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“This could be worth a fortune. Why give it away to that guy?”
He gazed at her atop his glasses, his lips tightening as his brow furrowed. Had she unwittingly insulted him?
“I’m not interested in money or fame, Linda. That’s not why I became a doctor. The most important thing to me is healing and bringing comfort to my patients, not profiting from their tragedy.” His eyes flamed with passionate intensity, his tone earnest. “Those who do aren’t true believers of Hippocrates and the oath they swear when they become doctors. They’re profiteers and crooks. I measure the value of my work in the number of people I help, not in the money I have in the bank.”
Linda’s heart warmed.
“You’re an amazing man, Gerard Leon, a noble man, and I respect that very much.”
“Don’t put me on a pedestal, Linda. I’m just a man like countless others.”
“Not by a long shot,” she murmured.
As they stared at each other, the air was almost palpable with something beyond sexual tension. There was a connection between them, a bond deeper than the bone-melting kiss they’d shared last night.
Did Gerard feel it, too? She certainly hoped so because everything depended on it.
Chapter Five
Gerard’s gaze burned into hers with an intensity that took her breath away. He did feel something. He had to.
“Please, sit down,” he said, breaking the charged silence. “I don’t feel right sitting while you stand. Can I offer you something to drink?”
“No, thanks. I’m fine.”
Linda sat, staring at the purse on her lap.
“Land of vampires and Dracula? Is that what you think of Romania?” He chuckled.
She joined in his laughter, the simple words dissipating the last of the tension.
“It’s lame, I know, but that’s pretty much all I’ve ever heard about the place,” Linda said and giggled.
“That’s more or less what the rest of the world knows, too. The children here seem to love all of theHotel Transylvaniamovies. They’re often playing in the lounge. Jean-Paul assures me it’s a beautiful country, with stunning scenery and an incredible history. According to folklore, Transylvania, in the heart of the Carpathian Mountains, may contain the physical portal to Shambhala—the spiritual center of the Earth.”
“Really? Wow. I didn’t know that. Transylvania’s at the center of Romania, right?”
“Yes, and Jean-Paul claims it’s a land worth visiting. The country’s history is steeped in controversy. I’ve been intrigued ever since I was a child listening to Jean’s stories. Speaking of history, do you know how all the Dracula stuff got started?”
“Beyond the Bram Stoker novel? No. I realize vampires aren’t real. The book is a work of fiction after all, even if it was loosely based on a legend. But, I’ve learned that to every folktale, there’s a grain of truth.”
Gerard smiled, leaning forward, linking his hands on his desk.
“In this case, the story is based more or less on history. There was a Romanian ruler in the fifteenth century named Vlad Tepes—Vlad the Impaler. He dealt with his enemies by impaling them on iron spikes, allowing gravity to do the work for him. This punishment applied to anyone who broke the law: thieves, criminals, traitors, you name it, as well as political enemies. He wasn’t the only one to punish the guilty that way—times were barbaric—but he was by far the most renowned for doing so. His own people feared him as much as his political enemies did. They say he kept a golden cup at the edge of a public fountain for his use. Nobody dared touch it. When it vanished, the people knew he was no longer their ruler.”
Linda shuddered. She’d heard of Vlad the Impaler. The stories resurfaced every Halloween, but she’d never heard it explained so graphically.
“How cruel! Was the man some kind of psychopath, a monster?”
Gerard shook his head. “Not according to the Romanians. They consider him a national hero. I figure the stories have to be exaggerated, but there’s probably more than a little truth to them. He didn’t invent the practice. The Assyrians, Babylonians, and even the Romans as well as several African tribes used impaling as a way to deal with the worst of the criminal element. Those were harsh, barbaric times, and similar torture and cruelty wasn’t unusual—not only in Romania but around the world. The bulk of Vlad’s wrath was aimed at the Ottomans who never tired of trying to subjugate Europe. They got the point, so to speak, and rulers like Vlad the Impaler kept them contained.”
“I never knew that,” she confessed. “It didn’t occur to me even to read about it.”
But had she had a hot geek at school like this who knew everything about everything, she might not have skipped so many history classes. Gerard was a great storyteller, and she still had a few minutes before her meeting.
“So, these tales about Vlad’s atrocious torture methods are what Stoker used to create his vampire?”
“That, along with other bits and pieces of Romanian history, folktales, and an author’s creative imagination. For example, Vlad’s father, Vlad Dracul—Vlad The Devil—was part of the Dragon’s Order, a chivalric order for selected monarchs and other nobility. Their symbol was a creature with claws and fangs that resembled an Oriental dragon. Hence the vampire’s fangs. Distorting history led to false legends and myths. Romanians consider Vlad Tepes one of their best rulers. If it weren’t for him and a few similar leaders, Europe might have become a Turkish colony.”
