The Swanmaiden

"Don't worry, Mitchell, your boss won't chew you out over whatever this is costing," she winked. "And what do you mean 'women like me'?"

"Beautiful women who have more money than God," he snorted. "You're way out of my league. And you've gone on two lunch dates and a dinner date under the pretense of business meetings with me. You could buy this restaurant if you wanted. Did you lose a bet or something?"

Amelie laughed and took a sip of wine.

"Have you heard the story of Swanhilde?"

He shook his head.

"There are several variations of the story, but in one of the most popular versions, a man sees a beautiful woman bathing in a stream or pond. Nearby he finds her clothes: a white feathered coat. He steals it and hides it. The woman is distraught; she is not really a woman, but the daughter of a mortal woman and a faerie king. The swan has the gift of magic and the power change form into a human. But with her coat stolen, she is trapped as a human."

"Didn't they make a ballet out of this story?" Mitchell asked, not understanding why she was telling him a fairy tale.

"Something like that," Amelie replied. "He claims the swan maiden as his wife and rapes her. She has his children, for she cannot escape while her coat is hidden. One day, she finds her feathers and takes it back. She escapes, but has to leave her family behind. Her children never forgive her for abandoning them, but she cannot stay with her abductor and returns to the Faerie Realm."

Their conversation was interrupted by the servers bringing their first course. They made more small talk over the food and even actually talked about Amelie's investment plans. The wait staff didn't hover, but they were very attentive and never strayed far. She didn't want to tell Mitchell anything around people whose minds she would have to wipe later.

It wasn't until after he settled the bill on his corporate credit card that they were able to truly speak privately again. Most of the other patrons and staff had already left.

"I would like to show you something, Mitchell," Amelie took his arm on their way out the door.

"You can call me 'Mitch', if you like, Amelie."

"Of course, Mitch," she smiled sweetly. "Let's go up to my office."

The building had mostly emptied out except for a handful of evening shift workers, some people working late, and the cleaning staff.

They entered the main doors at Reinerschwan, which closed solidly behind them. Amelie made a soft motion with her hand and the seal around the doors glowed blue for just a second.

Mitchell looked on, puzzled.

"Wait here for a minute," she left him in the foyer just long enough to step inside the inner office door. When she emerged, she handed Mitchell a lanyard with a white visitor badge. He automatically placed it over his neck before following her down the hallway. Even under the frosted LED lighting, it seemed to glow from a crystal chip in the center.

She returned to their earlier conversation about the shape-shifting maidens. "There are several other versions of the swan story in other cultures; in Scotland they have selkies, which are seals. In Russia, they're bears. In Japan, cranes. Iceland has tales of orcas. And so on."

"Are you saying I stole your swan coat?" he asked, sounding unsure where their conversation was going.

" 'Stole'? No," Amelie replied. "But it was yours to use as you saw fit. And you returned it. Without coercion or demanding payment."

"So I could have taken you as my wife?" His tone indicated he was joking, but the expression on Amelie's face was clearly not humorous.

"Or worse."

She stopped at the end of the hallway. She placed her hand on the blank wall and spoke a simple magical passphrase.

A doorway appeared out of thin air. Amelie reached out to take Mitchell's disbelieving hand and they stepped through.

The rooftop garden seemed to glow under the moon and in the light pollution from the city. Soft mist rose off the great pond in the middle.

"Where did all this come from?" Mitchell asked, obviously confused. Everyone knew no building in New York as high as theirs had an open rooftop.

"Do you believe in magic, Mitch?"

"I . . . I don't . . ."

Taking his hand, she pulled him towards the pond. She slipped her shoes off and motioned for him to do the same.

After stepping over the polished onyx flagstones at the edge of the pond, instead of her feet sinking into the water, she seemed to glide over the surface.

Drawn to her, Mitchell followed, despite the disbelief at what his eyes clearly showed him.

"Is this real?" he breathed.

"As real as anything else in this world." Amelie stepped into his arms.

Lifting him up so he was floating just enough that he was higher than she, Amelie tilted her head back and closed her eyes.

It took him a second, but Mitchell kissed her, tentatively at first. His lips were warm. His touch gentle.

His hands didn't grasp her roughly. Wrapping his arms around her, he made another pass, a little more assertively.

They hovered above the pond, each lost to the touch of the other.

"I have something to offer you," Amelie whispered. They pressed their foreheads together, becoming familiar with one another.

"Besides a five million dollar account?"

She giggled nervously. With a simple motion, they levitated across the pond towards the edge of the roof. There was no railing. There was no wind. Amelie released the spell and they stood on the precipice, looking seventy-two stories straight down.

Raising her delicate fingers to her lips, she whistled once into the night sky.

Then a second time.

And a third.

After a moment, four shapes descended from the sky with the soft beating of wings.

The graceful swans circled them before landing in the pond. Their feathers were pure white. Their beaks were bright orange with black masks around their eyes.

Each had a wingspan of at least a dozen feet, with the largest being fifteen feet or so. They paddled over towards Amelie and Mitchell.

One of them nuzzled up to Amelie. She gently stroked the feathers on her neck and down her back. The others seemed to eye Mitchell suspiciously.

After a moment, they began to shimmer and lifted themselves out of the water. Their forms seemed to melt. They raised their wings, which turned to arms. Their necks shortened and beaks became human noses.

Unable to speak or comprehend what was happening, Mitchell watched the swans take the shapes of Charlotte, Monika, Sofia and Petra. All four of them hovered over the pond.

They stood before Amelie and Mitchell, all nude except for flowing white cloaks that appeared to be made of silk, feathers and diamonds, just like the one he had returned to Amelie.

As his mouth would not make any sound, his feet would not move from where Amelie set him down.

"You've passed the first test," Charlotte pointed at the badge around his neck. "The white glow is good."

"Red or black would have gotten you a lightning bolt in the chest and a push off the building," Petra said with a smirk. Amelie gave her a stern warning glare, which made her sister giggle.

The women led Mitchell back towards the pond. They helped him sit. He went along mutely, his brain not fully processing what was going on.

"What does the red mean? Or the black?" Mitchell stammered.

"Black means you're a demon or a denizen of the Darkness," Sofia said kindly, making an obvious effort to calm their guest. "Red is someone who is possessed or under the thrall of a demon. It would turn gold if you were a faerie or one from the Light. If you had some kind of magic or enchantment on you, it would glow green. As it is, it just means you are a normal, everyday human."

"But . . . but . . . you're not human," he blurted out, confused. And not just because Amelie was undressing in front of him.

Her dress fell from her shoulders to reveal her nude form. Bathed in the soft light of the stars and ambient city light, her pale skin seemed to glow. Her jet-black hair hung down past her shoulders.

"Mitchell Morales Alvarez," she addressed him formally. "You were the owner of my cloak and by right, you could have claimed me as your own. But you did not. Since you demanded nothing in return and gave it back freely, I am obligated to give you a boon, and if it is within my power to grant it, I will."

"What . . . what do you mean? What kind of boon?"

"You may ask for anything, Mitchell," Monika said softly. "Not many men have received such a prize from our kind."

"The hearts of men tend to be wicked . . . or at least selfish," Petra's voice dripped with disdain. And sorrow. "It has been decades since a taken cloak was returned freely."

"Riches? Youth? Healing? Slay a foe? Whatever you want . . . we can try to do pretty much anything except resurrect the dead," Sofia offered.

"I . . . I don't know," Mitchell looked away from the nude women, averting his eyes for the sake of their modesty. "Can I think about it?"

"Of course, you may," Amelie gently took his hands. She winked and gave him a secret smile. Her eyes glowed for just a second, and with a thought, her cloak appeared draped around her shoulders, the soft white feathers covering her alluring form. She whispered in his ear, "Watch. See who I am."

Stepping back, she spread her arms and changed into her true form: a large white swan. Her wings spanned twice the width of her outstretched arms, her neck almost four feet long. For a bird so large, she moved with such grace.

Craning her beak towards Mitchell, she nipped at him playfully, brushing her feathers against him.

She let loose a trio of loud, trumpeting calls, then spread her wings and took to the currents around their building. Catching the draft, she flew out away from the building, circling Mitchell, who stared on, still disbelieving.

After three passes, she landed in the pond and paddled over to where Mitchell sat.

He reached out to touch her as she seemed to turn into the moonlight itself until she was once again in her human form.

The feathers of her cloak settled around her shoulders.

They stared into each other's eyes and kissed, oblivious to the world and those around them.

**********************

Amelie awoke when the first rays of dawn shone in from behind the curtains.

Mitchell lay beside her, in a rumpled undershirt and boxers. He was curled up in a ball, his back to her. His breathing was soft and regular.

She ran her hands through his hair. He purred in his sleep.

For a human, he was attractive. Not drop-dead gorgeous. Not frumpy or repulsive. Amelie smiled to herself; if she were to take him as her mate, her magic would sustain her for a century or more after he passed.

Charlotte, the oldest of their bevy, had taken two mates and could take a third if one piqued her interest.

Clad only in her feathered cloak, Amelie padded out to the kitchen in the office. Very few people would be in the building on a Saturday.

Petra was sunning herself on the rooftop patio, her wings spread majestically. The enchantments on the building showed anyone who lacked the True Sight only a plain rooftop instead of the home they had built for themselves many years before.

The other women had probably gone back to their own nests. It was the weekend, after all.

Amelie made herself a cup of tea, and then returned to the small apartment next to the Sanctum where Mitchell lay in the soft bed.

Taking care not to wake him, she shed her second skin, set her drink on the nightstand, and curled up next to him.

His skin was warm. His touch had been comforting, but not overwhelming or overpowering.

Pressing her body against him, their warmth warded off the morning chill. They stay like that until he stirred a little while longer.

"Good morning," Amelie smiled when he rolled over into her arms.

Mitchell's eyes shot open, perhaps in surprise at waking up in a strange bed. She placed her hand on his chest to calm him.

He sat up slowly, looking around. Inside their office suite was an apartment with a bedroom that could accommodate all of the swans, or any guests who might be visiting. There was also a kitchen and small living area.

"Are you hungry? Can I make you breakfast?" she asked tenderly.

"No . . . I, um . . . did we . . ."

Amelie giggled nervously. "No, not last night. You were a perfect gentleman."

Mitchell flushed and looked away.

"But you are a wonderful kisser," she drew his gaze back to her. "And a cuddler, too!"

They stared into one anothers's eyes. Mitchell was dazed, probably wondering if the night before had been a dream.

"Come with me," Amelie drew him to his feet. He moved to avert his eyes from her mostly nude form, but she noticed his gaze lingering on her breasts and between her legs. "I want to show you something."

She led him out of the apartment, down the hallway, and into the heart of the office area. A pair of heavy oak doors opened at their approach. The octagonal room was easily fifty feet across, and extra-dimensional space that could not possibly fit in the footprint allotted to it on a blueprint. Magical torches lining the walls bathed them with their soft flickering gold light.

The floor, ceiling and walls were lined with dark hardwood. Intricate carvings graced the panels. A circle of runes in the center of the room glowed bright blue.

"This is our Sanctum," Amelie stepped into the circle before turning to face Mitchell. "We are a young Order here. Charlotte and an older swan—my mother—were sent to America just over a hundred years ago. Monika also came from the Old World. Petra, Sofia and I were born here."

"Why are you tell me this?" Mitchell asked. "I don't . . . I don't know what to believe anymore."

Amelie slipped her cloak off her shoulders. It did not fall to the ground but instead hovered in the air behind her, billowing out behind her, just like a pair of wings.

"Mitchell Morales, you are entitled to a boon which I am obligated to give you or die trying. But there is also something I want from you." She paused for a moment, willing herself to say the next words to someone she had met just recently. Someone who made her feel safe and protected. Someone who did not see her as a conquest or a thing to be had. Someone who would never force himself on her. "I am of age to begin a family and raise cygnets of my own. I would like you to be my mate."

"Me? Why?" His look of bewilderment was honest.

"Because you are genuinely good," Amelie replied. "We've been checking up on you."

"How?"

"Well . . . there's this thing . . . it's called 'the internet' . . ." They both laughed nervously. "Between what we could find out through technology and our magic, we saw that you've always treated people well. You don't screw people over with predatory investment practices, and when we offered you anything your heart desired, you didn't ask for something selfish or immediately rewarding."

"Is your magic really that powerful?"

"Yes, and no. Yeah, not helpful." Amelie waved her hand, causing the torches on the wall to change from gold to blue to green and back to gold. With the flick of her wrist, her cloak flew gracefully around the room. "We can cast simple spells mostly as we wish. But battle magic, long distance teleportation, remote divinations and things like that are very taxing. Our numbers have dwindled over the years and the magic is not what it once was, so we must live in secret."

"Your numbers?"

"Our recorded history goes back several thousand years, before the pyramids. Back when the magic of this world was abundant. We were numerous once. We are long-lived, but do not reproduce as quickly as you do. As humans have obliterated our natural habitats, our kind is relegated to smaller and smaller areas. We are one of the only Orders in a city. Our kind went into hiding centuries ago, along with many of the other magic-using covens around the world."

"What do you want me to do?"

"I want you to fall in love with me," Amelie reached under his chin and drew his gaze up to meet hers. "Only through love can more swans like me be made. If a swan is raped, her children will be human. But you are kind and generous. You would make a wonderful father, whether your children are human or schwanenjugfrau."

"Schwan-what?"

"Schwanenjugfrau," Amelie giggled. "Swan maidens."

They pressed their foreheads together and brushed noses. She closed her eyes and took a deep, expectant breath.

"Have you used your magic on me?" he asked suddenly.

"No, Mitchell, I have not used any charm or enchantment on you," she replied sweetly. "You need to be just as willing as me. I also need you to understand that this could put your life in danger, although I will be there to protect you. And I can teach you to watch over our children. But I also . . . I will outlive you, as will our daughters."

"What if we have sons?"

"The magic is only passed to daughters. Our birth rates are about ninety percent female. Male children will be completely human, although they tend to be long-lived, and a few have some aptitude for basic sorcery." A sad look flashed across Amelie's face. "I need you to know all of this upfront, Mitchell Morales. I need you to love me completely and unconditionally, just as I will love you. We will be a matched pair for as long as we are both alive."

"Will you stay young while I grow old?"

Her smile was bittersweet. "I will use my magic to appear to age as you do, and when you pass into the next life, I will 'die' as well and assume a new human identity, just as my kind has done to hide our secrets. But my lifetime is measured in centuries, instead of decades like yours."

"Why are you tell me this? What if I say 'no'? I could tell the world about you." He looked confused. And concerned. She could see the gears turning in his head. "You are placing a great amount of trust in me."

"You could run out to the news or post something on the internet, but first of all: no one would believe you," Amelie's eyes darkened. "But if you did that . . . the others would try to kill you to preserve our secrets. . . . And they would have to kill me first, because I would defend you. That would be the only way for me to fulfill the obligation I have to you. Charlotte would not permit you expose us."

"I can't let her do that," Mitchell whispered. He took her hands in his. "Amelie Weiss . . . I will not allow you to endanger yourself over me. Can I release you from your . . . um, debt to me?"

"Tell me what you want, Mitchell . . . right now: what do you want?"

"I want to have you," he blurted out the first words that came to his mind.

His lips were soft and warm. He wrapped his arms around her protectively. As before, his touch was gentle.

The first pass was tentative. But it soon gave way to a lingering, sensual kiss.

The stubble on his cheeks brushed against her skin. His hands did not grope her.

Amelie tilted her head back and let him take the lead.

Mitchell's grasp was firm, but comforting.

Without thinking, Amelie raised Mitchell off his feet and into an embrace. They floated above the floor.

She tugged at his shirt and pushed his boxer shorts down. Their discarded clothes fell to the floor. His arms wrapped around her waist. Amelie took his hands and placed them so he was cupping her rear end.

Mitchell's hardening cock pressed against her leg.

Amelie lost herself to the warm touch of her lover. And his kiss.

To her surprise, he let out a yelp, and soft curse under his breath.

Giggling, Amelie saw his eyes were wide open as they floated near the top of the ceiling. She gently let them down, but not before summoning a thick coat of soft down feathers to cover the hardwood floor. A quilted blanket appeared at her whim which spread over the feathers.