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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
  7. •   •   •
  8. •   •   •
  9. •   •   •
  10. •   •   •
  11. •   •   •
  12. A DOCTOR, A LAWYER, A MERCHANT, A CHIEF
  13. •   •   •
  14. •   •   •
  15. •   •   •
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  17. •   •   •
  18. •   •   •
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  20. Phillip Zollicoffer, Professor of Biology, Miskatonic University
  21. Lizzie Andrew Borden
  22. •   •   •
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  24. •   •   •
  25. •   •   •
  26. BE SURE YOUR SINS WILL FIND YOU OUT
  27. •   •   •
  28. •   •   •
  29. I CROSS THE MAGPIE, THE MAGPIE CROSSES ME
  30. •   •   •
  31. Nance O’Neil
  32. THIS KNOT I KNIT, THIS KNOT I TIE
  33. •   •   •
  34. •   •   •
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  36. •   •   •
  37. AND IF YOU HAVE A HORSE WITH ONE WHITE LEG . . .
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  43. THE WORST IS TO BE JUDGED WITHOUT HOPE
  44. •   •   •
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  46. Lizzie Andrew Borden
  47. •   •   •
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  52. •   •   •
  53. BUT NETTLE SHANT HAVE NOTHING
  54. •   •   •
  55. CUT THEM ON FRIDAY, YOU CUT THEM FOR SORROW
  56. Phillip Zollicoffer, Professor of Biology, Miskatonic University
  57. •   •   •
  58. •   •   •
  59. •   •   •
  60. •   •   •
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  62. HAPPY IS THE CORPSE THAT THE RAIN SHINES ON
  63. •   •   •
  64. •   •   •
  65. •   •   •
  66. •   •   •
  67. A DWELLING PLACE OF JACKALS, THE DESOLATION FOREVER
  68. Lizzie Andrew Borden
  69. •   •   •
  70. •   •   •
  71. Nance O’Neil
  72. •   •   •
  73. •   •   •
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  84. Emma L. Borden
  85. •   •   •
  86. •   •   •
  87. •   •   •
  88. Owen Seabury, M.D.
  89. •   •   •
  90. •   •   •
  91. Lizzie Andrew Borden
  92. •   •   •
  93. RIGHT CHEEK, LEFT CHEEK—WHY DO YOU BURN?
  94. •   •   •
  95. •   •   •
  96. •   •   •
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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.
  106. •   •   •
  107. Physalia, Z. University I Was Not Now
  108. •   •   •
  109. DEPART, ALL ANIMALS WITHOUT BONES
  110. Emma L. Borden
  111. •   •   •
  112. •   •   •
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  115. Owen Seabury, M.D.
  116. •   •   •
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  118. •   •   •
  119. Lizzie Andrew Borden
  120. •   •   •
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  130. Owen Seabury, M.D.
  131. Phillip Zollicoffer. Physalia Zollicoffris.
  132. •   •   •
  133. •   •   •
  134. •   •   •
  135. •   •   •
  136. •   •   •
  137. Christoff Dane, M.D., Ph.D., University of Rhode Island, Kingston
  138. •   •   •
  139. Emma L. Borden
  140. •   •   •
  141. •   •   •
  142. •   •   •
  143. •   •   •
  144. Owen Seabury, M.D.
  145. •   •   •
  146. •   •   •
  147. •   •   •
  148. •   •   •
  149. •   •   •
  150. Emma L. Borden
  151. •   •   •
  152. •   •   •
  153. FAMILY SLAIN IN MAYFIELD
  154. Owen Seabury, M.D.
  155. •   •   •
  156. •   •   •
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  165. Lizzie Andrew Borden
  166. •   •   •
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  176. Emma L. Borden
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  186. Owen Seabury, M.D.
  187. •   •   •
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  197. Lizzie Andrew Borden
  198. •   •   •
  199. •   •   •
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  203. •   •   •
  204. •   •   •
  205. Inspector Simon Wolf
  206. •   •   •

Five more stairs. I would not fling myself headlong. I would need my strength at the bottom, for I would need to stand again. From my elevated position on the incline, I could see where Seabury’s satchel was placed, beside a packet of letters which he’d already read to me. And knowing their contents, I knew what to do with the contents of that satchel, if I could reach them.

First I had to reach them.

Three more stairs, and my body ached at every joint. The knocking upstairs had become constant and was coming harder, more like the pounding demands of a policeman or a burglar.

Why didn’t it just come inside? If Nance could vanish from the basement, never mind the doors, walls, or anything else . . . why couldn’t Zollicoffer appear in my presence, and frighten me in person?

Last stair.

My feet were finally on the floor, planted beside each other. I leaned forward, hoping to leverage myself up off the step with my own momentum—but I went light-headed, and I swooned instead. I heard the sound of something dripping, and I wiped at my mouth again but found nothing new.

It was only blood. I watched a droplet fall from my face to the floor . . . but it was coming from my nose. I don’t know why. That had never happened before.

I wiped my nose, then, and I looked back to see a trail of smudged blood behind me. It was all over my dress, all over the floor. All over everything upstairs, too. How much blood could I possibly have left?

No wonder my vision swam, and my head felt like it was stuffed with cotton.

I sniffed hard, and tasted the tang of filthy coins—which set me to coughing again, but what of it? I always coughed. If I didn’t cough now, it’d be strange.

Upstairs, the front door broke.

I heard it shatter, and I heard bits of splintered wood bursting into the foyer. Glass was breaking, too, but I didn’t know what or where. The china? The mirrors? The windows? Had Zollicoffer come alone, or had he brought minions?

•   •   •

I considered the corpses of the needle-teethed monsters Lizzie had carted indoors, into the cooker. She tried to prevent me from seeing them, but I saw them. She tried to protect me, I suppose, but she’s never protected me from the right things. Not even when I told her what the right things were.

•   •   •

More breaking upstairs. Glass again, and something else. I couldn’t imagine what, and didn’t have time to—I knew that now. I was out of time for fancies and prayers, that was for damn sure. I only had time for action.