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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
  57. •   •   •
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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
  69. •   •   •
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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.
  89. •   •   •
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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
  103. •   •   •
  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
  138. •   •   •
  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. •   •   •

I listened, but listening told me nothing—except that something huge cried out somewhere far away, and I heard it, and I didn’t know what it meant. I looked out the window. It was a stupid gesture, for I rationally knew that I wouldn’t be able to see a great marauding monster rearing up out of the ocean—or anything of that sort, despite what damage had been done to rational knowledge these recent months. But I looked anyway, and I saw the sky still wild, the wind thrashing the trees. The light showing me the yard, the neighbors’ houses, the street outside which had only been paved last year.

•   •   •

The man.

I froze.

I’d say that our eyes locked, except that I couldn’t see his eyes. Everything about him was left in shadow, and I saw little to distinguish him. A hat, tall enough to be a little out of fashion. Shoulders that implied a good tailor with a fondness for sharp cuts. A cane in his left hand, or a stick of some sort. He didn’t lean on it. He held it, like it anchored him.

I wiped my mouth with the sleeve of my dress. I left a smudge of vivid crimson there—the kind of red you see when blood comes straight from the lungs. I know it means that I’m dying. That’s what it’s always meant.

I looked to the front door. Seabury had the good sense to close it and lock it as he left, trailing behind my sister. Maybe he had only abandoned me without a first thought, and spared me a second one after all. But how long would the lock hold? A few minutes? A few seconds?

I looked again to the cabinet, and the drawer where waited the gun.

I could reach it. I could use what willpower and effort I had left in my reserves to seize it and brandish it, probably before the man outside (it wasn’t a man, but you understand my meaning) could reach the door, open it, and accost me in whatever gruesome fashion he undoubtedly had planned.

•   •   •

I had seen the news articles. I had spoken to Seabury when he was flush with brandy, and sharing more than he intended about what was coming across the state, barreling down upon us like a train, only so much worse.

•   •   •

I looked at the man (who wasn’t a man) and I waited for the lightning to flare just right, at the precise angle needed to see him more fully.

He did not move, and that flare did not come.

So it must have been by design—surely no accident—that the wonder-filled sky roared and complained, and illuminated the whole world except for the one man I most wished to see. (I know, I know. Not a man. But shaped like one.)