Free Love for the Cold-Blooded by Alex Gabriel

nothing else — not even Ancient Sumerian! And the rest of their selection is no better. Good luck finding anything to read in that dump. They barely even have books, just several displays of bestsellers and a plethora of touristy riffraff like calendars, chocolates, totes and mugs.”
    She let out a scream of rage. “How dare they call themselves booksellers?” A solid column of electricity streaked across the square, racing from Doctor Destiny’s hand to detonate in a blinding shower of sparks in front of Taliesin Books. “What they are is a morally decrepit sell-out of a chain with an abysmal selection. And they dare to come into this city and buy up Mary-Lou’s Book Emporium in order to shut it down, ridding themselves of the competition of a real bookstore!”
    “What? They’re going to shut down Mary-Lou’s?” Pat loved Mary-Lou’s! You could browse for hours in there, and they had everything. Pat didn’t actually care about Ancient Sumerian literature, although he did get that it was important, but Mary Lou’s had an awesome architecture section, and a pretty good selection of supernatural romances, too. Where would Pat get his monographs, and the romantic elf and were-creature fiction his sisters liked (and that Pat might possibly also happen to read sometimes out of idle curiosity)?
    “They are!” Doctor Destiny eyes were now glowing with the white-hot intensity of a fire stoked to burn down a city district or two. “Taliesin knows naught of either common decency or bookselling. And I shall bring them down, whatever it may take. None shall stand in my way!”
    “Definitely not standing in your way here.” Pat gestured invitingly (though carefully, given his prone position on the roof) towards the market square, where the last remaining citizens still in sight were inching along the buildings to keep out of the open. “With you all the way, Doc. You’re gonna blast Taliesin to dust so they won’t close Mary-Lou’s until they’ve rebuilt Taliesin, right?”
    “You have divined my plan, Patrick West.” An evil smirk stole over Doc’s face. “And allow me to remark that many things can happen between now and then. A great many things, if you perceive my meaning. As a matter of fact…”
    “It is Destiny!” Pat shouted, punching the air in tandem with her. Okay, out of character for the cowed hostage he was supposed to be, but Doc Destiny’s catchphrase was the coolest. It was totally worth sliding a meter or so over the roof tiles.
    Doc paced along the edge of the roof slowly, throwing Pat a quick smirk. “Don’t worry, Patrick, I won’t be keeping you much longer. The hoagies are due to arrive at any moment, and then I’ll be free to cut loose without fear of harming civilians. Be sure to scream a little so they make rescuing you a priority.”
    Right on cue, the trademark hum of a Corps-issue aircycle filled the air, clearly coming from the left, the direction of the university. It was a single hum, which meant that either there was only one hoagie — ahem, hero — answering the emergency call, or that only one of them needed a cycle to fly.
    “Say hi to your mom from me, would you? Tell her I look forward to Serpentissima’s resurgence.”
    The aircycle cleared City Hall’s roof and a hero descended on them in a cloud of righteous indignation, all fluttering white linen and wildly wind-tossed curls. Scarily perfect cheekbones, enormous ball of thread, superhuman strength and speed — bingo! It was Ariadne. Pat had totally called it, and Zen was going down.
    Pat barely restrained himself from fistpumping in victory, and instead cleared his throat and made sure he was gripping his shopping bag tightly. “Help! Save m—”
    Another hero shot into sight from the opposite direction, wrapped in a metallic haze of force fields.
    Silver Paladin. It was Silver Paladin, and for no reason at all, Pat’s cry for help dried up in his throat, becoming nothing more than an undignified