shoots wall

“Obviously,” Evil Bob sniffed. “He from whose essence I came to be. Your instincts for such matters are acute, Dresden. You have given me something to consider in the future, when my attention is not otherwise occupied by mildly effective stalling tactics.”
And he pulled the trigger—
—just as Sir Stuart’s thrown ax whirled into Evil Bob’s outstretched shooting arm.
It hit him only with the spinning wooden handle, but it was enough to save my life. A blast of psychic energy, of sheer, deadly will, hit the concrete wall of the trench about five feet to my left and turned it into a cloud of powder.
I raised my right hand and snarled, “Forzare!” and responded with a hammerblow of force of my own.


Ghost Story Chapter 44, Page 458-45