Free Demon's Plaything by Lydia Rowan

or something.”
    Shayla grabbed the “go” bag she kept with her and jogged toward Ian, Demon keeping pace.
    “One of the fighters?” she asked as they moved through the lingering crowd.
    “No. Some lady,” Ian responded as they made their way across the large space to where several milling onlookers stood in a semicircle.
    Shayla cut through the crowd and kneeled next to the woman, quickly assessing her condition as she slid on nitrile gloves, the rush that always hit her and her years of training taking over.
    “Female. Midtwenties. No obvious signs of trauma.” She spoke aloud as she always did, cataloging what she saw as she formulated a plan.
    Slight tremors racked the woman’s body, and a thin layer of spit and what looked like vomit coated her lips.
    “How long has she been unconscious?” Shayla asked, though the question was directed at no one in particular. “How long?” she asked again, firmer this time.
    “Umm…I don’t know, a couple of minutes.”
    A quick glance over her shoulder confirmed that the statement had come from another woman in her midtwenties, dressed similar to the unconscious woman. They were probably just girls out for a wild night. It looked like they were getting what they’d hoped for.
    Shayla grabbed her bag and reached in. She quickly retrieved the syringe of naloxone and cleaning supplies. If the woman had overdosed as she suspected, the drug, an opioid antagonist, would counteract the effects of narcotics like heroin and help keep the woman’s central nervous and respiratory systems from depressing to the point that she would stop breathing and her heart would stop beating. Shayla cleaned a small area and gave the woman the injection. Then she pulled out a paper emesis basin and cleaned out the woman’s mouth, ensuring that her airway would remain unobstructed.
    “Ian, call an ambulance.”
    “Um, Shay, it’s not exactly—”
    “It’s on the way.”
    She looked away from Ian and looked at Demon, nodding her thanks, before she turned back to her patient. The woman seemed to be coming around, but she’d need to be checked out. By the time the ambulance arrived, the already reduced crowd had thinned to almost nonexistent. Today’s show was over, and no one was interested in the aftermath. Sensible she supposed, given the nature of the occurrence, but annoying nonetheless. That sense of annoyance nagged at her as she gave the paramedics a rundown of her diagnosis. She recognized them from the hospital, but if they found her presence odd, they didn’t show it. She felt wrong, weighted, as she went to the bathroom and changed into the extra clothes she kept in her bag.
    Too close, Shayla. Way too close.
    The thought rang in her head as she headed toward the parking lot, her car a long, lonely shadow in the distance. Her heart dropped. Ian hadn’t waited for her. She tried not to be disappointed, but she was and combined with the hangover that hit as the rush of treating a patient faded, she was in a sorry state. Too wired to go home and sleep like she should, but not focused enough to think of anything else. As she got closer to her car, she noticed a figure leaning against it and knew immediately who it was.
    At least someone had cared enough to wait.
    “Nice work, Doc,” he said when she finally reached the vehicle.
    She shrugged off the compliment. “I just gave her a shot.”
    “Still. That was pretty awesome. You just swooped right in and handled that shit.”
    His words pleased her, a great deal actually, and she was too tired to pretend otherwise.
    “Thanks for waiting.”
    “You’re welcome,” he said.
    And then they stood in awkward silence, neither seeming to know what to say.
    “You’re tired. I should let you get home.”
    “Actually…I could stand some company.”
    “Really?” He looked surprised.
    She nodded.
    “You hungry?”
    She nodded again.
    “Well then, follow me. I know a place with great strawberry shakes.”
    “Just so happens I