Tanglewood Legacy (The Three Sisters #3) Read Online Genevieve Jack

Categories Genre: Fantasy/Sci-fi, Paranormal, Romance Tags Authors: Series: The Three Sisters Series by Genevieve Jack
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Total pages in book: 57
Estimated words: 53036 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 265(@200wpm)___ 212(@250wpm)___ 177(@300wpm)
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She’s his greatest discovery and about to become his greatest challenge.

En route to New Orleans with her sisters, Isis Tanglewood wakes in the middle of the night to memories of a demon. Nothing surprises her more than to find shipmate Delphine has also dreamed of the same monster. After their brief encounter, Delphine begs Isis to help her and her sisters avoid forced marriages in New Orleans. Isis empathizes but refuses her for fear of drawing attention to her family’s witchy secret.
Scientist and philosopher Pierre Baron lives to map the stars from his observatory and to research the natural history of the burgeoning colony in Louisiana he calls home. But when he meets Isis, his curiosity is piqued like never before. Magic happens when he makes it his mission to learn more about her, and he soon determines she’s just as curious about him.
When a man is found dead in the Mississippi, drained of all his blood, Isis believes a vampire has come to New Orleans. With Pierre’s help, she soon comes to suspect Delphine. Isis is a powerful witch and a resourceful woman, but she becomes vulnerable in ways she never expected. Pierre’s greatest discovery is his love for Isis, but can he, an ordinary human man, protect her from mystic forces hell-bent on revenge.

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Chapter

One

Isis Tanglewood jackknifed off the bed as two glowing red eyes faded from her memory. The nightmare again. She held her head, wiping tears she couldn’t remember shedding from under her eyes. She’d been crying in her sleep again. Ever since she’d raised Medea from the dead, she’d suffered dreams that left her heart pounding and her breath short. Dreams that were more than dreams if she was honest with herself. The worst part was, she couldn’t even seek out the comfort of her sisters. How could she tell Medea that when she’d descended into Hades to resurrect her, accidentally leaving her unborn son behind, that something else, something evil, had taken notice of her and now haunted her at night?

She had enough trouble looking Medea in the eye. Could she ever forgive herself for that terrible mistake? Phineas. Oh goddess, Medea had planned to name the boy Phineas.

Throwing back the covers, she leaped from her bed and rushed to the chamber pot. Her heart beat a mad tattoo within her chest, her stomach somersaulting in the wavering room. Wait, that wasn’t in her head. Isis remembered she was on a ship bound for La Nouvelle-Orléans, or as the English called it, New Orleans. The sickness she was feeling wasn’t from her nightmares at all, but from the roiling of the wooden vessel on the mighty sea.

She grabbed her robe and slipped it on over her nightgown, then flung open the door to her quarters and headed for the upper deck. She needed air. Needed to see the stars, feel the comforting witness of the moon, and connect with the magic that night breathed into her.

Shadows gathered around her ankles. The darkness was trying to comfort her as it always did when she was anxious. Only, for the first time in her life, their presence wasn’t entirely welcome. The darkness in her nightmare—the demon with the red eyes—also commanded shadows, and with the memory of his presence fresh in her mind, the tendrils that snaked around her calves felt too much like his touch.

As her bare feet fell on the wooden deck and the warm sea air blew back her dark hair, Isis tried to put the demon out of her mind. The dream was always the same. He wanted her. Wanted to be with her. And the worst part was, as horrifying a visage as the demon possessed, the dream filled her with lust as certainly as it filled her with fear. This particular demon knew how to turn on the charm.

She looked out over the railing toward the singular moon, so different from the night sky of Ouros, and wondered if there was a spell to protect her from her own mind. Her own guilt.

“You too? Bad dreams?” A woman’s voice came from behind her, and Isis whirled. She understood the woman’s French clearly enough, but her accent was different from what she’d picked up in Provence. Paris, she guessed. The woman had the dark curly hair and gray eyes of many she’d met from that region.

“Yes. Is it obvious?” Isis asked.

The woman pulled her robe tighter around her slight frame. She was too thin and too pale, hair dull. Isis had seen it before in other travelers. The sickness took hold, extinguishing the spark in their eyes before slowly draining them of life. “I only assumed as that is why I came up. I think it’s the sea. The roiling of the boat does something to my mind. I’ve never slept well, not one night since we’ve been on this bloody boat.” She arched an eyebrow. “I’m Delphine, by the way. Delphine Devereaux.”


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