Free Call of the Siren by Rosalie Lario Page B

front of the address the goblin had provided. It was a small, six-story building on the end of the street which, like hers, appeared to be a walk-up. Lina rested her hands on her hips and surveyed it. “There have to be at least twelve apartments in here. How do we find the right one?”
    “Search one at a time, I suppose.” Ronin walked to the front door and tried the handle. As expected, it was locked. The lock was of human construction and could easily be broken, but such an obvious break-in might attract some unwanted attention.
    When Ronin looked back at her, Lina glanced up toward the roof. “Work our way down?”
    “Sounds good.” His boyish grin indicated he was looking forward to letting his wings loose just as much as she was. Guess they couldn’t escape that part of their heritage.
    They rounded the corner to the side street, which wasn’t as brightly lit as the front. Ronin tugged off his lightweight sweater while Lina unzipped and shrugged out of her jacket, leaving her top half clad in nothing more than her black tank top. Then with a pop of her shoulders, her wings grew out of her back.
    She let out a moan of relief.
    Otherworlder scientists had intellectual reasoning for how winged species like angels could absorb their wings into their body and then grow them back out at will. To Lina, it was and always would be pure magic. What else could explain the tingling sensation, the feeling of rightness , that accompanied each spread of her wings? It was the closest she ever came to happiness these days.
    She glanced at Ronin’s folded wings, once again struck by the majestic beauty of the angelic appendages. Long, full, and white, they arched over his shoulders and tipped low to the ground. He stretched his wings and, with a practiced flick, propelled upward into the air. Lina fought the desire to break out into a smile as she followed him, her leather jacket clutched firmly in her hands.
    All too soon, they landed on the roof and reabsorbed their wings. The feeling of euphoria fled almost as quickly as it had come. Sometimes she wondered whether angels were meant to absorb their wings at all. Doing so always sparked such a sense of loss.
    Well, if that was the case, then she deserved to have them clipped. What right did she have to mourn the loss of wings, when she’d lost far worse than that?
    “You seem awfully introspective all of a sudden,” Ronin noted.
    Lina schooled a smirk onto her face. “And that’s abnormal?”
    “Touché.” His lips quirked into a smile as he tugged his sweater back over his head.
    Lina slid her jacket on, leaving it unzipped so her weapons were within easy reach, and followed Ronin to the roof exit. He reached for the door handle and frowned.
    “It’s unlocked.”
    “Maybe whoever was up here last forgot to lock it.” But when Lina took a closer look, she saw the lock had been smashed. “This was broken from the outside.”
    Ronin gave her a loaded glance. “Someone flew up here and broke into the building.”
    A second later, the faint sound of a muffled scream drifted up from the stairwell—barely discernible even with her hyper-sensitized hearing. Instinctively recognizing that the two things were connected, Lina threw the door open. In an effort to save time, she jumped the length of the stairs and swung open the door leading onto the top floor, where the scream had originated from. A second gasping cry sounded out. With Ronin hot on her tail, Lina turned left and rounded the corner. She came to a stop in front of an opened doorway.
    Just inside stood an elderly woman. A casserole dish lay on the floor at her feet, the cheesy contents spilling out onto the worn beige carpet. A few feet away lay a body in front of a battered leather couch. Blood pooled out several feet onto the carpet. It only took one glance for Lina to confirm the corpse was Sam. There was no mistaking the black Mohawk.
    Behind Lina, Ronin let out a muffled curse. “Calm her down before