CHAPTER EIGHT

REBECCA

"Paris is nice," Rebecca said vaguely, as they walked past narrow, curving streets and wide avenues. She shivered slightly in the cool wind coming off the Seine. Sebastian unwound the scarf from around his neck and handed it to her. It was a heathery black and white tweed, still warm from being wrapped around his neck.

Rebecca hesitated, but Sebastian thrust it at her impatiently. "Don't be stupid," he said. "You're cold. Put it on."

"Thanks," she said reflexively, and winced. The scarf had a citrusy scent, like cologne, and she was a good deal warmer now. Sebastian slowed down as they walked, pointing out various landmarks for her benefit. He started to explain how all the neighborhoods in Paris were numbered-

"The vingt arrondisement," Rebecca said, nodding.

A hint of surprise showed on Sebastian's face. "How do you know that?"

For some reason, Rebecca felt mildly embarrassed at his surprise; she had always wanted to visit France, and had even been planning to take her travel year at the Paris Institute. It felt odd - and not entirely comfortable - to be walking with Sebastian in Paris. "I read it somewhere," she said vaguely.

It seemed like the day was just beginning for the people in Paris – there were men in trench coats carrying suitcases, hurrying without stopping, quite a few of them on the phone. There were also groups of young college girls, all decked out in stylish tight-fitting pants and high heels. Quite a few of them stopped to give Sebastian appreciative glances. One girl, sporting a lovely blue dress, her hair a mass of golden curls, even flashed him a flirtatious smile. Sebastian winked back, and she turned around to giggle with her friends.

Ugh, Rebecca thought. She leaped up onto the wall that ran beside the Seine, and glanced down at the river. The water was a grey-blue color, lazily drifting along below. She winced as she almost lost her footing on the wall; a twinge of pain shot through her ankle. The sores on her feet from the Elapid blood were still not fully healed.

"Sebastian," she said suddenly, sparing him a cursory glance, "Does the demon blood hurt you?"

Sebastian abruptly stopped walking, and Rebecca, caught slightly off balance on the narrow wall, heavily jumped down onto the pavement, colliding with Sebastian's chest - hard, warm and muscled beneath his shirt. A passing girl shot her an amused, jealous look, and Rebecca stepped hastily away from Sebastian. "Never mind," she said, seeing his stony expression. "Forget I asked."

Sebastian didn't say anything for a few more minutes as they continued walking. Then, abruptly breaking the silence, he said, "Yes, it does. All the time."

They eventually stopped outside a small café which Sebastian claimed sold "the best hot chocolate in Paris, or anywhere in the world, really". He was telling the truth, though - the hot chocolate was excellent. They made it at their table - which was small and wooden, as were the old-fashioned high-backed chairs - in a blue ceramic pot, using cream, chocolate powder and sugar. It was so thick you could have a spoon stand up straight in it.

"You know, they'll bring you another croissant if you want," Sebastian said, eyeing Rebecca as she wolfed hers down. "You're attacking that one like a wolverine."

She shrugged. "I'm fine. I was just hungry." After a pause, she said, "Didn't you want to show me something?"

Sebastian leaned forward, elbows on the table. "That wasn't entirely true. I wanted to talk to you. Convince you."

Rebecca slowly leaned back against the chair. "Then talk." She suddenly noticed that his eyes weren't all black – if you looked very closely, there was a silver ring around his iris. She shook her head and forced herself to concentrate on what he was saying.

"Do you think you can forgive me? I mean, do you think forgiveness is possible for someone like me?"

Rebecca didn't say anything for a moment. Surprise and shock rend her mute, even though she had been half-afraid that he would ask something like this, and now that he had, she didn't know what to say. She lowered her gaze to the wooden table, hoping the answer would be etched in there somewhere; she was sadly disappointed. "You do know that... there are some things for which I can never forgive you."

"Yes."

"And if you really want to be forgiven, you've got to make amends."

"I know that."

"Then why... all of this?" She gestured wildly with her mug, almost spilling her hot chocolate. "In case you didn't know, kidnapping me and Clary is not 'making amends'! Keeping Jace as a prisoner-"

"He's not a prisoner," Sebastian said quietly.

"Oh yeah, of course he's not," she said sarcastically. "You just brainwashed him into thinking you're right and everyone else is wrong."

"And if I turned myself in to the Clave, what do you think they would do?" Sebastian said. His voice was still calm, but there was a hint of impatience. "Do you think they would give me a second chance?"

Rebecca didn't say anything.

"I've always liked you, Rebecca." Sebastian wasn't looking at her anymore, but into the depths of his own mug. "In Idris... I knew we had something special. You feel the same way, don't you?" He looked back up to meet her gaze. "I knew it was a dangerous thing. I tried to hide my feelings for you, but... " He sighed. "It seems that you desire someone else."

Rebecca sat frozen, her grip on her mug so tight that her knuckles were white.

"But you belong to only me," he said, and his gaze hardened, his voice like steel. "And if I can't have you, then no one else will." He reached forward and gripped her wrist. "Say you understand."

Rebecca stayed silent.

Sebastian's grip tightened, sending stabs of pain shooting up her forearm. "Say you understand." His voice dripped with fury.

With enormous effort, Rebecca wrenched her grip out of his hand and stood up. "We're done, Sebastian," she said coldly. "I will never be yours, not now, not ever."

Sebastian's eyes blazed with vicious anger. But it was gone almost as quickly as it had come - with a serene smile, he paid the bill and flashed a brilliant smile at the waitress, who blushed. And, together, they left the café.