Absinthe's End

“Another boy was taken last night,” Father said, laying down his paper with a deep frown. I glanced up from my homework. 

“Who?” I asked, feeling chills race up my spine. For the past three years, various boys had been taken—strangely, only boys from my school. 

“His name was Iris,” Father said as he scanned the headline. “Iris Black.” 

I lowered my eyes, trying to hide the tears already forming. Iris was one of my closest friends—just like all the others had been. Casper, Felix, and now Iris… 

“What did the news say this time?” I asked dryly, hurriedly brushing away my tears. “Another lie?” 

Father sighed and took a sip of coffee. “Eat some toast,” he said. “You haven’t been eating much lately.” He pushed the plate towards me, and I took a piece just so he would talk. 

“Well?” I pressed, taking a bite. My stomach churned; when you’ve just found out that one of your best friends is dead, you don’t have much of an appetite. 

“He was kidnapped,” Father said lightly, as if he was talking about something as boring as the weather. I shook my head fiercely. 

“No,” I said firmly. “He wasn’t kidnapped, just like all the others—” 

“Queenie, we’ve talked about this.” Father set down his mug and leaned back, surveying me with tired eyes. “Enough of this Absinthe nonsense. I understand that you’re upset, but what you’re saying is getting on my nerves. Finish your toast.” 

“It’s not nonsense!” I cried. “There’s a girl with a black needle who kills people! She was supposed to have died long ago, but she’s still alive for some reason and keeps killing my friends.” I didn’t bother to stop the flow of tears this time; I just let them fall.

“Queenie…” Father reached across the table to pat my hand gently. “You’re just tired. Go take a nap.” 

“But what about school?” I reminded him, sniffling. 

“I’ll call them. You can rest today, I understand that this boy was a friend of yours.” He let go of my hand and picked up the paper again. “Don’t worry about it. Go upstairs.” 

I knew arguing with him would be pointless, so I gave in and walked up the stairs, leaving my toast behind. 

Absinthe had struck again. And I had to stop her before she killed anyone else. 

***

Before I go on, I should tell you who I am. My name is Queenie Valven, I’m fifteen years old, and have recently solved the mystery of my friends’ recent disappearances. 

You might not believe me when I tell you this. And, to be honest, I won’t blame you. Go ahead and think that this is just a plain old horror story. (Yes, things are about to get scary) I won’t stop you. 

As I walked upstairs, fuming at my father’s reluctance to see the truth, only one thought was playing through my mind: 

I must stop her… I must stop her… 

The moment I reached my bedroom, I knew that what I was about to do next was nowhere near taking a nap. I quickly changed out of my pajamas, slid my window open, and stared at the rough pavement below. 

There was no tree to climb, no pipe to slide down. 

Great. 

Just as I was about to take my chances and jump out of the window, I heard a rustling sound behind me. I spun around. Nothing was there. 

Except for the piece of paper on my bed. 

My heart froze. This was what happened every time after one of my friends vanished—the little piece of paper. The warning. From her. 

I slowly walked over to the bed and picked it up. The paper was thin and crackly, like parchment, and I could almost see through it. The bright red words shone out. I felt queasy; I knew this wasn’t ink. It was Iris’s blood.

I took a deep breath and read. 

Third time’s the charm, remember? 

I gave you three chances. 

Three of your friends are gone. 

Where is my brother?

I let out an audible gulp. Every single note Absinthe gave me ended in the same way: where is my brother? 

I went over to my desk and rifled through various papers; math assignments, essays, pages filled with doodles… Aha! The other two notes. 

I took out the one I had gotten shortly after Felix died. It was the longest one, and one that confused me the most. 

The V in our names shall decide your fate. 

I will give you three chances before I show my face. 

The black needle I carry will make you suffer. 

All three of your friends will die—trust me, I’m no bluffer. 

Where is my brother? 

My blood ran cold as I read it over again, remembering the day when I had received it. I was so terrified, I hid under my bed for hours. That was three years ago… 

One friend gone each year.

With a trembling hand, I picked up Casper’s note. He was on vacation when he died, visiting the Valven Manor. I remembered how much I wanted to go with him. Father said that the two names were a coincidence, that our family had nothing to do with a mansion. 

I only figured out he was lying once I got the letter. 

He visited my home, I thought you obeyed me. 

I thought you found the last Valven. 

But you lied, it sickens me. It’s just another one of your friends. 

He’s number two. Soon will be number three. 

Where is my brother? 

I set the three little pieces of paper down on my bed, side by side, and stared at them for a long time. I had no idea what this Absinthe girl wanted with me, or who she was. My heart froze with fear whenever I thought about her, about what she could do. 

Valven. She said the V in our names would decide my fate… 

V. Valven began with V. Of course.

What if Absinthe was a Valven? 

What if she was related to me? 

My brain seemed to stop working for a moment. I just stood there, frozen, my hands shaking so hard I thought they might fly off my body… 

Father. Father was downstairs, Father would know what to do.

Wait. What if Father was—

Bringing the notes with me, I ran down as fast as I could. He was still in his chair, drinking coffee. He looked up as I approached him, his eyebrows raised. 

“Feeling better?” He asked. I shook my head. 

“Father, this is important,” I insisted, sitting in the chair next to him. “Do you have a sister?” 

Father’s face fell. “No,” he said quietly. “Not anymore.” 

My breath caught in my throat. “Yes?” I said. “Yes? What do you mean?” 

“Little Abby died,” Father said sadly. He stared down into his cup. “She died, and we could never find the body. Mother claimed that she drowned. That was over three hundred years ago.” 

I frowned. “What?” I said. “What do you mean? Father?”

His eyes closed, and his head flopped forward. I caught him just before he hit the table. “Father? What do you mean? Who’s Abby?” 

Wait. Abby… Absinthe. 

The temperature seemed to drop. At first it was just mildly chilly, but then it got colder. So cold. I shivered and let Father’s head drop and wrapped my arms around myself, trying to warm my shoulders. 

Fear blossomed in my heart, making me feel colder. 

What was that sound? 

I heard footsteps. Big, loud footsteps. 

The front door opened, and in walked a girl with black, greasy hair. 

Absinthe. Oh no. No, no, no. 

“You found him,” Absinthe rasped. I let out a squeak and walked backwards, bumping into the table, making Father’s coffee mug fall down with a crash. I winced as one of the pieces hit my foot.

“Go away,” I whispered, too scared to move. Absinthe moved closer, and I could make out strange stains on her nightgown. 

Blood. So much blood. 

“You found my brother,” Absinthe said, walking towards the table. She wore no shoes, but her footsteps echoed around the room as if she was wearing cleats. I shrunk away from her, horrified. 

“I never had a daughter,” Absinthe said quietly. She turned towards me and lifted the hair out of her eyes. I gasped. 

Her eyes were red. 

No pupils. 

Just red. 

“My brother thought he could escape me,” Absinthe said with a light laugh. “Transferring his soul from one Valven man to another… but you, Queenie.” She smiled a ghostly smile. “You brought him to me.” 

“T—that’s not your brother,” I said, my teeth chattering. All I wanted to do was run, hide, away from this girl, away from everything… “He’s my father,” I said. 

“Oh, no, dear girl,” Absinthe said. She turned towards Father and reached down the front of her nightgown. I gasped loudly as she brought it out.

The black needle. 

The needle that murdered my best friends. 

Not this time. I wouldn’t let her. 

I ran forward and grabbed her wrist, pulling her back. I screamed as the coldness of her skin pierced my veins. Absinthe turned towards me, her face shocked. 

The needle was touching my skin. 

It was cold. Freezing. I couldn’t stop it. 

Please, make it stop. 

Absinthe let go of the needle. I watched in amazement as her red eyes faded, replaced with a calming blue. She stumbled to the ground, making choking sounds as she clutched her throat. 

“I never had a daughter,” she said again with effort. “You must… carry on… my duty… kill my brother…” And with a final gasp, she crumpled, her skin dissolving, everything dissolving. I closed my eyes in disgust, and when I opened them, all that was remaining of Absinthe was a pile of bones and a bloody nightgown. 

A strange feeling overcame me. My eyes rolled to the back of my head, my knees shook. My vision turned blurry. 

I stared at my father in his chair, a feeling of hatred overwhelming me. 

I was a Valven. I knew it all along, tried to deny it, was hoping and praying that Absinthe wasn’t my kin… 

But she was. I couldn’t ignore the truth. 

I took a deep breath. 

Then I lunged.