Short wee chapter this one, I had the worst writer's block for this one! Have plans for the next one though! Hope you enjoy!
The Dead Men decided, rather unwisely, to join the mortal war. Ezra couldn't, because for whatever reason the mortals did not believe women were strong enough to endure such things. Instead she became a front line nurse. She secretly preferred it to fighting. Helping people was much more her thing as opposed to shooting people. Skulduggery couldn't show his face, so he instead stayed in Britain to focus on the politics during the war. This war was coming to an end, and everyone knew it. Everyone was grateful. It had destroyed the economy and morale of many countries, and destroyed and changed the lives of millions.
Ezra was cleaning up the make shift hospital as quickly and efficiently as possible, sterilising all the instruments and tools, wiping down surfaces. She did it quietly so as not to disturb any of the resting patients. The other nurses had gone back to the big house to sleep for the night due to exhaustion. It had been a very bad, very bloody day. Ezra couldn't sleep so she decided to get a head start for tomorrow. She had just handed a cup of water to a man with a broken leg as Anton, Dexter, Erskine and Ghastly burst in carrying a barely conscious Saracen.
Ezra gasped but then jumped into action. There weren't any beds so she quickly threw a tarp on the dirty ground. She took her apron off and balled it up as a makeshift pillow.
"Lay him here. What happened?" she asked, collecting supplies from around the room.
"It was a bomb. He was... He was so close Ezra." Ghastly said as the four men laid him down.
"Oh god." Ezra breathed as she tore his bloodied shirt off. He was badly burned, metal shrapnal piercing his flesh. She carefully picked the shrapnal out with tweezers.
"Ezra, will he..." Anton trailed off. Ezra barely heard him. She needed Grouse. But he wasn't here. She cleaned the wounds with alcohol, eliciting groans and hisses from Saracen. He was reacting. He was conscious. That was something. Then Ezra saw the dislocated arm.
"Oh no." She said quietly. She undid his belt and slid it out of the loops, then she doubled it and put it in Saracen's mouth.
"Bite." She said simply. Then she unceremoniously popped his shoulder back into place. Saracen Rue screamed.
When the war ended, The Dead Men split. Skulduggery, Erskine and Ravel stayed in Ireland. Saracen, Dexter and Ezra traveled to America to take part in the lavish lifestyle for a while. Anton discovered the Midnight Hotel. Skulduggery decided to use his skills officially. He might as well be financially stable, he figured. Ghastly opened his parent's shop up, continuing on the Tailors business. Erskine decided to join Skulduggery in the Sanctuary too. They were never partners. He annoyed Skulduggery far too much for that. They began to travel after the stock markets failed.
America was just fantastic. The roaring twenties. Dexter, Ezra and Saracen got jobs, very well paying jobs. Saracen went into the newfound bank business boom. Ezra became a flapper, trading her dirty black leathers for beads and feathers. Dexter was a telephone operator. They shared a very lush pent house in New York. They threw a lot of parties. It wasn't what they were used to, but for a while, they thoroughly enjoyed it, the memories of war and blood and death and violence fading with every party, every bottle emptied, every day of their newfound lifestyle that passed.
Anton Shudder worked his way up to management. He enjoyed the hotel and all its mysteries. He enjoyed travelling, a new place every day. The interesting guests with interesting stories, languages, powers. Even the silent guests were endearing to him. He met a lot of people. He never deemed himself as a people person but he didn't need to form friendships because in a day they would be gone.
The Dead Men were, for a century, happy.
Then Gordon Edgley died.
Then Skulduggery Pleasant met Stephanie Edgley.