I let out a typical Mayageddon groan and stomp away furiously, brushing past Conor, who holds out his bottle to me. “Have some water. It’ll calm you down.” “No. It’s always water this and water that, but when I try to drink the blood of my enemies—” “Can’t believe I’d forgotten,” he says, low. Fond, maybe. A few feet away, the others are straightening their shovel-made goal-posts. “Forgotten what?” “The monster within.”
