CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
REBECCA
Asmodeus's eyebrows shot up. "What was that?"
Isabelle seemed to catch on before anyone else. She paled and said, "No, Simon, no!" but Simon went on, his back straight, his chin lifted.
"I also have an immortal life," he said. "Magnus isn't the only one. Take mine; take my immortality."
"Ahhhh," breathed Asmodeus, his eyes suddenly shining. "Azazel told me of you. A vampire is not interesting, but a Daylighter! You carry the power of the world's sun in your veins. Sunlight and eternal life, that is a power indeed."
"Yes," Simon said. "If you'll take my immortality instead of Magnus's, then I give it to you. I am-"
"Simon!" Clary said, but it was already too late.
"I am willing," he finished, and with a glance around at the rest of the group, he set his jaw, with a look that said, I've said it. It's done.
"God, Simon, no," said Magnus, in a voice of terrible sadness, and he closed his eyes.
"I'm only seventeen," Simon said. "If he takes my immortality, I'll live out my life- I won't die here. I never wanted immortality, I never wanted to be a vampire, I never wanted any of it."
Isabelle opened her mouth, but she seemed to be lost for words.
"It's settled then," Asmodeus said gleefully. "But there is one more thing I want from you. One more item to sweeten the deal." He grinned, and his teeth glimmered like sharp crystals.
"What?" Magnus's voice shook. "What is it you want?"
"His memories," said Asmodeus.
"Azazel took a memory from each of us, as payment for a favor," Alec said. "What is it with you demons and memories?"
"Human memories, freely given, are like food to us," said Asmodeus. "Demons live on the cries and agony of the damned in torment. Imagine then, how nice a change of pace a feast of happy memories is. Mixed together, they are delicious, the sour and the sweet." He looked around, his cat's eyes glittering. "And I can already tell there will be many happy memories to take, little vampire, for you are much loved, are you not?"
Simon looked strained. He said, "But if you take my memories, who will I be? I don't-"
"Well," said Asmodeus. "I could take every memory you have and leave you a drooling idiot, I suppose, but really, who wants the memories of a baby? Dull, dull. The question is, what would be the most fun? Memories are delicious, but so is pain. What would cause the most pain to your friends, here? What would remind them to fear the power and the wit of demons?" He clasped his hands behind his back.
"I promised my immortality," Simon said. "Not my memories. You said 'freely given'-"
"God in Hell, the banality," said Asmodeus. "Do you want to go back or not?" He yelled the last word, anger crossing his face like a bolt of lightning. He seized Simon's forearm. Instantly, Rebecca's sword was in her hand, as were Jace's and Isabelle's.
"Let him go," Jace said. "He is ours, not yours; the Nephilim protect what belongs to us-"
"No!" Simon said. He was shivering all over, but his back was straight. "Jace, don't. This is the only way."
"Indeed it is," said Asmodeus. "For none of you can fight a Prince of Hell in his place of power; not even you, Jace Herondale, child of angels, or you, Clarissa Fairchild, with your tricks and runes. Or you, Rebecca Trueblood, even though the blood of Lilith herself flows in your veins." He moved his fingers, slightly; Jace's sword clattered to the ground, and Jace jerked his hand back, grimacing in pain as if he'd been burned. Asmodeus spared him only a glance before raising his hand again.
"There is the gateway. Look." He gestured toward the wall, which shimmered and came clear. Through it, Rebecca could see the hazy outlines of the Hall of Accords. There were the bodies of the Endarkened, lying on the ground in heaps of scarlet, and there were the Shadowhunters, running, stumbling, hugging embracing one another- victory after the battle.
And there were Jocelyn and Luke, looking around in bewilderment. They were still in the same position they had been in on the dais: Luke standing, Jocelyn kneeling with Jonathan's body in her arms. Other Shadowhunters were only just beginning to glance toward them, surprised, as if they had appeared out of nowhere- which they had.
"There is everything you want," said Asmodeus, as the gateway flickered and went dark. "And in return, I shall take the Daylighter's immortality, and along with it, his memories of the Shadow World- all his memories of all of you, of all he has learned, of all he has been. That is my desire."
Simon's eyes widened; Clary gasped.
Magnus looked as if someone had stabbed him. "There it is," he whispered. "The trick at the heart of the game. There always is one, with demons."
Isabelle looked incredulous. "Are you saying you want him to forget us?"
"Everything about you, and that he ever knew you," said Asmodeus. "I offer you this in exchange. He will live. He will have the life of an ordinary mundane. He will have his family back; his mother, his sister. Friends, school, all the trappings of a normal human life."
Clary looked at Simon desperately. He was shaking, clenching and unclenching his hands. He said nothing.
"Absolutely not," said Jace.
"Jace," Simon said through clenched teeth. "It's the only way."
"Simon, shut up," Magnus said desperately. "Take me instead, Father-"
"I want the Daylighter," said Asmodeus.
"You can't just take our memories," Rebecca began furiously. "We're Nephilim. It would be tantamount to an attack. The Clave-"
"Your memories you may keep," said Asmodeus. "Nothing about your remembering Simon will get me in trouble with the Clave, and besides, it will torment you, which only doubles my pleasure." He grinned. "I shall rip a hole through the heart of your world, and when you feel it, you will think of me and remember me. Remember!"
Asmodeus pulled Simon close, his hand sliding up to press against Simon's chest, as if he could reach through his rib cage into his heart. "We begin here. Are you ready, Daylighter?"
"Stop!" Isabelle stepped forward, her whip in hand, her eyes burning. "We know your name, demon. Do you think I am afraid to slay even a Prince of Hell? I would hang your head on my wall like a trophy, and if you dare touch Simon, I will hunt you down. I will spend my life hunting you-"
Alec wrapped his arms around his sister, and held her tightly. "Isabelle," he said quietly. "No."
"What do you mean, no?" Clary demanded. "We can't let this happen- Jace-"
"This is Simon's choice." Jace stood stock-still; he was ashy pale but unmoving. His eyes were locked on Simon's. "We have to honor it."
Simon looked back at Jace, and inclined his head. His gaze was moving slowly over all of them, flicking from Magnus to Alec, to Rebecca, to Jace, to Isabelle, where it stopped and rested. Finally, he looked at Clary. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the golden faerie ring. He pressed it into Clary's hands, and opened his mouth to say something, but was interrupted by Asmodeus.
"Enough," said Asmodeus. "I hate good-byes." And he tightened his grip on Simon. Simon gasped, his eyes flying wide open; his hand went to his chest.
"My heart-" he gasped, and Rebecca knew, knew from the look on his face, that it had started beating again. A white mist exploded all around them, and a surprised cry escaped her throat. The mist encircled Simon and Asmodeus, half-blocking them from view.
Shapes began to appear in the mist as it thickened. Clary saw herself and Simon as children, holding hands, crossing a street in Brooklyn; she had barrettes in her hair and Simon was adorably rumpled, his glasses sliding off his nose. There they were again, throwing snowballs in Prospect Park; and at Luke's farmhouse, tanned from summer, hanging upside down from tree branches. She saw them in Java Jones, listening to Eric's terrible poetry, and on the back of a flying motorcycle as it crashed into a parking lot, with Jace there, looking at them, his eyes squinted against the sun. And then she saw her and Simon, laughing at something Simon had said- what was it he had said? She struggled to remember... And there was Simon with Isabelle, his hands curved around her face, kissing her, and she could see Isabelle as Simon saw her: fragile and strong, and so, so beautiful. And there was Valentine's ship, Simon kneeling on Jace, blood on his mouth and shirt, and blood at Jace's throat, and there was the cell in Idris, and Hodge's weathered face, and Simon and Clary again, Clary etching the Mark of Cain onto his forehead. Maureen, and her blood on the floor, and her little pink hat, and the rooftop in Manhattan where Lilith had raised Sebastian, and Clary was passing him a gold ring across a table, and an Angel was rising out of a lake before him, and he was kissing Isabelle . . .
All Simon's memories, his memories of magic, his memories of all of them, being drawn out and spun into a skein. It shimmered, as white-gold as daylight. There was a sound all around them, like a gathering storm.
Rebecca could feel the edge of the storm catching her, lifting her up and whirling her away. She saw the stone room recede into the distance at a terrible speed, and she was alone in the chaos. For a moment she thought Asmodeus had lied to them after all, that there was no gateway, and that they would float in this nothingness forever until they died.
And then the ground came up, fast. She saw the floor of the Accords Hall, hard marble veined with gold, before she hit it. The collision was hard, rattling her teeth; she rolled automatically and came to a stop at the side of the mermaid fountain in the center of the room.
She sat up and looked around. The room was full of utterly silent, staring faces, but they didn't matter. She wasn't looking for strangers. She saw Jace first; he had landed in a crouch, poised to fight. She saw his shoulders relax as he looked around, realizing where they were, that they were in Idris, and the war was over. And there was Alec; he had his hand still in Magnus's. Magnus looked sick and exhausted, but he was alive. Clary was stumbling to her feet and running to Jace.
And there was Isabelle. She had come through the closest to Rebecca, only a foot or so away. She was already on her feet, her gaze scanning the room, once, twice, a desperate third time. They were all there, all of them, all except one.
She looked down at Clary; her eyes were shining with tears. "Simon's not here," she said. "He's really gone."
The silence that had held the assembly of Shadowhunters in its grip seemed to break like a wave: Suddenly there were Nephilim running toward them. Maryse and Robert, closely followed by Jocelyn and Luke, Aline and Helen - and even Emma Carstairs.
To her surprise, Maryse immediately caught hold of Rebecca and looked her over, frantically, and then immediately pulled her into a hug. Rebecca allowed herself to dissolve into her arms, wrapping her own around Maryse and holding her tight.