Page 11 of Mitchell
"I already do." Mitchell wasn't so sure the guy was completely sane, but he was nice to look at. Since Mitchell was dead, he didn't need a filter. Who needed one since they were in his version of heaven? "You're pretty."
Kamden/Seryn smiled. "So I've been told."
"Well, shit. And here I thought I was original."
"Tell me something original."
Mitchell liked second chances. His life was a series of them. Since he'd passed his expiration date, maybe he was at his last chance. "You're creative when you kill."
"That's the best compliment I've ever gotten."
"Really? Someone as beautiful as you? I doubt it's the best." Mitchell tried to smile, but it hurt his face. "What do you want me to call you?"
"Whatever you want." So agreeable. But why? There had to be a reason.
But it was one Mitchell would have to figure out later because they came to a steel door with an exit sign above it. Mitchell opened it because Seryn held a gun.
He hadn't seen daylight in months. It was all he thought about when they stepped outside. The warmth on his face and the cool breeze touching his skin were something he'd never take for granted again.
That wasn't the only thing good about the moment. The man holding him up was better than the sun.
"If I were on pain meds, I'd be able to say something embarrassing about how much I like looking at you."
Seryn chuckled. "It seems you don't need medication to tell me that."
"Right, but I would say something cliché."
"Like what?" The conversation clearly amused Seryn even though his expression didn't change. Still, he had a tone that said as much.
It felt like an accomplishment to make Seryn happy.
Seryn's good mood disappeared almost as quickly as it came. He winced and then blinked as if the sunlight hurt his eyes, even though he should have adjusted to the light by that point. He mumbled to himself about blue lobsters and even released Mitchell.
Mitchell's abdomen hurt a lot worse when he had to stand on his own, but he tried not to focus on it as he turned to Seryn, forcing him to stop walking.
The other prisoners ran past them, not caring about anything but their freedom. He didn't blame them. But it spoke poorly of their character that they left the guy who rescued them to suffer.
Todd was the only one who stayed close. He hung back, letting Mitchell figure out the problem.
Mitchell moved his coat out of the way, wanting to see his injuries. He had a small blood spot on his shirt, but it wasn't big enough to be a huge problem. Still, Mitchell lifted his shirt. He had an angry gash running along his side, but Seryn was right. The bullet had only grazed him.
"The cops can't have you. You tell them I'm coming for you. Tell them I'll kill them all." Seryn smiled when he spoke as if he were having a pleasant conversation instead of threatening some imaginary cops who weren't there.
"There are no cops, sweetheart."
"Not yet." And then Seryn winced again, pressing a hand to his forehead as if he had a headache.
"What's wrong?" Mitchell felt Seryn's scalp, searching for a lump, thinking he might have hit his head.
"Blue lobsters exist, Daddy. I'll show you a picture. But not yet. I don't want to get up." Something was really wrong.
Mitchell took Seryn's face in his hands, making sure Seryn met his gaze. "You're going to tell me what's going on right now, Seryn."
Seryn blinked again. His expression cleared, and he took a deep breath. He breathed in two more times before he shook his head. "I go back and forth in my mind. It's uncontrollable."
"What does that mean, sweetheart?"
Seryn's smile widened as he looked at something behind Mitchell. He pulled out a big knife that already had blood on the blade and threw it.
