Free Welcome to Bordertown by Ellen Kushner, Holly Black (editors) Page B

at everyone as I head for the doors, Rosco trotting at my heels. And the Queen of Elfland, who is wiping down the bar, catches my eye and—damn!—she smiles back at last.
    I’m heading home when it happens again: Spider bursts through the doors of The Dancing Ferret and comes charging down the cobbles of Carnival Street. “Wait! The night’s not over!” he’s shouting, so I stop and wait for him to reach me. “We’re going to catch Lambton Wyrm’s last set at Sluggo’s,” he tells me, “then grab some food from Taco Hell. There’s an after-party at the Chimera … and then an after-after party after that. Come with us. Come meet the rest of Widdershins, my band. The night is young, my friend!”
    I hesitate. I don’t know this kid at all.…
    He grins. “Don’t worry. Us halfies don’t bite.”
    “No, it’s not that,” I tell him quickly. I don’t care about that; I’m just cautious by nature—or at least that’s how I was back home. But here? I find myself smiling easily at Spider. “What the heck,” I say. “Sure. I’ll come along.”
    Spider takes my tool bag onto his own shoulders and is chattering away now as we go back up the street. “We’ll stash this at The Ferret. It’ll be as safe as houses. And the dog can come along with us, no worries. They’ll love your pooch at Taco Hell … maybe not at Sluggo’s, but, hey, we’ll get him in. Look at those stars, my man! That moon! It’s a glorious night, and it’s only just beginning! It’s Jimmy, right? People call you Mr. Fix-It, did you know that? Groovy shirt. That vintage truck-stop look is cool. My drummer thinks you’re cute, but, hey, don’t tell her that I told you. Here’s The Ferret. Let’s drop this off and … wait, where’s Yidl? Did he leave already? Balls! No, there he is. Yidl! Come meet Jimmy. He’s Mr. Fix-It. You remember. He’s the guy I was telling you about.”
    Yidl is the human fiddle player, a sometimes-member of Widdershins, though he plays with klezmer and gypsy bands, too. He’s something of a legend here in Soho, and even a noob like me knows his name. “Jimmy, is it? Good to have you in the band,” he says cheerfully as he shakes my hand.
    “Oh, no, I’m not joining—” I begin to protest, but he waves away my words.
    “That’s what they all say. That’s what
I
said.” Then he nods in the direction of my new best friend. “They don’t call that boy Spider for nothing, you know. You’re in his web now—enjoy. A fix-it guy, huh? That’ll be useful.” He claps me on the back, laughing at my expression. “There’s no point fighting fate or Spider, my friend. It’s
beshert
—meant to be. Welcome to Widdershins.”
    *   *   *
     
    The Chimera was getting noisy. Still talking, Trish and Anush moved toward the door.
    “Going so soon?” It was Billy Buttons again. “Our little party’s just beginning. Or it will be, as soon as Spider returns with the band. Stick around, why don’t you?”
    “Maybe later,” Anush said. “We’re going out for some air.”
    “Plenty of air in here. But suit yourselves, m’dearie-os.” With a flourish, Billy showed them the door.
    Carmine Street was alive with kids out in the galleries, the funky little cafés, and the sidewalk market lit with colored lanterns. Trish and Anush drifted through Soho, talking, the stars bright overhead. They left the ancient Indian tales behind and moved on to their own histories. As they passed through the dark, silent streets around Whisthound Square, crossed through the crowds and fairy lights on Carnival, then up along the crumbling elegance of Mock Avenue, Trish told him about Mom and Dad and Jimmy. He told her about his parents, born into a struggling, emerging India torn by partition and war, their arranged marriage, their settling in America.
    “All they care about is making safe choices for a safe life, and a job with security,” he said. “I know, I know, after what they went through, I