Ezra Bloom walked with her head low. She clutched the letter in her hand. It was a short letter. It simply said;
Ezra,
Meet at his grave on the day the last leaves have fallen.
It didn't say who it was from. But she knew who's grave it was they were referring to. Ezra had spent the past hundred years escaping that grave, escaping the war. Yet neither had left her mind. She hadn't spoken to a single Dead Man since. Shortly after she was drowned, the war was over. The Dead Men had split, the horrors and terrors too much to deal with. She didn't know where any of them were. She didn't know if she wanted to. She had taken a horse-drawn carriage as far as the forest, then walked the rest of the way. She saw the clearing up ahead. The forest was quiet, like it was holding it's breath. The sharp, ruthless wind tugged at her clothes. She gripped the letter tighter as she grew nearer. A man was standing there. His back was to her but she recognized him.
"Hello, Dexter." She said. His name sounded foreign on her tongue.
He turned and faced her.
"Ezra." He breathed, closing the gap to embrace her. She stood still for a moment, then wrapped her arms around him. She had missed him. She had missed all of them. Dexter stepped back.
"Are you alright? Why did you send the letter? Why here?" He asked quickly, the words spilling out over each other. Ezra frowned.
"I didn't send it. I thought you did..." She trailed off as she heard rustling. She summoned a ball of burning light, the letter still clutched in her other hand, Dexter summoning a ball of energy.
"Easy. easy." Said a familiar voice.
"It's just us." Said another. Ezra nor Dexter stood down. Ghastly Bespoke and Erskine Ravel emerged through the trees, into the clearing. It was then that Ezra and Dexter let their magic dissipate. After small pleasantries, Ghastly spoke.
"Which one of you two sent the letter?" He asked. Ezra shook her head softly as Dexter spoke.
"Neither of us. We thought one of you must have." Ghastly and Erskine shook their heads.
"Which means," Erskine said slowly, "This is possibly a trap." He finished, looking around. The comrades stood visibly on guard then, old habits kicking in, each facing a different direction, the grave in between them. Anton Shudder and Saracen Rue arrived, causing concern until the Dead Men were sure it was them. They waited there for hours. It was beginning to seem like a hoax. But who would waste their time? Curiosity peaked. So they stayed, despite Anton and Erakine's protests. They compared the letters, they were the exact same bar the name it was addressed to.
The sun had long set when they heard a noise. Ezra's heart pounded. A tall thin man emerged from behind Skulduggery's grave. He was hidden, wearing a jacket, trousers, boots, gloves. A wide brimmed hat hung low, concealing his eyes and nose. A scarf was wrapped around his mouth, jaw and neck. There was no skin visible. None.
"Who are you?" Dexter askes tentatively. The man said nothing.
"Was it you who sent the letters?" Anton asked. Again he said nothing.
"Why... Here?" Ezra asked slowly, sadly. The man took a step. Then another. His shoulders sagged. Then in one swift movement he removed the hat and scarf.
To reveal a perfectly white skull. There were gasps and steps backwards. Magic was summoned but the skeleton raised his hands in surrender to reassure them.
"It's... It's me." said the skeleton. Ezra tilted her head. The voice sounded so familiar...
"Speak again." She demanded. The skeleton shrugged then said
"I wasn't sure how to approach you. Any of you. I was so scared. But I hated not seeing you, not seeing any of you so I-"
"Skulduggery?" Saracen interrupted, incredulously. The Skeleton nodded.
"I don't, I don't understand." Dexter said lowly.
"I don't much understand it myself to be honest. I was dead, and then when I woke up I had rotted. I was in that grave," Skulduggery pointed, "And I don't know how or why but I got out-" Ezra pushed the skeleton as hard as she could.
"You're a liar!" she yelled, nearly crying. "Skulduggery Pleasant is dead!" She pushed him again. "Who are you?! Who sent you!" She was crying now, slamming her open hands into the skeleton. The Dead Men said nothing. This was a family matter and it was not for them to judge. The Skeleton gently grabbed Ezra's wrists. She was sobbing.
"Ezra... Ezra its me. I promise. Your given name is Ethel Gallows. Mine is Nathaniel Gallows. We had three younger brothers, Archie, Will and Peter. Our parents owned a pub. We lived above that pub. Your birthday is the 12th of August, 1597." He said in a calming voice. Ezra was still crying, but everything he said was true. He gently pulled her closer and she let him. Her arms were around him and and he was all bones. He wasn't warm.
"I don't understand- it doesn't make any sense." She said, her voice muffled by his shoulder.
"I don't understand either. I also don't understand your hair." He said, picking up a strand. Ezra smiled. Her face was still wet from tears but she actually smiled. Her big brother was back. She didn't know, and she didn't know why, but he was. And that was all that mattered to her.