A/N: Thanks for the wait! And the reviews, hope you enjoy xx

Max Pryde grumbled incoherently under her breath as she stumbled down the stairs. She hadn't been getting much sleep as of late and it was just typical that when she had finally managed to get to bed, someone had started banging loudly on her door. Perhaps it was for the best, her dreams hadn't been kind to her recently. "What?" She snapped tiredly.

"How rude, that's no way to greet an old friend."

A slow smile started to form on her lips in spite of her exhaustion, she'd recognise that smooth and silky voice anywhere, but as she caught sight of who else was standing on her doorstep that smile quickly melted into a scowl. "Piss off." She slammed the door firmly shut, cursing quietly as she tripped in the dark. For a seasoned warrior she was quite clumsy, at least when she hadn't slept for over ninety-six hours and even in the days before that her nights had been plagued with horror.

"Max! Come back!"

She gladly ignored the calls and groaned as she finally found the light switch, the unexpected brightness blinding her momentarily.

"We need your help!"

While that confession amused her, she once again ignored the cries and instead reached for a glass and grabbed a nearby bottle. Her stormy and bloodshot eyes flickered towards the clock on her kitchen wall. 2 a.m. was a very good time for vodka in her opinion.

"You've probably been getting a lot of visions, am I right?"

Max downed the burning liquid, huffing at the smug tone as she carelessly chucked the delicate cup into the sink, leaving the bottle where it was. There was always a high chance that she would come back to it later. Who needed a glass when you had the bottle? She reluctantly made her way back to the door. "What do you know?"

Skulduggery Pleasant seemed to be grinning at her, though his skull was etched in a permanent grin that was both undoubtedly creepy and comfortingly familiar. "Can we come in?"

Max stepped aside silently, watching as each member of the huddled group trooped in. Her gaze didn't linger on anyone in particular and she didn't even glare, and had she any energy left to muster she would have felt quite proud of herself for her restraint.

"So these visions," Skulduggery said, locking his skeletal fingers together under his chin, "what are they?"

Everyone had made themselves comfortable in her sitting room. Skulduggery had taken it upon himself to sit in her chair but she couldn't be bothered to argue over a petty show of authority or resistance. Ghastly Bespoke and Anton Shudder, perhaps two of her favourite people ever, had kindly brought in chairs from her kitchen so that the others could have the sofas. Although this could also have been because they were simply too slow to claim the comfier spots.

Valkyrie Cain, someone who Max hadn't met yet but knew all about, let her dark eyes scan the room curiously. She was tall and pretty with a single dimple in her left cheek, something Max noticed as her lips twitched at the other men squabbling in the room.

Dexter Vex and Erskine Ravel took up her other sofa with Saracen Rue squashed between them. Three handsome men who were all aware of the fact that their looks could get them far. They had been childishly fighting until the skeleton detective spoke.

"So you don't know anything about them?"

"I didn't say that, I'm only asking for you to describe them to me."

Max sighed internally at how egotistical the dead mage was, of course he couldn't admit he didn't know a thing; that just wasn't in his nature. Nevertheless, she indulged him.

The visions were unlike any other she had ever had the displeasure of having. It was as though they were being…censored, for want of better word. She saw enough to leave her restless but not enough to analyse deeply or actually do anything about it. The last few days had been spent trying to carefully figure out what on Earth was happening but the more tired she got, the more things slipped away from her.

"That is…troubling." Said Skulduggery eventually.

"Any ideas detective?"

Skulduggery ignored her sarcasm. "The person in black could be Valkyrie or Anton, those two don't exactly have a great fashion sense do they?" The two sorcerers mentioned glared at their friend. "That face in the dark could be anyone and that alley could be anywhere but let's assume it's in London." Skulduggery continued. "So my next question is: do you know anyone who would want to cut you up in a London alley?" Judging from the expression that had just befallen her face, Skulduggery guessed that yes, there was.

Max pursed her lips. "No one that you'd know." She said stiffly. What she had said was technically correct, Skulduggery wouldn't know them, at least not personally. She felt like hitting herself, though. How could she have not figured this out for herself? Sleep deprivation, her mind answered accusingly and Max decided not to focus on the fact that she was now, apparently, talking to herself.

If he could, Skulduggery would have raised an eyebrow as he cocked his head. "Don't be difficult." He sounded amused.

Max narrowed her eyes. "How do you even know about the visions?"

"Finbar had a vision but I'll be honest, that wasn't our primary reason for visiting."

Max fought a smile at the name and chose to smile internally instead. Outwardly she remained unimpressed, though her mind was now fondly remembering her days with her fellow Sensitive. She missed Finbar. They often talked on the phone, if the man recalled what a phone was and where he had placed it, but she hadn't seen the tattoo artist in over a decade. "It's nice to know where I am on your list of priorities." She commented sardonically. "What did you really come for?"

Skulduggery hesitated so Valkyrie took over. "What do you know about blood magic?"

Max stood abruptly. "Stay away from it." She warned. A sudden burst of adrenalin shot rapidly through her veins, a feeling of ice spreading through her body. Or maybe that was fear? Now that she was alert, Max could appreciate the young woman's accent. It was nice, diluted from her travels but not so much as the others in the room. It was refreshing to hear the dulcet tones of an Irishwoman again.

"It's not us who want to use it." Valkyrie explained. "There was a murder about a week ago and another just yesterday. The bodies were mutilated and there were symbols drawn in blood all over the crime scene."

"Not even China could decipher them." Ghastly added.

"We were told to come to you." Valkyrie said. "That was the only thing we could understand from the writing."

"What do you know about blood magic, Max?" Skulduggery stared at her with his empty eye-sockets.

"It's dangerous."

"Obviously."

Max rolled her eyes. "Not just for the victim but for the user, that's one reason why it's so rare."

"What are the other reasons?"

"First off, you have to mutilate a hell of a lot of people, though the stronger the blood, the less people you have to kill."

"What about the blood of the Ancients?"

Max looked at Valkyrie. The girl was the last descendant ever since her family had died so it was obvious as to why she was interested. She couldn't help but feel a little sorry for the girl, not particularly for the passing as her family. Max knew the feeling of having lost the ones you love and she also knew that she despised being pitied for it. She felt sorry for the dark-haired woman on the account that so many people wanted her just because of her ancestors. "It's a lot more powerful but depending on what the user wants to do, they'd probably still have to kill another person. Blood magic's a crappy discipline if you think about it. A whole lot of effort for very little power."

Skulduggery nodded his head, taking in her information. "When was the last time it was used?"

Max sighed. "Why don't you just ask Mr Know-It-All?" She tilted her head towards Saracen but didn't bother looking at him.

"Apparently this is something he doesn't know about." Dexter jibed.

"Shut up." Saracen muttered. His usual jolly mood had dissipated when he'd seen the look of utter disdain on Max's pretty face once she had realised that he was within the group. They had parted on bad terms but he'd hoped that she had gotten over it. He wasn't one to talk, this he knew. It had been more than a century ago that he'd shared a bed with her yet he was still entirely caught up in the angry enigma that was Max Pryde. Every person he'd been with since just proved that nobody could ever be like her. He refused to voice this out loud however, only speaking of his infatuation once in a moment of stupid drunkenness that was never repeated.

"Stop avoiding the question." Anton said quietly, but everyone heard him. It was the first time he'd spoken since he had entered.

Max didn't bother feeling disgruntled that the adept had realised what she was up to and instead chose to happy that he still knew her like the back of his hand. "It was last used, or known to be used, in the nineteenth century."

"Do you know anything else about the case?" Skulduggery pressed.

"It was pretty famous, I'd say everyone knows something else about the case."

"Ah."

"Ah, indeed." Max replied as Skulduggery got her hint.

"What?" Ravel asked in confusion. He didn't like being left out of things, he was the former Grand Mage of Ireland — a Cradle of Magic. People often seemed to forget that these days.

They ignored him. "Did he get enough blood?" Skulduggery questioned.

Max ran a hand through her pale blonde hair. "No."

"Then why did he stop?"

"I don't bloody know, I didn't exactly ask the guy."

"Who?" Ravel's frustration was evident.

"Jack the Ripper."