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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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There’s much we might learn from each other, but it’s a terrible risk.

If he decides that I’m daft, or engaged in illegal activities, he could hand me over to the authorities. It could mean the end of Maplecroft, the end of my laboratory. The end of what slim progress I’ve made against the creeping threat.

If I am removed from my studies, then truly nothing would stand between Fall River and whatever evil thing insinuates itself into our midst.

Not even me and my axe.

(And certainly not even Emma, with her steady, intelligent force of will. Given her state of health, she might very well be sent away to a sanatorium and left to die in clean white sheets, surrounded by men and women who owe her only professional tending and politeness, without any love or interest. I couldn’t live with myself, if it were to come to that.)

•   •   •

The question, then, is can I trust the good doctor?

I phrase it that way because I do not doubt his integrity, only his suspension of disbelief. A reasonable man might hear my tale and believe I’ve become a violent lunatic, if I wasn’t one before.

But he did see Mrs. Borden. He does see a connection between her malady and the growing problem in town. It isn’t just Matthew Granger, and it isn’t just my father and stepmother. It’s the blind, sticky-handed, many-toothed things that creep the streets when no one’s looking. I’ve caught six. No, seven. Last week’s was number seven.

How many have I missed?

I can only make guesses. I suspect that two still roam, in the evenings, surely. I don’t know if there’s any good reason they can’t come and go during the day, but their instinct leads them to darkness. And it leads them to kill.

Three people have been found dead in the last six months. Two others have gone missing. I suspect two other deaths were related, though the persons in question were elderly, and might have succumbed to causes more natural than these.

This is not a large town. These are too many people, lost in the night, turning up again (if they do so at all) drowned and waterlogged, with strange cuts and punctures. With pieces of flesh removed from their bodies in great chunks.

The papers printed stories that only alluded to these particulars, leaving me with insufficient evidence of anything except a streak of bad luck befalling my hometown. I wish I could’ve studied the bodies firsthand, but can you imagine? Me, of all people? Expressing eager interest in the investigation of a mutilated corpse?

They’d put me away.

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