The Memory Painter

On the flight over, she had complained of not feeling well, and by the time they had landed, she was barely conscious. Bryan had managed to get her through customs and into a taxi. Luckily it was just a short drive to the hotel in Heliopolis. He had left her sleeping in the cab while he checked in and then carried her to the room and laid her on the bed. She had not woken up since—and that was twenty-four hours ago.