We rode to the place in a shiny black SUV that just fit me, Ghost, and our three guards. I expected more. Hoped, actually. At least, they all looked competent, and one glance at them with aura-vision showed intricate glimmers of what must've been the pre-prepared combat spells I've read about.
Our car had to take a roundabout route, because the direct one was blocked with many cars and people wishing to get away from the angel, as well as police officers guiding them to do it in an orderly manner. Not a full-blown evacuation, but close to it.
So, I think it might actually be from sugar withdrawal, my headaches. As well as tiredness and the sharp influx of imposter syndrome.