illusion distraction

I stood up and dropped my wands into my hands, gripping them hard. I faced the doorway and said, “Get ready.”
Andi flashed me a glance. “For what?”
“To open the door,” I said. “Then shut it behind me.”
“What?”
“Close your eyes. Go on three,” I said, and bent my knees slightly. “One!”
The door rattled again.
“Two!”
“Are you insane?” Andi demanded.
“Three!” I screamed, and sprinted for the door, lifting both wands.
Andi squeezed her eyes shut and swung the door open, and I deployed the One-Woman Rave.
Channeling the strength of my will, light and sound burst from the ends of the two wands. Not light like from a flashlight; more like the light of a small nuclear explosion. The sound wasn’t loud like a scream or a small explosion, or even the howl of a passing train. It was like standing on the deck of one of those old World War II battleships when they fired their big guns—a force that could stun a full-man and knock him on his ass.
I charged ahead with a wall of sound and furious light leading the way, and burst into the hall among the scattered forms of the startled, dazed turtlenecks.
And then I started playing nasty.
A few seconds later, the scattered turtlenecks were all on their feet again, though they looked a little disoriented and were blinking. Down the hallway, one of the turtlenecks was helping Lord Froggy to his feet, his lank hair disheveled, his robes in disarray. His ugly face was contorted in fury. “What is happening here, Listen?” he demanded. He was screaming at the top of his lungs. I doubt his ears were working very well.
“My lord,” Listen said, “I believe this is more of the work of the Ragged Lady.”
“What!? Speak up, fool!”
Listen’s cheek twitched once. Then he repeated himself in a shout. Froggy made a hissing sound.
“Meddling bitch,” he snarled. “Break down that door and bring me her heart.”
“Yes, my lord,” Listen said, and the turtlenecks grouped up around the door to room 8 again. They didn’t use any tools. They didn’t need any. They just started kicking the door, three of them at a time, working in unison, driving the heels of their shoes at the wood. In three kicks, cracks began to form and the door groaned. In five, it broke and swung in loosely on its hinges.
“Kill her!” snarled Lord Froggy, pacing closer to the broken door. “Kill her!”
All but two of the turtlenecks poured into the room.
From behind my renewed veil, I figured the timing was about right to discontinue my illusion just as the door bounced back after they’d rushed through it. The silver numeral 8 hanging on the door blurred and melted back into a silver numeral 6.
Lord Froggy’s eyes widened in sudden, startled realization. One of the turtlenecks flew back out the door to room 6 and smashed into the wall on the far side. He hit like a rag doll and flopped to the ground. There was a body-shaped outline in cracked marble and flecks of fresh blood left on the wall behind him.
And from the other side of the broken door, Thomas Raith, vampire, said, “It’s Listen, right? Wow. Did you clowns ever pick the wrong room.”
“We made a mistake,” Listen said.
“Yes. Yes, you did.”
And things started going crunch and thump in the room beyond


Brief Cases, Bombshells, Page 262-264