A/N: In this chapter, Diego might be in for a surprise!
Chapter Two: The Reunion
Diego POV
I huddle in the tunnel, trying hard to be unnoticeable. The playground is full of kids in daytime, and right now, at night, it is eerily empty. This particular tunnel that I've chosen, one of three, is the blandest of the trio, with leaks and a pale gray complexion. It is hidden in the shadows of its companions. I think, for the millionth time, of Bree, with her quiet yet fierce personality, the smooth wave of her dark brown hair, the brightness of her crimson eyes –
A rustle in the bushes behind the drab gray plastic that surrounds me disturbs my train of thought. It is the slightest of sounds. It can only be a vampire . . . trying to get my attention. I crawl out of the tunnel and stand up hopefully. "Bree," I whisper under my breath. "Is that you?"
The bushes rustle again as a woman steps into view. I let out a sigh of disappointment. It isn't Bree. "Who is Bree?" asks the woman in a voice like crystal clinking.
She has a narrow frame, and long black hair. Her eyes are a startling blue. Yet she is clearly a vampire, from the pallor of her pale skin and the muscles that I know are as hard as diamond. I get the strangest feeling that I know her, as if from my human life. But looking through those memories is so foggy.
"She's my . . . good friend," I reply cautiously, not knowing if we are something more.
The woman's brow pinches together. "Ah," she says, and I get the strangest feeling that she understands.
"Who are you?" I ask, looking her straight in the eyes. "You are vampire; even I can tell that. But your eyes - they –"
"Shine?" Her voice cuts across mine, though not without amusement. "Yes, my eyes are blue." She lowers herself onto a rock, and I do the same, though we do not need it. It simply brings us to the same height. She is so petite that I tower over her.
"Why?"
"I do not feed off of blood. I feed off of plants."
I laugh. "Yes, and next you will tell me that you are not a vampire."
She smiles. "I have learned that if you are lonely and if you go to . . . a special place, then you can live without murder."
I have to admit, I am interested. "Where is this special place?"
She frowns, and I can sense her growing unease. "They must find you. I can tell you though," she warns, "that they are more powerful than even the Volturi."
"Who are the Volturi?" I ask, confused.
She only leans back. "What is your name?"
"Diego. Yours?"
She stares at me with her mouth open. "Diego? Truly?"
"Yes." I am a little frustrated. "You are?"
Her lips curve faintly into a smile. "Call me . . . Captain Hook."
"Call me . . . Captain Hook."
I look at her. "But he was the meanie!"
She smiles. "But that's what I want to be. Brave, and courageous. A pirate!"
"But Mother said that pirates are mean. Jasmine!" I whine, catching hold of her sleeve. She rips it from my grasp.
"Mother isn't always right, Di," she reminds me.
"But . . ."
"Enough. Let's play!"
"Jaz! Where are you going?"
She turns sadly. "I am eighteen, Di. I'm free. I'll come back for you. I just can't stand being with her," she spits, jerking her head towards their mother's room.
"But she says she's ill-"
"She's not ill, Diego. Just stay away from her!" Her gaze softens and she bends down to kiss me. "Look after Samuel, Di. You are the elder one now."
"But-"
"My brave ten-year-old. I must leave now. Goodbye!"
"Bye," I whisper softly as she leaves, the familiar pine trees swaying sadly at her loss.
The news article, not one month after she left. Jasmine Sanchez, eighteen years old, lost in woods, bloody bag found. He had cried, and his mother had held him, muttering how he was a much better child anyways. He had yelled at her all sorts of things, and she had left his room. He had mourned for weeks. Her absence had driven him toward near madness; then Sam got killed; and he had snapped-
"Mi pequeño Diego. Usted ha sufrido tanto. Estamos juntos ahora. Estamos a salvo. ¿Cómo está Sam?"
I take a deep, raggedy breath. "Sam is dead."
The shock on my sister's face is something I would never forget. "Dead?" she quavers.
I nod. "Killed by . . . gang initiation."
She makes a face. "So, hermano menor, who is this girl?"
Of course, that is when the Shakers come.
