The Memory Painter

Linz nodded, feeling she had won a small victory.

A fire flared in Finn’s eyes. He took a step forward. “Where is it? Think what we could do with that knowledge.”

The thought of him obtaining the book and using it made her want to strike him down with every atom of her being.

“Lindsey Jacobs!” Conrad’s voice was harsh, as if he were yelling at a child who had run blindly into the street.

Linz was startled. She didn’t take her eyes off Finn, but her father had her attention.

Conrad spoke as Ramses, in a tone as forceful as the leader he had been. “You once contemplated killing your brother and wondered if I was watching you from the Duat. I saw you spare his life.” Tears blinded Linz and she blinked them away. “We are here for a reason.” He reminded her. “Do not be seduced by rage.”

Linz took several deep breaths, struggling to calm herself.

He put his hand over hers and whispered in English, “Stormy Weather, come back. Come back to me.”

She dropped the sword and, with a sob, turned to her father. He held her in his arms. His eyes met Finn’s.

Finn put his hands in his pockets and gave a mocking bow. “Thank you, Yankee Doodle. This has been a fascinating reunion.”

Conrad didn’t see the taser in Finn’s hand until it was too late. Finn delivered a high-level jolt that paralyzed him. He buckled to the ground, writhing in agony and clutching his heart as his pacemaker failed him.

Linz screamed and dropped to her knees. “Dad? Dad!” She sobbed, then looked up to see Finn picking up his sword. “Please don’t do this,” she begged, watching her father die. “Don’t do this, please.”

Finn mocked her. “You always were his favorite.”

“Please. We can forget the past. Just help me.”