Free Three Promises by Bishop O'Connell

his side again, and twisted.
    â€œKeep up with the jokes,” the oíche said, and withdrew the blade. “It just makes this all the more fun.”
    Brendan opened his eyes and lifted his head to look at the oíche. Vincent looked as all oíche did: like a child born from a horror movie, all black eyes and a mouth full of pointed teeth. The dark faerie smiled and licked blood from the blade. Though he was nearly mad with thirst, Brendan managed to spit in his face. Most of it was blood.
    Vincent wiped it away and smiled. “Nice try, but there is no way we’re going to kill you, Fian. We’ve spent a good deal of effort to keep you alive.” The oíche leaned in close and dragged the blade over Brendan’s chest. “It was a near thing a few times, but don’t you worry. These have been only the first moments of what will be a long lifetime of pain.”
    â€œWhat, Fergus not have the bollocks to do this himself?” Brendan asked. “I can’t believe he doesn’t have the stomach to watch you work.”
    Vincent laughed so hard he nearly fell over. “Fergus? Fergus is gone. The oíche have seized the dusk throne.” He pushed the knife in between Brendan’s ribs, carefully avoiding the lung, heart, and major arteries.
    Brendan let out a whimpering groan, tears streaming down his face.
    â€œThe irony is, you helped fulfill our plan. Without you, and that mortal woman, we never would’ve been able to seize control. When she escaped, and he went after her, he was so blind with rage that he left the remnants of his power behind.”
    â€œAye, so she made it out, then?” Brendan asked without meaning to.
    Vincent nodded. “She did. Consider that bit of information our repayment for your ser­vices in our little coup.”
    â€œAye, glad to be of help,” Brendan said between pained gasps. “Why don’t you let me loose and I’ll show you how glad I am.”
    â€œYou know, “Vincent said, cleaning his fingernails with the blade. “If you hadn’t killed our brethren, we might’ve been willing to let you go.” He shrugged. “But you did, and so here we are.”
    â€œWell then, get on with it already,” Brendan said, and smiled a real smile.
    â€œYes, let’s.” Vincent put away the knife and took up a large cudgel.
    It looked far too heavy for the child-­sized faerie, but—­Brendan felt his knee break with the first blow. He screamed in pain, though it didn’t last. It was soon lost in a rush of sobbing from the torrent of follow-­up blows. When Vincent finally took a moment to rest, Brendan’s forearm was also broken, as were several more ribs.
    â€œI really must thank you,” Vincent said, smiling like a crazy child. “You can’t imagine how therapeutic this is for me. For all of us! You should see how we all vie for our chance at you.” He shrugged again, resting the cudgel on his small shoulder. “That’s another reason we have to keep you alive. Don’t want anyone to miss their turn.”
    Brendan didn’t have it in him to reply.
    Vincent looked him over, then let out a disappointed sigh. “Oh well, I guess we’re done for today.”
    Something cool and wet was pressed to Brendan’s lips.
    â€œDrink.”
    Despite himself, Brendan did.
    Vincent drew back the cup after only a few swallows. “That’s enough. We don’t want you dying of dehydration on us.” He leaned in close and whispered, “But just barely.”
    Brendan licked his lips, and tasted something strange. He spit, over and over.
    â€œDon’t bother,” Vincent said. “The water was dosed with it. That’s just the dregs.”
    â€œWhat is it?” Brendan asked, but his voice was little more than a choked whisper.
    â€œJust something to keep you from getting an infection, or even turning septic from those