Desperately, Phoenix attempted to maneuver both tips of the instrument around the bullet. He knew that each move caused Nellie unimaginable pain, but he could not grasp the target. "It's no use," he sobbed. "And my hand is going numb."
In a frenzy, Nellie shouted something into the gag, but no one could understand her.
"I beg your pardon, child?" queried Alistair.
Nellie spat out the rag and rasped, "Get the Kabra chick!"
"Natalie?" Fiske exclaimed. "She's fallen completely to pieces."
"Get her!" Nellie demanded. "Anybody with eyebrows plucked like that knows how to use a tweezers!"
Reagan bounded across the room and came back with a shivering, mewling Natalie.
"I can't!" she wheezed.
Fiske poured alchohol over the girl's beautifully manicured fingers. "You must."
Still protesting, her eyes tightly shut, she took over the instrument from Phoenix. "I can't do it! You can't make me—oh!" She said in sudden surprise. "This?" And when she pulled the tweezers out of the wound, the tips were firmly grasping a flattened, blood-slimed bullet.
Nellie laughed—and promptly fainted.
