Death by Dreaming - 21. Chapter 21

Angel wasn’t feeling very well. In fact he was feeling awful. The pain in his head was increasing and there was a pain in his chest that was beginning to crush him. The Bishops had managed to acquire reserved seats at the front of the church and Charles led him straight there, a hand under his elbow his only link in a world suddenly made up of swirling colours, light, shade, angles, and pressing bodies.

The journey from the lawn to the church seemed to take forever as he was jostled by the crowd, not understanding what was expected of him. The conditioning in his head forced him to smile and be polite, to respond when he was spoken to but it was breaking down. The overwhelming claustrophobia, caused partly by the crush and partly by the crushing pain overwrote everything but its own desperate need.

He was sweating even though the interior was cool and breathing hard as his heart rate increased. It felt as though his heart was trying to burst out of his chest, presumably trying to escape the pain. He groaned aloud and was told to be silent by Charles. He obeyed but it was hard.

It was a relief to sit down. Angel had begun to think that he was going to fall and he was sure that Charles wouldn’t have like it if he had. Not that he was afraid of Charles, it was just... just important to do as he was told, to be compliant... would falling down be compliant? He thought probably not.

The pastor was standing behind the lectern in front of an enormous pair of heavy red velvet curtains, trimmed with gold. He was holding a large gold tassel in his hand which was connected to the curtain with a twisted gold cord. The colours... rich red and gleaming gold bit into his head, making it ache and spin and he tried hard to concentrate on what was being said. He couldn’t understand the meaning of the words but concentrating on their cadence, their rise and fall, made it easier, for a time, to push aside the rising nausea and spiking pain.

There was something itching in the back of his mind, crawling just under his thoughts. It was something to do with the pain. He had a feeling that he was supposed to have been doing something... he had promised... promised.... promised what? To whom? Sometimes it almost seemed as if he was going to remember but then the memory sank again into an annoying itch, forever just beyond his reach.

As the pastor’s voice droned on Angel started to seriously lose focus. Leaning heavily on Charles he heard him curse but didn’t care. Part of him wanted to do as he was told. Part of him wanted to be compliant. Part of him wanted to sit up straight and keep his eyes on the huge velvet curtains behind the altar. Unfortunately those parts were fading fast, submerged in wave after wave of nausea and pain.

Charles threw his arm around Angel’s shoulders and tried to haul him upright. His body was shaking and Charles could feel the pounding of his heart through his shoulder. Damn. Damn it to hell!!! He hadn’t given him much of the drug, not much at all. Certainly not enough to be detected, just enough to put that little bit of extra strain on his heart so that when he saw the angel the triggered seizure would be too much and would kill him.

He wasn’t supposed to be reacting like this. He wasn’t supposed to be so sick. People were starting to notice, they were looking over with concerned expressions on their faces. Mary leaned over Henry and put her hand on Angel’s knee.

“Are you alright dear? Are you not feeling well?”

Angel couldn’t even turn his head to speak to her. The waves were coming stronger and faster and more intense. He pressed his hand against his chest. It seemed as if the earth was shaking with the power of the thuds.

“Alexander?”

One of the women who was sitting in the pew behind them leaned over and peered short sightedly at Angel.

“Mr Bishop, is Angel alright? He really isn’t looking very well. Perhaps you should take him outside. There are too many people in here. Maybe he’s claustrophobic.”

“Thank you but Alexander is fine. He doesn’t need to go outside. Please... give us some space.”

“But...”

“Thank you.” He said shortly, cutting off the conversation. “I think I can take care of my own family thank you very much.”

The exchange had caused a little stir and more and more people were beginning to turn and look at them. Damn!

“Charles, I really think that we should take Alexander outside. He’s not looking well, not at all.”

“Dammit Mary...”

By now the church warden was on his way from the side of the pulpit. Although he was raging inside Charles forced himself to remain calm. Damn him to hell... the STUPID little shit. He was really starting to hate him.

“Is everything alright Mr Bishop?”

Charles wanted to smash the man’s pudgy face in but he forced himself to smile. “Thank you. It seems my ward is feeling unwell. Perhaps it would be better if we took him outside. Is there a way we can avoid the crowd, perhaps go out the back way?”

Charles’ mind was racing. It seemed inevitable that he was going to be forced to leave before the unveiling so there was only one thing to do... Alexander had to see that bloody angel and if he couldn’t see it from this side then he could damn well see it from the other side.

This could work out for the best after all. Now everyone could see that Alexander was ill and they could see that he was taking care of him. Let them do what they wanted. Let them try to help him if they wanted to, it wouldn’t get them anywhere. One look at that window... just one look... The suspense was killing him. They were so close... so very close.

“Of course. Come this way... you can sit in the vestry.”

“I think...”

He had been going to say that he thought it would be better if Angel got some air but the warden was already walking away. With a sigh Charles got to his feet and tugged at Angel’s arm. Angel looked up at him and he could see the pain in his eyes. It took a great deal of willpower not to smile... dammit he very nearly laughed aloud.

For all these years he had been fawning after this jumped up little no one. Just because he had pretty face everyone thought he was so special. But Charles knew he wasn’t special, oh no, he was weak and he was a fool. If Charles had been in his shoes he would have found a way of getting the whole bloody family out of his hair way before now. But no, even though it was patently obvious that he hated having them around he had never said a word, not even when Henry had tormented him, not even when he had bullied and abused him.

Henry was a good boy, a little headstrong and not as bright as he would have liked but he knew how to please his father... all he had to do was hurt Angel, in a thousand small ways, every day. And all the boy ever did was turn his back and walk away. He wasn’t special... he was weak, a coward. Just like his stupid father and simpering mother. God how he had hated them.

For a moment he closed his eyes savouring the memory of the moment he heard that they were dead. It had taken a long time to set that up, a long, painful, humiliating, embarrassing time of cow towing to two inbred aristocrats who wouldn’t know good business if it bit them on the hand. They didn’t deserve a business like Bartholomews... they didn’t deserve the privilege, they didn’t deserve the respect, they didn’t deserve to live.

And neither did their arrogant, weak, pathetic son.

“Come on Alexander... stand up.” Charles was proud of himself. Not one single iota of the contempt he felt for the boy appeared in his voice, although a hint of the frustration he was experiencing crept through... he would have to watch that.

Angel opened and closed his mouth as if he was trying to say something but no sound came.

“Get up Alexander.” This time his voice was sharper than he had intended, but it had the desired effect. Angel’s eyes widened and he made a real effort to struggle to his feet. Charles signalled to Henry who hauled on his arm from the other side.

Angel managed to make it all the way to his feet... barely, but as soon as he got there he was overcome by a wave of dizziness followed by a pain so intense it was no longer a matter of doing what he was told, he could do nothing but what his body forced him to do, and that was collapse.

Although Henry and Charles struggled to keep him upright he slipped from their hands with a sharp cry and sprawled on the floor, moaning. Someone screamed and suddenly there was uproar.

Charles cursed and glanced around, just as Marcus elbowed his way through the last of the crowd and launched himself at him. Through the corner of his eye he saw Henry bolt for the vestry and cursed him too as he slammed backwards into the floor and, with the breath knocked out of him could do nothing but look up helplessly into Marcus’ snarling face.

“What did you do to him? You fucking murderous bastard... what did you DO?”

Someone caught Marcus around the shoulders and lifted him bodily away from Charles. Struggling wildly he kicked out at the prone body and Charles scrabbled backwards and allowed the shocked pastor who had come down from behind the pulpit, to help him to his feet.

“Please... gentlemen... this is a house of God. Show some restraint.”

“Restraint? That lunatic attacked me. You saw it... you all saw it...he attacked me with no provocation.” Charles put on his best outraged expression and demanded loudly that Marcus be removed immediately. However Marcus had lost all control and was screaming at him. Even as the men who held him began to drag him backwards his words penetrated the hushed, shocked silence and his captors stopped.

“No provocation? You did this. I don’t know what you did to him but you did this.” Marcus looked around desperately at the sea of hostile faces. “You have to believe me... he’s been trying to kill Angel for weeks, maybe longer. Please... don’t let him get away. Help Angel please.”

Marcus was beside himself. He was desperately worried about Angel who had gone still and equally desperate that Charles would not be allowed to leave. He prayed that Charlton had convinced the police to take him seriously, that they were on their way. He had to keep Charles here until they arrived. Henry, the piece of shit that he was, had already made a run for it. Charles snarled at him and smiled a horrific smile.

“Clearly the boy has gone insane. It must be a touch of the sun.” He glanced at the two burly men who were holding him. “Perhaps it would be a good idea to take him into the vestry and keep him there, give him a chance to calm down.”

Charlie, who had been standing, stunned and silent, leaped forward. “NO! Please listen to him. He’s right. Please... don’t let the Bishops get away. You have to stop them... you have to. The police have been called. They’re on their way. Just make sure that everyone stays here until they get here and they will sort it all out. Please.”

“Shouldn’t someone be thinking of Angel?” The soft voice cut through the angry ones and everyone turned to look at Arthur, who was kneeling on the floor, one hand resting on Angel’s chest, his glasses gone, his eyes bright. “I think he’s really ill.”

Suddenly everything seemed to go into slow motion. A commotion at the door had everyone’s eyes turn in that direction. A number of men in blue uniforms began to push their way through the crowd who parted for them.

Charles gave Marcus a look of pure venom.

“What have you done?”

“What have I done? What have I done? That’s rich coming from you. Let me tell you what I’ve done. I’ve busted you, that’s what I’ve done. Did you think that I would stand idly by while you slowly murdered Angel? Did you really think that your office was safe as safe as all that Charles? Did you think that no one would find the false bottom to that drawer? Did you think no one would find the hidden cupboard in the fireplace?”

Charles went pale. “You... you searched my office?”

“Of course we did. We already knew what you were doing... we just needed the evidence. Finding out that you were responsible for Angel’s parents’ deaths was a bit of a shock though I can tell you.”

“What.... how... how...?” The bottom fell out of Charles’ world and he felt as though he was drowning. He had been so sure... so very sure...

“You are just too careless Charles. If you are going to leave incriminating evidence lying around where anyone can find it then you can hardly complain when they do.”

“Lying around? You broke into my private office, vandalised my furniture and ... planted...”

“Oh no you don’t Mr Bishop... we didn’t plant anything. Your fingerprints will be all over what we found and we have plenty of information to trace you back to all your shady little friends.... the lawyer who drew up the false wills... the struck off doctor who helped you come up with your twisted little plan... I’ve got it all. Face it Charles you are through. You are never going to hurt Angel again.”

Charles gave him one long poisonous look and then bolted for the vestry door, only to be pulled up short by Henry coming the other way, handcuffed and cowed, between two police officers. One of them dropped an arm and drew a gun. By this time the other officers who had come in through the main door had managed to clear the crowd out of the aisle and were grouping in a semi circle around the altar.

One of the officers broke away and approached Charles.

“Mr Charles Bishop?”

Charles spun around and snapped “Yes?”

“Charles Bishop I am arresting you for murder, attempted murder, assault and conspiracy to pervert the course of justice.” As he spoke he took a set of handcuffs from his belt and spun a stunned Charles around snapping them tight around his wrists before he really knew what was happening. “You do not have to say anything, but it may harm your defence if you fail to mention when questioned something which you intend to rely on in court. Anything you say may be given in evidence."

“Alright... I know the score. Let’s get this over with. I’ll be out in an hour.”

“I wouldn’t count on it, Sir.”

“Charles? Charles, what’s happening? What have you done?” Mary and Anabelle had been standing next to their seats, arms around each other, watching the drama unfolding without understanding a thing about what was going on. Now with Charles and Henry both bound and being carted off by the police Mary began to panic.

“Shut up Mary. Take the kids home and wait for us there. We’ll be home before you know. And make bloody sure those... freaks stay out of our part of the house.”

“I think you’ll find you’ll find that you have no more say about who goes where in any part of the house, as none of it is yours any more.”

“Charles?”

“Oh shut up Mary.”

The police manhandled Charles and Henry out of the church and Anabelle supporting a weeping Mary followed them. Arthur remained where he was and was joined by Marcus who had been released by the men who were holding him as soon as the police arrived.

“Angel? Angel, are you okay? Can you hear me?”

“His heart’s beating awful fast Marcus. That’s not good is it?”

Marcus looked up into the anxious brown eyes and smiled. “No... but it’s better than it could be.”

“It is?”

“It could not be beating at all?”

Arthur gave a sickly smile. “Is my father... did he... is what you said true?”

“I’m sorry Arthur, truly sorry.”

“I knew he was bad. It doesn’t surprise me... not really.” He tried to smile but it turned into a grimace. “What’s going to happen to us now?”

“As for your father and Henry... I don’t know and I don’t care... but you and your mother and your sister will be ok. I know Angel... he won’t punish you for something that was your father’s fault. You’ll work something out.”

“Mother isn't really a bad person. She’s weak, that’s all. She never could stand up to father... not even for...” He smiled again. “Anabelle is a horrid spoiled brat but that’s not really her fault she was influenced too much by father and Henry. I think that, without them around she could be okay.”

Marcus smiled warmly. “You’re all going to be okay now Arthur. I promise. If Angel doesn’t fix it... I will.”

This time Arthur’s smile was warm and open and for the first time ever Marcus thought that he wasn’t bad looking, in a timid mousy sort of a way. He smiled inwardly at the thought.

“Marcus?”

Immediately forgetting Arthur Marcus bent low over Angel whose eyelids fluttered and, with some effort rose.

“Marcus.”

“I’m here. I’m always here. You’re gonna be okay babe. It’s over now and you are gonna be okay.”

“What’s over? What happened?”

“Don’t worry about that now. I’ll explain it all when you are feeling better. How do you feel?”

“My... my heart... I... it hurts.”

“I know hun... I can see. What happened?”

“I... don’t know. I... where am I?”

“St Mary’s Church... the fete... do you remember?”

“No... I... the last thing I remember was falling asleep on the sofa in the conservatory.” His voice was breathless and Marcus was afraid. He wanted to pull him close and hug him but he was afraid that he would hurt him.

“Don't worry about it. I’ll explain everything... I promise.”

“It...” He gasped and gripped Marcus’ hand. “God it hurts Marc. I... oh God... oh God...”

His eyes were so wide and so frightened that Marcus couldn’t bear it any longer and pulled him up into his arms, holding him close. Angel clung to him, crying quietly and grunting with pain.

“It’s alright. Help will be here soon babe. Someone is bound to have called an ambulance. Someone will come. Someone will come soon.”

Marcus kept talking to Angel, rocking him in his arms until, quite suddenly his body relaxed. Marcus had never been more frightened in his life as he was in that moment.

“Angel? Angel are you...?”

Drawing away he looked down into Angel’s face. His eyes were open but he looked far away.

“I’m okay.” He panted.

“Just hang in there. Don’t you do anything stupid do you hear? Don’t you dare do anything so stupid as to leave me now.”

A small smile flittered across Angel’s lips and he raised his hand to touch Marcus’ face. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Promise?”

Another spasm of pain caused Angel to gasp and bite his lip but he nodded and tried to smile. Marcus looked around again. “Isn't there anyone here who can help him... please... there has to be someone.”

Apparently there was no one because everyone just stood around looking uncomfortable and embarrassed. The pastor knelt and began to pray softly and it made Marcus blazingly angry.

“Don’t! Don’t do that... he doesn’t need that. He doesn’t... He isn’t.... just don’t do that.”

He was hissing and the pastor drew back looking shocked and slightly afraid. “Really!! I think that reaction was a little... uncalled for.”

Marcus gritted his teeth. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude but...”

The pastor nodded kindly. “I understand, my son. You are not yourself. I will ask God to give you strength.”

“I...”

“Marcus...”

Angel’s word was forced out through a jaw locked with pain and, as before at the sound of it Marcus lost awareness of everyone else.

“Marcus...?” It seemed as if although his eyes were staring directly at Marcus he was no longer able to see him and there was a note of fear in his voice.

“It’s okay Angel... I’m still here. Just be still babe... just relax and be still and someone will come soon...soon I promise.”

Marcus watched the pain slowly take complete possession of the man he loved. He felt helpless, completely helpless and he hated it. All the time he had been fighting... to find the evidence, to get to Angel... all the time he had been ‘doing’ something he had been able to push aside the fear, subsume the knowledge, the aching, tearing knowledge that Charles had tried to extinguish the light that was Angel.

Somehow, even over the past few days when he had known, when Harry had told him, somehow it hadn’t seemed real. It had been so hard to believe, to accept that what he knew was happening truly was. That Charles had not only hated Angel but really wanted him to die. He had actually wanted to kill him, to destroy him utterly. Looking down on him now and seeing his eyes glaze, watching the life slowly leaking from him, stolen by the pain, Marcus finally understood and he hated Charles as he had never hated anyone in his life.

“Hold on Angel. Please. I couldn’t bear to lose you now, not after all this, not now when I’ve just found you. Please Angel... take my hand... hold on to it...squeeze it... hurt me if you want... I don’t care... I don’t care how much you hurt me as long as you don’t hurt me by leaving me. Please Angel. At least show me you hear me.”

Marcus tasted something salty on his lips and was surprised to find that tears were streaming down his cheeks. He had not noticed that he was crying.

Angel didn’t seem to be able to hear him, he was rapidly getting lost in the pain and wasn’t aware of anything. His breathing was getting faster and faster, hissing through clenched teeth and his whole body was shaking, so tense it was rigid. Marcus’ hand on his chest was practically vibrating with the pounding of his heart and Marcus started to panic.

Just when he thought he couldn’t bear the situation for a moment longer there was another commotion outside the church and the gathering crowd parted again to admit the paramedics. For a moment, when the woman in green knelt besides him, Marcus simply stared at her uncomprehendingly. She started to speak to him but all he could hear was a dull buzz. It wasn’t until the woman and her male friend tried to take Angel out of his arms that he registered what was happening and his instinct was to fight.

Frantically he clasped Angel closer, panicking, holding tighter as they tried to ease him away.

“No... no please... no don’t take him away from me.”

A hand on his shoulder startled him and he looked up into Charlie’s face.

“You have to let them help him Marcus. Let them take him or they can’t help him.”

“Charlie I...”

“They are going to help him Marcus. You have to let them.”

“I... I’m scared.”

“I know hun... so am I. I’m scared too but these people want to help Angel, they need to help him, just let him go... come on. There you go... Marcus... no Marcus. Stand up now... that’s the way. Move over here. Hold me Marcus. Just hold tight.”

Charlie’s voice calmed him and slowly he relaxed his hold on Angel allowing the paramedics to slide him gently onto the floor. Numbly he allowed Charlie to help him to his feet and he wrapped his arms around her automatically while never taking his eyes from Angel. Arthur stood close to his side with a comforting arm on his shoulder.

As soon as he realised that Marcus was no longer holding him Angel began to panic and called out to him, a hedge of hysteria creeping into his voice.

“Marcus... Marcus...”

His voice rose and Marcus struggled with Charlie and Arthur who was also now holding on to him.

“Let me go, please let me go. Let me go to him. I have to go to him.”

“In a minute Marcus, when they... oh...”

Charlie fell silent as Angel’s cries rose into screams as he writhed under the hands of the paramedics who were trying to examine him. Marcus’ struggles turned desperate and he almost pulled away from them.

And then the worst thing possible happened... Angel went still and fell silent. Marcus froze too as everything seemed to slow down. He watched in helpless fascination as the paramedics ripped open Angel’s shirt and struck him hard in the middle of the chest.

“No.” Marcus whispered, his voice strangled by pain. He began to shake his head back and forth as the paramedics continued to work on Angel with no results.

“No.” He said again more loudly and tore his arms out of the numb fingers of his friends. He took one step forward and stared into Angel’s lifeless face, the eyes still open and staring upwards into infinity; as blue as the sky, as distant as the stars... and then he ran.

He had no idea where he was going, he just knew he had to run, and keep running. The pain wasn’t so bad when he ran so he just kept on and on and on... until he stopped. At that point the pain came back and he fell to his knees and vomited into the gutter