"It hurts—aaaah!"
The Painting Person writhed in agony, a hideously twisted expression appearing on its canvas. Even Dade, who disliked its aura, felt a moment's pity.
"Don't stop. He's faking," Annan said coldly, arms folded beside her.
The Painting Person froze. "How did you know?"
"If it really hurt, you wouldn't be drawing faces." Candle Head seemed the craftiest member of the Oddities squad, but the Painting Person was the real hustler.
Candle Head bought itself clothes when it made money. The Painting Person gave all its earnings to the Succubus. According to the Succubus, it loved watching her "battle" her clients, then painting the scene.
That alone would have made it a lecher, or perhaps a creature with lingering human instincts. But the bastard sold those paintings to the inn's guests—
The guests were travelers or mercenaries. They had never seen anything so indecent and couldn't resist paying dozens of silver coins for a set.
After all this time, the Painting Person probably had at least several hundred Gold Narls stashed away.
Its paintings had even become a specialty of Free City. Only the Painting Person's rule that it could draw only what it saw held it back: after each painting, it had to return to the Succubus for fresh material. Otherwise, it might have earned money almost as fast as the Theater.
"What does it feel like? Tell the truth."
The Painting Person answered honestly. "Nothing..."
Dade dispersed the Nature Energy that had made the Garden's plants lush and vibrant. "Should we try Holy Magic next?"
"Nooo—"
"No need. Strange Tales City tried it before. It didn't do much." Annan shook his head.
The Oddities' abilities and this world's powers belonged to two different systems. Fel Energy was similar, but priests could at least counter that. This Withering