The Siren’s Serenade (Office of Highland Magic #5)

Prologue

The old Scottish Gaelic name for whisky is uisge beatha, translated to “water of life.” It was fitting. Whisky may sustain more life in Scotland than water.

Everything in the water was waiting to kill you.

From the rivers and streams to the lochs and oceans, the wildness in Scotland was not limited to the land.

Most people knew to be wary of kelpies: the shapeshifting aquatic horse spirits, perpetually changing from horse to man to woman, whatever was necessary to lure their victim into the depths.

The legend went that if you were drowned by a kelpie, only your innards would wash up on the shore.

Or maybe you knew of the blue men of the Minch.

They were rumored to be fallen angels who descended to the sea, now waiting for sailors to drown and boats to sink.

While they swam underneath the waves, their restless, long arms were perpetually raised above the water, reaching for heaven, waiting to grab hold of their next victims.

Many men had dreamed of selkies, the mythical seals who shed their pelts to reveal beautiful women. Sailors have driven themselves to madness trying to capture seal wives by stealing their pelts, trapping them in human form, and preventing them from disappearing into the sea.

It should not surprise you to learn that those sailors never found the domestic bliss they were looking for.

The most elusive—and the deadliest—were the maighdeann-mhara, the maids of the sea.

The ethereal creatures were partially of this world and the next; they answered to no one.

These were not the mermaids of fairy tales, the ones who waved at passing ships and befriended all.

Their tails were not brightly colored, and they did not wish you well on your maritime journeys.

The maighdeann-mhara spent their time in the water: loch, river, or sea, they had no preference.

They could shed their scales and easily walk on land if the situation required it.

Most importantly, they were known by a much more colloquial name. Sirens.

Their haunting songs would drive a man mad. They rang out through the air and struck men’s hearts with a yearning so strong, they’d go mad searching for it. If you went searching for a siren’s song, it wouldn’t take you long to find one.

They were the ones hunting you, after all.