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“Stop!” He had his X26 Taser trained on the suspect.
    Grunting, the Mordstier ignored Wu’s command and swung his foot forward.
    Nick heard the crackling discharge of the Taser.
    Roaring, the bull Wesen staggered back into the doorjamb but, incredibly, he fought off the effects of the paralyzing 50,000-volt charge and ripped the needle-tipped darts from his chest.
    Instead, Wu was the one who looked stunned.
    But Nick’s head had cleared. He rose from his knees and drove the Wesen against the wall, their combined weight cracking several planks along the front of the house. The Mordstier gripped the front of Nick’s jacket, lifted him up, spun him around and slammed him against the wall. Part of the wall caved in, catching Nick’s elbow.
    He saw the flash of recognition—but not fear—in the Wesen’s eyes as he realized Nick was a Grimm. Some species of Wesen feared Grimms more than anything, viewing them as monsters or bogeymen. Others were simply wary of them, aware of the threat they represented. But some Wesen—usually the strongest among them—had little fear and maybe only grudging respect. The Mordstier, clearly, belonged to the last faction. He tugged Nick free and attempted to slam him into the cracked wall again.
    But McCormack and Harris had abandoned their posts at the rear door. They rushed the porch on either side of the suspect, extendable batons raised and—in near-perfect choreography—clubbed the Mordstier across the shoulders.
    Releasing Nick, the Wesen yanked McCormack’s baton out of his hand and swept the back of his legs with it, dropping him in an instant. With a backhanded whipping motion, he caught Harris across the cheek with the baton, snapping his head sideways. He raised a booted foot and kicked Harris in the chest with enough force to hurl him through the remaining porch support post.
    Harris fell off the porch, unconscious, his momentum sweeping one of Hank’s crutches out from under him, causing the detective to fall awkwardly.
    Having exchanged the Taser for his Glock 17, Wu took aim and shouted, “Drop the weapon! Now!”
    Boards creaked and snapped and the porch roof ripped free and crashed between Nick and the Mordstier on the near side, Wu on the far side.
    Nick covered his head to avoid the bulk of the debris, while the Wesen used the diversion to duck inside his crumbling house.
    Rising in pursuit, Nick glanced back at Wu.
    “Call for backup!” he called. “And somebody cover the back door.”

CHAPTER SIX
    Nick entered the dilapidated house alone, his Glock 17 held in a Weaver stance as he scanned the dark, musty interior. Narrow shafts of light hosting a multitude of dust motes sliced through the gaps in the walls and boarded-up windows, revealing a warped interior and a sparse collection of tattered and torn furniture, no doubt salvaged on curbside bulk trash pickup days. Though Nick would have preferred a good old-fashioned flashlight directed along the barrel of his handgun, he’d found that his other senses had improved dramatically after he’d suffered temporary blindness from a Jinnamuru Xunte attack. Surely a benefit of his Grimm heritage—and not the only one. His strength, stamina, coordination and injury-recovery time had also improved.
    Through an archway straight ahead, he saw a small kitchen. Slightly to his right, against the far wall, a staircase provided access to the second floor. And to his extreme right, an archway led into a third room on the ground floor. The Mordstier could have fled out the back door, but if the hinges were a match for the front door, Nick thought he would have heard them squeal in protest. For the same reason, Nick believed the Mordstier hadn’t ascended the stairs. That left one option.
    Turning right, gun level at shoulder height, Nick eased across the creaking floor toward the archway that led into the third room. He approached the opening from the side, then pivoted into the room, sweeping left to right with the