Chapters (206)
- Praise for Maplecroft
- Title page
- Copyright page
- Contents
- ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
- THESE ARE THE THINGS AN EARTHQUAKE BRINGS
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- A DOCTOR, A LAWYER, A MERCHANT, A CHIEF
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- Phillip Zollicoffer, Professor of Biology, Miskatonic University
- Lizzie Andrew Borden
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- BE SURE YOUR SINS WILL FIND YOU OUT
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- I CROSS THE MAGPIE, THE MAGPIE CROSSES ME
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- Nance O’Neil
- THIS KNOT I KNIT, THIS KNOT I TIE
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- AND IF YOU HAVE A HORSE WITH ONE WHITE LEG . . .
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- THE WORST IS TO BE JUDGED WITHOUT HOPE
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- Lizzie Andrew Borden
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- BUT NETTLE SHANT HAVE NOTHING
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- CUT THEM ON FRIDAY, YOU CUT THEM FOR SORROW
- Phillip Zollicoffer, Professor of Biology, Miskatonic University
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- HAPPY IS THE CORPSE THAT THE RAIN SHINES ON
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- A DWELLING PLACE OF JACKALS, THE DESOLATION FOREVER
- Lizzie Andrew Borden
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- Nance O’Neil
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- Emma L. Borden
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- Owen Seabury, M.D.
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- Lizzie Andrew Borden
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- RIGHT CHEEK, LEFT CHEEK—WHY DO YOU BURN?
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- Aaron B. Stewart, Fire Chief, Farthington, Mass.
- Emma L. Borden
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- Gerald Macintyre, Telegraph Clerk, Western Union
- Owen Seabury, M.D.
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- Physalia, Z. University I Was Not Now
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- DEPART, ALL ANIMALS WITHOUT BONES
- Emma L. Borden
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- Owen Seabury, M.D.
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- Lizzie Andrew Borden
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- Owen Seabury, M.D.
- Phillip Zollicoffer. Physalia Zollicoffris.
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- Christoff Dane, M.D., Ph.D., University of Rhode Island, Kingston
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- Emma L. Borden
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- Owen Seabury, M.D.
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- Emma L. Borden
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- FAMILY SLAIN IN MAYFIELD
- Owen Seabury, M.D.
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- Lizzie Andrew Borden
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- Emma L. Borden
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- Owen Seabury, M.D.
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- Lizzie Andrew Borden
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- Inspector Simon Wolf
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But . . . whereas before She occupied every square inch of space . . . filling the glass like a liquid, seeping and spilling and filling the area with Her bulk . . . now I can see emptiness between the creases and folds. I’ve replaced the liquid with ordinary salt water, a brine that felt more appropriate somehow than whatever chemical had kept Her secured during transport; but that wouldn’t have caused Her to shrink. No, if anything it should’ve made Her stronger, fed Her, made Her feel more at home.
I hope I haven’t made a terrible mistake.
No, I haven’t done any such thing. She reassures me.
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That must sound strange. Well, it is strange.
She tells me things. She warms me.
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But I was looking at the jar, and its precious contents. And outside in the hall I heard Dr. Greer mumbling something or another—I didn’t quite catch it, but it was something about me, and my suspension. Maybe he was saying it ought to become permanent, or maybe he was saying I ought to be reinstated. Really, I have no idea. I heard my name, and a reference to my office, and an idly voiced question that might have been so simple as a casual wondering about where I was, right that moment.
I thought about opening the door and announcing myself, then changed my mind. I resolved instead to listen at the door, or I must have resolved that, because I found myself standing there, my cheek pressed to the wood, my ear flat against the crack where the panel and the jamb connect.
I felt a slight breeze on my skin, for the building is old and it has settled, here and there. Its angles are not always perpendicular, and its floors are not always straight. Its ceilings sometimes leak. Its windows sometimes crack with age, or the weight of a building becoming comfortable on its foundations.
The floor beneath me vibrated, as if the men on the other side were bouncing up and down like unruly children in bed. But they were not. I listened, and their voices were steady. I still could not understand them.
I pulled my head away and shook it, then repositioned myself and tried again.
But they were speaking another language, nattering on in words that were mere syllables hurled and punched, and it was nonsense, all of it. Once I heard my name. Twice I heard my name, and then a laugh.
I looked back toward my specimen, my Lady.
My laboratory had grown dark. A storm had coagulated overhead, or it must have been the case, because the clouds were shimmering gray out through the window. Or . . . no. I couldn’t see the sky from there. It must have been a sheet of water, cascading where the gutters have rotted through, making the world outside look so much like a filthy aquarium.