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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
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  12. A DOCTOR, A LAWYER, A MERCHANT, A CHIEF
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  20. Phillip Zollicoffer, Professor of Biology, Miskatonic University
  21. Lizzie Andrew Borden
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  26. BE SURE YOUR SINS WILL FIND YOU OUT
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  29. I CROSS THE MAGPIE, THE MAGPIE CROSSES ME
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  31. Nance O’Neil
  32. THIS KNOT I KNIT, THIS KNOT I TIE
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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
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  46. Lizzie Andrew Borden
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  53. BUT NETTLE SHANT HAVE NOTHING
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  55. CUT THEM ON FRIDAY, YOU CUT THEM FOR SORROW
  56. Phillip Zollicoffer, Professor of Biology, Miskatonic University
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  62. HAPPY IS THE CORPSE THAT THE RAIN SHINES ON
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  67. A DWELLING PLACE OF JACKALS, THE DESOLATION FOREVER
  68. Lizzie Andrew Borden
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  71. Nance O’Neil
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  84. Emma L. Borden
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  88. Owen Seabury, M.D.
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  91. Lizzie Andrew Borden
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  93. RIGHT CHEEK, LEFT CHEEK—WHY DO YOU BURN?
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  101. Aaron B. Stewart, Fire Chief, Farthington, Mass.
  102. Emma L. Borden
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  104. Gerald Macintyre, Telegraph Clerk, Western Union
  105. Owen Seabury, M.D.
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  107. Physalia, Z. University I Was Not Now
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  109. DEPART, ALL ANIMALS WITHOUT BONES
  110. Emma L. Borden
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  115. Owen Seabury, M.D.
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  119. Lizzie Andrew Borden
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  130. Owen Seabury, M.D.
  131. Phillip Zollicoffer. Physalia Zollicoffris.
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  137. Christoff Dane, M.D., Ph.D., University of Rhode Island, Kingston
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  139. Emma L. Borden
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  144. Owen Seabury, M.D.
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  150. Emma L. Borden
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  153. FAMILY SLAIN IN MAYFIELD
  154. Owen Seabury, M.D.
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  165. Lizzie Andrew Borden
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  176. Emma L. Borden
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  186. Owen Seabury, M.D.
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  197. Lizzie Andrew Borden
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  205. Inspector Simon Wolf
  206. •   •   •

A second hand joined the first and I was hauled out, bodily. Dredged from the deep like an insensate lobster, confused to find myself in the open air.

On the pier. On its very edge, after a short trip up a ladder that I remember only vaguely . . . some lunge, some jerking pull, as I was brought up rung by rung. By force. I was dropped to the boards, and below them I heard the waves, swearing in thunderous rushes. They hadn’t quite been finished with me yet.

More’s the pity.

Emma L. Borden

MAY 7, 1894

They left me here. Abandoned without second thought, I should think.

Left behind at a full run, one of them after the other, chasing after that warped phantom of a girl who isn’t a girl anymore. It was plain as day that she wasn’t coming back; she would never be talked away from the edge of whatever precipice she’d found, even if she was talked away from the cooker, at the end.

I stood beside the stairs, still clinging to the rail for the strength to stand. This was not one of my good days, only a desperate day—where the last vestiges of endurance must be rallied and brought to arms. I could scarcely hold myself upright, and my lungs felt as if I’d been breathing fire.

In fact, I had only been breathing my own blood. I realized this when a cough surprised me, sneaking up before I could pull a handkerchief from the pocket of my dress. I hacked and spit, and my eyes watered; and when they cleared again I saw blood across the floor, against the painted white of the banister, and splattered on the nearby divan. It was more blood than usual. Too much. Enough to remind me that this was not a strong day but a weak one, but it didn’t matter how I felt or what I wanted.

Especially not today.

Not when the town was under celestial assault, if the light show and the thunder were any indication . . . but no matter how hard I peered through the windows, I saw no sign of rain. All the water was staying in the ocean tonight, so there was one small mercy granted. At least I could see outside, for the night was uncannily bright—albeit loud—and at least I could stand upright, whether my body truly wanted to, or not.

I considered my father’s gun. In the cabinet, a handful of yards away.

I ought to get it, I decided.

It would be better than nothing, against whatever was likely to come—and something was definitely coming. We’d felt it for days, and now I knew it in my soul: Zollicoffer was imminent. Even if I couldn’t do the math to predict his route . . . the whole sky was shouting his arrival.