The Strange Path Read Online Free PDF Page A

contents. “Time to go, children.” 
    Hours later, Whiskey stared at herself in a mirror. A scaled tail circled her right wrist, the dragon it belonged to coiling up her arm, ending at her collarbone and shoulder blade. Mere outlines of black ink at this point with hints of color here and there, its ethereal wings sheltered her, protecting her as it struggled to rise. Antibacterial ointment caused the artwork to shine, making the dragon scales glisten.
    “Magnificent,” Fiona murmured.
    Whiskey nodded. “Yeah it is.”
    Cora smiled. “Red was a much better choice than black.”
    Whiskey moved her arm. The dragon writhed along her muscle. Her skin felt lightly bruised from her fingers to her neck. The burning sting had subsided, and the last two hours had been sheer agony. The worst had been those areas closest to the bone. It had been worth the pain. Once the job had been started, she’d insisted they finish as much as possible. She didn’t know how long she’d be hanging with this crowd. It’d suck to have a partially completed tattoo for years on end. This thing cost an outrageous sum; she’d never have the cash to color it in, too. The artist, a petite Asian woman exhibiting dozens of tattoos on her exposed skin, had attempted to halt the process twice, and Fiona had backed Whiskey’s request by offering a substantial tip to complete the outline. She turned to the tattooist. “This is fucking killer! Thank you.”
    “You’re welcome. I’d say it’s some of my best work. Mind if I get some pictures before you go?” 
    Whiskey turned back to the mirror in fascination. “Go ahead.”
    The tattooist went to the front counter for a camera.
    “A definite success.” Fiona smiled at her. “Are you certain about Cora’s suggestion, my little lamma? ”
    Whiskey glanced sharply at Fiona’s reflection. Her voice sounded mocking, but her face was serene. “Why not?” She sensed a subtle challenge. “If I’m going to do it, might as well do it all.”
    Cora clapped her hands in glee. “I’ll tell her.” She scampered toward the front of the shop to get the tattooist.
    Fiona conceded with a sly grin, raising her chin. The action increased her naturally haughty appearance, something that didn’t need work.
    “Where’s everybody else?” Whiskey asked. When they’d arrived, Daniel and Alphonse had both decided to add to their collection, getting into a deep discussion with one of the other tattooists.
    “They finished early, and got bored. We’ll run into them later.”
    Whiskey nodded, and looked out the front windows. A clock by the register showed nearly midnight. The place had quite a few customers at this hour. Friday nights were busy. She returned her attention to the dragon. No wonder, if this is the usual quality of their work.
    Normally she’d be tired at this point, but sleeping through the day, and an endorphin high from the tattoo had boosted her energy levels. She didn’t know how long it would last. It didn’t look like her benefactors were anywhere near crashing, either. Their money made things a lot easier for them, giving them the opportunity to run with impunity, knowing they’d have a safe place to crash in the wee hours. She’d gotten far more than she’d hoped for since meeting them—a shower, sex, new clothes, a full stomach, and now a tattoo worth eight hundred or more. Still, as easy as it would be to remain in their care, she knew things would end badly. They always did. Fiona would get tired of her new toy, and toss Whiskey out eventually, not before softening her up with easy food, sex and money. It might take days or weeks, but it would happen.
    After tonight, Whiskey would cut and run. Take more than you can give. She’d catch a nap somewhere; maybe head over to Tallulah’s to see if Gin’s party still progressed. She also had to be at the Youth Consortium at eleven in the morning to meet with Father Castillo.
    “Piercing your nipples, too?”
    Whiskey turned to