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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I thanked the boy for the information, told him I’d be on my way as soon as I could find some shoes, and shut the door in his face. Too abruptly, I’m confident. He must’ve thought he’d angered me, or that I was a jackass; I don’t know. But I spent a moment leaning my back against the closed door, wondering if I should bother to go address the situation. I was thinking of Ebenezer Hamilton, and that terrible scene, and knowing that whatever awaited at Granston’s Dry Goods would surely be no better.
Then I wondered if she was alone. I hadn’t given the boy time to say one way or another. There might be other victims within. There might still be someone to save. Not too little, not too late, for one person or more.
It was a stupid hope, but I held it aloft regardless as I found proper clothes and dressed myself; it took longer than it should have—yes, I know. My house is filling with detritus, with nonsense. I’m entombing myself and even I can see it, plain as day.
I have stopped seeing patients in my home, and will only make house calls—and every day, more do clamor for my attention. I’ve canceled what appointments I can, and spent those hours in Lizbeth’s laboratory.
It’s a good laboratory she’s built. She’s done a fine job. I’ve lost what feels like days there; down in that space, the time doesn’t pass the same way, I don’t think. Something about the stones she keeps in the box beneath the floor. I know where they are, under what floorboards the cabinet lies, but I do not even stand atop it. I walk around that place on the floor, lest the temptation to open it become too great.
It will not become too great.
I know too well what became of Nance before we lost her. It cannot happen to me, too. If it happens to the rest of the Maplecroft crew, then truly the world is done for.
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As I said, or as I tried to say and lost track of myself . . . we lost Nance.
I mean to write about that, and I will. It happened the day after I gave her the heavy dose of the toxoid, so I suppose we know that, at least. Or do we? Correlation and causation . . . post hoc, ergo proper hoc. It’s bad science, but it’s all we have time for.
So I’ll say it then: The toxoid brought about a change in her.
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But first I went to the dry goods store, and I was too late, thank God.
(If He exists to receive any appreciation. I remain ever the filthy atheist, but He’s crept into my language, and it’s just as well. It keeps people fooled. So thank God, I say.)