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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
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He flushed and shook his head. “No, Miss Borden—I couldn’t. It would be unseemly, or impolite, or . . . I wouldn’t want her to think I meant any accusation.”

“Ask her,” I pleaded, removing my hand and allowing him to resume packing his equipment.

He hesitated, then asked, “Is there any chance . . . that you could have a word with her, first?”

Oh, I had every intention of doing so. “Of course.” I smiled at him with sincere, if morbid, pleasure. “And next time you come, we’ll sit down together. All of us.”

At the ring of the bell beside my seat, Lizzie appeared from the basement to show the doctor out.

And I fell asleep before the fire before I could tell her any of what had transpired, even though the conversation had frankly invigorated me. My strength is finite, even if my interest is not.

I dreamed of my father, bloated and white, and hungry. I dreamed of him in my room, staring out my window, listening to the ocean.

AND IF YOU HAVE A HORSE WITH ONE WHITE LEG . . .

Phillip Zollicoffer, Professor of Biology, Miskatonic University

OCTOBER 29, 1893

The university thinks it might be done with me, but I’m beyond the point of caring. Right now, their reprimand feels positively uninteresting—as if it’s something I should be aware of, yes, but not a source of concern. They’ve put me on leave, and it’s a vacation of sorts. I’m sick of the students, as I told them quite frankly.

(They requested frankness, and they received it in abundance.)

Dr. Greer suggested I’m sick with something other than the tedium of teaching, but he’s a fool. It’s difficult to take his accusations personally.

The one concession I wrangled from their uniform displeasure with my performance was this: I am still allowed access to my office and the lab rooms, where my specimens and samples are stored. They are mine, and not property of the university in the first place; and in the second place, I’m working on an article for Marine Biology Quarterly with regard to the siphonophore specimen sent to me by Doctor Jackson earlier this year.

What little study I’ve had time to perform has raised fascinating questions about the nature of a single organism versus a colony that performs in a singular fashion, and where the line between those two might lie. A siphonophore by definition is just such a paradox: many small things that function as one large thing. But how paradoxical is it, after all? A collection of like-minded things, operating under the direction of a sole authority . . . or an individual, individually inclined. Just two ways of saying the same thing, perhaps. From a distance.

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