36

Brendan

Sunday: 9:00 PM

On the second floor study of his brownstone on Riverside Drive, Brendan Wavestone sat in his leather recliner, puffed on his favorite pipe, and sipped the brandy from a crystal snifter. The news of the day blared in razor-sharp high definition on his seventy-five-inch retractable TV.

A ticker along the bottom of the screen read: Breaking news: The two criminally insane offspring of Brendan Wavestone and Mallory Taylor Wavestone, both in custody for a string of murders and rapes that had the city terrorized for months, have simultaneously killed themselves while being treated for their injuries.

Brendan smiled and looked at the smaller monitors recessed into his coffee table. The heirloom ring the Pendell kid had returned to him sat glinting there, now restored to its original high shine. Let Pendell and Glass think the girl was spared by chance—until the time was right.

Moments before their deaths, his two least agreeable children out of twelve from various marriages and mistresses had frowned angrily up at him from the small screens.

Then, as if linked, they had each carried out their beautifully synchronized suicides.

Brendan Wavestone sat back in his chair, took another puff of his pipe, and smiled. His plans were back on track, despite the ungrateful brats’ attempts to derail them.

It was a very good day indeed.

The End

Liked Bobby? Check out Vision

Love to hate Jeremy? Check out Breaking Glass

She doesn’t just play; she kills it. Watch out for Until Beth, coming this September.