I was certain now, seeing the distaste in Adante’s face, that this was the real objection to Nowhere—not that it threatened sacred land but that it proved there was life after death. The former immortals here lived on through their children, and their children’s children. And then those future generations kept hanging around, just rubbing the Elders’ noses in it.

“We’ve spent a great deal of time over the years trying to keep Nowhere small, to protect our interests, but tonight we witnessed what may be adverse effects of that work.”

He was talking about the memory fades, and it sounded like he agreed with Sal that too much messing with people’s minds had somehow stopped the fade from working. He did not seem to suspect, as Lina did, that it had anything to do with their ancestry. Of course not. That would mean admitting that even a trace of vampire might still exist within the humans of Nowhere.

“We will take time to study the population further . . . from a distance.”

“You won’t interfere anymore?” I asked.

“We won’t let things get out of control, of course, but perhaps our energy is best directed elsewhere for the moment.” He rubbed his eyes in a way that almost made him look tired. “Such as finding a location to settle our Blood brethren.”

“And what of us?” Reg asked. It was only because I knew my brother so well that I heard the small shake in his voice.

Adante narrowed his eyes. “The council has determined that your decisions tonight were made under the influence of human emotions, of which you naturally have no control. Further, the Elder Seat recognizes and respects the allegiance paid to you by both an Ancient and a slayer.”

That just sounded like a fancy way of saying the council was scared witless of Sal and Lina.

“No further penalties will be issued for your latest actions.” He paused to look down his nose at us. “The vote was not unanimous.”

I had several snarky retorts, but I held them back. Or rather, Reg’s hand on my arm and his warning side-eye held them back.

“Thank you,” Reg said to the Elder.

Adante pressed his fingers together in a little triangle under his chin and closed his eyes, as if to steel himself for this next part. “Now, then. To the final bit of business. The Elder Seat laments the senseless loss of so many immortal lives, the countless years of history up in smoke along with them.”

I squirmed and looked down at my feet, feeling responsible for those lost lives.

“So many of our kin now gone, and two individuals with a century of immortal experience wasting away as humans.”

I felt a grating irritation at the implication that humans were a waste and fought the urge to remind him that our humanity was his own doing.