Erskine left Skulduggery and Ghastly to themselves and sought out Corrival to relay the conversation. Corrival nodded grimly and Erskine followed him to the main tent where they began discussing the plan at length and decided that Corrival would be the one to present it. It didn't take very long and there weren't many details, so Erskine had left only a few hours later. He didn't return to the farmhouse and he didn't see Hopeless.

Two days later, Erskine found himself once again walking to that bedroom. He knocked, Corrival at his shoulder, and Ghastly opened the door. He was finished with his alterations by then, and when they stepped through, saw that Skulduggery was fully dressed. The shirt was too big and the leather coat hung off his shoulders and the winter gloves looked incredibly out of place, but he was in respectable clothing and Erskine could see that his skull was clean and free of dust. He stood there, by the window, and watched them enter.

Erskine gave him a nod, but didn't trust himself to speak.

Corrival marched past, purpose and authority following in his footsteps, and approached Skulduggery without hesitation, offering his hand. Skulduggery looked at it, as if unsure what to do, and then took it. They shook, and Erskine could tell that was the end of the matter for Corrival. That handshake, Erskine realized, was probably the first time anyone had physically interacted with Skulduggery since his return.

"I want to make sure that you understand that you don't need to do this," Corrival said, "and that we're not asking you to do any fighting."

Skulduggery didn't respond and Corrival looked to Ghastly.

"We've talked about it," Ghastly said, and Erskine felt his eyebrows raise. "I've told him that multiple times. He's fully aware."

"You want us to go tonight," Skulduggery said finally, "or else you wouldn't be here."

Corrival returned his gaze and observed him for a moment. Skulduggery didn't move.

"I am sorry for what has happened to you," Corrival said, "and I have no wish to throw you back into the line of duty. But Ghastly knows you better than I, and if he says that you are ready, willing, and capable, I trust him."

"Hopeless, Bespoke, and Ravel will accompany you, but it is important that the enemy does not know you aren't alone. If they believe the apparition is working independently, they are less likely to figure out who you are and come after us in retaliation. It must continue to seem as if we have no connection. I understand that you can still do magic. All we're asking is that you approach the encampment, use some magic from a distance, and frighten them. Do not make contact. Retreat and regroup with the others if the enemy becomes confrontational. This is not a battle. Is that clear?"

Skulduggery had looked at Corrival, his head dipping slightly in acknowledgement, and Corrival nodded in satisfaction.

"Private Hopeless," Corrival said, "I do assume you wish to accompany them, correct?"

Erskine turned, surprised. Hopeless leaned in the doorway, his eyes narrowed and his arms crossed.

"Just because I am accompanying," he said, his gaze fixed on Skulduggery, "does not mean I approve. I know you just as well as Ghastly, and I am against this idea."

"He made the choice, not us," Erskine said, and Hopeless eyes flicked to him before returning.

"Skulduggery can speak for himself. He doesn't need the two of you to do it for him."

Erskine clenched his jaw, irritation already growing, and he saw Ghastly frown slightly. Skulduggery's head tilted.

"It's bothering you," he said, "that you can't read my thoughts. That's why you haven't been back."

Hopeless looked at him and then he sighed and rubbed his forehead. "You make rash decisions, Skulduggery, and don't always think before you act. You always have. I want to make sure you're thinking now."

"You want to make sure I wait for you this time," Skulduggery corrected, flat and emotionless.

Erskine froze slightly. Ghastly's head snapped around in surprise and Hopeless looked like he had been struck.

"This isn't the same thing," Hopeless said and Skulduggery slipped his gloved hands into his coat pockets.

"You're right. It's not even close. But that's what you're referring to, isn't it?"

Hopeless didn't respond and Skulduggery cocked his head. "You're angry that I went off and got myself killed. You're angry that I didn't wait so you could rush off with me and get yourself killed, too. You both are."

Hopeless didn't say anything, just stood there and looked at the skeleton. The room was silent.

"Yes," Ghastly said, stepping forward, "we are. But we're angrier at the fact that this even happened at all. What's important is that we have you back and that we have a second chance to make sure that nothing like this happens again."

Skulduggery looked at him and didn't say anything.

"How long until you three will be prepared to set out?" Corrival asked, bringing the conversation back to the matter at hand. "Skulduggery, we're not giving you a firearm. You're going to have to do with your magic."

"That is fair," Skulduggery replied.

"I can be ready to go in fifteen," Ghastly answered, and Hopeless nodded in agreement.

Corrival grunted. "Skulduggery can go with Erskine. No one should see you if you leave from the back and circle around the ridge to the left. Ghastly, Hopeless, meet them there when you're ready to leave."

Without a goodbye, Corrival turned and walked out and Ghastly followed after a slight hesitation. Hopeless paused in the doorway, looking back at Skulduggery and then Erskine. Erskine tried a grin.

"We'll be fine," he told him. "No worries."

Hopeless gave him a quick nod and then disappeared from view. Erskine watched him go and then started to turn, trying to keep the smile on his face, and was met with Skulduggery's skull only a few steps away. Erskine started in surprise and the smile dropped. He hadn't even heard the man move.

Skulduggery's head tilted and Erskine scowled. "Don't move so quietly," he said, "you'll give me a heart attack."

"Would you prefer I stomped?" Skulduggery asked, amusement breaking through his empty monotony. Erskine raised an eyebrow.

"Or tie a little bell around your neck," he said.

"Like a dog?"

Erskine waved his hand in the air. "Or a cat, if that would make you feel better."

Skulduggery grunted an amused laugh and Erskine turned to the door, leading them down the stairs and out the back. They passed along the rear of the house and then stepped off the porch. Erskine checked to make sure there weren't any straggling soldiers around, and Skulduggery followed him to the small hill next to the house. It was in the late hours of evening, but Erskine kept his eyes on the camp.

"Is that your old coat?" He asked, attempting better conversation than the last time.

Skulduggery looked down slightly and then back at Erskine. "It is. Ghastly saved it from my tent. He said he grabbed a few other items, but the bulk of it was redistributed or added to the supply stash."

"You didn't seem to have much here." Erskine glanced at him. Skulduggery was gazing away from the camp and out over the farmland. "Did you really burn your house down?"

Skulduggery made a noise like exhaled air and Erskine frowned to himself. Was that a sigh? Could a walking skeleton sigh? Skulduggery had no lungs, no throat, but he was pretty sure that's what it was.

"It had been robbed," Skulduggery said, interrupting Erskine's thoughts. "It was basically empty."

"But it was your house. Your family-"

"There was nothing there for me," Skulduggery said, cutting him off. "It's best that it's gone."

They were silent for a moment, and then Erskine's curiosity got the best of him. "What's it like," he asked, "being dead?"

Skulduggery turned his gaze to him.

"You don't have to tell me," Erskine said quickly, "I'm just curious."

"I understand," Skulduggery said. He paused. "It's too much like being alive, but with none of the… advantages. I always feel like my jaw is going to fall off."

Erskine looked at him. "Can it?"

"I'm not entirely sure and I don't think I want to find out."

"What about the cold?"

"I can't feel the cold and I can't feel heat and I can't feel texture unless it's very pronounced," Skulduggery responded, sounding amused, "but I can feel pressure."

"Lucky for you," Erskine said, shoving his hands in his pockets, "it's been freezing this winter."

Skulduggery looked at him and Erskine felt himself falter slightly.

"I'm sorry," he said, correcting himself, "I didn't mean it like that."

"You don't need to apologize," Skulduggery said.

Erskine nodded, still feeling bad. A thought struck him. "Does your family know you're back?"

He could see Skulduggery visibly stiffen.

"No," Skulduggery said, "they do not."

"Are you going to tell them?"

"No."

"I can understand that, as you probably know. But your elder brother and your youngest sister, you were close with them, weren't you?"

"I was, yes."

"So why wouldn't you tell them?"

Skulduggery hesitated and opened his jaw to speak, and stopped. He nodded over Erskine's shoulder. "They're here."

Erskine turned and saw Ghastly and Hopeless approaching, dressed in heavy clothing and guns strapped to their hips.

"Are we ready to head out?" Ghastly asked when they approached.

"We are," Erskine said. "We were just talking."

Ghastly raised an eyebrow and looked at Skulduggery. "You were?"

"Erskine here had some questions," Skulduggery responded, "and I don't think he likes silence."

Erskine glowered slightly. "I'm fine with silence," he said, feigning irritation, "I like the quiet."

Hopeless grinned. "I'm sure that's what you tell yourself every night you go to bed lonely."

Erskine rounded on him and tried to find something to defend himself but his response died on his tongue and he was aware he was just sputtering incoherently. Ghastly suppressed a laugh and Skulduggery put his hands in his pockets, head tilting, as Hopeless' grin widened.

"You've spent too much time with Dexter Vex," Erskine said instead, "and if any of you are finding women out here in this frozen flatland, by all means, point me in their direction."

"It's Saracen that's the worst of the two of them," Ghastly said as they began walking. "He's just asking for trouble one of these days."

"And I hope that I'm there when he finds it," Hopeless added.

Erskine glanced at Skulduggery. He was keeping pace with them and his skull was turned slightly in their direction. Hopeless, obviously reading Erskine's thoughts, moved slightly so that Skulduggery was fully walking with them as a group.

"We need to find you something for your head," Hopeless announced, and Skulduggery looked at him.

"I'm sorry?"

"Something for your head," Hopeless repeated. "When you're back for real, you're going to need something. A cool hat or the like."

Ghastly nodded in agreement. "It'll complete the look."

Skulduggery turned his eye sockets to Ghastly. "I have a look?"

"Of course you do. We all do." He pointed to Hopeless and then Erskine. "Hopeless' look is something along the lines of homeless playwright and Ravel here looks like a noble with a gambling problem."

Hopeless sputtered at his description and Erskine laughed, a full hearty laugh, something he hadn't done in ages.

"So what's Skulduggery's look, then?" Erskine asked and Ghastly thought for a moment.

"I haven't decided yet," he said, "but I assure you it will be very cool."

"You said a hat will complete the look, though," Hopeless pointed out.

"I did," Ghastly responded, "but he's also wearing temporary clothing. By then, I'll hopefully have made something that fits much better. And then he'll have his look."

They went on like this for the next hour as they walked. Skulduggery would respond if spoken to, but spent most of the time walking in silence. Hopeless did most of the chatting, and Erskine guessed he was trying to make them all as comfortable as possible. They approached the camp just after sunset and climbed the slope that overlooked it.

Darkness was settling in as the four crouched and approached the crest of the hill. There were people moving about in the camp, and a fire burned in the center with maybe eight or nine tents, each seeming to hold a handful of soldiers.

"How many do you think there are?" Ghastly asked softly.

"Corrival said from our scout reports that there are probably about thirty men. It's not a full regiment," Erskine responded, making sure to keep his voice low.

"I'll get closer," Hopeless said, and began moving forward. Erskine stopped him.

"They can't know we're here."

"And they won't. I only need to be a little closer to get a better count."

Hopeless moved down the hill quietly, shrouded in shadow. The winter darkness had closed in quickly and Erskine shivered in the growing cold. Hopeless returned a minute later.

"I'm getting twenty, maybe thirty at the most. It looks like Corrival was right."

They moved off the crest of the hill and stood. Skulduggery took off his gloves and slipped them into his pocket.

"I think some of them were involved in the kidnappings," Hopeless said softly, "but I can't be sure. I couldn't get a good read on any of them. It seems like that's why they were posted here."

Skulduggery snapped his head to Hopeless but didn't speak.

"We can wait up here," Erskine said, "Skulduggery should approach from down below."

Skulduggery went to walk away but Erskine held up a hand to stop him. Skulduggery didn't stop fast enough and they bumped slightly, Erskine's hand landing on his chest. He could feel the ribs and empty space beneath Skulduggery's shirt.

"You understand what you're doing, right?" Erskine said. Skulduggery didn't respond. After a moment, his head moved slightly and Erskine moved out of his way. He reached the bottom of the slope and disappeared.

The three of them crouched at the top and to watch Skulduggery approach. His skull gleaming in the dim light. He stopped just short of the camp and Erskine watched as he snapped the fingers of his left hand and dipped low before extending and thrusting a ball of flame that arched through the sky.

A shout came from the camp as someone noticed, and Erskine saw them looking around. One of the soldiers caught sight of Skulduggery at the edge of the gloom.

"What's this, then?" Erskine heard one of the soldiers call out. "Who are you?"

Skulduggery stepped closer and the light from their fire bounced off his skull. Eyes widened and backward steps were taken. Skulduggery stood there.

"Why isn't he doing anything?" Erskine whispered and Hopeless shook his head.

"Are you the apparition?" The man asked. He stood before the group of soldiers that was forming behind him. "The ghostie we've been hearing about? You've been causing some of our side a little bit of trouble."

Skulduggery didn't move.

"I heard you were a malevolent spirit out searching for revenge. Is that it? Are you here for revenge?"

Nothing.

"You don't seem very scary," the soldier continued, "and what we do that you're lookin' for revenge out here? You're an interesting creature. You know what? I think we're going to try and capture you. I'm sure Mevolent or that twisted freak Serpine would love a chance to study you."

Skulduggery shifted slightly. Ghastly leaned forward. "What's that in his hand?"

Erskine saw Skulduggery raise his right arm, detaching it from the shadows and Erskine realized there was something large in his grasp. The soldier seemed to frown slightly and the object glinted in Skulduggery's grip.

Erskine felt himself go cold and his heart thudded heavily in his chest as his hand flashed to the holster at his hip. Empty.

A sharp crack ripped through the air, and the man who had spoken dropped to the ground screaming. Another crack. The one to the left dropped, blood flowing from his forehead. The men were shouting now and tent flaps opened as more of Mevolent's soldiers emerged to chaos. There were three more cracks. Three more men went down.

"What the hell is he doing?" Hopeless asked, alarm and surprise in his voice. "And where the hell did he get that gun?"

"It's mine," Erskine said, breathless, "he must have snuck it off me as he passed. Ghastly, you said he understood our orders. This is going against everything we planned."

"Someone needs to stop him," Hopeless said and went to stand. Erskine shot his arm out.

"No! At the very least, we need to make sure they don't know we're here. We can't let them see us."

Hopeless looked at him, eyes wide, and there was another sharp crack. Erskine could feel it reverberate through his skin, an electric panic that snapped his attention back below. Every bullet had found a mark and the camp was in chaos. Some were fleeing already, some in a panicked shock, and others, though few, were preparing to fight. Skulduggery dropped the gun, now empty, and began walking forward. He snapped the fingers of both hands, fire flying into the two tents closest to him and they burst into flame.

"He needs to stop," Hopeless said, panic lacing his words, "he needs to stop. Now."

There was another crack as someone fired at Skulduggery. A bullet tugged at his coat and another one pierced his shirt in the abdomen, flying straight through and hitting the dirt behind him. A third smashed into his shoulder and Skulduggery jerked, taking a single step back. He stood there for a moment, frozen, and then his hand whipped up and the group before him was blasted off their feet. He resumed walking, unhurried and unbothered. Like he was simply out for a stroll.

The few who were left standing turned and ran, tripping over themselves as they went, tearing away into the darkness. A few on the ground were struggling to rise, and Skulduggery snapped his palm again and they crunched into the dirt a second time. He stopped at the soldier who had addressed him and raised his foot, putting his weight on the bullet hole in his shoulder. The man screamed, a wrenching howl of pure agony that tore from his throat, and one of his companions tried raisinging a gun from the ground. Skulduggery saw it, looked at him, clicked his fingers, and threw. The fireball hit the soldier, the gun firing and missing completely, and he, too, screamed as Skulduggery twisted his fingers, manipulating the flames.

Erskine's blood ran cold as he watched. There was no humanity down there, he realized, and no mercy. Skulduggery was going to kill these men, and they were going to die in agony. Erskine felt like he was going to be sick.

He looked at Ghastly. His face was pale and the growing glow of the fire was dancing off the scars on his head.

"Bespoke," Erskine hissed, "what the hell is he doing?"

"This isn't him," Ghastly said, his voice strangled. "Skulduggery wouldn't do this. This isn't him."

"Obviously, it is! He's torturing them, Ghastly. This isn't a fight, it's a massacre."

Hopeless moved, so suddenly that Erskine didn't have a chance to stop him. Ghastly stood in alarm and Erskine watched in horror as Hopeless tore down the slope.

"We have to stop him," Ghastly said. Erskine opened his mouth to argue but when Ghastly looked at him, true fear and loss and regret reflecting in his eyes, Erskine found that he couldn't. Ghastly, he realized, couldn't lose another friend tonight. He nodded and they turned, making their way after Hopeless.

The man had a head start, and they couldn't catch him before Hopeless reached Skulduggery. He grabbed Skulduggery's arm, attempting to pull him back from the man he was standing on. Without even looking, Skulduggery swept his arm wide and Hopeless went flying, hitting the ground and rolling. Ghastly poured on the speed and pulled away from Erskine.

Skulduggery seemed to sense his approach and started to turn, but could do nothing to stop the fist that crashed into his cheek. He reeled back, and Ghastly moved in, sending another punch to the ribs. He went for a third, but a hand flashed up, the bones of Skulduggery's hand curling around Ghastly's fist. Erskine could see the snarl behind the impassive skull as Skulduggery's other hand pressed against Ghastly's chest, and the man shot backward. He landed a few feet from Erskine in a tangled heap.

Erskine felt the breath leave him. He had no idea how much power Skulduggery could wield and a shot to the chest like that could easily have killed him. Ghastly rolled over and coughed as Erskine sprinted over, and relief flooded through him.

He looked up as he heard a shout. Skulduggery was facing away from them, already forgetting that they were there, and walking towards the group of soldiers he had hit with those blasts of air. The few that were conscious looked at him with terrified eyes and tried to scramble away.

"You were involved," Erskine heard Skulduggery say. "Tell me where he is. Where is Nefarian?"

There was another shout, louder and stronger this time, and Erskine saw Hopeless struggling to his feet.

"Skulduggery!" He yelled. "Skulduggery, stop!"

Skulduggery didn't stop. He didn't even pause.

Hopeless took an unstead step forward, and Erskine could see the pain and fear and anger twist across his face.

"Skulduggery Pleasant," Hopeless thundered, "god damn it, stop and look at me!"

Skulduggery froze. The soldiers on the ground stared at him as he raised his head, painfully slow, and looked back at where the command had come from. The fire crackled in the air and the heat rolled off into the night sky in waves and the embers danced through the darkness without beauty. Skulduggery stood there, drenched in that burning light, unmoving.

Hopeless took another step forward. Skulduggery watched him. Another step. Erskine realized that Hopeless was limping. Skulduggery didn't move.

Skulduggery's jaw opened and his voice, though quiet, drifted across the camp. It was dry, and cracked and broken. "Hopeless?"

Erskine thought the man might cry as relief flooded Hopeless face, and he took another step forward.

"What's going on?" Skulduggery asked, not looking around. "What are you doing?"

"What am I doing?" Hopeless responded. "What are you doing? Skulduggery, look around! This isn't what we were sent here to do!"

Skulduggery's head swiveled slowly like he hadn't realized where he was. His eye sockets passed over Erskine kneeling next to Ghastly and then returned, their weight landing on them heavily. Erskine clenched his jaw, prepared for anything.

"Did I do this?" Skulduggery asked.

Hopeless took another step closer. "You mean you don't remember?"

Skulduggery was still looking at Erskine and Ghastly.

"I'm fine," Ghastly grunted, sitting up. Erskine held out a hand to steady him. "Nothing I couldn't take."

"Skulduggery," Hopeless said softly, only a few steps away, "what just happened?"

Skulduggery didn't move. His gaze didn't waver. His jaw opened and he started to speak, and then cut himself off.

"I'm not- I don't know." His head turned to Hopeless. "Did I hurt you?"

"I'll be fine," Hopeless said. "There are other things I'm more concerned about."

Erskine watched as Skulduggery's knees buckled and Hopeless darted the last few feet to catch him. They stood there like that for a few moments, Hopeless supporting Skulduggery, Skulduggery with his skull pointed at the ground.

And then Skulduggery stood, and they watched him as he straightened, tugging at his jacket. His hands slipped into his pocket, retrieving his gloves, and he slipped them on.

"My apologies," he said. "I got distracted. Lost myself for a moment. That is unacceptable and I can assure you it won't happen again."

Ghastly pushed himself from the ground and Erskine stood with him, not taking his eyes off the skeleton.

"Skulduggery," he asked, "what the hell was that?"

Skulduggery looked at him but didn't respond.

"That was more than distraction, Skulduggery. I understand these are our enemies, but you can't just march in here and kill all of them. That makes you no better than Vengeous or Mevolent or Serpine."

No response. Just that empty, black pit of a gaze.

Anger blossomed in Erskine's chest and he took a step forward.

"We are fine," he heard himself hiss, "giving you space. With letting you recover. With not pressing for answers. But this is not something you get to just stand there and be silent about. You need to start talking. Now."

Skulduggery looked away into the darkness. "I don't know," he said softly. "All I could think about was them and Serpine and that castle. It felt like I was back in that bag in the river and it was… too much. I needed to let it out."

The fire crackled around them and Skulduggery shook his head softly, almost to himself. "I'm not a murderer," he said quietly.

"We can't tell Corrival," Hopeless said, and Erskine snapped his head to him. "We need to come up with a story."

"Why not?" Erskine snapped. "This isn't some petty little mistake. Skulduggery is dangerous and Corrival needs to know. Meritorious needs to know."

He saw Skulduggery turn his skull to him and Erskine met his empty gaze.

"This was your chance to prove we could trust you," he said. "Instead, you steal my gun and almost massacre a camp full of men. What are we supposed to think, Skulduggery?"

Movement registered in the corner of Erskine's eye but he couldn't turn fast enough before Hopeless struck him. It was weak and poorly aimed and Erskine didn't even need to take a step back.

"I told you we should have waited," Hopeless snarled. "I told you this was a bad idea and he needed time to recover. Don't you dare brush this all off on him. He won't say it, but Ghastly is thinking the same thing."

Skulduggery took a step forward. "I think," he started to say, but Hopeless rounded on him.

"And you," Hopeless said. "Ravel is not wrong. This was your chance to prove yourself to us. What would your wife think if she saw you here now?"

Skulduggery didn't say anything and Erskine immediately felt some of his anger dissipate at those words.

"So here's what we're going to do," Hopeless continued. "We're going to tell Corrival that Skulduggery did what he was told, but they fought back and he was cut off. The three of us set fire to their tents as a distraction and helped Skulduggery escape. We had to kill some men. End of story."

He looked at Skulduggery. "We're giving you a second chance, but one of us will stay with you at all times, until we know for sure you can be trusted."

"This isn't something we can just pretend didn't happen, Hopeless. What about these men?" Ghastly asked, gesturing to the ruined camp around them. "There are still soldiers here."

Erskine sighed heavily. "We can't do anything. We'll leave them, let their compatriots collect their injured and dead. We need to get back to our camp and alert Corrival. Those that have already fled will be notifying their superiors and we need to be prepared for retaliation."

"Do you think they will?"

Erskien shrugged and turned, facing the cold night and long walk they had ahead of them. "It's something we should be prepared for. Revenge is one hell of a motivator, it seems."

They left the camp burning and the light and the heat of the fire slowly faded away behind them. The four walked in silence, unsure of what to say or how to say it and too many emotions in the way to even begin to try. Erskine felt the weight of what happened settle on his shoulders and tried to shrug it of. Such was war, he told himself, and failed to believe it.

There was no hint of emotion in Skulduggery's movements or on that white skull skull of his. The grin stayed fixed, the sockets empty, and it seemed to float in the darkness like death incarnate, a force too powerful for any man to control. He walked apart from them, silent. A ghost, it seemed, even to himself.