His body was producing such incredible heat that it threatened to spontaneously combust. The edges of his clothing smoked and began to burn. The polyester of his tie caught fire and melted into his skin. It felt like soothing ice compared to the heat engulfing him.

Franks saw the Void open up before him. It beckoned to him. Hell would have been a release compared to this. He wanted to die. Anything to end this pain . . . Kurst would be doing him a favor. The demon’s huge clawed feet stopped inches from Franks’ face. “What’s that, Franks? Do you wish to escape? Such pain . . . Will you beg me for death?”

It was so tempting. Then he focused on Strayhorn’s dead body . . .

“Too bad. You’re going to get it anyway.” Kurst lifted his foot to snap Franks’ neck. “Farewell, Brother.”

“Hey, Kurst!” someone shouted.

Kurst sighed and put his foot down. “What now?”

Grant Jefferson limped around the side of the forklift. His armor had been torn to shreds, his face was crisscrossed with scratches, and blood was running freely from several deep wounds. He stopped at the edge of the open space and lifted one arm. Jefferson held a handful of black hair, and dangling beneath that was the severed head of a purple-skinned female demon. He tossed the head at Kurst. It hit the floor, bounced a few times, and rolled over to them. “I killed your girlfriend again.” Weak from blood loss, he went to his knees. “Don’t know why people keep underestimating me . . . I’m a total badass,” Jefferson muttered before passing out and falling flat on his face.

Kurst shook his head, then turned back to Franks. “Where were we, Broth—”

Franks uppercut Kurst so hard it lifted the demon straight off the ground, high into the air, to crash back through several storage lockers.

“We were sending you back to Hell,” Franks snarled. He squeezed his fist closed and cracked his knuckles.

It still hurt. In fact, it hurt nearly as badly as the height of taking a normal dose of Elixir, only the burning he was still feeling now produced a fraction of the heat of Franks’ unholy rage. The molten glow was no longer visible through his skin and his muscles were responding. When he hit Kurst again his fist made an impact like a sledgehammer.

Kurst sprung up. Franks slammed his fist into the side of the demon’s head so hard that bone slivers erupted through the skin. Kurst bounced off the floor, then looked up at him in shock. The demon’s body had already taken a beating. Now Franks was the strong one. Franks kicked him across the factory floor.

The demon prince broke through the railing at the base of the stairs. He saw Franks coming after him, and scurried up toward the catwalk.