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barrel of his Glock. First he noticed a single row of more than two-dozen sets of mounted antlers spaced along three walls in the room, like a wallpaper border made out of bone. Not that the walls had been papered, painted or even stained. A moldy wingback chair, two ladderback chairs and a wooden bench were arranged to face a battery-powered radio sitting on a small rectangular table centered along the far wall. A ratty, stain-spotted throw rug filled the open space in the middle of the room.
    No sign of the Mordstier.
    Nick retreated, intending to take the stairs to the second floor. If the Wesen had fled through the back door, Hank, Wu or McCormack would have spotted him and sounded an alarm—or he was long gone.
    Nick’s gut—aided or not by his Grimm abilities—told him the suspect hadn’t fled his home. The Wesen’s presence felt as palpable to him as the mildew and decay. He couldn’t hide forever in a confined space, nor was he likely to—
    Something creaked. Wood thumped against wood—behind him.
    Nick spun around to face—the bare wall separating the rooms.
    “What the—?”
    In the blink of an eye, the wall erupted toward Nick.
    Instinctively, he shielded his eyes, but couldn’t ignore the rush of movement behind the split planks tumbling all around him. A massive shape, almost doubled over, twin horns lowered to gore him.
    Sidestepping, Nick escaped the worst of the impact, but caught what felt like a knee or an elbow to the gut and tumbled over backwards, losing his gun in the process. He sprang to his feet, scanning for the gun while keeping the bulk of the Wesen before him. What he hadn’t noticed during the bull rush attack through the wall, was the long-handled axe in the Mordstier’s hands.
    Nick dropped to a crouch as the blade of the axe whistled overhead.
    The Mordstier stomped forward to press his attack.
    But Nick was ready for the reverse swing, and caught the wooden handle in both hands. He lashed out with a side kick to the Wesen’s abdomen, eliciting a grunt of pain.
    The Wesen yanked the axe back in the other direction, attempting to wrest it from Nick’s grip, but Nick countered with his right foot, striking the inside of Mordstier’s left knee.
    Wu charged into the dark room and attempted a low diving tackle, his shoulder plowing into the back of the suspect’s right knee.
    Finally, the Wesen lost his balance.
    Driving forward with the axe handle still clutched in both hands, Nick toppled the behemoth, who crashed to the floor with wood-splitting impact. But not before the Wesen caught Nick in the midsection with a boot and hurled him toward the near wall.
    Though Nick lost his grip on the axe, he spun in mid-air to avoid a nasty collision, hitting the wall with the soles of both feet to kill his momentum, then sprung forward with a quick double-hop to land upright. While flipping end over end, he’d spotted his dislodged Glock in the corner, near the door.
    He scrambled for the gun while, in the periphery of his vision, the Wesen sat up, shaking off the cobwebs, the axe beside his left hand. Wu, fighting some cobwebs of his own, climbed to hands and knees and tried to bring his gun to bear, but caught a vicious elbow to the ribs and fell on his side.
    With a grunt, the Mordstier placed his palms on the floor, wrapping his left hand around the axe handle. He started to push himself up, but only had time to brace himself before Nick pressed the muzzle of the Glock to the back of his head, directly above the spine.
    “Flinch—and I ventilate your skull.”
    “I know what you are.”
    “Then you know I’m not bluffing.”
    The Wesen grunted. But dropped his woge.
    The entire battle inside the house had taken less than a minute.
    “Slowly, shove the axe away,” Nick said. “Try to pick it up and—”
    “You ventilate my skull.”
    “Good. We have an understanding.”
    The Mordstier slid the axe away from his body and released it. With a quick swipe of his foot, Nick