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New chapter. Hope you enjoy it, I think it's getting better.

Please leave a review and let me know what you thought of it, or any questions, concerns, comments... This chapter is by far the longest one yet, in terms of word count, so feed me!

Link N Ivy: All good speculations... Yeah, there's much much more to it than killing for revenge. It's very sinister, actually :)

Alexis Kent: Thanks for leaving another review, I'm glad you're enjoying the story

Everyone who left reviews before I realized the cool kids respond to individual reviewers: Thanks, I love ya'll.

Chapter taken down and re-uploaded - Alexis Kent kindly pointed out that I had some typoes. That's what happens when I start a chapter at 11 and don't finish until midnight - the proofreading part of my brain goes to bed before the rest of me. If anyone finds any more, please let me know.

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"You need a bath, Gavren." she slinked towards him, reaching up and unbuttoning the top of her black shirt. It had somehow grown more revealing between yesterday and now, and with a button open it was the epitome of temptation. "Why don't you come here, and I'll give you one?"

He stood in his room as she approached him, swaying her hips, moving around him, encircling her arms about him. She started to pull him closer to her, tighter against her body...

And then she was shaking him, which was a confusing turn of events – and she seemed to be yelling at him –

"Sodding hell, Gavren, I know we had a late night but you sleep like a rock! Come on, wake up!" Edelia stopped shaking him momentarily to glance around the room in hopes of finding a water pail, or similar item that could be used in a more dramatic rousing of the sleeping paladin. Just as she noticed a promising bucket on the window, the paladin sat up, his eyes shooting open as he mumbled something she didn't quite catch.

"Finally, Gav. Do they teach you to sleep like that in the temple, or something?" she grinned. "I was shaking you for almost a minute."

Gavren stared at her for a few seconds as powerful memories of his dream ran through his mind. His rather heated dream – or at least, heading in heated directions – involving a certain night elf...

She quirked an eyebrow at him as he kept staring. It had become a signature move of hers over the last few days. It was always the right eyebrow, Gavren noticed, and it disturbed him that he watched her face close enough to realize that.

"Um, sorry," he mumbled, looking down. "I was still half in my dream, you know. Uh, give me a few minutes to get fully awake," he looked up at her, hoping she would leave him alone. He needed to deal with the thoughts in his brain.

He was in luck. Edelia nodded. "Don't take too long, we're running a little behind where we wanted to be, but alright." She walked out of the room.

Gavren laid back down on his bed and stared at the ceiling. Yesterday, after agreeing to follow up on the lead given to them in the Slaughtered Lamb and seek out Kalaristo, Gavren and Edelia had flown Southeast to Darkshire, a step closer to Booty Bay. Upon arriving, both their bodies had issued firm reminders that sleep had been in short supply over the last few days, and they had agreed to stop and rest, setting out for Booty Bay the next day. And sleep had brought Gavren some very disturbing dreams...

"Not disturbing. They were enjoyable. But that's what's so disturbing about them. I am the worst paladin in the history of paladins."

Chastising himself out loud was a habit Gavren had picked up during his training. The Temple placed a rather large emphasis on repentance and confession as a road to redemption. The rational top portion of Gavren's mind wasn't sure how bad his thoughts actually were – they didn't seem to be harming anyone – but on an emotional level, he had been taught from a very young age by a religious mother (and had reinforced in his religious training) that these thoughts were impure and sinful, and would destroy him. The emotional part was winning the conflict with the rational part; particularly sense even his rational part thought that even if the thoughts themselves weren't bad, perhaps there was a time and place for everything, and this was not it. Gavren's monologue continued.

"This is not the time or the place for me to be having... those sorts of thoughts! A paladin controls his emotions, and controls his body – or at least, paladins who aren't me do that - "

"Is talking to yourself a regular thing, or is it just a morning ritual?" Edelia had walked back into the room, and was looking at him with a bemused expression.

Gavren's body and mind froze up, in a unified reaction of terror and shame. He wasn't experienced with women, but he suspected that having a potential love interest walk in on one's slightly crazed conversation with oneself about her was high on the list of Bad Things.

"You know, your cheeks are just the most charming shade of red right now, Gav." Edelia's smile was growing. "But seriously, you shouldn't be so hard on yourself. You've been working hard on this, I can't think of any paladin who would do better. You don't need to beat yourself up over sleeping in."

For a second, Gavren's mind failed to make any sense out of her last remark, but when it finally clicked, relief flooded over him. Edelia hadn't heard everything. She had thought he was upset because he overslept. His secret was still safe.

If she gave him a way out, he was damn well going to take it. "I suppose your right. I'm just so worried about Cathery's involvement in this whole thing." The lie stuck in his throat for a moment, since what he was really worried about was his lack of worry for his friend and his preoccupation with Edelia, but he forced it out anyways. Somewhere in the back of his mind, a voice was nagging about codes of honesty and pride he had memorized when he was in training. He told it to go stuff itself. Gavren's pride was more important to him than his oaths at the moment. It wasn't honorable, but it was the truth.

He sat up and turned to look at Edelia. Sleep had done wonders for her. She still hadn't combed her hair, but she had pulled most of the strands back out of her face, and it looked good falling freely about her shoulders. She had changed into the working clothes she had brought – out of the black shirt and into a black leather tunic that looked like it had been designed with both protection and flexibility in mind.

She offered him the cup in her hand. "Coffee. I thought you might want some."

He nodded gratefully as he took it. "You were right." Gavren enjoyed the taste, and being awake and focused was a premium right now.

"Get dressed, pack your stuff, and maybe grab a bite to eat. I'm going to see about getting us some horses."

Gavren took her advice. Fifteen minutes later, when he walked out of the Scarlet Raven Inn, he well fed, dressed in chainmail, and carrying his spare clothes and sword in a pack over his shoulder. He spotted Edelia standing next to two horses, one jet black and the other a mousey brown. She nodded to him as he approached.

"I got these for a decent price. We can drop use them for the trip and drop them off with the stable owners in Booty Bay, they have a deal worked out." She patted the black horse on the flank affectionately, and the brown one started rubbing its nose on her. Both horses definitely liked her. Must be a druid thing...

"Sounds good. The Temple will reimburse you for the cost of them when we get back; it's official policy when we receive outside help in our work."

"That would be great." She smiled as she picked up the saddles lying on the ground. Gavren opened his mouth to offer her assistance, as he usually found saddling horses – particularly his personal mount, an old, and at times downright cantankerous, warhorse – to be a chore. But as he watched, both horses maneuvered themselves not to hinder Edelia's efforts, but to help her, and her hands expertly slipped the saddles on before the offer came out of his mouth. She noticed that he was staring at her with his mouth open, and simply shrugged. "I guess it's a druid thing," she grinned back, echoing his earlier thoughts.

Gavren shook his head and climbed onto the brown one, Edelia having already mounted the black. Black was quickly becoming apparent as her color of choice.

The first part of the ride was uneventful. They rode through Duskwood, the old paths, the dark but beautiful trees, the discolored light that made it through the leaves turning everything a shade of gray. They turned South at one point, heading into Stranglethorn Vale, and the forest gradually began to lighten as they approached the jungle.

Close to the border between Duskwood and Stranglethorn, they stopped for a few minutes. It was important to avoid exhausting the mounts, since they wouldn't be able to get replacements before Booty Bay. Gavren hadn't thought the horses were particularly close to exhaustion, but Edelia seemed concerned with their overall level of morale. Gavren had never thought of horses as having morale before. The third druid thing of the day, it seems.

As they sat by the side of the road, letting the horses breath and enjoy themselves, he noticed that Edelia looked troubled. Her eyebrows were furrowed, a dark shadow over her beautiful face – stop that, Gavren. You are not allowed to see beauty in her any more. We had that talk this morning – and a troubled look in her eyes. Just as he was about to ask what was wrong, she turned towards him.

"Gavren, I think we may have overlooked some important questions here."

He raised his eyebrows. He couldn't pull off the single-eyebrow quirk with the same style she could, but it was good enough to indicate a question.

"It's just... We rushed pretty fast to figure out what happened to these two poor souls. And that's important to do. But I think we need to start looking at some other questions."

"What did you have in mind?"

"For one, how about motive? You said it's likely that the first man was killed by his daughter, your childhood acquaintance. If so, why? Even if she was on bad terms with him, that's hardly enough to justify a murder – and definitely not enough to justify a creepy murder involving body disintegration. And what about the second victim that was discovered later? Who was she? And why would Cathery kill her in the same fashion as her father, assuming it was Cathery? And if it was Cathery, did she know this woman? Did she have some sort of grudge there also? Or is there really something bigger going on here?" Edelia paused for a moment to draw a breath. Her questions had been coming out rapid-fire. Once she was satisfied her lungs would not implode, she continued. "I just think there are a lot of important things to be resolved that we've put off to the side. And we might not have all the information right now, but we should start thinking about these issues."

Gavren took a moment to absorb the list of questions. He agreed with all of them. It was just like when she had suggested asking a mage – it was obvious, but he had overlooked it all the same. He was quickly becoming grateful that Edelia had been the druid to answer his summons. She was saving him from serious errors of ommission.

After turning the questions around in his mind for half a minute, he answered. "You're right about all of them. I'll give it some more thought, but I can tell you that the Cathery I knew never would have killed her father simply because of their disagreements. She found him an insufferable sexist pig – and at times, he could be, she wasn't overreacting – but she never mentioned killing him because of it. Then again, she never mentioned killing anyone. Clearly she's changed." He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "You're right, we need to invest some thought into these. But without more information, I'm not sure how accurate our thoughts would be. Hunting down Kalaristo is our only lead toward getting that information."

"I agree, I think we should keep pursuing him. I just wanted to raise the questions themselves – we haven't discussed any of this, even hypothetically. For now, could you just tell me more about Cathery? I'd like to know a bit more about the woman we're presumably trying to capture."

Gavren nodded. "Fair enough. Although I don't know how much I can tell you about the woman who killed those two people. I don't know how much she could have in common with the Cath I knew growing up." He paused for a moment, sighing. Edelia didn't say anything. She'd never had a similar experience, but she could imagine raking your memories for clues as to what could cause your best friend to develop parricidal and homicidal tendencies was unpleasant.

Gavren rubbed his eyes for a moment, and then continued speaking. "Five years ago, she convinced me to take a trip North with her. We both lived in Goldshire, she wanted to see Lodaeron. This was around the beginnings of the plague – you know, the invasion and all that. It was probably pretty stupid of us to go up there with the news we'd heard, but Cath was always adventurous, always brave, and she really wanted to get away from her dad for a while. They'd been having disagreements over marriage – he wanted to arrange one for her, and she was a too much of a free spirit to hear a word of it. They nearly came to blows – and I don't doubt for one second she would have thrown down in a punching match with her father if it had come up. She wasn't a killer, but she wasn't afraid of fighting."

He took another pause, organizing his thoughts. "There were some close encounters up North, and we ended up coming back down a little early. Things got bad in Lodaeron when the plague hit. A lot worse than anyone expected. On the way back down, we spent the night in this run-down little inn north of Stormwind, just on the side of the road. Built for travelers. I heard her leave her room during the night, and I didn't hear her go back in – although I did fall asleep pretty fast. But the next morning, when I went down to the common room, she was sitting at a table looking like she hadn't slept a wink. And when I came down, she got up and came over to me. She felt weird. I don't know how else to say it – I could just tell there was something wrong. She told me she was leaving and that she didn't know if we'd ever see each other again, but it was equally possible we'd see each other in a matter of hours. Then she told me she'd valued my friendship. And before I could say anything, she walked out of the inn. I ran out after her, but I couldn't find her. She disappeared, right in broad daylight on an open road. I searched for her, even got the bartender to come out and help me, but we couldn't find a trace. Eventually, I had to leave. And I haven't seen or heard a trace of her until two days ago, when her mother told me that Cath killed her father."

Edelia was staring at him. It was a strange mixture of sympathy and bewilderment at the admittedly strange ending to his story. Gavren had hated almost every second he spent telling the story. He felt like Cath's disappearance was his fault, and he didn't know why. But he had the distinct feeling that if he had just done something more, he could have saved her. He hadn't acknowledged that feeling, but it had been eating him slowly over the last two days, and he could tell from Edelia's face that she had read his emotions like an open book. She didn't say anything, but approached him and gave him a hug.

"I'm sorry," she whispered into his ear. "I never took the time to say that properly. But I'm truly sorry you have to go through this, after you knew her for so long." She pulled back slightly and looked at him. "The one thing you need to know is that to me, it sounds like Cathery chose her own fate. Whatever happened, she understood it was going to happen. She walked out of the inn voluntarily. And you can't hold yourself responsible for that. You were her friend, not her keeper."

Gavren closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Somehow, without realizing it, he had come very close to crying. Telling the story brought up more emotions than he'd realized. He gathered his resolve, and pushed his feelings around Cathery's disappearance back down beneath the surface. Time to get to work now.

"Thank you for understanding. But I'm okay now." He gestured towards the horses. "Shall we?"

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Cathery took a moment to admire her work. Kalaristo was stripped, gagged, and tied up with rope, hanging from the ceiling of his own workshop. It was his own rop, which gave Cathery a degree of satisfaction. Kalaristo's eyes were wide with fear, darting wildly around the workshop and always landing on her.

The blood elf hadn't proven much of a challenge. She'd invited herself into his home – discourteous, but he hadn't pointed it out – by alluding to having a job for him, and when his back was turned, hit him on the head with a heavy brass candlestick. When he'd finally regained consciousness – which had taken several hours – he was in his current position. She'd left him there for the rest of the day, starving him but giving him a little water. A day of suspense was good interrogational practice, when you had the time. One of Cathery's first lessons from her Master had dealt with the psychological aspects of control. They were just as, if not more, important than the physical ones. Kalaristo's psychological state after a day of being gagged, naked, and starved would amplify the physical effects of what she was about to do to him.

But the waiting had gone on long enough. It was time to start. She walked over to him.

"You know, Kalaristo, you invented a 'technique' some time ago. Decades ago, in fact. It was a very special technique. You tried to destroy the journals you took it from because you didn't want anyone to ever use it. You know what I'm talking about, don't you." Her tone made it very clear that the last sentence was not a question.

She grabbed his face and turned it towards herself, looking into his eyes. He nodded slightly. If this had been an ordinary conversation, he probably would have denied any knowledge of his past work, and been infuriating in general. Cathery loved how compliant people became when you put them in the right conditions.

"I used it." She paused to observe his reaction. The eyes widened a little more – a trace of new fear. Good. Exactly what she wanted.

"I used it twice, actually." As she spoke, she began walking around his body, ambling slowly. "It worked both times. But I need you to give me some answers about the... final stages, shall we say." At this, Kalaristo's body seized and he started frantically trying to mumble something around the gag. Cathery underestood exactly what he was trying to mumble. He was the father of this theory, and would know the implications of what she had said. Doubtless he was trying to rant about her sanity and the extreme dangers of finishing what she had started. Cathery allowed him the privilege of trying to make himself heard for a few more seconds, before she punched him in the face. It was a good punch, hard enough to draw some blood from his nose. He gave a single loud mumble at this, and then fell silent.

"Yes, Kalaristo. I am planning to go all the way with this. Nothing you can say – or at least, would say, if you weren't gagged at the moment – would deter me. In fact, what you will do is help me."

Kalaristo made a noise. She imagined that it would have been a scornful laugh. She expected as much – she'd come here knowing it would require extreme persuasion to get what she wanted.

"Regardless of what you think now, Kalaristo, you will help me. Allow me to show you why."

She pulled out the present her Master had left for her to find. A dagger, forged from dark iron. The blade seemed to suck in the light itself, darkening the world around it. Runes were etched on the surface, old and powerful runes from a time long before Cathery's existence in the world, or her Master's. She didn't understand the exact workings of the magic, nor how it had been acquired. But she had been taught well enough to recognize what the function of the dagger would be.

Pain.

The magic would amplify the sensations of pain in any it was used on. If she did something with the dagger that would have been painful with any blade, this particular weapon would turn pain into overwhelming agony. Since Cathery had quickly become adept at doing painful things with blades, it was the perfect complement to her skills. Her Master knew her so well. Magic was important, but doing the work manually just felt right to her.

She took the dagger and laid it against Kalaristo's chest. She moved it down slowly to the side of his ribcage, ignoring his frantic muffled protests. Soon they would turn into frantic muffled screams, and she would ignore those too.

She turned the dagger on its side and dug it under his skin, drawing blood. Even tied up he could flail enough to complicate her work, so she used her free hand to hold him steady. Once he had stopped moving, she slid the dagger sideways along his skin, cutting off a large slice. About a foot long and an inch wide, straight off his side. When the strip was as long as she wanted, she didn't cut the far end. She used her and and pulled, ripping his skin apart with brute force. Kalaristo's muffled screams had been growing consistently louder, and this drew the loudest one yet. Cathery was quite grateful for the existence of gags. If it weren't for the one in Kalaristo's mouth, everyone in Booty Bay would have come running to see what was happening by now.

She looked down, admiring her work. The skinning had started cleanly. His muscle was exposed, pink and sinewy, slippery from blood. The same blood that covered her hands and the part of the floor where she had unceremoniously thrown the strip of skin.

She touched the tip of the dagger to his exposed muscle and smiled at him. "In an hour or so, you're going to be on your knees begging to help me. Until then, isn't it nice that you and I get to spend quality time together like this, uninterrupted?