During the war, every day was a hundred such choices, a hundred opportunities to kill or save, and a hundred spins of the roulette wheel—tempted and tilted with nothing but our prayers.
And here I am again. Throwing prayers at pathogens, invocations against monsters.
No. I have more than that, this time. Or I will, given time.
Dear God, give us time.
Emma L. Borden
MAY 5, 1894
Soon.
Very soon. It’s not that I can “feel” him, as the doctor keeps asking me; it’s not that I can sense the tug of him, like Lizzie senses the green stones. (And as I have sensed them before, to a lesser degree.) It’s simple math that leads me to my conclusion. He’s been approaching long enough, and this is no Greek paradox. Eventually, the monster must arrive.
Lizzie asked if I was afraid. I told her no.
Seabury asked if I was feeling well. I told him yes.