Chandelier Macabre

For Horatio Oberon Twitchgrove, the war had never ended. He fought as a child, as a teenager, as an adult. He fought into his twilight years. War was all he had ever known. Peacetime? Hah, like he could change now. It just meant trading his general's uniform for a crimelord's mantle. He proceeded with the same ruthless abandon as ever. Oh, he might be old now, battle-worn and broken-even wheelchair-bound. But he had his children. His grown children. What need had he of capable limbs when he had children to do his dirty-work? Through them he maintained his strangle-hold on the vices throughout the land.

Still, there was Ronaldo, his youngest, born to too tame a wife. A bit problematic, that one. He'd never quite gotten it. Now he's gone off and found himself a young woman. Hah, of refined tastes! Naye, he's married her! She, without an ounce of bloodlust in her veins! Su, she calls herself. Without an E. As if that matters. As if anyone cares. Well, she'll have to prove her mettle to the whole family. One year. He's given her one year to demonstrate her worthiness to bear the Twitchgrove name. Who says he's not compassionate? That's plenty of time to commit an atrocity most foul.

Approx. 250 pages.