L'Angelo Della Morte
By: Akecheta

Disclaimer: I own nothing except my ideas and characters lol.

Summary: Mysterious executions begin when a new crime family expands its reaches into the Boston area. The Saints have already returned… but so has someone else. (Murphy/OC).

Author's Note: Whew. I kept on rewriting the scenes for this chapter over and over (I had a hard time being satisfied with it lol). At any rate, I'd like to say thank you to those that reviewed for the prologue and for your kind words: Devikins, Irishjeeper, and GoddessLaughs. I'm glad I didn't disappoint and I absolutely love Smecker! (He's an awesome character and most certainly one of my favs in the movie!). Anyway peoples please read and review and let me know what ya think. Thank you!

Chapter One: Looking Into the Mirror

The blood seemed to never leave. Eyes followed blankly as faded crimson sluiced leisurely across milky, delicate skin, mixing with the water that tumbled and hammered rhythmically against heavy porcelain toward the faucet drain.

She noticed her skin turning pink from the heat of it… or perhaps it was still the remaining remnants of the sopping stain of death clinging so vehemently to her exposed flesh. Which one, she didn't know nor even bother really taking notice to.

Her gaze shifted from the sink toward the open mirror, her hollow emerald eyes soaking up the haunted apparition reflecting back in front of her. She studied her own image with a near sort of detachment, noticing every foreign detail about herself. It was almost like a stranger was there, watching her in calculating silence through a clear barrier of shimmering glass.

Her skin was pale and abnormally sallow and her hair, dark as a midnight sky, caressed around her sullen cheeks limp and lifeless.

Dried blood caked into a thickening crust around the loose strands surrounding her ears, it was yet another manifested feature that served as a reminder of her earlier deed for retribution.

She stared openly for quiet moments at a time, her thoughts wandering just as glossy tears formed within the round curves of her eyes.

It had finally begun.

0000000000000000 (FLASHBACK) 00000000000000000000

"I got the files from Boston PD. Are you sure you really want to look at these, Lil?"

Stone-faced, Lily Palmer pursed her lips determinedly. "I need to see them for myself, DT."

Her boss nodded with quiet acceptance but gazed at her levelly, his chocolate brown eyes studying her with an unhidden expression of warning. "I know what you're going to do after I hand these over to you. I'm not going to try and stop you. It's just… these guys might just be out of your league. They're Italian mafia, Lil. Dangerous men. If you go to Boston and try to nail these guys, I can only help you go so far. You know that, right? 'Cause these guys aren't convicts skipping out on bail and jetting out on the first available opportunity. These guys are a group of cold, calculating killers with no mercy and a lot of connections. You get caught, you get dead. And there isn't any coming back from that."

Lily nodded, her eyes meeting his unflinchingly. There was no flicker of apprehension, neither in her eyes nor in her expression.

"I'll take the risk."

Wordlessly, DT handed over the files. "Sometimes, I think you take too many of them. Do me a favor will you?"

"What?"

"Don't get caught and don't get dead. Whatever you do, don't get yourself lost in this."

Lily smiled at him sadly as his brow creased in worry, his lips set into a grim line. "I'll try my best, DT."

"Yeah… you better."

0000000000000000 (END FLASHBACK) 0000000000000000000000

The files had been what had practically driven her into a raging blood lust. It had been filled with evidence and filled with photographic horrors that would forever be implemented and seared into her memory.

Appearance, precision, and pretense, it was what she now went through on a daily basis.

'You get caught, you get dead.'

'Don't get caught.'

A chilling surge of gratification hummed through her body for the first time as she stood there, thinking and realizing the full consequence of her actions. Tonight had been her big break. Her year of planning and infiltration had finally come to a higher level of frutation. The act itself had had two lasting effects on her, fulfillment of justice… and disgust with herself for actually enjoying every minute of it.

There was no real pride in her deeds, only a mere flicker of tangible satisfaction. Unfortunately, the men she had killed tonight were only mere foot soldiers in comparison to what she truly wished to pursue.

But first, she needed to gain their attention and wait for the consequent result of it all, start small and watch them squirm… then move on toward bigger opportunities.

Sighing quietly to herself, her fingers shut off the faucet. While she waited in anticipation for tomorrow's events, she had an early morning pit stop to make.

Opening the shower curtain numbly, her thoughts trailed and swayed toward a new light of direction; making peace with past ghosts long buried…

0000000000000 (FOLLOWING DAY) 0000000000000000000

Early morning dew had long since evaporated from the open, sleek grass of South Boston's quiet cemetery, leaving it fresh and clean to linger heavily along with the tranquil, sweet smell of wild flowers.

The intense light of the sun shimmered down from its high perch above the horizon, seeming to highlight even the gloomiest looking of places within the city limits.

The expanding cemetery, despite the brightness and beauty it held, seemed eerie with its stillness and open vastness of closed off land. Beyond its borders sat the church, a mere speck in the distance, surrounded by various shops, boutiques, and local bars where the city ruckus and traffic remained muffled in an unseen background.

The cemetery, at present, seemed to be the right place to vacate on a late Sunday morning. Mass had ended and few people lingered about the area, making it easy to enjoy its quiet solitude and make peace with the rested dead buried within the roots of the rippling, fertile Earth below.

She stood in silence among the weathered headstones, clad in snug-fitting, faded jeans, a long sleeved black sweater, and black leather boots. Her outfit, unlike the weather, most certainly suited her mood for the morning, dreary and apprehensive.

Her steps were slow and hesitant as she approached a familiar plot, her eyes downcast as she noticed with painful realization that instead of one grave, there was now two more added to it.

A single lily and two red roses were clutched firmly in her hand and as she stood there, numb to the core, her eyes rose toward the headstone engravings, the chiseled names invoking nothing but faded memories…

'Marianne Palmer'

'Trisha D' Agastino'

'Helena D' Agastino'

Her fingers tightened into a fist around the stems as she noticed the placed last names for the last two graves.

'The sick fuck probably even made the funeral arrangements,' she thought disgustedly.

There was nothing she could really do about it, only scowl visibly with narrowed eyes in heated rage and disapproval.

Exhaling sharply and drawing up her nerve, she bent down and placed her mother's favorite flower atop the bare portion near her headstone, her eyes glistening with unshed tears as she stood back at a respectable distance.

"I'm sorry I didn't come visit earlier, Ma," she began quietly, her voice low, "there's just been a lot of things that I've had to take care of first. I know you would understand if you were here… I've, um, gotten a job working for the lawyer of the men that killed Trisha… I know you would raise hell if you were here but, I'm going to find them and I'm going to make sure that each one of them pays for what they did, no matter the risk.

I haven't really talked about it to anyone but, back in Jersey, I lost a lot of good friends working in the business after you died. All I seem to do is loose people some how and some way. It's just hard moving on in life when everything ends up falling apart and everything you hold dear ends up being snatched away from you when you least expect it… I'm trying to find my way and maybe when this is all over, I can finally be able to move on. If I make it through all of this, if I come out of it alive, I promise you that I'll try to live the life that you've always wanted for me. I'll try, Ma."

She smiled sadly as she moved onto the next grave, placing a single stemmed rose upon its plot.

"Trisha, even though you were adopted into our family as a child, you were and will always be my true sister… I know we had a falling out. I know you've spent years hating me for making the final decisions for Ma's care before she died. I only abided by her wishes and I know it hurt you because you wanted to hold onto her longer. She was the only mother you've ever truly known… I hope you're not as angry at me about it as you used to be…

"I left after she died because I needed to leave… this city, this place, your anger and distance toward me, I just couldn't stand being here anymore. I regret not trying to patch things up and I'm sorry that I wasn't here to protect you… Ma always told me to watch out for you. I failed her and I failed you. I left you alone and maybe… maybe if I hadn't have been such a stubborn idiot those years ago, you and your daughter would still probably be here… I hope you can find a way to somehow forgive me…

"I'm tracking those responsible. In life, I wasn't there to give you protection when you needed it most… I hope that while in death, I can at least give both you and Helena justice. I'm sorry for everything and I'm sorry I failed you both… rest in peace, little sister."

Slow tears were now trailing silently down her cheeks and with painful clarity, she moved on toward her niece's grave, her hands shaking as she placed the last rose upon its surface.

"Little Helena," Lily whispered, a sad, remorseful smile curving onto her lips, "God, I don't even know how you look like… I bet you're as pretty as your mother was when she was little… I know she probably never mentioned me before to you but I'm your aunt Lily. I was never around or there for you when you and your mom needed me… I left here years before you were even born. To tell you the truth, I didn't even know about you until it was too late… I'm sorry I wasn't here for you… I promise you though that all the bad men responsible will meet their maker and they won't be able to harm any more people like you or your mom ever again. Your Aunt Lily is going to make sure of it.

"Tell your mom that I'm sorry and somehow, someway, I'm going to make it up to you both."

Lily bowed her head, her eyes glimmering and her cheeks stained and moistened with the droplets of tears that had fell in silence as she verbally paid her last respects to those she had loved in their years of life.

Gaining her wits and quelling behind the deep wave of grief that struck and sliced through her, she turned away sharply, her face resolving itself back into a cool, calm exterior.

She needed to be impassive; she needed to be collected… she couldn't let herself falter for even the briefest of moments. To crumble and allow herself to feel would only mean the end of her. She couldn't lose the façade that she spent a whole year developing.

'Don't get caught…'

They needed justice… and she wouldn't be able to give it to them if she wrecked herself into a complete, emotional abandon.

'You get caught, you get dead… and there isn't any coming back from that…'

She would be no help to them then. In life, she had failed them… it was only right that in death, she at least give them the peace that they deserve.

Her eyes caught movement as she neared the gate, noticing two lone figures standing in utter silence in front of a single, crumbling headstone. They were clad in similar dark attire, shades adorning their eyes, as they stood with their heads bowed in an almost reverent gesture of respect.

She moved in silence to pass by, noticing with a sad smile that only one lifted his head to acknowledge her presence.

She felt the heat of his gaze sear into hers through the barrier of shaded plastic and resisted the urge to look away, a thin frown curving across her lips.

'God, am I that transparent…?'

She acknowledged him briefly and then continued on, her strides turning brisk and confident as she made her exit out of the cemetery towards the parking lot. She had felt his eyes linger on her, long after she even broke contact. 'Strange…'

Sighing heavily, her gaze flew toward the church. A weight had been lifted today. This visit served as a renewal and it would help her in the journey forward… toward the blood bath that would soon come to follow.

'God help me…'


TBC...