“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.