They say revenge is a dish best served cold. Malice Craven was a man who disagreed with that sentiment heartily. He never believed revenge was a thing of cool, collected, disaffected calm, but instead that it was better in the heat of the moment, served with passion and without thought. However, on this night--the night he was meant to commit a murder-for-hire--he knew that hotheaded approach would be counterproductive at best and detrimental to his continued existence at worst.

Much as he hated to make the comparison, he was going to do have things the way his elder sister would. Tonight, he had to own the cool, calm, disaffected calm that he so readily ignored under ordinary circumstances

He repeated the words to himself silently as he darted through the woods and towards the appointed meeting place in the largest clearing of Hyde forest, and the moment his feet touched the pristine, lush stretch of grass, he froze in place.

Now, all he had to do was wait.

Beneath the light of the waxing moon (a few more scant days and it would be full), Malice mused about the events and figures that had conspired to bring him to this place. A month before, a new Lycan upstart had arrived in Fortune and had sent someone to contact Malice--knowing of his hatred for the Lycan leader Richard Trudeau--and made an offer that couldn’t possibly be refused.

The anonymous man wanted discord between the races, and what’s more, he wanted to rule the Lycan pack. The only way to take control was to see the current leader killed--and, by hiring Malice to do his dirty work and leave clues indicating a Vampire had committed the murder--the upstart would have his way.

Malice was only too happy to comply. Trudeau had rubbed him the wrong way since the day he first set foot in the city (not that any Lycan rubbed him the right way, since the beasts had overtaken London and killed the rest of the Craven clan, with Malice and Gillette only barely escaping), and with Magdalana’s dagger in his pocket, he would not only be getting his way about killing one of the most hated creatures in Fortune, he’d be framing his useless sister in the process.

Even if Malice’s version of revenge didn’t live up to the cold metaphor, it was certainly going to live up to the cliché about it being sweet. If there was anyone that raised his ire more than the Lycan pack, it was his own flesh and blood. The wolves only killed his family; Magdalana had betrayed it--which was so much worse in his eyes. He didn’t give a damn about how she’d only been trying to protect him because--while her absence may have saved him from an untimely siring, it also doomed his mother and father to death. When he thought about how much easier it would have been to protect them if he’d had the strength of a vampire at the time of the attack the way Magda did…oh how it made his blood boil.

Oh yes, vengeance on Magdalana would make the death of the Lycan leader that much more delicious a victory.

A set of bushes in the distance rattled, tearing Malice from his revere, as the sandy haired, middle aged Richard Trudeau stepped out of the shadows and into the clearing. The Lycan carried himself with grace and dignity--something that no doubt got a great deal of respect from others, but only irritated Malice all the more.

“You’re late,” the vampire said cheekily, tapping his wrist as if he had a watch there.

“As is my right, boy, you neglected to show up at all for our last rendezvous,” Trudeau replied. “I grow tired of these constant games and intrigues, vampire.”

“Games?” Malice asked, feigning innocence and passing with effort. “You speak as though I mean to betray you.”

“Aren’t you?” Trudeau returned. “Isn’t this all an elaborate game, my dear boy?” The Lycan gestured between himself and Malice. “Nothing more than inter-species politics?”

“Perhaps,” Malice replied with a shrug. “How’s your arm feeling?”

“It has healed…and your thigh? I do so hope I didn’t leave a scar…”

Malice let out a bark of laughter. “I’m a vampire, Trudeau; it would take quite a bit more than some old mutt to leave a scar…but we dally when we have important matters to discuss.”

“Ah, yes. These little entertainments you insist on indulging in.” Trudeau took in a deep breath and released it through his nostrils in a huff. “I have better things to do than whiling away the hours waiting for a vampire in the woods.”

“Even one who holds such vital information concerning your pack?”

“Even then. You have yet to provide me with anything but speculation and half truths. So much so that I am starting to doubt how genuine you are.”

“Only starting to, eh? I guarantee you, old man, whether you take my word as a vampire or not: there is someone in your pack who seeks to overthrow you.” Malice drew the silver dagger in a flash, lunging at Trudeau. “Someone who just happened to hire me!”

With fluid grace, Trudeau blocked Malice’s attack. “You my friend are an overconfident fool.”

“You think that matters?” Malice sliced at Trudeau, catching his sleeve with the dagger. “I’m young and you’re still an old man!”

“Remember whom you address, boy! I am leader of the Lycan pack!” Trudeau lashed out, knocking Malice solidly across the face with his fist, causing the young vampire to stagger back. “Do you have any idea who you’re dealing with, Craven? Better men than you have tried to kill me and failed!”

“Guess it’s a good thing I’m not a man anymore!” Malice dropped to the ground, elegantly rolling out of the way of Trudeau’s next attack before standing and slashing his back open, cutting through both fabric and flesh.

Trudeau spun on him, hunched over because of the now festering wound in his back and snarled. “You dare to strike me in the back?! Your cowardess knows no bounds!”

“Cowardess? I prefer to think of it as making a situation work to my advantage.” Malice threw himself at Trudeau once more, but the wounded Lycan still fended him off. “I will see to it that you and all your kind are extinct by the next full moon, Trudeau, I promise it!”

Malice delivered another blow, the silver dagger stabbing Trudeau’s shoulder and causing the flesh there to peel away in response to the silver.

“The little hellion speaks as if he has the power to fell my entire pack!” Holding his injured shoulder, he circled Malice, eyes glinting with menace. “Our breeds have been content to stay separate since we overthrew Fortune until you sought me out. Tell me, Nosfaratu worm, who paid you to commit this treachery?!”

Malice flung himself at Trudeau, pinning him to the ground with all his strength and saw the perfect opportunity to get in the killing blow that had nothing to do with death…

“Your son,” he stated clearly, the shock registering in Trudeau’s eyes almost as delightful as the agony that followed when Malice thrust the dagger deeply in Trudeau’s throat.

Death was nearly instantaneous, blood gushing forth and flesh peeling away from the wound at an alarming rate.

When Trudeau stopped struggling and lay still, staring vacantly at the night sky, Malice stood, straightening his jacket and smoothing his hair. He looked down at the quickly decaying corpse and smirked with satisfaction.

The deed was done and through one little lie, Malice had made the dying man’s last thoughts about his son betraying him.

Malice leaned over to look Trudeau in the eye. “Doesn’t get any better than that, does it, old man?”