The Boondock Saints: Angel of Death, Angel of Love

By: Raven in Red

"And so the Angel came down, and swiftly bestowed the blow of Death upon him. And from that moment on, she was the Angel of Death." After her parents' murder and a fateful St. Patty's Day introduction to the MacManus brothers, Grace Reilly receives a calling from God to be the Saints' guardian angel, and she takes her job quite seriously.

Chapter 1: Enter the Angel

I think it was fate that brought my weary soul to McGuinty's this Saint Patrick's Day.

As I stumbled down the dark streets of South Boston, alone even though I definitely knew better, the memory was still fresh in my mind. Earlier that day, I had received a cryptic visit from two Boston police officers, informing me that my parents had been killed in a drive-by mob shooting and that their bodies had been looted and burned in a dumpster.

At twenty-two years of age and just past college holding a worthless degree in architecture (as long as I stayed in Boston, how would I possibly find work as an architect?), I had been depending on my mom and daddy for just about everything. They fed me, clothed me, and gave me a roof over my head as long as I chipped in with the rent every month. Up until the day they died, they had been begging me to find myself a boyfriend. "As much as we love you, sweetheart," my daddy said to me once, "we want you to get out into the world and spread those angel wings the Good Lord gave you."

I'd had potential back then. I had dreams, and I intended to reach them.

Then, everything changed with six gunshots, a gallon of gasoline, and a fifty-cent cigarette lighter. Now, I was alone in my parents' apartment, which had been handed to me in their will.

Whatever. It was Saint Patrick's Day, my favorite holiday of the year due to my half-Irish background (from my daddy's side). It was time for me to drink, have a little fun, and just for a moment erase my problems.

I had never been to McGuinty's before, but a man at my nearest T station had mentioned it to me and I'd decided to go. Despite my sheltered upbringing in Boston's most privileged districts, I knew the streets of South Boston well from my days as a daredevil. When I entered through the pub's creaky old doors, I already felt at home.

"Well, boys, it looks like we've got ourselves a new girl!" A cheerful voice, characterized by a beautiful Irish accent, sounded immediately as I approached the dimly-lit bar. While the hum of conversation never stopped, each and every patron took a quick second to glance over at me. The owner of the voice was clearly taking more time than necessary. I couldn't help but notice how gorgeous he was, with his piercing blue eyes and charming smile.

"What can I get for you, my dear?" the elderly bartender asked once he had my attention, kindly tipping his hat at me before simply tossing it to the side.

"I'm up for anything tonight, and don't ask why," I said bluntly, but with a smile.

"Sure thing, lassie," the bartender said, buzzing off to get my drink. As he reached the other end of the bar, the words, "FUCK! ASS!" erupted from his lips, sending a ripple of giggles through my body.

"Well, thank you for the very warm welcome," I said to the Irishman by my side once my laughter died down.

"With pleasure, miss," he said, bringing his head back to take a long sip of Guinness. "So what brings a lady like yourself to this part of town?"

"Maybe once I've had a bit to drink, I can tell you," I said, not wanting to break down in tears if I didn't have any alcohol to disguise it.

"A bit?" he looked at me with one brow raised. "Darlin', in this shithole, 'a bit' would probably put you in the ground."

"We'll just see about that, then, won't we?" I stared him down with a playful smile, silently daring him to challenge me again.

"What's your name, lass?" he asked politely.

"Grace Reilly," I said in return. "And despite my lack of accent, I promise I'm Irish."

"Hey, it's Saint Patty's Day," he said. "Everyone's Irish tonight. I'm Connor MacManus, and this is my brother Murphy." He stopped to gesture at the man by his side, who gave me a polite smile and a quick wave.

"It's a pleasure to meet you both," I said as I shook each brother's hand.

"Hey, Connor, be a gentleman and let the lady have your chair," said Murphy as my drink was slid across the bar to me. "There aren't any left."

"Hold it, Murph," Connor said. "I've got a better idea." Without asking first, he bent down, secured his muscled arms around my waist, and lifted me right up into his lap.

"Well, that's certainly an option," I remarked as one of Connor's arms remained around my thin waist. My frame had always been small, but he made it all the more obvious.

"Comfortable?" It didn't take a genius to know that Connor was flirting with me.

"God, yes," I said as I took my first sip from my fresh pint of Guinness. "Beer and a gorgeous Irishman? How did I get so lucky?"

"That depends," Connor challenged. "Which one of us are ya referrin' to?"

"Oh, this is a tough one," I said, my voice drenched in sarcasm (a.k.a. my second language). "Connor… or Murphy?" I looked back and forth between the two. "Murphy… or Connor?" Before either of them could make a comment, I leaned over and gave Connor's cheek a quick peck. As I pulled back, his smile seemed to come straight from Heaven itself.

"Aww, jeez," Murphy groaned, smirking as he shook his head. "Darlin', I'm gonna warn you now: you won't be gettin' rid of him anytime soon."

"Does it look like I want to?" I fired back, surprised at how playful I was being, especially after getting such life-changing news. Maybe it was just the beer starting to set in. When Murphy smirked in response, I added, "And I'm going to forget that you referred to me as a lady."

"I'll make note of that," Connor remarked.

"Get a room," Murphy muttered with a smirk before moving to the other end of the bar. "I'll let you two have a little privacy."

"So, you never answered my first question," Connor said, his voice carrying a much more casual tone. I could already sense that, when not around his brother, Connor was a perfectly sweet, charming, and pleasant man.

"Oh, where do I start?" I wondered aloud, scooting off of his lap and into what had just been Murphy's barstool. Connor looked a little disappointed, but he brightened up when I made sure to completely face him.

"Take your time," Connor said, clearly sensing my discomfort. The flirting charade was over. His intense blue eyes had me pinned, and I had to tell him the truth.

"My parents were killed this morning," I said. Somehow, despite its freshness, the memory didn't bring even the slightest pang of sadness to my heart. I was completely and totally calm.

"Oh, Lord on high," Connor said. "How did it happen, if you don't mind me askin'?"

"I don't mind at all, honestly," I reassured him. "I needed to tell someone." Before I continued, I brought the level of my glass down to half. "They were taking a shortcut while walking to the T station after work, and a car full of Russian mobsters pulled up and blew them to pieces with a 50-caliber. They then looted their bodies and burned them in a dumpster."

"Jesus," Connor was clearly in shock. "And you seem perfectly fine." He was looking at me like I was crazy.

"Darling," I looked him right in the eye. "I would be crying hysterically right about now, but I've got half a pint of the nectar of the Heavens seeping into my bloodstream. Until it's out of my system, I'm fine."

"I'll take your word for it," Connor said, cracking a relieved smile. "Will you be able to get by without them?"

"For the moment, no," I admitted with a sigh.

"Is there anything you need?" Connor asked. Although I was staring into my glass, I could feel that he was still looking at me.

"You know what I really need?" I looked up at him with a cute smile after a long pause of thought.

"What's that, darlin'?" he asked, leaning forward just a bit.

"I need to finish this pint and get into a good fight!" I finished with one of the happiest laughs I'd had in years.

"The first part, I can help you with," Connor said with a smirk. "The second, I'm not so sure about."

"I didn't mean with you!" We both burst out laughing. "I don't think you could handle me!"

"Maybe he can't, but I sure as hell can!" Murphy suddenly announced, coming up behind me and gently tickling my stomach.

"How about this just for a warm-up?" I challenged. "I'll buy a shot for whichever one of you can beat me in an arm wrestle. If I win, the loser owes me one."

"Lass, do you really know what you're getting' yourself into?" Connor shook his head in disbelief as the three of us moved away from the bar and over to an empty table. My response was a quick flex of my biceps. I'd made money in college from betting on arm wrestles with just about anyone who was willing to accept the challenge. "I'm not convinced yet," he said, shaking his head.

"Shut the fuck up," I said playfully, standing on tiptoe to kiss his cheek again. Then, I took a step back to face both brothers. "Who's first?"

"I'll go since Connor's too much of a fucking pussy to take on a lady," Murphy said, playfully punching his brother in the shoulder.

"Call me a lady one more time," I said, smirking and leaning in so that our faces were mere inches apart. "I dare you."

"Sit the fuck down and let's do this shit," Murphy fired back, his smirk utterly devilish.

"I'll buy you a shot whether you win or not," Connor said, bending down to kiss my hair as I took Murphy's right hand in mine and secured my elbow against the banged-up pub table.

"Ready…" I began. "Now!"

Using all the strength that my years of experience had given me, I was able to secure a good lead over Murphy. He groaned in pain as my fingernails bit into his skin, but he was able to match me and meet me back in the middle.

"Getting' tired yet?" he challenged. Sweat was beginning to bead around his hairline, and every vein in his hand was throbbing, whereas I still had perfect composure save for a few stray strands of hair.

"Hell no," I said, refusing to break the playful fierceness of my voice. It was then that I noticed Murphy glance back at Connor and give him a quick nod. Before I knew what was happening, Connor's hands were around my waist, attacking me with a rain of tickles.

"No fair, you fucking asshole!" I cried out as he brought me to my feet and spun me around to face him. "That better be worth a shot!" The laughter that rang from him was something I wouldn't trade for all the world.

"Aww, come on, darlin', he's just playin' with ya." Murphy insisted, snaking his arms around my shoulders and hugging me just the way a best friend would.

"He's playing with hot water," I said, keeping my gaze searing into Connor's. "And he's gonna get burned."