Fletcher had vanished again by the time Corrival supposedly broke Rover's back. Ghastly was only vaguely aware of that, in the same way he was only vaguely aware of Saracen - a man he hadn't seen in years - being on the floor underneath Erskine. Or Descry being underneath them both. Or Rover and Dexter dancing through the office to music Ghastly couldn't hear, and Rafe in his female form thoroughly enjoying the whole spectacle.

Bloody angels, was Ghastly's first coherent thought.

That wasn't true, of course. It really would have taken Rover coming back from the dead before Anton would agree to be in the same room as Skulduggery, let alone be part of a necrophiliac snugglepile with him. This was a good thing. This was a very good thing.

Ghastly just needed, as Corrival said, to find his brain first. "Think I left it back in my shop," he muttered quietly.

"You can't have," Skulduggery told him. "I checked the shop thoroughly before we left. I didn't see it."

"You don't have a brain. Maybe you missed it."

"I doubt it."

Ghastly looked up to meet the disguised skeleton's remarkably twinkling gaze. "How did you know this was going to happen? Did Gabe tell you?"

"No. He tried not to. He thought he'd be able to fool me."

Of course Skulduggery would have thought of it. Skulduggery thought of everything. Ghastly held the eye contact for a moment longer, and then returned his attention to the long-dead member of his old unit long enough to shake his head morosely. "World-famous masseuse can't even keep his own back supple. Get over here and I'll straighten it for you."