tanks Harry and stuart

I raised my right hand and snarled, “Forzare!” and responded with a hammerblow of force of my own.
Evil Bob lifted the other black-leather-clad hand and brushed my strike aside, but it rocked him back a step.
Sir Stuart charged into sight, hitting Evil Bob hard at the hips, and tackled him forward and down into the trench. The pair of them hit hard, but the dark spirit was on the bottom, and Evil Bob’s skull cracked as it hit the concrete. His high-crowned SS hat went flying.
I let out a short scream of rage and swung my staff at the skull. Evil Bob caught my descending staff in one hand and locked it in place as if his fingers had been a hydraulic vise. He got his other hand under Sir Stuart’s chest and simply thrust his arm forward. Sir Stuart went flying out of the trench, and I heard him hit the ground again about a second and a half later.
“Ah,” Evil Bob said. Cold blue eyelights regarded my staff. “A simple tool, but serviceable. In McCoy’s style.” The eyes flared brighter. “And the key to your rather effective little army, as well. Excellent.”


Ghost Story Chapter 44, Page 459