Page 43 of The Genius
“In a bar? What was he thinking?”
“It’s his favorite pub.”
Marco rolled his eyes. “You Motlanders are too goddamn naïve. Bringing a woman to a bar is stupid.”
“I’m okay, Marco. It’s Tristan who’s hurt.”
Marco lifted the dress to take a peek. “By all the Devil’s demons, that’s a lot of blood.” He turned to look over his shoulder. “Where the fuck are the paramedics?”
We waited another minute before Storm came running with help. When the paramedic took over, Marco pulled me back to give some space. I stood close to him watching in slow motion how the paramedic examined Tristan.
“Did he hit his head when he passed out?” the paramedic asked Storm, who was kneeling next to Tristan.
“I don’t know, I wasn’t here.” Storm looked to me. “Did he?”
I shook my head, my arms wrapped tight around my midsection. “No, he didn’t hit his head.”
“Was he drunk?”
“No.”
“Does he suffer from any medical illnesses?”
“Not that I know of,” Storm replied.
I took a step closer. “Is Tristan going to be okay?”
“This guy?” The paramedic was a skinny man with black circles under his eyes and a serious demeanor. “I doubt he’ll make it.”
I just stared at the man, too shocked to breathe, and a sob erupted from me. Marco was quick to pull me into his arms.
“I’m joking.” The paramedic lifted one edge of his mouth in a sarcastic smile. “This wound is nothing. I don’t see anything but a long cut. The blood makes it look worse than it is.” He slapped Tristan’s cheekshard, shaking his shoulders. “Time to wake up now.”
I sucked in a deep breath, my voice trembling. “Are you sure?”
Tristan stirred and blinked his eyes open.
“Welcome back,” the paramedic said, and supported Tristan when he tried to sit up.
“My head.”
Tristan lifted his hand, but the paramedic made sure he didn’t touch the wound. “Don’t touch, I’m almost done cleaning it.”
“What happened?” Tristan looked up at me with confusion on his face.
“You got hit in the head,” I explained in a soft voice full of sympathy.
“Have you ever fainted before?” the paramedic asked him.
“Yes, once.”
“Was it related to seeing blood?”
Tristan gave a small nod and looked down. “I watched one of my younger sisters being born and I passed out.”
“That explains it.” The paramedic patted Tristan’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, you’re not the only one.” After doing a quick test to determine that there were no signs of a concussion, the paramedic closed his medical bag. “You’re good. As long as you don’t aim to become a warrior or work in the medical field, you’ll be fine.”
“I design drones,” Tristan said distractedly, still looking around to orient himself. His eyes fell on Storm and Marco before he spoke to me. “Why are they here and what happened to your dress?
