Page 163 of Dhampira

“Goodbye, Father.”

I turned.

“Your root word is useless,” he rasped.

When I turned back, he’d moved his head, and now his eyes burned with malice. “Irata. A weak word for a weak witch.”

The weight of a thousand pairs of eyes pressed against me. The weight of the gauntlets tried to drag me down.

But I wasn’t weak. I’d never been weak. Just hidden. Protected. Concealed behind my mother’s ward, I’d grown in fertile ground, the soil untouched by Rasimir’s poison.

“Irata helps me see,” I told him. “And I do. I see you clearly now, Father, and so do all the people you’ve harmed.”

His eyes widened. This time, the vor I’d taken from Lorcan had nothing to do with it.

Turning again, I swept my gaze over the mix of werewolves, witches, and vampires. The centaurs and sirens. Pixies, dryads, and trolls. But they were all Noctans. In one way or another, Rasimir had stolen from them. It was right to let them take back what he’d stripped from them. Their safety. Their dignity. Their loved ones. Their hopes and dreams. Rasimir had brutalized the Noctans for five hundred years.

“He’s yours,” I told them. “Take your vengeance.”

I walked away. Seconds later, the first werewolf streaked past me. Then another. Rasimir screamed. A centaur sprinted past, then a siren.

A pixie.

A cloud of hobflies.

Another scream split the air.

A troll thundered by, his passage ruffling my hair.

A minotaur.

Another werewolf.

Gurgling sounds rose at my back.

I kept walking.

The gauntlets fell from my hands, the vor that created them broken by Rasimir’s death.

He was dead. Nocta was free.

Lorcan and Vander pulled me into their arms.

“It’s done,” Lorcan murmured, stroking my hair. “You did it.”

When I lifted my head, Vander stared past me with awestruck eyes. “Corinthe,” he murmured, “you should turn around.”

Wariness prickling, I did as he said. Every creature in the courtyard faced me. Vampires and werewolves. A handful of witches. A few courtiers in bloodstained clothes. Pixies and centaurs. Kelpies with burning red eyes. Delphine offered a tremulous smile. The giant shifted from foot to foot, rocks tumbling from his shoulders, which sprouted grass. Sirens stood next to glomarids and merfolk.

As one, they sank to their knees.

“Corinthe!” someone shouted. “The Savior of Nocta!”

“The Savior of Nocta!” the crowd repeated. They rose to their feet, cheers rising with them.

Vander put an arm around my shoulders. Lorcan slipped his hand into mine.

“Well,” Vander said, “that went better than I expected.”