This is the final chapter for this prologue to Angels and Saints. It occurs after Spiritus Sancti.

62 days. It 'ad been 62 days since Connor, Da, and I 'ad left Boston. 59 days in CountyKerry, just south of Killarney. I know 'cause I 'ad been countin'. The whole way over on the cargo ship, the whole train ride from Dunquin.

I fergot 'ow fuckin' borin' Ireland was. We didn't just leave fer the money. We found ourselves in uncle Sibeal's bar more often than not most nights.

Connor keeps sayin' that I'm over reactin' an' makin' all o' this up. My desire ta be back in Boston was ruinin' my experience. No matter 'ow close we were, me brudder juss didn't understand.

He was right, o' course. Leavin' was fer the best. We 'ad ta get our arses out of dodge 'fore we ended up in federal prison. That didn't make it easier. I 'ad ta leave Rebecca behind, if only ta keep 'er out o' 'arms way.

I lay in bed, playin' with the tiny black box, flippin' open the lid, workin' the hinge back and forth, starin' at the gem inside. I 'ad foolishly bought the ring fer 'er prom night. I 'ad this whole speech planned. That was before when Connor and I 'ad been planning on goin' ta New York, but we ended up in Ireland thanks ta Smecker. I decided against bein' selfish that night.

Connor and Da convinced me it wasn't safe fer her ta go, wasn't right fer me ta tear her away from her life in Boston and drag her 3,000 miles away. They were right, o' course. Didn't make it any easier ta ferget.

I could still taste 'er on my lips if I closed my eyes. Sweet, like candy. 'er lips were so soft and full. Always pink and swollen from my kisses. The way they curled up when I made 'er laugh. The way she'd bite 'er bottom lip in frustration when I'd tease 'er, when she was gettin' close. In the 'eat of the moment she would pull at me bottom lip with 'er teeth, causin' me ta practically growl. The way they pursed an' made a perfect "O" as she sucked me cock. Those lips, I decided, were one of me favorite parts o' 'er.

Close second was 'er ripe little arse. It was round and firm and perfectly porcelain, like the rest o' 'er skin, perched on toppa 'er long, lean legs. She always wore these little skirts, teasin' all the men with just enough of a view, just enough ta git yer blood pumpin'.

Tyin' fer second were 'er full, perfect pair o' tits. The way they'd 'eave when I made her breath hitch, rising and fallin' in ecstasy as I made 'er lose 'er senses. The way they would just fall into my 'ands, fillin' them perfectly. Her perfect little pink nipples twitchin' when I touched 'em, always 'ard. Speakin' o', I was half 'ard juss thinkin' 'bout it.

Her long, dark brown hair fallin' in soft waves around 'er face, framin' 'er beautiful green eyes, round and gleamin' beneath her dark lashes. Her face flush, her perfect lips formin' an "O" as she was comin' on me fingers, fallin' apart around me. Her bare, soft pink folds so wet with desire, all because o' me. That was 'ow I'd remember 'er.

I did this for 'er, I resolved. She was so sweet and innocent when I found 'er. One o' those nice Catholic girls m' Ma always told me an' Connor ta find ourselves. I could care less if we wound up in prison. Connor and I would survive, I knew. No, Rebecca deserved better. She didn't deserve a life on the run, constantly in danger. She was young, still. She 'ad 'er whole life ahead o' 'er. I wish'd 'alf-heartedly that she would find someone safe to take care of 'er.

When things 'ad died down in Boston, I would go back. Maybe wait for 'er to finish school. She was smart, needed ta finish. I knew I was just distractin' 'er. McGerkin was a good boss. He was bustin' 'is ass ta make sure she could go to that fancy school in New York. 'er grades only got her so far.

All this fuckin' money we got, I prolly should o' left her somethin' ta 'elp with school, but she wouldn't 'ave taken it. That's juss who she was. I 'ad asked Smecker ta keep tabs on 'er. Make sure she was taken care of. I'd send money if they needed it, mostly juss wanted ta make sure no one knew 'er connection ta us. If Yakavetta's lackies got a 'old o' her, I juss don't know what I'd do.

Fer now, though, I just wanted ta remember 'er. Overload my senses with the memories, and just 'ave sweet dreams about my delicate Irish rose.

"Okay, out of the bed! This is really getting ridiculous." Tracy yelled, breaking my sleep pattern.

She and Kevin decided to call it quits for the fifth or sixth time since he went to the police academy in Boston and she and I had moved to New York. She, however, was not taking her breakup as hard as I was.

68 days. That's how long it had been since Murphy MacManus walked out of my life and went to God knows where. I know because I had been counting. I'm not going to lie and say I lost track of time or that it got easier day by day. I was still waiting for that little push, that something to make me forget or at least subside the pain. We had talked about him movie to New York together. For all I know, he was here, traipsing the boisterous streets, waiting for me to notice.

"You can't keep dragging your ass to class in sweats and then pass out in the dorm! It's not healthy. People are gonna think my roomie's a freak, Becks. Seriously." She ripped the blankets off. "There's a welcome back kegger tonight. We're going. Please shower and get dressed. Look nice. It will make you feel better. Let's not forget I'm hurting too. Kevin and I dated for almost 4 years!"

"On and off." I mumbled into my pillow.

She slapped my ass. "Up and at 'em!" She dug through the closet we were sharing, throwing things onto the bed. "Here. We're gonna show off your amazing shape. Bag ourselves some dates for tonight."

"I have a paper to work on."

"It's Friday. You have time."

"I don't even know what to write about. 10 pages on something you find interesting, not including an annotated bibliography."

"Maybe you'll find inspiration tonight." She smiled, throwing me clean panties. "Now get out of those sweats!"

She forced me to shower and fix my hair, apply a little too much makeup, then into clothes that were almost too small, my breasts barely being contained by the blouse, the skirt like a bandage around my hips. "You look hot." Tracy muttered. She looked about the same, just a taller, lankier blonde version.

We staggered through campus on heels too high to walk on cobblestone in, making our way to the nearby frat house, finding the yard covered in people all sipping from red plastic cups and yelling. We came inside and we were handed cups of our own, full of watery beer. Guiness it was not. Tracy instantly found someone she knew. She was a social butterfly. We walked over and made idle chit chat about classes and majors and cute guys. We went through cup after cup of cheap beer and watered down tequila shots.

That's when we noticed him. The tall, dark, brooding thing in the corner with a permanent smirk and too many tattoos. He was making idle conversation with the guy running the tap. And he was looking right at me.

My heart stopped in my chest for a moment. It's not like I actually fathomed it was him, but more like I wanted it to be so badly that I talked myself into believing it. He sauntered over and the walk was all wrong. He didn't walk like a model, showing off garments. He walked like a cocky son of a bitch who thought he was God's gift to women.

Regrettably, my breath hitched in my chest and I stared at him as he approached me. He picked me. "You look like you don't belong here. You want to go somewhere with me?" The accent was all wrong. In fact, there was no accent I could detect. I just stared at him. Tracy leaned into me and whispered "So help me, Becks, if you don't take him, I will." I'm not sure if it was the watery beer in my system or the fact that I wanted him to be someone he obviously was not, but I took his hand.

He told me his name was Derrick. We went to his dorm room. I kind of knew what to expect from the night, but I followed anyway. He told me how he was a musician, the pained type that writes whiney songs about love and longing and makes girls swoon. He was also a DJ occasionally. I couldn't get a word in edgewise. I had the feeling if I spoke, he wouldn't listen.

All too soon, his lips were on mine, his tongue down my throat. There was nothing passionate or beautiful about it. It was just rushed and urgent. The taste was all wrong, the touch non-existent, yet I stayed.

The sex was awful. Over in minutes, in and out. I lost interest about half-way through and didn't even orgasm. I don't even remember the end because he pulled out and blew all over my hip bone.

I cried on my walk back to my own dorm room, my heels in my hand, my walk pained from all the relentless pounding Derrick had tortured me with. I knew then I had hit rock bottom.

I showered again, trying to get the feeling of cheap, dirty whore off of my skin and out of my mind, but it barely worked.

I decided to check my computer. Tracy would be a while yet and I knew I should talk to her about what happened so I needed a distraction. I logged onto my email account, expecting my schedule at the library where I had snagged a job for the school year.

Instead, I found a new email marked "Read Me, Angel Face" and laughed absent-mindedly at the absurdity. Something made me open it instead of flagging it as spam, despite the lack of a sending address.

Miss McGerkin –

I notice you have ignored my previous advancements and I apologize for not making my subject line's more intriguing.

You don't know me, but I feel like I know you after everything I have heard from our mutual friend or, might I say, friends.

Sanctis fratribus have arrived safely at their destination and send their love. Tenebris fratrem wanted me to contact you, to make sure you were okay, that every thing is going well.

I leave with you some contact information, for use in emergencies only. It's not a direct line to sanctis, but rather to me. I will personally see to it that you are well taken care of, per the request of tenebris fratrem.

I hope this message finds you well and that the subject matter piqued your interest.

- The Fag Man

I re-read the email a few times, trying to recall my Latin from early morning mass. I saved the email, just in case and opened a new file on my computer. I suddenly knew what my paper would be about. I changed the title of the file; The Saints of Boston.

Translations:

Sanctis fratribus – The holy brothers

Tenebris fratrem – The dark brother