“On Saturday night there will be a Masquerade Party and Dance. Costumes are not required, but if you wish to…”

He broke off as a small disturbance rippled through the audience, causing people to turn and look toward the door. Following their gaze, he saw that a small group had just entered and was standing just inside. As quick as he noted this, he recognized two of the people who had been looking for him at the Irish pub. Lowell and Vera. The vampires had just dropped in to the conclave.

After pausing for a moment, apparently to be sure he had the room’s attention, Lowell detached himself from the group and approached the podium. His eyes narrowed slightly as he recognized Griffen from the bar, then he gave a small shrug and a smirk.

“Mr. Griffen McCandles?” he said. “So glad to meet you… at last. My name is Lowell.”

Griffen noticed that as Lowell spoke, he half turned so that he was addressing the room as much as the moderator.

“Yes, Mr. Lowell,” Griffen said with a smile. “Is there something I can help you with?”

“As a matter of fact, I was hoping to get permission from you for me and my group to attend the conclave.” Lowell hesitated for effect. “In case you were not aware, my colleagues and I are vampires.”

That got a reaction from some of the assemblage, particularly the changelings. Griffen was gratified to realize that, for a change, he was not the least-knowledgeable person in the room.

“I’m afraid you’re laboring under a misconception,” he said. “This is not my conclave. I’ve merely been asked to moderate the event, and as such have nothing to do with the invitation list.”

“That’s what we heard,” the vampire said. “Still, since it seems the proceedings have already begun, we felt it was only polite to approach you as the moderator. It seems our group was somehow overlooked when the invitations were issued.”

“Yes. I heard about that,” Griffen said. “Something about vampire arrogance and how it was a disrupting presence for the conclave.”

Lowell threw back his head and gave a short bark of laughter.

“Forgive me,” he said, not sounding at all apologetic. “You must, however, acknowledge the irony of the situation. A dragon… near pure blood if I’ve heard correctly… lecturing vampires on arrogance.”

“I keep hearing about that.” Griffen smiled. “Perhaps if you knew more dragons, you’d realize that we aren’t all alike. Stereotyping groups is an easy rap, and often erroneous.”

“My point precisely,” Lowell said, pouncing on the opening. “I think you’ll find the same thing applies to vampires. Originally, we weren’t even planning on attending.”

“What made you change your mind?” Griffen asked, his curiosity piqued.

“Why, you, of course.” The vampire seemed genuinely surprised by the question. “At first we thought this gathering would not be worth our time, but then we heard that a dragon would be participating… even if only as a moderator. That made us rethink our entire position. If a dragon feels this conclave is worth his time, then perhaps we should reexamine our own thoughts and biases and attend… even if uninvited.”

“That raises an interesting point,” Griffen said. “I thought that one of the limitations on your movements was that you could not enter a place uninvited.”

“Please, Mr. McCandles,” Lowell said. “That concept is allegorical. It was meant to assure readers that evil… meaning us… could not affect them unless they welcomed it. You see, that is just one of the misconceptions that we might be able to dispel by attending the conclave. I’m sure we share equally false assumptions about some of the other groups who have gathered here.”

Griffen hesitated. He was still not wild about the vampires’ presence at the conclave. Still, what Lowell said made a certain amount of sense.

“Unfortunately, we’re still faced with the original problem,” he said, stalling. “It’s not my place to decide who may or may not participate.”

“Perhaps we could poll the other attendees,” the vampire said. “If our presence will upset too many of the invited participants, we’ll leave.”

“That’s a possibility,” Griffen said. “Before we do, however, I’ll have to ask you to stop using glamour on the group or at least tone it down a bit. We do want this polling to be fair, don’t we?”

Lowell looked startled.

“Yes. Of course,” he said. “My apologies. Sometimes one relies so much on a power one literally forgets one is using it. I’m sure you have the same problem from time to time.”

It was decided to allow the vampires to participate in the conclave.

As soon as the matter of the vampires was dealt with, Griffen gave the podium over to Slim. Theoretically, Slim was supposed to give a rundown on the events to come and a brief outline of what was to be discussed. In practice, almost as soon as Griffen had stepped down, people had started to file out. Griffen wasn’t sure he liked the thought that everyone seemed to have attended the ceremony to get a look at him.

First out the door were the groups of shape-shifters. The ones lurking in the corner departed first. The changelings kept looking back and forth between Slim and the other attendees. They were gawking openly, no two of them looking in the same direction. Randomly, Drake stood up and started to follow the shifters out the door. Tink took that as a cue and followed, gathering up the others as he went.

The vampires were the next to go, followed by Estella and her group. Actually, they followed directly, and Estella stopped at the door and made some pass with her hands that Griffen didn’t recognize. Only then did she step through and leave the hall.

Griffen realized he hadn’t seen Rose that night and was a bit surprised. Actually, mostly he wanted to go have a word with the shifters. It was high time he met them and found out a little bit about what they expected from the conclave. Without at least that much information, Griffen had no idea how to prepare for them.

Unfortunately, Slim was walking toward him with the two he had been standing with earlier.

“Griffen, like ya to meet two of those attendin’ from my side o’ the tracks. This here is Johansson. He’s from Vegas. The other is Margie, down from Wyoming.”

Griffen shook their hands and blinked a bit. Johansson was a small, round man with a red complexion that made him look permanently flushed. Margie was thinner than Slim, and almost as tall. Her face was hard and serious, as if she had never smiled.

“Not what you expected?” Margie said.

“No, I hadn’t realized that there would be so few of you. Or that you would come from so far,” Griffen said.

“There aren’t that few of us, but most don’t care about dealings with others. Margie and I come from hubs, like Slim, so have to keep an eye on the world at large,” Johansson said.

Griffen was hard-pressed to try to figure out what Las Vegas, New Orleans, and Wyoming had in common. Or why they would be called hubs. For once, he was saved having to ask.

“You seem distracted. We can talk later,” Margie said, and abruptly turned and walked to the door.

Slim and Johansson shared a look.

“Well, she’s hardly ever wrong. What’s on your mind, Griffen?” Slim asked.

“I didn’t want to be rude, but I was hoping to talk with some of the shape-shifters tonight,” Griffen said.

Again, there was a look. Johansson shrugged and walked toward the door, leaving Slim and Griffen alone in the big room.

“Shouldn’ be a problem. The talk is they is stayin’ in this hotel. Most of the lower ones will still be hanging around. Go check the lobby bar,” Slim said.

Griffen noticed a bit of an edge in his voice that hadn’t been there before.

“I didn’t mean to step on your toes, or ruffle your friends.”

“Not friends, just like-minded folk. And you didn’t. Just don’t expect me to come share a drink with you and them.”