“Train four-one-nine to Liverpool is calling at the station in one minute,” the man announces over the loudspeaker, just before I hear the sound of the train coming in from a distance. I turn back to see the grey train speeding towards us, only slowing down when it gets close, but I still have to walk to get to the end carriage. I wait for the two men in front of me to get on before I step onto the carriage, turning to pull my suitcase on. I search through the full seats until I find an empty one near the back, next to a window. I have to make sure it’s facing the way the train is going as it freaks me out to sit the other way. I slide my suitcase under the seat before sitting down, leaving my handbag on the small table in front of me.
I wave goodbye to my sister, who waves back, her head hidden on grandma’s shoulder as she cries. I can only see her waist length, wavy blonde hair before the train pulls away. I’m going to miss her. Urgh, it’s not like we don’t have phones and FaceTime! I’m being silly. I pull my phone out of my bag and quickly send a message to my older sis, letting her know I am on the train. I also send a message to Phoebe, telling her how much I love and miss her already.
“Ticket?” the train employee guy asks, making me jump out of my skin, and my phone falls on the floor.
“Sorry! I’m always dropping stuff,” I say, and the man just stares at me with a serious expression, still holding his hand out. His uniform is crisply ironed, and his hair is combed to the left without a single hair out of place. I roll my eyes and pull my bag open, pulling out my ticket and handing it to him. After he checks it for about a minute, he scribbles on it before handing it back to me. I’ve never understood why they bother drawing on the tickets when the machines check the tickets at the other end anyway. I put my ticket back into my bag before sliding it under the seat just as the train moves, jolting me a little.
I reach for my phone, which is stuck to some paper underneath it. I’ve always been taught to pick up rubbish, so I grab the paper as well as my phone before slipping out from under the table and back to my seat. I put my phone back into my handbag before looking at the leaflet I’ve picked up. It’s one of those warning leaflets about familiars and how it is illegal to hide one. The leaflet has a giant lion symbol at the top and warning signs around the edges. It explains that you have to call the police and report them if you find one.
Familiars account for 0.003 percent of the human race, though many say they are nothing like humans and don’t like to count them as such. Familiars randomly started appearing about fifty years ago, or at least publicly they did. A lot of people believe they just kept themselves hidden before that. The Familiar Empire was soon set up, and it is the only place safe for familiars to live in peace. They have their own laws, an alliance with humans, and their own land in Scotland, Spain and North America.
Unfortunately, anyone could suddenly become a familiar, and you wouldn’t know until one random day. It can be anything from a car crash to simply waking up that sets off the gene, but once a familiar, always a familiar. They have the mark on their hand, a glowing tattoo of whatever animal is bonded to them. The animals are the main reason familiars are so dangerous. They have a bond with one animal who would do anything for them. Even kill. And I heard once that some kid’s animal was a lion as big as an elephant. But those are just the things we know publicly, who knows what is hidden behind the giant walls of the Familiar Empire?
“My uncle is one, you know?” a girl says, and I look up to see a young girl about ten years old hanging over her seat, her head tilted to the side as she stares at the leaflet in my hand. “He has a big rabbit for a familiar.”
“That’s awesome...” I say, smiling as I put the leaflet down. I bet picking up giant rabbit poo isn’t that awesome, but I don’t tell her that.
“I want to be a familiar when I grow up,” she excitedly says. “They have cool powers and pets! Mum won’t even let me get a dog!”
“Sit down, Clara! Stop talking to strangers!” her mum says, tugging the girl’s arm, and she sits down after flashing me a cheeky grin.
I fold the leaflet and slide it into my bag before resting back in the seat, watching the city flash by from the window. I couldn’t think of anything worse than being a familiar. You have to leave your family, your whole life, and live in the woods. Being a familiar seems like nothing but a curse.
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About the Author
G. Bailey is a USA Today and international bestselling author of books that are filled with everything from dragons to pirates. Plus, fantasy worlds and breath-taking adventures.
G. Bailey is from the very rainy U.K. where she lives with her husband, two children, three cheeky dogs and one cat who rules them all.
A few random facts about her...
She loves tea. (She may be a little obsessed but what Brit isn't?)
Chocolate and Harry Potter marathons are her jam.
She owns way too many notebooks and random pens.
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