As Franks ran forward, he lifted the SCAR with one hand and began firing at Kurst. The demon lunged behind a steel girder.

Franks slid behind a large machine, shoved the halberd handle through his belt so he could have his hand free, and reloaded the rifle. Another agent had taken cover in that same place earlier, but something had ripped his head off and left his body there leaking. Seeing the corpse just made Franks even angrier. He was going to destroy Kurst. Even with a body like that, Kurst would have physical limits. He just needed to be pushed beyond those limits, and Franks had a lot of practice at that sort of thing. One of Myers’ favorite sayings had been old age and treachery beat youth and skill. Kurst might have a stronger form, but he was still learning how to use it. Hopefully that would be enough.

Franks dropped the bolt, shouldered the rifle, and came out shooting.

Kurst leapt out from behind the girder, and in one mighty leap covered the entire distance between them. He landed in front of Franks, claws skidding across the slick floor. Bullet holes puckered across Kurst’s chest and ruptured out his back, but the wounds didn’t slow him. He swatted the rifle from Franks’ hands, then slammed one big fist into Franks’ torso.

Franks flew back twenty feet and crashed through a workstation. He sat up to discover there was still a fist-shaped dent in his chest plate. Kurst was strong. Fast too, since he was already on top of him. The demon hit him with a blow to the head so hard that a regular human’s skull would have burst like a balloon. Franks was rattled. Spit hit him in the eyes as Kurst shouted, “You have sinned against the host. That was a mistake, Franks!”

Franks grabbed hold of Kurst’s horns and yanked down hard. “My only mistake was listening to you fools to begin with!” He curled his other hand into a fist and slugged Kurst in the mouth.

Claws hooked through his improvised bandolier and Franks was violently hoisted off the ground. Their hands flashed back and forth, trying to knock each other aside for a moment before Franks gave up. The demon was just too strong. Before Kurst could throw him again, Franks clicked the buckle and dropped free, leaving Kurst with nothing but a handful of pistol belt and pouches. Franks crawled away.

Kurst followed him. “Running won’t save you. Do you really think you’re that clever?”

“Yes.” Franks held up the pin he’d pulled from one of his grenades, then he rolled beneath a heavy table.

“Hmm . . .” Kurst looked down at the pouches in his hand and then at the grenade spoon that had fallen a few feet away. Realization dawned a split second too late to do anything about it.