Stephenie Meyer: The Short Second Life of Bree Tanner

Then we mostly roof-topped it back to the water. The sky was just faintly starting to gray up in the east. We slipped into the sound right under the noses of two oblivious night watchmen by the big ferry—good thing for them I was full or they would have been too close for my self-control—and then raced through the murky water back toward Riley’s place.

At first I didn’t know it was a race. I was just swimming fast because the sky was getting lighter. I didn’t usually push the time like this. If I were being honest with myself, I’d pretty much turned into a huge vampire nerd. I followed the rules, I didn’t cause trouble, I hung out with the most unpopular kid in the group, and I always got home early.

But then Diego really kicked it into gear. He got a few lengths ahead of me, turned back with a smile that said, what, can’t you keep up? and then started booking it again.

Well, I wasn’t taking that. I couldn’t really remember if I’d been the competitive type before—it all seemed so far away and unimportant—but maybe I was, because I responded right away to the challenge. Diego was a good swimmer, but I was way stronger, especially after just feeding.

See ya , I mouthed as I passed him, but I wasn’t sure he saw.

I lost him back in the dark water, and I didn’t waste time looking to see by how much I was winning. I just jetted through the sound till I hit the edge of the island where the most recent of our homes was located. The last one had been a big cabin in the middle of Snowville-Nowhere on the side of some mountain in the Cascades. Like the last one, this house was remote, had a big basement, and had recently deceased owners.

I raced up onto the shallow stony beach and then dug my fingers into the sandstone bluff and flew up. I heard Diego come out of the water just as I gripped the trunk of an overhanging pine and flipped myself over the cliff edge.

Two things caught my attention as I landed gently on the balls of my feet. One: it was really light out. Two: the house was gone.

Well, not entirely gone. Some of it was still visible, but the space the house had once occupied was empty. The roof had collapsed into ragged, angular wooden lace, charred black, sagging lower than the front door had been.

The sun was rising fast. The black pine trees were showing hints of evergreen. Soon the paler tips would stand out against the dark, and at about that point I would be dead.

Or really dead, or whatever. This second thirsty, superhero life would go up in a sudden burst of flames. And I could only imagine that the burst would be very, very painful.

This wasn’t the first time I’d seen our house destroyed—with all the fights and fires in the basements, most of them lasted only a few weeks—but it was the first time I’d come across the scene of destruction with the first faint rays of sunlight threatening.

I sucked in a gasp of shock as Diego landed beside me.

“Maybe burrow under the roof?” I whispered. “Would that be safe enough or—?”

“Don’t freak out, Bree,” Diego said, sounding too calm. “I know a place. C’mon.”

He did a very graceful backflip off the bluff edge.

I didn’t think the water would be enough of a filter to block the sun. But maybe we couldn’t burn if we were submerged? It seemed like a really poor plan to me.

However, instead of tunneling under the burned-out hull of the wrecked house, I dove off the cliff behind him. I wasn’t sure of my reasoning, which was a strange feeling. Usually I did what I always did—followed the routine, did what made sense.

I caught up to Diego in the water. He was racing again, but with no nonsense this time. Racing the sun.

He whipped around a point on the little island and then dove deep. I was surprised he didn’t hit the rocky floor of the sound, and more surprised when I could feel the blast of warmer current flowing from what I had thought was no more than an outcropping of rock.

Smart of Diego to have a place like this. Sure, it wasn’t going to be fun to sit in an underwater cavern all day—not breathing started to irritate after a few hours—but it was better than exploding into ashes. I should have been thinking like Diego was. Thinking about something other than blood, that is. I should have been prepared for the unexpected.

Diego kept going through a narrow crevice in the rocks. It was black as ink in here. Safe. I couldn’t swim anymore—the space was too tight—so I scrambled through like Diego, climbing through the twisting space. I kept waiting for him to stop, but he didn’t. Suddenly I realized that we really were going up. And then I heard Diego hit the surface.

I was out a half second after he was.

The cave was no more than a small hole, a burrow about the size of a Volkswagen Beetle, though not as tall as that. A second crawl space led out the back, and I could taste the fresh air coming from that direction. I could see the shape of Diego’s fingers repeated again and again in the texture of the limestone walls.

“Nice place,” I said.

Diego smiled. “Better than Freaky Fred’s backside.”

“I can’t argue with that. Um. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

We looked at each other in the dark for a minute. His face was smooth and calm. With anyone else, Kevin or Kristie or any of the others, this would have been terrifying—the constricted space, the forced closeness. The way I could smell his scent on every side of me. That could have meant a quick and painful death at any second. But Diego was so composed. Not like anyone else.

“How old are you?” he asked abruptly.

“Three months. I told you that.”

“That’s not what I meant. Um, how old were you? I guess that’s the right way to ask.”

I leaned away, uncomfortable, when I realized he was talking about human stuff. Nobody talked about that. Nobody wanted to think about it. But I didn’t want to end the conversation, either. Just having a conversation at all was something new and different. I hesitated, and he waited with a curious expression.

“I was, um, I guess fifteen. Almost sixteen. I can’t remember the day… was I past my birthday?” I tried to think about it, but those last hungry weeks were a big blur, and it hurt my head in a weird way to try to clear them up. I shook my head, let it go. “How about you?”

“I was just past my eighteenth,” Diego said. “So close.”

“Close to what?”

“Getting out,” he said, but he didn’t continue. There was an awkward silence for a minute, and then he changed the subject.

“You’ve done really well since you got here,” he said, his eyes sweeping across my crossed arms, my folded legs. “You’ve survived—avoided the wrong kind of attention, kept intact.”

I shrugged and then yanked my left t-shirt sleeve up to my shoulder so he could see the thin, ragged line that circled my arm.

“Got this ripped off once,” I admitted. “Got it back before Jen could toast it. Riley showed me how to put it back on.”

Diego smiled wryly and touched his right knee with one finger. His dark jeans covered the scar that must have been there. “It happens to everybody.”

“Ouch,” I said.

He nodded. “Seriously. But like I was saying before, you’re a pretty decent vampire.”

“Am I supposed to say thanks?”

“I’m just thinking out loud, trying to make sense of things.”

“What things?”

He frowned a little. “What’s really going on. What Riley’s up to. Why he keeps bringing the most random kids to her . Why it doesn’t seem to matter to Riley if it’s someone like you or if it’s someone like that idiot Kevin.”

It sounded like he didn’t know Riley any better than I did.