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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
  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 stepped forward down into a black pit. My foot found the second step by memory, and the rest by force. I shuffled down them, my skirts snagging on the splinters, my free hand running along the rail for guidance.

My feet tripped over themselves; I only remained upright by virtue of momentum and the counterbalance of the axe.

I gripped it for my life.

I reached the bottom with a sharp gasp. It was hard beneath my feet, which wore only the tatters of my house slippers; I don’t know how they’d even stayed on this long. Through the water and the running, it was nothing short of a miracle; but they were as wet and thin as old socks. They left damp footprints trailing behind me as I stepped forward into the grim yellow light . . . into my laboratory, where I was not alone.

Emma was there, and she was a terrible sight: covered in gore of her own making, spilled down her chin and matting her hair, staining her clothes. Her eyes were wild, and her body shook. She saw me. She tried to speak, but only coughed.

The man turned around, to see what she was looking at.

Oh, but he wasn’t a man at all. I could see that in an instant. A dark, awful instant that I’d prefer to forget.

The not-a-man was slender and dressed well enough, in clothes that didn’t quite fit him—he must have taken them from his victims, but he’d arranged them nicely. His shoulders were narrow, his hands long and delicate, like a pianist’s. I met his eyes because I could not refuse them . . . they were the color of a storm clashing with a setting sun. Gray and blue marbles, with amber threads—but that makes them sound alive, doesn’t it? And they weren’t. They were utterly lifeless, though his face lit up at the sight of me . . . like he was pleased to see an old friend, long lost and thought forgotten. It turned my stomach.

“Elizabeth,” he said.

“That’s not my name.”

“And your sister’s name is not Edward, nor Edwin. Not Edgar, Ethan, Ellis, or Emerson. Emma,” he said without looking at her. “You’re Emma and Elizabeth.”

“That has never been my name. Contrary to popular belief.”

He ignored me, as if I had no idea what I was talking about. He would hear only what he wished to hear. It might be to my advantage—or that’s what I told myself, even as the delirious slip and sweetness of his voice was confusing my brain. It was a spell of some kind, or if not a spell then something more scientific. But who cares about that? He was enchanting me, and I wanted to kill him for it.