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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.
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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
  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. •   •   •

A wicked flash of illumination revealed a scene of bloody carnage, bloody handprints. My sister’s, I believed—but she might not be injured. She might be coughing; this might be terrible, but not supernatural. Another stroke of lightning. More blood, in smears and spatters. Well, if all that blood came from her lungs and not some grievous wound, it was still bad enough. I’d never known her to lose so much at once, in so many directions. It was everywhere. The floors, the banisters, the doorjambs.

I gave up on Emma. I had to.

Either she’d found a hiding spot, or she was gone—and either way, something had come inside. Something was here, even if she was not. If she was dead, there was nothing I could (or should) do for her. If she was alive, somewhere else, then I would do my best to keep her that way.

Wherever she was. Whatever had come inside.

I cut through the parlor, skidded into the kitchen, and saw the cellar door open. A damp, yellowish light spilled up into the first-floor space, gleaming on the linoleum—but everything was otherwise dark. I spent a moment confused . . . but how did it take me so long to notice the gas was off, or none of the lights were on? I don’t know, but everything was dark except for the flickering sky, and maybe that was it. It flickered with such great constancy that it almost felt like midmorning, between the hard cuts of night.

And down below in the cellar, something else gave off its own peculiar light.

Whatever the light was, it hummed. It buzzed. It shifted from a sickly lemon color to a putrid soft green, and back again.

I heard the low tones of Emma’s voice, too far away to pick out any of the words.

She was down there? In the laboratory? Having traversed all those steps? But how? The monster must have carried her there, or dragged her.

•   •   •

(An ungenerous thought streaked through my head: Perhaps he only invited her, and helped her along. She’s always wanted to see the laboratory. I don’t think it would require much persuasion on his part, or anyone else’s.)

•   •   •

Another voice answered her.

Yes, there it was. A man’s voice. Deep and very smooth—an educated voice, persuasive and almost warm. It carried a New England accent, highborn enough to sound like Old England, almost. It hummed, like the light downstairs. He must have brought the light with him. It must have been part of him, part of the unnatural madness he courted and spread like a disease.

The stairs were sharp and steep, and the light glowing from below made them disappear.