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hold that ’gainst her none. ’Course she also had squirrels. Picked pockets and the like. Gots into all sorts of trouble…”
    Griffen let him trail off. It was the first time Slim had really shared anything personal with him. Slim seemed to shake himself, coming back from whatever memory he had drifted into.
    “Anyways, touchy subject. Specially since it always comes up at the big meets. ’Spose I been bracin’ myself for when the fightin’ starts, ya know?”
    “You mean at the conclave?” Griffen asked.
    “Yep. Damn near forgots what I was lookin’ for you for. Got some stuff for you.”
    Slim reached into his bucket again and pulled out a black folder. Griffen took it from him and looked inside. The contents looked no different than what one might receive at any convention: a map of the Quarter, a hotel map with meeting rooms marked off, a list of helpful phone numbers.
    “I been helpin’ Rose out. Doin’ the stuff that it’s helpful to be fully corporeal for. All the attendees gets a folder like this. We’ll work up an itinerary as the guest list gets finalized.”
    “I didn’t know you were attending, much less helping to organize things,” Griffen said.
    “Well now, the other animal-control people is attendin’ this year. Since this is my home, falls to me to help things go smooth. ’Course, I sure hope I don’t end up stuck bein’ the main spokesman. We is too damned independent. I don’t want to be the one holdin’ the bag.”
    “Can’t say I blame you,” said Griffen.
    He felt a good amount of the irony from that statement. It looked more and more like he was going to end up the main bag holder.
    “Slim, you mentioned a guest list. I’d really appreciate if someone would tell me who, and what, exactly is coming to this thing.”
    “Rose didn’t tell you?!” Slim said, face more than a little shocked. “Well, damn. Guess I understand since things ain’t too solid yet. Keep in mind this might change as invites get accepted and declined.”
    “Invitation only, right?” Griffen said.
    “Uh… mostly. Always a surprise or two at these things, ya know?”
    Slim leaned back and started to count off on his fingers.
    “First comes us animal types. So you can figure the shifters, too. All sorts: chimera, werewolves, no tellin’ what mix yet.”
    Griffen thought inwardly,
Shamans and werewolves, oh my
.
    “The local voodoo people will show. They ain’t helpin’ out like they should, though. Don’t rightly know why. Figure a handful of other human magic users, wicca and the sorts. Again, no idea what mix exactly. Then, ’course, Rose and a few from the other side.”
    “Vampires?” Griffen asked, intrigued.
    After all, if there were going to be ghosts and werewolves, who knows?
    “Didn’t get invited. Too much trouble. The emotion ones depress or piss off everyone. Other sorts… well, after Rice and the like, you just don’t want to meet the types of vamps that New Orleans might attract.”
    “You’re probably right. Is that it?” Griffen said.
    “Pretty much. Bigwigs aren’t showin’. Likes the… well, like the dragons. Oh, somethin’ different. First year the fey kids are gettin’ in.”
    Griffen blinked.
    “The what?!” he asked.
    “Yeah, they been tryin’ for a long time to get a spot in the meets. Call ’em changelings. Supposed to be what the fey leave behind when they snatch a human kid. Bunch of bull ya ask me, but the kids gots some power.”
    “Then why haven’t they been included before?”
    “Mostly ’cause they are weird. Even by our standards. Even push Quarter standards, you listen to some of the rumors. Only reason they get a shot this year is because the conclave is here. Never met one myself, of course, but that’s what I hear.”
    Slim finished his drink and stood abruptly, straightening his suit again.
    “That’s all I got for now. I’ll call you sometime to talk ’bout the itinerary.”
    “You sure about that list?” Griffen