The Boondock Saints 2: Angelus de Lumine
By: Raven in Red
All was fair in the rolling hills of Ireland, until the murder of a priest angrily ignites the waning flame that is Grace Reilly's weary heart. When she returns to America, her faith in God, her love for her husband, and her best friend's newfound happiness are the only things keeping her together. Sequel to Angel of Death, Angel of Love. ConnorOC, RomeoOC. During and after BDS2.
Chapter 1: The Angel Returns
You're probably hoping that, after a wonderful wedding to the wonderful man that is Connor MacManus, I'm here to tell you that (seven years later) I am the happy mother of two or three children, settling down to a peaceful life in my now-beloved Ireland.
Wrong. Way, way wrong.
As of right now, I have been married to Connor MacManus for almost seven years, and it has not gone as perfectly as so many women desire of their ideal marriage. For the last four years, we've been trying our damned hardest to have a child so our life and marriage will be more complete, but our efforts and prayers have all been in vain.
Mary Rose was our first child. I miscarried her during my seventh month of pregnancy.
Aidan (named after one of our friends who had helped us considerably) was our second. He only lived for two minutes after I gave birth to him.
Liam was our third and last. I miscarried him during my eighth month, only about three weeks before my due date. After Liam, Connor and I just stopped trying. Neither of us have had the strength to take such a huge risk again.
Not only have I lost three precious children, but I have also lost my dear mother. After my daddy's murder right before I met the MacManus brothers, she had been my only blood family left. Now, after she drank a bit too much and got into a perilous car wreck, I became the last living link to the proud Reilly bloodline.
To get through my dark days, it comforts me to know that I'll always have the love of my husband Connor, his twin (and my dear brother) Murphy, and my childhood friend Ellie. Ellie and I have stood together through the thick and the thin, and through the good, the bad, and the ugly. Our ties go back to our days in the preschool sandbox, and they have extended through many college arm-wrestling matches, street fights, "I feel fat" days, and finally through our quite exciting career with the Saints of South Boston.
Since I had been married to Connor, he had moved into the farmhouse that Ellie and I shared on our small horse ranch. Ever since losing Liam, we hadn't shared a bed even once. I guess I was just so scared of becoming pregnant and losing a fourth child that I avoided sleeping with him altogether.
Ultimately, my life had reached a dull, boring lull. Nothing I did seemed to excite me like it used to. I dreaded getting up every morning to work, and I dreaded going to bed every night as it meant that the cycle would just repeat all over again the next morning.
I needed something to happen.
Something big.
Ultimately, I needed to go back home to America.
"Lord, give me a sign," I prayed, kneeling beside my bed one afternoon as I waited for Connor to come home from his long day of work. "I know I can't bear a child, but I know there must be something else that can give my life happiness. I feel so empty. I need something to fill me. I need something that can bring me away from the pain. And I know that, even though he doesn't show it, Connor is feeling the same way. He can't be the daddy he's always wanted to be since he married me, and it's killing him inside.
"Please give us a sign, O Lord. Please let us be happy again."
"Things just aren't like they used to be," Ellie observed one evening. We were taking our daily horseback ride through the countryside, mostly just to clear our heads and have some girl time.
"I agree," I said, my voice quiet.
"We used to be so lively and so happy," said Ellie, hanging her head a little. "Now you've lost three babies and we're both just so depressed."
"Connor's handling it better than I am," I said.
"Most of it he's probably just holding in," said Ellie. "Men don't show their emotions the same way women do."
"I know, but he won't be able to hold it in for much longer," I said.
"His pain with losing the babies is all emotional," Ellie pointed out. "You actually had to feel the pain of having two miscarriages. You actually had to feel the pain of giving birth before having your heart wrenched from your chest."
"I guess you have a point there," I said. "I just need something big to take my mind away from the pain."
"Don't worry, babe," Ellie said. Her favorite term of affection brought a slight smile to my lips. Since I'd been so depressed over the last few years, I'd developed the slightest of frown lines. "Something big will happen and then we'll both be as happy as we were back in the States. And don't worry; cheering you up is practically my life's mission now."
By that point, we were back at the farmhouse where Murphy and Noah still lived. It was where the five of us – six when my mother had still been with us – all gathered to have dinner each night. It was the only time I would interact with anyone besides Ellie or Connor. I dreaded being out in public, especially if there was any chance of running into a mother with her children. It just tore my heart to shreds. I spoke only to Ellie, and very rarely to Connor. Going to family dinner each night meant one or two hours of total silence, at least from me.
Something about that night was different. A strange silence, beyond what I normally caused, filled the little farmhouse. The five of us sat around the small kitchen table, eating silently, the only sounds being from the scraping of forks or the clink of a glass being set down on the table.
Something was clearly wrong.
I looked over at my husband to find him twitching in a way. It was almost as if something was itching and he couldn't get to it. Murphy, my dear brother, was behaving the same way. Neither twin said a word, and their silence created an uncomfortable thickness in the air around us. Neither of them could even look up and make eye contact.
Finally, when I could take the discomfort no longer and was about to speak, the rumble of an approaching car engine broke the silence. We all got up from the table and walked out onto the front porch, shivering from the chilling night rain. The car pulled up and the boys' uncle Sibeal got out.
"Something's happened!" the old man announced as he moved out of the rain. He was out of breath and clearly in a panic.
"Quickly, then, come in!" I insisted, taking Sibeal's arm and leading him into the much warmer house. I took his coat to keep the cold away from his weakening body.
"What happened?" Noah asked once we had all taken our seats around the fireplace.
"It's so terrible," Sibeal said, letting out a long, cold shudder. "I can't imagine anything worse."
"Well, come on, then," I coaxed, as gently as possibly despite my burning curiosity. "Tell us."
"A priest was found murdered in the Church of the Holy Saints," Sibeal began.
"In Boston?" My breath caught in my throat. "No, it can't be!"
"Aye," Sibeal confirmed. "And that's not even the worst part."
"Then what is?" I whispered in fright.
"He was killed with two shots to the back of the head…" Sibeal's voice trailed off a bit. "And pennies were placed in his eyes!"
"Oh, my God." I knew right then and there that someone was trying to frame my dear husband and brother, as it was their signature killing style that had been mimicked on this poor soul.
"A priest?" Murphy finally spoke. "Did they release his name?" He ground out his cigarette on the ashtray in front of him.
"No," said Sibeal. "But I made a few calls. I still have friends in the diocese there. Kinney… Father Douglas McKinney." Connor and Murphy exchanged a knowing look. "You knew him?"
"Knew of him," Connor corrected. "Everybody did. He was a good man. Youth hostels. Soup kitchens."
"Even made it to the papers sometimes," Murphy added.
"Look, boys," Sibeal cut in. "I think it's best if you just stay put until we try to figure out whatever's goin' on." But the boys didn't listen as they got up from the table and walked right out into the pouring rain.
"Oh, fuck!" I spat out under my breath.
"Ya'd best go talk some sense into them, girls," Sibeal suggested to Ellie and me.
"Yeah, right," Ellie said. "They won't listen to us." But we ran after them anyway. As we sloshed through the mud, following the boys to the barn, I couldn't help but think that maybe this was the 'something big' that I had been waiting four long years for.
Five minutes later, I sat Connor down on an old barrel and stood above him, taking a pair of heavy sheep shears to the tangled mess that had once been very attractive hair.
"Ya nervous, darlin'?" he asked me, glancing ever so quickly up into my eyes.
"Not in the least," I said. It felt strange to be exchanging words with him after weeks of near silence. "I've been praying for a sign for weeks, and maybe I've finally gotten it." My voice shook with anxiety that I was trying so hard to choke down. My heart buzzed with adrenaline that was now surging through my entire body. I had to fight to keep my hand steady as I cut Connor's hair. The last thing I needed was a horribly infected wound caused by one of the dirtiest of farm tools.
"There we go," I announced once I was finished. "All done."
Without a word, Connor stood up and kissed me. My first instinct was to back off since we hadn't kissed in months, but soon I found myself high on the feeling. It felt like our first kiss, and our second and third and every other kiss we'd shared in our first joyful years together. The long hair of his scraggly farm beard was tickling the delicate skin of my face, but I didn't give a crap. I wasn't going to pass up the best feeling I'd had since first learning I was pregnant.
"You gave me life again," I whispered when he finally had the audacity to let me go.
"Hey, Gracie, give me a hand over here!" Murphy called out to me. "Ellie can't cut hair worth a damn!"
"Hey, watch it, Murph!" Ellie threatened playfully, tangling her best friend in a vicious hug. "These shears are still sharp!" My heart was lifted in joyful laughter at seeing my friend so happy. She and Murphy were joined at the hip as if they had known each other since birth.
"Alright, you kids," Connor said, effectively breaking up the 'fight'. "Now, you girls meet us back here in an hour. Go back home, get yerselves cleaned up, and grab any clothin' and things ya'll need."
"Now, will ya be alright walkin' back in the dark?" Murphy teased, his eyes holding a playful sparkle.
"Oh, you!" I smacked him on the shoulder and laughed my way out of the barn with Ellie right at my side. We linked arms and skipped through the rain, feeling like two little girls on our first day of school. We were soaked to the bone, but we were laughing to our hearts' content. We were going back home! Granted, a priest had been killed to make it happen, but we were going back home!
When we got back to our little farmhouse, we got down to business right away. Each of us took one of the quickest showers in the history of mankind before each packing a small duffel bag of clothing, photographs, keepsakes, and especially our rosaries. Neither of us cared in the least that we were leaving our ranch behind because we were finally going back to America.
We were finally going back home.
The last thing I did before I left the house was put in a call to Aidan back in the States. Before we'd left, he'd helped cover our tracks, and overall he had been our unofficial guardian angel. He wasn't at home, so I had to leave a message. "Aidan," I said, "It's me, Grace. Listen: plans changed and I'm coming back home. If you stop a moment and think, you'll know exactly why. I don't know if I'll be able to call when I get home. Don't bother calling back, because we'll be long gone from here by the time you get this. I'll see you soon. Bye."
We met the boys back at the barn feeling like our old selves again. We were matched all in black – t-shirts, jeans, leather vests, and knee-length trench coats. Our hair was combed, our faces were washed, and we were ready to take on the world. The boys wore their signature black pea coats and blue jeans, and it was clear as day that they had the same feeling.
The Saints and the Angels walked back into the house, shocking Father Sibeal when we made our appearance.
"Exactly… what do you intend to do?" Sibeal sounded just the slightest bit scared.
Connor's response was a quick flick of his wrist that sent two perfectly shiny pennies clattering down onto the table.
"Every last motherfucker," Murphy said, "that had anything to do with it."
Author's Note: yay, sequel! So excited to be starting this one! Anyway, in case you haven't already gotten the hint, please please please go read Angel of Death, Angel of Love before diving into this one. The backstory for Grace and Ellie will be very, very muddy without it. Finally, reviews are my best friends so please send them!