7. Chapter Five

Chapter Five

M aybe he'd died, and his version of heaven included an angel. There wasn't any other way to describe Kamden Lange, aka Seryn. He had dark hair and eyes that glowed blue whenever he looked at Mitchell. When he wasn't, they were a dark brown that seemed calculating. He was smaller than Mitchell, with lean muscles, and he was a good six inches shorter.

And he could throw fire as if it were a ball he tossed at an opponent, which was just about the weirdest thing Mitchell had ever seen in his entire life. And that dome thing. What the fuck was that? No. A better question was, where the hell did it come from?

Seryn/Kamden seemed strong enough to hold Mitchell up, even though Mitchell outweighed him by at least fifty pounds. Probably more. He practically carried Mitchell, which was another weird thing, although the weirdness factor was to a much lesser degree than the fireballs.

"You like the bath at my house better." And that was another thing. He said random crap, making little sense except it sort of did if Mitchell used his imagination. The weirdness factor was still off the charts.

"You get me out of here and I'll like anything you want, sweetheart. Especially a bath." Lord knew he needed one.

Kamden/Seryn chuckled. "So, if I tell you to like me, you would?"

"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.

Mitchell turned to see a guard stumble with his hand on the hilt of the knife sticking out of his chest. A second later, he fell to the ground.

Seryn met Mitchell's gaze. "Can you stand on your own for a second?"

"I should be fine." Mitchell had done alright for the last minutes. A few more wouldn't hurt anything.

Todd stepped up to help Mitchell, but Seryn shook his head. "Don't touch him."

Todd's eyes widened before he held up his hands as if in surrender.

Seryn walked over to where the dead body was, pulling the knife out of the man's chest. He wiped the blade on the man's clothing and stuck it back into his coat.

"How much shit do you have in that thing you're wearing?"

"It's called a duster." Seryn smirked. At least he was coherent and made sense.

"I know what it's called." He knew a hitman who wore one. He was like Seryn and could do extraordinary things.

Seryn wrapped his arm around Mitchell's waist. "You settled on what you're going to call me."

"Sweetheart, you mean." Mitchell grinned as much as his fat lip would allow. He knew what Seryn had meant, but Mitchell liked the endearment.

"I didn't mean that. You called me Seryn." He wasn't an easy person to read. His expression often fit his nickname. It was probably why he'd gotten it. But that permanent smile made it impossible to tell if he liked it or not.

"Is that what you prefer?" Mitchell would call him anything he liked.

"I like the endearment."

"I see."

"You don't, actually, but we'll have a conversation about it later."

"And about the fire shit you do. You also have glowing eyes and fangs. Will we talk about that, too?"

"If you like."

Mitchell didn't know if he wanted the details. It was fucking weird, but Seryn hadn't hurt him. There wasn't any reason for Mitchell to think he would just because he was…different. It was just that the level of difference was off the charts. Mitchell wondered if Seryn had some type of illness. Maybe he had some rare disorder that made his teeth look weird and his eyes glow or something. There wasn't a logical explanation for the fire. Not even sickness explained it. But Mitchell knew he should find out the details.

Mitchell owed the guy a lot, considering he was free for the first time in months. The least he could do was help him with his problem. Even the one that made him say weird stuff.