Death by Dreaming - 1. Chapter 1

With a sigh he snapped closed the lid of his laptop and ran his hand through his hair. He felt weary to the bone and the argument had shaken him more than he would care to admit. He was sitting on his bed, cross legged with his back against the headboard and he laid the laptop aside and slid down to lie staring up at the ceiling. His mind was racing and, as tired as he was there was no chance of sleep any time soon.

Closing his eyes he thought about his friends and, despite everything a smile began to play on his lips. He was very lucky with his friends. Charlie was a darling, sweet and gentle but a complete bitch if she was crossed... and as for Marcus... The smile slipped when he thought of him, it always did. It wasn’t that he didn’t care for him... he was in many ways his best friend but lately... there was a certain ambivalence to the way he felt when he thought about him and when they were together something was... changing.

Both Marcus and Charlie had always been very easy to be around, he had always been able to be completely himself in their presence and that was still the case... almost. Recently, however there had been a certain tension in the air and, although he had thought about it a lot he had never been able to put his finger on quite what had started it or what was causing it.

Marcus was a very physical person and he saw things very much in black and white. To him it was simple... if living with the Bishops was causing stress... stop doing it. But it wasn’t that simple, nothing ever was. Greybrook was his home. Sure he had other properties he could live at, plenty of them...if he wanted to. He used one of them during term time when he was in Oxford, but this was where he felt most... He sighed. This was where he felt closest to his parents. The whole house was full of memories of them and, whilst it was still sometimes painful, it was comforting too.

Turning his head he stared at a large photograph in a frame which dominated his bedside table. It was of three people, two adults and a child, standing on the steps outside the front door of a large, sweeping, gray stone house. They were all smiling. The man was in his forties, his dark hair only lightly sprinkled with gray and the woman, around whom he had his arm was about the same age but looked younger, her hair falling in shining waves, cascading over her shoulders like a stream of gold. The child between them was maybe twelve or thirteen, almost as tall as his mother, looking up at her with an openly adoring look on his face. His father’s hand was on his shoulder and his mother’s was resting on his hair. They looked so happy. They had been.

Tears sprang to his eyes as he looked back and remembered the day. It was the day he had first visited Bartholomew Enterprises. His father had been so proud, introducing him to the staff, the members of the board. It was the day he had first met Charles Bishop. He frowned. Charles Bishop was an excellent business man, of that he had no doubt, and he had impressed Sir William from the start. Within six months he was Chairman of the board and Angel had to admit that he really had made a difference.

Bishop was a financial genius and rode the stock markets like a rodeo pro. He had made a lot of money for Sir William and Angel truly appreciated that. However, he had also made a lot of money for himself and he had in no way suffered from the relationship, even though he seemed to constantly give the impression that he had. He seemed to be constantly reminding everyone how much he had done for the company and how invaluable he was as if they somehow owed him.

Angel had hated him from the start. For one thing he had steadfastly refused to call him Angel and insisted on referring to him by his full given name of Alexander. It wasn’t as if he hated the name or anything, it was just... well everyone called him Angel, everyone... they always had and it was what he was used to.

He had once asked his mother why, if he had always been called Angel, she hadn’t actually named him that in the first place. She had smiled at him and stroked his cheek. He had been about seven or eight and she was his world and he hers.

“I didn’t know, when you were born, what an Angel you would turn out to be.” She had stroked his golden hair, straighter and finer than her own but just as bright, and stared into his topaz blue eyes with two of almost exactly the same shade and smiled. And then the smile had faded and she looked thoughtful and pensive. “You don’t realise it yet my darling but you are a very special person. You are very beautiful... and sweet and thoughtful... truly an angel in every way... and that is a good thing, a wonderful thing... but sometimes that is not going to make your life easy for you. There are people out there who want to crush beauty and innocence, simply because they don’t understand it, because they can’t possess it.”

She had sighed and hugged him close. “Don’t ever lose it, my angel. Hold on to it no matter what happens... that innocence, that inner beauty I see whenever I look into your eyes. Hold on to it no matter what.”

And he had tried to. When she was there, beside him it was easy. In many ways he was spoiled, cosseted, protected from the harsh realities of the world. His parents were extraordinarily wealthy. The family company was multi national and very successful, even before Charles Bishop brought his own special brand of magic to bear, and the Greybrook estate was the largest in the county.

They moved in the highest circles but were somehow untouched by the kind of greed and arrogance that often goes with such things. Angel was society’s darling and he basked in the attention, whilst never being really touched by it, never spoiled by it.

Charles Bishop was the first person he had ever met who was unkind to him. It wasn’t just that he insisted on calling him Alexander, that was the least of it. He was never openly hostile in front of Sir William or Lady Olivia but he found a thousand of tiny ways to show Angel in just how little regard he held him, never missing an opportunity to put him down or be spiteful to him.

Angel had never been able to understand why. He had never been unpleasant to the man, have never said a word to him in anger or spite and yet... He had tried to speak to his parents about him but, for once they were against him, blinded by Bishop’s false charm and undoubted acumen.

He became a familiar figure at the estate. He and his family often spent weekends there and Angel had been introduced to the rest of the Bishop clan, all of whom seemed to hate him as much as Charles did.

By that time, the oldest son, Henry who was 18 years old and fresh out of school, was already working for the company. He was an arrogant bully and was the first person ever to deliberately and physically hurt Angel, and he did it at every opportunity. His youngest sister Anabelle was the same. She was a spoiled, spiteful bitch and was endlessly and creatively cruel. The middle son, Arthur, wasn’t too bad. He was the same age as Angel and the only one who actually called him that. He was quiet and studious and there were moments when it almost seemed as though they could be friends. Unfortunately he was too far in his family’s thrall to dare to stand up to either his parents or his siblings.

Angel sighed. Why on earth had his parents made Charles Bishop his guardian? Why had he written into his will that should anything happen to them the Bishops should move into the estate to take care of him?

When Sir William and Lady Olivia had died in a plane crash on the way back from an anniversary trip to Paris, Angel’s world had ended. He’d gone into deep shock and the epilepsy he had had since early childhood resurfaced, partly because of the stress and partly because he often forgot to take his medication.

For six months he had worried the hell out of his family and friends by going into a decline so steep that there was a time when they thought he would never recover.

It was, in many ways, thanks to Marcus and Charlie that he had. They had always been friends but now they rallied round and essentially forced him out of his depression and back onto his feet. They practically moved into the estate and spent every spare moment with him for the four weeks it took to bring him back to something that resembled normality.

By the time he ‘woke up’ and took a look around the Bishop family had moved into the estate, took up residence in the East wing and remodelled it so that it no longer felt anything like home. They had tried to dismiss the old staff but unfortunately Sir William had written it into the will that, although he was allowed to inhabit the house for as long as he wanted, he had no power to do anything that would essentially change it, including dismissing any of the staff. Therefore Angel had still had friends in the house.

Angel closed his eyes and rubbed his temple where a headache was beginning to gnaw. Yes, he had been lucky with his friends. He didn’t think that he would have survived the last three years without them. Not only those on the outside but those members of staff who had been there for almost all his life and who were like family themselves.

How many hours had he spent in the kitchen sobbing into the motherly lap of the cook/ housekeeper? How many times had she tended the minor wounds he had received at the hands of the Bishop children? He shuddered and sighed.

Getting into Oxford university had been a blessed relief for him. Even though it had been hard to leave Greybrook, all the memories it contained, all the friends who made his life bearable, it was wonderful to get away from the Bishops for most of the year. He had made new friends and contacts which had enabled him to gain a foothold in the family company without Bishop having any idea he was doing it.

For the first time he smiled. It had been so easy. Bishop had such a low regard for him that it would never have entered his head to think that he was capable of it let alone that he had the opportunity. He was in for a big shock in November.

Sighing, Angel let his eyes close and tried to relax into sleep but it was impossible. He was still too tense. With another sigh he dragged himself off the bed and headed towards the shower. Showers always helped him to relax.

When he emerged from the bathroom forty minutes later, feeling clean and relaxed he was shocked to find Charles Bishop in his room. He was holding the photograph from the bedside table and this made Angel unaccountably angry.

“What he hell are you doing in here? I don’t remember inviting you. And put that down!”

Bishop turned and smiled at him. He glanced at the photograph one more time and then carelessly tossed it onto the bed.

“I thought I would give you one more chance to see sense. We both said things we didn’t mean and I appreciate that the whole thing came as a shock to you. I had hoped that now you’ve had time to think you would have calmed down.”

“Calmed down? I don’t need to calm down. I’m perfectly calm thank you very much. And for the record... I meant every word I said. Now get out of my room.”

Bishop’s face went black and he swallowed the distance between them, trying to loom over Angel, which was difficult because at almost six foot Angel was a good two inches taller.

“I’m warning you... I have no intention of letting all my hard work over the last six years go to waste by handing that company over to a nothing like you. You don’t have the first idea how to run a company.”

“And you would know that how? You have never taken the slightest interest in me so you have no idea of what I’m capable of.”

“You’re weak Alexander. I have always known that much. You are weak in body and mind. You are too soft, too submissive, too scared. You don’t have the strength to run a company of this calibre... to run any company. You will destroy everything your father and grandfather before him worked so had to build up. You will sully their memory, destroy their legacy.”

“Don't you dare say that. Just because I am not a bastard like you doesn’t mean I am weak. You have no idea what I am capable of... but trust me, come November you will find out. Now... I am not going to say this again. Get. Out. Of. My. Room.”

Bishop was blazingly angry but this time he managed to contain himself. Although his fists were bunched at his sides he kept his voice calm and moved his face close to Angel’s.

“You will regret this Alexander. I swear to you that you will regret this. I have NO intention of handing the company over to you to see it ruined. If you want a fight... you have one.”

Angel felt suddenly exhausted. The past three years had been hard enough but he could barely contemplate a future of constant conflict with the Bishops.

“I don’t want to fight with you. I just want you to leave me alone. I know more than you think. I have been involved with the company in the background the whole time. My father showed me the ropes, introduced me to the right people and I have never stopped talking to them.

“If you give me a chance I can show you that I am capable of running the company. You just never gave me a chance.”

Bishop sneered. “You fool! You really believe that don’t you? You believe that you’ve got what it takes to run the company? You don’t have the strength physical, mentally or morally. Look how you were when your blessed parents died. Sure kids grieve, I’m sure my kids would mourn me if I died but they have more strength of will and character than to fall apart the way you did. You were pathetic.” Angel took a step back at the pure venom in his voice.

“You had everyone running around like headless chickens. Poor little Angel. So sad... so sick... pathetic. I knew then that you didn’t have what it takes, would never have what it takes. So don’t try and bleat to me. You’re a weak, inconsequential pretty boy. Go and play at being an academic with the rest of that namby pamby crowd at Oxford and leave the real work to real men.”

“Like you?”

“Exactly like me. Sign the papers Alexander or you will regret it.”

“Are you threatening me?”

“Threatening you?” He laughed. “I wouldn’t lower myself. It would be like kicking a puppy. The only thing I am threatening you with is a whole lot of trouble if you don’t see sense. If you insist on a fight Alexander, you will get it.”

Angel watched, shocked as he turned and stalked from the room. He was frustrated to find that he was shaking and there were tears prickling his eyes, albeit tears of anger.

With a sigh he walked back to the bathroom and dropped the towel in the laundry basket. Pausing he looked at himself in the large mirror. He had never been vain, never really paid that much attention to himself or his appearance truth be told and when he studied his reflection now it wasn't to admire.

What he saw was a young man of almost twenty one. Just short of six feet tall with a slender but well toned build with smooth pale skin lightly dusted with pale golden hair. The hair on his head was darker, a rich gold which by the end of summer would be streaked with pale ash natural highlights. It was tousled now from the shower, curling at the ends, but usually fell sleek and straight to just below his shoulders.

Beneath the hair a pale oval face with a slightly pointed chin was dominated by large blue eyes which stared at him with a haunted expression. He had been called beautiful many times but was indifferent to the fact. He wasn’t interested in physical appearance, wasn’t interested in money, status or power. The only thing he truly wanted was to find somewhere he belonged, truly belonged... with someone who loved him for who he was not what he represented.

With a deep sigh he let his eyes rove over his body, not really seeing, neither liking nor disliking what he saw. What was he looking for? Some sign, perhaps, that Bishop had not been correct in his estimation of him. His eyes snapped up to meet themselves in the mirror again, and this time they were not haunted but resolved. He knew that he was more than that, he knew it...and his friends knew it... and that was all that mattered.

He only had to hold out for two days. In two days his friends would be here. Marcus and Charlie were more than a match for Bishop... besides he was always on his best behaviour in front of anyone else. Three weeks of blessed freedom, in the company of friends was just the thing he needed to shake out of this damned depression that always settled on his shoulders when he was cooped up with the Bishops for any period of time.

Smiling at the thought he snapped off the light and wandered back into the bedroom. Picking up the photograph from the bed he stood looking at it for a while before replacing it on the table and slipping beneath the sheets. Closing his eyes he felt himself drift almost immediately and within a couple of minutes he was sound asleep.

The next two days passed slowly, very slowly. Despite speaking to his friends online and on the telephone every day, it just wasn’t the same because every time he switched off the computer or put down the phone he had to face the fact that he was alone with the Bishops who, if anything were worse than ever, seeming to be deliberately going out of their way to make life as difficult as possible for him.

Angel made a point of avoiding the family as often as he could. Initially they had insisted that they all ate together but it quickly became unbearable for him and, as soon as he was old enough to stand up for himself he had refused and insisted on eating alone in his room. The faithful household staff made it their duty to ensure that he always ate a little better than the rest of them, there was always something extra on the tray.

However, even though the house was extremely large it was not possible to avoid the Bishops altogether, especially when they seemed to be going out of their way to keep tabs on him and get in his way as much as possible.

The day before the visit he was on his way down to the kitchen to discuss with the cook the meal plans, his friends dietary preferences, etc. Henry and Arthur were just coming in through the front door and, although he tried to make himself melt into the shadows Henry spotted him.

“Well if it isn’t the worm himself. Come here worm.”

“Fuck off Henry.”

“What did you say!?”

“You heard. I said fuck off.”

Henry darted across the hall, so fast that there was nothing Angel could do to avoid him and before he knew it he was pinned against the wall with Henry’s large hands at his throat. Choking, Angel struggled to break free.

“Henry, stop it.”

Arthur appeared at his brother’s shoulder and tried to pull him away but Henry ignored him like he was nothing more than an annoying fly buzzing around his ears.

“Stop struggling pretty boy or I swear I am going to choke the life out of you.”

Angel complied but not because he had been told to. Henry was being serious in choking him and already he was light headed, his body too focussed on fighting to supply his brain with sufficient oxygen to care about fighting anything else.

“You think you are so great don’t you. Swanning about the house as if you rule. Constantly rubbing our faces in the fact that all this is yours and not ours. And you’re not even content with that. You have to insist on taking over the company don’t you... even though you’re not fit to lick my father’s feet. My father made millions for your precious business and how is he going to be rewarded? He is going to get kicked out of his job to make room for you... you who don’t have a fucking clue.

“It’s not fair, you son of a bitch... you fucking faggot.”

“I... I’m not...”

“Shut up! Did I tell you that you could speak.” The pressure increased and Angel’s vision darkened. He closed his eyes and tried to take a breath but it choked in his throat.

“Henry. Stop it! Let him go! You can’t do this. You’re going to kill him. Fuck Henry...”

“Shut up wimp. You’re as bad as he is.” Henry brought his face close to Angel’s and practically spat at him. “Well... enjoy it while you have it. You might think you’ve won but you’re wrong... way wrong. We’re not beaten yet and if I were you I’d watch your back. Nothing happens until you reach 21 and if you don’t...” He grinned and Angel’s blood turned cold as Henry’s face blurred and swam out of focus.

The next moment he was free and he slid down the wall to sit with his head back choking and fighting for breath. He put his hands to his throat and rubbed the angry red marks that stood out starkly against the white skin.

He was barely aware when someone crouched in front of him.

“Are you alright?”

He opened his eyes. Arthur’s face was pinched and pale, his grey eyes worried and a frown creasing his brow.

“I... I think so.” His voice was a croak and he swallowed with difficulty. Taking the proffered hand he allowed Arthur to haul him to his feet and was only a little unsteady when he tried again. “Thanks.” His voice sounded more normal this time.

“Henry’s an idiot. I’m sorry.”

Angel smiled. “It’s okay. It wasn’t your fault.”

Arthur ducked his head uncomfortable and then opened his mouth to say something but was interrupted by a roar from the direction of the corridor to the east wing.

“Arthur... get your arse in here and stop fussing with that twat.”

Arthur shut his mouth and gave Angel an apologetic half smile. He hurried off then turned and said shyly. “For what it’s worth... I think you are strong... Angel.”

Angel stared after him for a while and then turned and headed for the kitchen where the cook, Miss Hamer, fussed over him and insisted he drink some cold home made lemonade to sooth his throat and applied witch hazel to the bruises.

“That boy is no more than a bully. You should do something about him before he goes too far.”

“Do you think this isn’t going too far?” Interrupted Amy Levee, the assistant cook tilting Angel’s face upwards so they could both see the livid red marks that were already turning into bruises. “He could have killed him.”

“He wouldn’t have done that.”

“You should go to the police, Master Angel, this is an assault. Go to the police and get shot of them all. Tell them what kind of hell they’ve put you through. You don’t deserve this, you never deserved this.”

Angel forced a smile. “It’s alright Amy. I’m alright. And Marcus and Charlie are coming tomorrow. I’ll be alright when they’re here. No one ever does anything to me when there are other people here.”

“Thank heaven for your friends. You should stay with them... keep away from here until you can get rid of those awful people.”

“I... I can't Betty... I can’t stay away from here... it’s my home. It... It’s where I feel, where I am closest to... to...” He was horrified when tears sprang to his eyes and spilled over, running down his face. Mentally he berated himself. He was a grown man now. He shouldn’t allow himself to be prey to his emotions, at the mercy of the tides that rose and fell within him. In particular he should not still be crying over his parents like a child.

Making a supreme effort to control himself he stood up to leave, only to find himself taken into a motherly embrace. It was too much for him and his resolve broke as he dissolved into tears. As she stroked his hair and crooned to him, Betty exchanged a look with Amy over his shoulder and they were both tight lipped and angry.

When at last Angel stopped crying he pulled away from the embrace embarrassed.

“I... I’m sorry. I didn’t mean... I shouldn’t have...”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Master Angel. If you can’t cry for your parents then what can you cry for. There is no shame in grieving...and no shame in wanting to be close to their memory. Now listen to me.” She looked up into his face, brushing the wet hair out of his face. “You are a strong man. You have a lot of your father in you, and your mother too...and she was a very strong woman.

“Strength is not always measured in how hard you can hit or how much of a bully you can be. You have an inner strength that they could not begin to understand. It’s here.” She placed her hand over his heart. “And here.” She touched his forehead. “Don’t let them break you. You are a better person than any of them and a stronger one too. You have it in you to be great and you will be.

“Keep focussed and keep strong and one day you will be free of those awful people, free to be yourself. It won’t be long now. Once your birthday comes you will find that you have more friends than you know. There are a lot of people out there who have been watching and biting their lips.”

Angel stared at her wide eyed in shock. She shook her head and put one finger to his lips. “Hush now. What will be must be. One day soon you will come into your power and I know that you will wield it with grace and mercy. But you must be strong. You must be ready to fight. Soon my dear. Your destiny will come to you soon.”

“Destiny?”

She shook herself slightly and smiled. “Just my poetic nature my darling. Now... why don’t you go up to your room and I will get Mr Charlton to bring you up some of my home made curry. I know it’s your favourite and I have made a batch for you and your friends, something simple after all that travelling.

Angel grinned. “Thanks Betty. You always know what to do to make me feel better.”

Betty beamed. “Off with you now. Have an early night and you will be surprised how soon tomorrow will come.”

“Not soon enough.”

Chat Room

CusCus: He did what???!!!! That’s it! I am going to kick his fucking arse tomorrow. How dare he lay hands on you!!

FallenAngel: Chill out Marcus... it’s okay. I’m okay. I just want to relax with my friends and not worry about all that crap. Please don’t make trouble.

CusCus: I’m not making the trouble... he is.

FallenAngel: I know but... Please don’t come here looking for trouble. I’ve had enough. I just want to relax and forget all about it for a while. Please.

LadyPink: Don’t worry Angel, he’ll behave himself... I’ll make sure of that.

CusCus: I won’t make trouble for you Angel but I swear... if he lays one finger on you when I’m there I am going to break his fucking neck.

FallenAngel: Don’t worry. He’ll be an absolute gentleman for so long as you are there... they all will.

CusCus: Hmmm

FallenAngel: Well... I have no energy for this tonight guys. I feel... I think I need to go to bed. I’ll see the two of you tomorrow.

LadyPink: You okay?

FallenAngel: Yeah... just tired. I think... I think maybe that I was shaken up more than I thought by what happened today. I feel...I don’t know... sort of shaky inside. I’ll be fine after a good night sleep.

CusCus: Grrr.

FallenAngel: See you tomorrow. What time will you be here?

CusCus: I’m picking Charlie up at ten o’clock so we should be with you lunch time... about twelve thirty.

FallenAngel: Good. Betty’s going to set out a buffet lunch in the conservatory. She’s been cooking furiously all week I hope neither of you are on diets at the moment because she is intent on stuffing you until you burst.

LadyPink: You know me hun... the only diet I have ever been on is the ‘enjoy every bite as often as I can’ diet.

CusCus: True... it’s obscene how much you can eat and still stay in shape.

LadyPink: Pure jealousy Marcus... just because you can’t look at a bar of chocolate without putting on a couple of pounds.

CusCus: Groan... rub it in why don’t you.

FallenAngel has left chat.

LadyPink; Hell... do you think he’s alright?

CusCus: No, but after tomorrow he’s going to be.