Butters hit by Artistedes

I saw the sorcerer’s eyes narrow to slits, an almost sensual pleasure contained in them.
“Dammit!” I said. “Butters, move!” I vanished and appeared beside Butters, shoving my hands into his chest, willing myself to push him away.
I didn’t move him—my hands just passed into him, insubstantial—but a sudden frisson seemed to run through him, and he began to pull away.
Too late.
Aristedes’ left arm blurred and struck Butters squarely on the chin. If he hadn’t been drawing back, the blow would have caught him just under the ear, and the sorcerer’s hand was moving fast enough that it might have broken Butters’s neck. Even so, the sharp thump of impact snapped Butters’s head to one side, hard enough to rebound when it had reached maximum torsion. He did a brief bobblehead impersonation on the way to the floor and landed in a boneless heap.
I wanted to scream in frustration. Instead, I poked at my brain, demanding it to come up with something.


Ghost Story Chapter 38, Page 407