A black blur of security guards barreled through the mass of press people, knocking cameras, microphones, and even a news reporter to the ground in their hurry to get to me.

I ran. Or tried to run. People still stood scratching their heads on the street, and my heels buried themselves in their shoes. I switched directions into a clearer path. In the opposite direction from the way I entered Avalon Street. In the opposite direction of Kendra's limo. Shit.

A narrow ...