Mirage Beyond Flames (Coriola)

by De Ross, Melinda

  She turned around to look at him, then noticed the shadows under his eyes and his wrinkled shirt. Several buttons were unfastened, more than was prudent for her imagination. Even tired and unshaven, the man facing her looked gorgeous, unleashing inside her an undefined but apparently infinite desire.

  “You seem tired. Is there something wrong?” she asked, feeling her cheeks grow warm.

  He sighed.

  “I don’t know if you could put it quite like that, but we have an unpredictable situation. Looks like I have to take some time off as soon as possible and leave for Romania.”

  “Romania? Dracula’s land?” she exclaimed shocked. “What the hell do you want to go there for?”

  He laughed indulgently, indicating the mountain of papers sprawled on his desk.

  “Well, I have a friend – actually he was a good friend of my father’s – who now lives there. He’s also a doctor and in the past years, collaborating with another Romanian doctor, he has devised a treatment, based on a plant called hellebore. It seems to give good results in certain forms of cancer. True, the results differ from case to case, and the treatment is not effective on every patient or in any form of the disease. Like the snake venom treatment, the best results are obtained in incipient stages, if they can be applied locally, especially in the beginnings of skin cancer.”

  “And he wants you to go there to share with you the treatment formula?” she asked.

  “Yes. In exchange, I prepared copies of all my notes, observations and research, to share with him.”

  Linda approached the desk, intrigued, inspecting the scattered papers.

  “Chemical formulas, observations, reports, here it’s all your work in regard to the serum made from snake venom?”

  “About anything that could be put on paper.”

  “And do you trust this person?”

  “Absolutely.”

  She continued studying the notes on the desk, while he sat in his chair, studying her.

  She directed her gaze to him.

  “You could make a fortune with this thing. Why give it for free to that guy?”

  Gerard gave her a long look.

  “I’m not interested in money and fame, Linda. I became a doctor because the most important thing to me is healing, bringing comfort to my patients, not profiting from their tragedy. The ones who do this aren’t true descendants of Hippocrates, they’re just crooks. All my work is measured in the number of people I help, not in stacks of money.”

  Something glowed in her entire being and suddenly she felt her heart lighter, ready to fly toward the nameless fulfillment she was longing for.

  “You are a noble man,” she said with a trace of admiration. “I respect that very much.”

  “I’m a man like any other,” he replied, reclining in his chair. “I have defects and qualities, nothing special compared to others. Still, I like to think I have a sense of humor better developed than most,” he added smiling. “Please, sit down. I feel uncomfortable sitting while you stand. Do you want something to drink?”

  “No, thanks.”

  She sat in the chair facing his desk.

  After a few moments of silence, he asked:

  “Dracula’s land?”

  She started laughing and so did he. When they regained their composure, she said:

  “That’s all I’ve heard about Romania.”

  “That’s about all the rest of the world has heard too. In fact, Jean-Paul tells me it’s a very beautiful country, with extraordinary landscapes and an admirable history. There are numerous predictions and speculations that there, in the heart of the Carpathians, is the physical projection of Shambala – the spiritual center of the Earth, the land of the initiates who hold the balance of the world.”

  “Really?” she asked, wide-eyed.

  “Yes. I told you, it’s a very interesting country, controversial. It intrigued me ever since I listened to Jean’s stories. Speaking of history, do you know how all this Dracula story started?”

  “I have no idea. You realize an intelligent person doesn’t believe in vampires and other such nonsense, but I suppose in every legend there’s a grain of truth.”

  Gerard smiled.

  “Actually, there was once in Romania a ruler called Vlad Tepes, which means Vlad the Impaler. He was called so because he literally impaled all thieves, criminals and all those who broke the law, as well as his enemies. They say people were afraid of him to such an extent that, when he put a gold cup at a fountain, nobody dared to take it. When it was gone, they all knew he was no longer ruling.”

  Linda shuttered.

  “So much cruelty! I think that man was a monster!”

  “Granted, those punishing methods weren’t too orthodox, but we have to take into consideration that in those times, around fifteenth century, cruelty wasn’t unusual. Not only at royal courts, but worldwide. Besides, the most horribly punished were the Ottomans, a people which, from the beginnings of history, tried to subjugate the entire Europe and beyond, having a personal ambition to conquer Romania.”

  “Hmm, what an odd thing. I didn’t know all this, but it didn’t even occur to me to read about it,” she confessed meditatively. “So, all these atrocious torture methods have created the image of Bram Stocker’s vampire monster?”

  “This, along with other bits and pieces of elements gathered from here and there or invented. For example, Vlad’s father, called Vlad Dracul, which means The Devil, was part of the Dragon’s Order. Their symbol was a creature resembling a dragon from Oriental Mythology, having claws and fangs. This kind of distorted legends created false myths which mystify history. In reality, Romanians consider Vlad Tepes one of their country’s best rulers and a character they can be proud of.”

  Linda ran a hand through her hair.

  “Discussing with you is really helpful. I always learn new things,” she remarked.

  He returned her smile and the fatigue shadows on his face seemed to slowly dissipate.

  “I could tell you a lot more interesting things tonight at dinner.”

  She wet her lower lip involuntarily, while her heart gave a little thud as an effect to this proposal. After a few moments of inner debate, she asked:

  “Do you like Italian food?”

  Chapter Six

  Linda had learned to cook from an early age. She used to spend hours watching fascinated as Sophia, their cook, prepared sumptuous meals for the Coriola family, which, back then, was still intact.

  Sofia was a plump woman with ever-rosy cheeks and grey hair always covered with colorful scarves. When Linda had asked the woman to teach her a few simple recipes, Sofia had been delighted with the little girl’s passion for gastronomy, immediately taking her under her wing as a domestic goddess. And so, in a few years, Linda – who was already in her teens – had gained the experience of a high class chef.

  At the moment however, it seemed all her culinary knowledge had left her. Ever since she’d hired Mrs. Adams to cook for her – for the convenience of being able to dedicate her time to sculpting, not bothering with domestic stuff – she got the impression she’d lost her touch.

  She precisely aligned all the ingredients she needed on the counter, then she sat on a chair next to Pirata, who curiously assisted the preparations.

  For a few good minutes they both sat, watching the spaghetti, spices, mushrooms, cheese and ham, all military arranged. The cat’s gaze was lustful, his nose and whiskers twitching with interest. By contrast, Linda’s gaze reflected a shadow of something resembling desperation.

  Eventually, with a deep resigned sigh, she stood and got to work. The Carbonara Spaghetti was her favorite dish and quite simple to prepare.

  While working efficiently without conscious effort, carried by the rhythm which had never truly left her, she started an animated discussion with Pirata.

  “I don’t know what I was thinking, inviting him for dinner,” she told the cat without noticing that he’d just slid a paw on the counter to steal ye
t another piece of ham. “I mean, look at me,” she gesticulated with the knife she used for cutting mushrooms. “Instead of minding my business, I’m cooking for a guy. And I don’t even know if he’ll like this. As a matter of fact, I know very well why he’s coming to dinner. He’s only interested in the dessert…”

  Remembering the way he’d kissed her the night before, of how incredibly sexy he’d looked sitting at his desk - unshaven, his shirt nearly unbuttoned - she became aware of her own need and desperate craving for a decadent dessert.

  Bypassing the fantastic way he was built, she had to admit he was a special man. Noble, that’s how she’d called him and meant it.

  “Why do I have to complicate stuff?” she demanded again of Pirata, who was washing his paws, satiated. “I’m just gonna go with it, not sit around analyzing every little thing. Giovanni was right, not all men are a pain in the ass, some of them are worth the trouble.”

  At the end of this monologue, during which she had been moving like an efficient robot, she discovered amazed the meal was almost ready. She made the final touches, arranged everything in expensive formal plates and, consulting her watch, exclaimed in panic:

  “It’s a quarter to eight! Gerard has to be here at eight sharp!”

  So saying, she ran up the stairs to her bedroom, while the cat was watching her placidly.

  She quickly applied some basic makeup. Afterward, she pulled on a white backless dress that reached her knees, splendid by simplicity and elegance.

  Her only jewelry was the ring she never took off and a pair of delicate pearl earrings.

  Precisely when she descended the stairs, she heard the intercom’s buzz. She pressed the button to unlock the gates, opening the front door in time to see a black Jeep advancing on her driveway.

  Gerard parked in front of the garage and got out of his car. He opened the passenger door, revealing an enormous flowers bouquet, then headed toward her. He wore midnight blue pants and a white shirt, opened at the neck. The white cotton created a delicious contrast with his tanned chest. She felt her entire body reacting like a metallic splinter attracted by a huge magnet.

  When he reached her, she noticed he’d shaved.

  My God, he is completely magnificent! she thought, while his mesmerizing green gaze was drilling into her, as if intuiting all her thoughts and sensations.

  He handed her the bouquet - a combination of white roses and white lilac, spreading a divine perfume. He took in her white dress, the thin material which seemed to flow down her body, subtly emphasizing every curve.

  “I can see I chose the flowers very well, they perfectly match you and your attire. You are splendid,” he said and bent to kiss her cheek. She involuntarily turned her head and his lips touched the corner of her mouth.

  Linda felt his hot breath next to her lips. Entranced by his nearness and the dizzying smell of his perfume, she turned her head another fraction. Their mouths touched in a kiss that would have been as chaste as the white flowers between them, if it weren’t for the explosive sensuality each felt in the other’s presence.

  Gerard touched her lips with his once more, then slowly traced them with one finger, as if caressing an exotic flower’s petals.

  He slightly stepped back from her, noticing Pirata, who had come to inspect the intruder. Amused, he bent to scratch the cat’s chin, being repaid with a generous purring sound.

  She invited him inside, then prompted him to have a seat on the living room sofa, while she put the flowers in a water vase from the kitchen.

  “Would you rather we ate in a more formal ambient or in the kitchen?” she asked, aware her dress wasn’t suited for a kitchen meal.

  “Definitely in the kitchen. You don’t have to be formal with me, Linda,” he replied. “Do you need me to help you with anything?”

  “Just with eating,” she joked. “Come into the kitchen then.”

  While he sat at the counter, she mentally congratulated herself for being such a tidy cook. Because she immediately cleaned all surfaces while she was cooking, her kitchen always looked as new. She secretly took pride in that.

  She arranged the dishes, then brought the spaghetti.

  “Hmm, they look almost as good as you!”

  “Thanks, but I can assure you they taste a lot better!”

  “I seriously doubt that,” he replied, watching her in that particular way which never failed to incite her.

  After he had his first taste, Gerard remarked:

  “It’s absolutely delicious! Where’d you learn to cook this stuff?”

  “Back home, when I was a child, we had an excellent cook. Sophia taught me everything I know. Unfortunately, lately I became pretty lazy and I rarely cook.”

  “I’ve always loved Italian food the most. It’s got… something special, just like Italian women. My mother always prompted me to find an Italian girl.”

  “And you didn’t succeed?” she asked jokingly.

  “I did now,” he answered in a serious tone, his eyes resting on hers.

  They looked at each other for a long moment, in silence. She was the first to break that intense visual contact. She resumed the conversation, changing the subject as if nothing had happened.

  They went on with their meal, making small talk, while Pirata was twirling around their feet, meow-ing conversationally.

  “I’m sorry, but I haven’t had time to prepare dessert,” she apologized while cleaning the table. “However, I’ve ordered something delicious.”

  Gerard stood, putting his dishes in the sink.

  “What? So far, dinner was great.”

  Linda went to the fridge and produced an ornate bowl emanating an appetizing smell. After generously filling two dessert bowls, she put them on the table.

  “Caramel cream. Haven’t you ever had this before?”

  He studied it curiously, then used his spoon to test and taste the creamy surface.

  “Hmm, I’ve never tasted something this good in my whole life!” he exclaimed, his eyes closed in delight. “Would you like to go in the living room? A good movie in your company is all that’s missing.”

  She smiled, taking her own cream bowl and spoon.

  “You’ll have to watch that cream at all times! Pirata loves it.”

  They installed themselves comfortably on the living room sofa. Following a short debate regarding her DVD movie collection, they decided to watch Far and Away, a sort of romantic comedy, starring Tom Cruise and Nicole Kidman.

  The movie had barely begun and Gerard’s bowl was empty. Linda laughed when she saw him placing it on the table.

  “Do you want some more?” she asked, putting her half-eaten dessert next to his empty bowl.

  “No, thanks. It was delicious, but I’m full. At least, for now.”

  “Let me know if you change your mind.”

  “I will.”

  He sank deeply between the cushions and, with almost studied nonchalance, put an arm around her, on the sofa’s backrest.

  On the screen, Tom and Nicole were exchanging witty lines. The tasteful humor made both spectators laugh out loud.

  “I would love to visit Ireland one day,” she confessed, referring to the country where the movie’s action was taking place. “And another thing on my to-see list is Stonehenge. Though I’ve been in England for months now, I’ve never taken the time to visit it yet. But I plan to.”

  Gerard watched her curiously.

  “You too?”

  “I guess that means we have a common goal?”

  When he nodded, she went on:

  “Ever since I was in high school, when we learned about Stonehenge during History classes, I was fascinated by the pictures of that place, by all the legends going around about the origin and purpose of those megaliths, about druids. I’m fascinated by everything tied to Celtic culture, although I don’t know much about it.”

  “Frankly speaking,” he said, “I believe no one knows anything for sure. They all make speculations based on some research or f
acts and the hypotheses of the ones who invent opinions. But you’re right, places like Stonehenge are spectacular. It’s incredible to simply admire them, to imagine the efforts of the people or any other entities that have built them, driven by ideas or purposes known only by them. I intend to visit it too, one day.”

  “Maybe we’ll go together,” she suggested.

  Gerard looked at her smiling.

  “I would like that. Perhaps when I get back from Romania.”

  She absently scratched Pirata’s ears, as he was rubbing against her feet.

  “When do you plan to leave? And how will you get there?”

  “Well, as soon as possible I’ll reserve a plane ticket. When I’ll get there, I’ll rent a car or something.”

  He slowly rubbed his chin, watching her meditatively.

  “Why don’t you come with me?” he asked her, so suddenly it had probably been a potentially crazy impulse.

  She stared at him, stunned.

  “Me? In Romania?”

  He shrugged.

  “What’s the problem?”

  “W-well, in two days I have the opening of my art exhibit, I have to be there,” she stuttered.

  “I hope you plan to invite me too. I can’t wait to see what you can do,” he replied, his white teeth gleaming in the playful light beams coming from the TV screen – the only source of light in the dark room. “But we could leave next week. Or do you have something against Romania?”

  Linda massaged her forehead with two fingers. The guy demolished her every argument like a wrecking ball.

  “I don’t have anything against it, but I can’t just leave. What do I do with Pirata?” she asked with renewed hope.

  He thought it over for a moment.

  “Didn’t you say you have a housekeeper? She could take care of him. We won’t stay longer than two or three days. Or don’t you wanna come with me?”

  She sighed profoundly.

  “It’s not about that…”

  Under his steady gaze, she felt herself weakening.

  “I’ll think about it, I promise. And I’ll try to find a way to organize my stuff. Now let’s watch the movie, okay? I didn’t even pay attention.”