Death Warmed Over

Would using magic to entice my client to tell me what she wanted make me a bad person? Because, after my third visit to her rather ostentatious mansion on the edge of town, sketching seemingly endless variations of poses I could have easily done from photos instead of live sittings, I was ready to tell her I was donezo.

Charlotte Easton didn’t seem to notice my growing irritation at yet another wasted two hours watching her fiddle and fidget in the dark blue gown she chose (from a long line ...