The Guardians

“Happy birthday, baby girl!” My dad exclaims as he drops a very old book down onto my lap. It’s six in the morning and I haven’t even got out of bed yet. My fingers trace over the leather bound book. The title is in German, that much I know. There is a wolf and and a moon on the cover along with a knight. “This is your family history.”

“You know I don’t speak or read German right?” I raise my eyebrow at my father. “What does this say?”

“Die Wächter der Wölfe.” My father replies in perfect German. “It means The Guardians of Wolves.”

“What does this have to do with our family?” I ask him.

“That is something you won’t find out until your 18th birthday.” He chuckles. “Now get dressed, we’re going to the Hales’ for your birthday breakfast. You know how much Talia loves celebrating your birthday.”

“She goes go all out,” I chuckle. “You’d think she was family.”

“She is family,” my father tells me. “She may not be blood but she’s family. She’s the closest thing to family we have out here. Just remember that.”

“Always.”

**

“Happy Birthday!” Derek Hale, my best friend, yells as soon as I walk into his house. He instantly pulls me into a hug and a kiss on the cheek. “You don’t look at day over 25.”

I playfully slap his chest as I pull away. “You’re an ass, Hale.”

“You love me Siferd.” He gives me his cheesy smile. “Hey, my mom is looking for you. She has a present for you.”

“What did she get me?”

He shrugs, “no idea. She didn’t tell me because she knows you would torture me for the information.”

I can’t help but to laugh. “Der, you’re a werewolf. I’m human. If you can be easily tortured by me, there is something wrong with you.” He just rolls his eyes and flips me off which instantly earns a smack upside the head from his mother.

“Derek.” Talia Hale growls her son's name, narrowing her eyes at him. Derek throws his hands up in defence before walking away, leaving me with his mother. “Stacy, you have grown up into this perfect little woman. Your mother would have been so proud of you.” She smiles down at me as she puts a hand on my cheek. “I’m sure your partner in crime told you about me buying you a small birthday present.”

“You didn’t have to, Talia.” I tell her. “Breakfast is more than enough.”

“Nonsense!” She chuckles. “You’re my best friend’s daughter, I’ll spoil you however I want.” She smiles as she hands me over a necklace. It’s a sword and two wolves face in the opposite direction. It’s heavy, it’s shiny and it’s drop dead gorgeous.

“Talia, this hand to cost a fortune, I can’t accept this.” I try to give her back the necklace only to have it pushed right back to me.

“You’re worth everything, Stacy. You’re the future. You will do great things. But this necklace is a reminder of where you came from. Promise me, wherever you go in the world, Beacon Hills will always be your home and Derek will always be your best friend.”

I look over at Derek who is happily talking to my dad about something; a smile creeps on my lips as I turn back to his mother. “I promise. Derek can’t get rid of me that easily…”



I find myself drawn back here. Beacon Hills has always been a beacon to the Siferd family, or so my father says. He said no matter how far he moved away, Beacon Hills called to his heart. Or maybe it was his childhood best friend Talia; he never really gave me a straight answer.

For six years we lived as nomads, my uncle Silas, aunt Gwen and myself. Not too long after my 16th birthday, there was a tragic house fire involving the Hale family. The only thing I remember of that night is being dragged out of bed and shoved into Uncle Silas’ van. I barely had any clothing with me and I never got answers as to why my father wasn’t coming with us. Hours later, once we were crossing the California/Nevada state lines did I find the truth. My father perished with the majority of the Hale family. I spent the rest of the trip in silence, mourning not only my father but a family that I once called my own.

Mumford and Son’s is playing softly, only to be drowned out by my Tamaskan Dog, Mohegan’s snoring. I drive through town and nothing much has changed; the curse of small towns I suppose. Another curse of small towns is how quickly gossip spreads. I’m sure by this time tomorrow everyone in town is going to know I’m back; especially if I’m living in my childhood home.

I pull up to the house and take a deep breath in. I haven’t been here in six years. Uncle Silas makes a year visit here to keep up the appearance outside and in; but doesn’t stay long. And I’ve actively avoided this place for years. But now, I can’t fight that magnetic pull; I had to come back.

I kill the engine and open my door, waking the sleeping dog in the front seat. I smile at him, “welcome home Mohegan. Welcome home…”