Sins Against the Sea by Nina Mason Page B

floating bits inside told her it was made from loose-leaf tea.
    “Thanks.” She took a cautious sip. “Earl Grey’s one of my favorites.”
    “I prefer oolong, myself.” Mrs. McLeod’s blue eyes twinkled as she regarded Corey. “Earl Grey dissipates so quickly, it’s hard to make out anything of much use.”
    It took Corey a moment to realize what she meant. “You read tea leaves?”
    “Of course I do,” she said, beaming. “My seanmhair taught me, just as her seanmhair taught her.”
    “Shen-o-var?” Corey repeated the word the way she’d heard it.
    “Grandmother,” the older woman replied with a wink. “In Gaelic.”
    “Oh.” Corey took a sip of tea. “You come from a long line of tea readers, then?”
    “Long enough,” she said, turning toward the door. “Give me your cup when you’re finished, and, if you like, I’ll have a look.”
    A friend in college had tried to interest her in tarot cards and runes, insisting there was something to these ancient forms of divination, but Corey wrote it off as superstitious nonsense.
    Now, for some inexplicable reason, she was genuinely intrigued. She wanted to know what the tealeaves might have to say about her future. She felt as if she was standing at a crossroads and could use some guidance as to which fork to take. She also knew something now she hadn’t then. There were things in this world science could not explain.
    The existence of mermen, for example.
    Corey went back upstairs and, when dressed and ready, came back down and handed Mrs. MacLeod her empty mug.
    The older woman took the mug to the window over the sink, gave it a good shake, and then tilted it to catch the light. She studied the tea-leaf remnants for some time, squinting in deep concentration.
    “I see a heart,” she said at last, “suggesting a romance may be on the horizon…but there’s also a snake, which represents enmity or falsehood. Though, as I said, Earl Grey can be tricky.”
    “Your husband tells me you’re something of an expert on the local lore,” Corey said, figuring now was as good a time as any to ask about the storm kelpies.
    “My husband says a great many things,” Mrs. MacLeod returned with a playful wink, “and only some of them are true.”
    As a bemused smile broke across her lips, Corey said, “What can you tell me about the mermen who live in the Minch?”
    “What would you care to know?” Still studying Corey’s cup, she didn’t look up.
    “Anything and everything.”
    Mrs. MacLeod, apparently finished with the reading, turned to the sink and rinsed Corey’s cup. “Would you like another?”
    “Please.”
    While switching on the electric kettle, she said, “As for the Blue Men, I can tell you that they are not, as some folks are in the habit of claiming, fallen angels. Nor are they ordinary folk who’ve been put under a spell.”
    Corey’s curiosity was definitely piqued. “So, what are they, then?”
    “Some folks call them storm kelpies, but their real name is Glauckodai. The largest population of their kind lives here in the Hebrides, where Glauckos, the Greek god who fathered their race, came to live after leaving the Mediterranean.”
    Though Corey had studied classical mythology in high school and college, she couldn’t recall learning anything about the god she’d mentioned. “Was Glauckos one of the Olympians?”
    “He was, and the only one among them who started life as a human.”
    The kettle began to whistle. Mrs. MacLeod shut it off and poured a little boiling water into the pot. She took a moment to swirl the hot water around inside the pot before dumping it into the sink. She then added two scoops of fresh loose tea to the pot.
    Corey observed this little ritual in silence before asking, “How did he become a god?”
    Mrs. MacLeod filled the pot with boiling water. “Some say as a lad he drowned in a vat of mead and was brought back to life by a sorcerer; while others say he ate a special grass he found on an island