Read Online Mystical Warrior by Janet Chapman - Free Book Online Page B

important, it slammed into the box holding theskunks, the startled screams of its occupants mixing with his own panicked shout. Trace dropped the phone to catch the box, at the same time trying to turn the opening away from himself.
    He’d have succeeded, too, if the heavy compressor hadn’t continued its descent and slammed into his knee. Trace fell with a shouted curse, shoving at the box as he tried to scramble away. And that’s when the damned compressor struck his head, just as the skunks tumbled onto the floor beside him.
    Apparently believing that this was well within the bounds of being directly threatened, both skunks let loose everything they had, hitting him point-blank.
    Trace’s roar ended on a choked gag when a cloud of putrid musk enveloped him. He blindly rolled in the direction of the door, his eyes burning as if they’d been dosed with acid, his mouth and throat on fire as he held his breath while fighting the urge to vomit. But finding that he couldn’t crawl on his right knee, he ended up dragging himself from the barn even as he scrambled out of his jacket and ripped off his shirt. He tried getting to his feet then, only his knee gave out, and he fell to the ground.
    He threw up and lay there gagging, gasping for breath.
    “I’ve got you,” he barely heard over the roaring in his head.
    “No, get away,” he choked out on a series of convulsing heaves. He blindly swatted at her, but she still managed to manacle his wrist in a surprisingly strong grip and then wedge her shoulder under his armpit as she straightened to lift him.
    They stumbled toward the house. “Water. Outside faucet,” he rasped, fumbling with his belt buckle with his free hand.
    Christ, he couldn’t breathe!
    He slammed against the granite foundation as he felt for the faucet and gave a shout of relief when the deluge of water gushed over his head. He lay on his side, not caring if he drowned in the icy water, because it sure as hell was better than drowning in skunk piss and vomit.
    Trace felt something tugging at his feet and realized that Fiona was taking off his boots. He unfastened his jeans and gritted his teeth against the pain in his knee when she pulled them off. He dragged himself back under the spigot again and let the water continue to flush his eyes and pummel his body.
    Misneach, who’d been barking incessantly the whole time, jumped at him but gave a strangled yelp and ran away in a fit of sneezes.
    Trace didn’t know how long he lay there and didn’t even care that he was naked; he only knew that whenever he moved from under the water, he started gagging again.
    The water suddenly shut off, and his protest got lost inside the heavy material that enveloped him. “Go away!” he shouted, blindly feeling for the spigot as he tossed the material away and turned the water back on.
    “Oh, thank God you stopped by!” Trace heard Fiona cry as she was moving away. “You have to help me get him into the house. He hurt his knee and can’t walk.”
    The water shut off again, and the material returned, this time wrapping around him like a straitjacket just before he was hauled to his feet.
    “Christ, Huntsman, did ye kiss their asses?” Kenzie growled. “Fiona, grab that jug of vinegar I brought.”
    When Trace’s knee gave out on him again, the highlander hefted him over his shoulder with a muttered curse and started off.
    “Not the house!”
    “Nay, I’m taking you down to the salt marsh. Fiona, go get a blanket and bring it and the vinegar down to us.”
    Great. Wonderful. Friggin’ fantastic. A swim in the freezing ocean was exactly what he needed. Trace vomited again, which started his nose and throat burning all over again. “Forget the week,” he ground out, wiping his face on the back of Kenzie’s jacket. “I’m torching the house today .”
    Kenzie chuckled. “You’ll likely want to burn the barn, at least, along with your clothes and my sister’s coat.”
    After wiping the tears pouring