Uncovering You 10: The Finale Read Free Page B

dry!”
    “I’m sorry,” I say. Implicitly, I know better than to remind him he gave his permission just seconds ago. A deep sadness fills me. “That was very rash of me.”
    “Very, very rash,” Paul tells me. “Most improper.” He scowls. Then the expression is replaced by one of complete surprise. “Oh, did you hear that?” he asks me. “The kettle’s boiling. And you’re a guest. I must offer you some tea. Would you like some tea, Lilly?”
    I give an unintended, short little gasp. He knows me . Then why—
    I stop short. I cannot pose questions involving “why” around Paul. I need to watch, absorb, take it all in. And draw whatever conclusions I may after.
    He has jumped from his perch and run past me before I can reply. I turn my head, following him, and stare at his back as he busies himself making “tea” before an empty wall.
    “May I sit?” I ask cautiously.
    He glances back. “Yes, yes, of course. Where are my manners? My, but if you’re not the help, then you must be a guest. I have always prided myself on being a most excellent host. Would you like some shortbread? It’s quite good. Reach down under the seat. You’ll find it.”
    He turns away, having dismissed me, and begins humming an unfamiliar tune.
    Despite myself, I glance down at the spot he mentioned. I am totally surprised when I spot a box of Ladyfingers peeking out from under the edge.
    I reach down and pick them up. Paul looks back at me, nods, and then smiles. “I had a daughter like you once,” he tells me. “Very rare. Very beautiful. She was my precious little girl. Growing up, she just loved her Ladyfingers.”
    Dad ? I want to say. Instead, I ask: “What happened to her?”
    “A bad man came and took her away. A very, very bad, very evil man.”
    “Paul,” I say softly. “You know me. Don’t you? Why pretend?”
    His back stiffens. He goes absolutely still.
    “Appearances must be maintained,” he quotes, automatically.
    I gasp. That phrase is all too familiar to me.
    “ What did he do to you? ” I wonder aloud.
    Paul turns around. His eyes have taken on a glazed, faraway look. “Dr. Telfair saved my life,” he says. One hand twitches up, toward the collar on his neck. He stops it and looks at his fingers in horror. “He taught me who I am. I owe everything to him.”
    “Paul.” I say his name softly. “Who brought you here? Where do you think we are?”
    “The good doctor’s home, of course,” he says. “Oh!” He jumps. “How rude. I forgot the kettle. It’s important to be a good host. Would you like some tea? I can’t believe my manners. I can’t believe I forgot to ask…”
    He trails off and turns away, busying himself with imaginary plates and trays and cups on the empty wall behind him.
    I stare at his back. He’s not… not completely there. But he’s not fully gone, either.
    He’s stuck somewhere in between. The collar, and whatever Jeremy did to him obviously affect him. How much? Is it reversible? Those are the important questions.
    “Paul?” I say, softly. Carefully. “You already gave me my tea.”
    “What?” He spins around and looks scandalized. “I didn’t. No, it’s right here…” He starts to gesture behind him. Halfway through the motion, he stops. A strange expression of profound confusion flickers across his face. Then he seems to snap into himself. He stares at me with wide, horrified eyes. His pupils are small and black. Tight. Constricted, as if in battle with some internal demon.
    “Huh,” he says, finally. “You’re right. You do have it before you. I must have brought it and then—” He blinks rapidly. “—forgot.”
    “No.” I shake my head. ‘You didn’t forget. You didn’t bring it. You didn’t bring it because…” I take a deep breath. “Because it doesn’t exist.”
    He gasps and staggers back. “How could you say such a thing?” he demands, full of vitriol.
    I stand. Paul looks around the room, almost like a cornered animal. His